“That I did,” she said flirtatiously, and Luke remembered seeing her in another man’s arms, how at home she’d seemed, how lighthearted and free. She interrupted his thoughts when she asked, “So . . . how about a dance?”

He hadn’t been asked that particular question since high school. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“That makes two of us. Come on.” As if she expected him to come up with some kind of excuse, she grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him into the warm room where couples were gliding around the dance floor. Rather than protest, he went with her into the ballroom. He felt safer inside even though there was probably no danger lurking in the gloomy shadows by the creek. It was just his imagination working overtime.

A song from the big-band era was playing. He’d heard the tune before, didn’t know its name, and didn’t have time to speculate. Katie fell into his arms as naturally as if she’d been born there. She didn’t seem to mind that his dancing was limited. He hadn’t lied. He’d had a few dance lessons in physical education when he’d been about twelve and scared to death of the opposite sex; then he’d experimented a little in high school and at rare social events while he’d been married to Celia.

“See?” Katie said, looking up at him with eyes as green as a forest. “This isn’t so bad.”

“Could be worse,” he admitted and wondered why it felt so right to hold her.

“A lot worse.”

As if of their own accord, his arms tightened around her. She felt small, warm and pliant as she rested her head against his shoulder. Music and laughter swirled around them. The lights dimmed and Luke’s heart pounded. He imagined kissing her again, melding his lips over hers and sliding his tongue between her teeth; imagined slipping his hands beneath her dress and how her skin would feel as he peeled the blue folds of silk from her body.

Tiffany and J.D. glided past. Tiffany’s head was thrown back and she was laughing gaily, as if she had the world by its proverbial tail. In a glimmer she spied Katie and winked at her half-sister, as if the two women shared a private joke.

“Mind if I cut in?” John Cawthorne’s voice surprised him. “I’m making a point of dancing with each of my daughters.” Luke stepped aside, ended up with Brynnie in his arms and watched as the father of the bride made a big display of dancing with his third daughter. He’d already had a turn with Bliss, who had seemed radiant in her father’s arms—as well as with Tiffany, who had danced stiffly, no smile upon her face. Now Katie fell into step with her newfound father as if she’d been a part of his family for years.