“Just one hand?” Wolfe asked. “How about the one that keeps dialing your phone late at night? I can make sure he stops.”

Now, finally, Mike took a wise step back.

Dana pretended to think about it, and Wolfe started to set her to the side. “No,” she hurried to say. “If he promises not to call any longer, don’t break his hand.”

Wolfe kept his hands on her upper arms, his body against hers. “Well?”

“Fine.” Mike lost the amused look, started to say something, and apparently grew a brain and held his tongue. He turned on his loafer and headed toward the bar.

“What a tool,” Wolfe muttered, sliding one hand down her arm to grasp her hand and lead her to the dance floor. Once there, he turned her and pulled her into him, setting one hand on her hip and scouting the other dancers.

“What are you looking at?” she asked, enjoying the freedom of being able to plant her hand on his hard body.

He focused on her upturned face. “I was looking for jortz.”

Happiness bubbled through her and she stepped closer, enjoying the soft song as he moved them around the dance floor. “Sounds like you got a difficult bingo card.”

“Apparently.” His gaze landed on her mouth and heated.

Her blood sped up as if she’d taken a shot of whiskey.

“What happens if nobody gets bingo?” Wolfe asked, his head lowering toward hers.

Her mind fuzzed, and she tried to concentrate. “We meet for breakfast in the morning, and whoever has the most squares blocked out wins.”

His lips were almost on hers when he straightened.

She looked sideways to see her parents dancing right next to them, her mom smiling at her. “Hi.” Wonderful timing, darn it.

“Hi.” Her mom swayed easily. “Oh, Wolfe. Before I forget. I ran up to our room to grab a wrap, and I heard your puppy whining in your room. So, I let him out. Dogs are allowed on the grounds here.”

Wolfe stopped them cold.

Dana gasped. “Oh, no. Where is he?”

The bride shrieked from near the bar.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Wolfe grabbed Dana’s hand, unwilling to let her go. He dodged through dancers and reached the tables nearest the bar. “Oh, crap,” he muttered.

Dana halted next to him, grabbing his arm to keep her balance. “Whoa.”

Roscoe pranced, his front feet in the bride’s red-bottomed, high-heeled, and very sparkly shoes. He caught sight of Dana, wagged his tail, and shuffled toward her.

Dana audibly swallowed and looked over at the bride, who sat at the head table, her face red.

“I just took them off for a second,” Sally said, glaring at Dana.

Wolfe fought the urge to stand in front of Dana to shield her from the meanness.

“Now, Sally,” Dana said, edging toward Roscoe. “He just wants to be a little taller and he looks so nice.”