Both of them stopped, standing stock-still in the midst of the dancers. The most incredible aura seemed to surround them. Being in Luc’s arms felt so nice. More than nice. A sensual, compelling mix of emotions filled her… a mix that soothed and ignited her body all at one time.
Luc cocked his head to the side in puzzlement.
Clearly, he was experiencing the same rush of physical sensations and alarming emotions as she. Bemused, he began to dance again, forcing her to follow.
Sylvie liked to dance, and she was no slouch on the dance floor. She didn’t call attention to herself, but she had her own subtle moves. She noticed Luc’s lips twitch into a little smile at one of those moves. It was just a sinuous roll of the shoulders, but she could tell that he liked it… a lot.
Luc, on the other hand, was a gooood dancer. A man at ease with his body, he oozed uninhibitedness. Most women, on the other hand, were self-conscious about their bodies and danced accordingly, afraid of making a fool of themselves. Not that Luc did any outrageous dance moves. He danced the way he probably made love… slow and sexy. And he watched her the whole time with a maddening arrogance. Lazily assessing. Waiting.
Eventually, her eyes dropped before his steady gaze. Lordy, Lordy! What is wrong with me? Speculating about Luc as a lover? It must be the bourbon. It had better be the bourbon!
She should ask him how he was feeling. She was a chemist. He was a guinea pig, so to speak. It was unprofessional of her not to regard this situation in a clinical way.
Before she could switch into her chemist mode, though, Luc spoke. “I want you so much, Sylvie. Do you know that? You’re making me crazy.”
Her heart skipped a beat, then hammered against her chest walls. Every woman alive wanted to be wanted, and Sylvie was no exception. It didn’t matter if Luc’s desire stemmed from a chemical potion; the words still struck a chord in her. There were a million things she should have said, but what slipped out, instead, was the God’s-honest truth. “I want you, too.” She gasped at what her loose tongue had revealed. “I didn’t mean that. It just came out of nowhere. Forget I even said it. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Shhh. Don’t try to explain, Sylvie,” he said in a grainy voice, pressing a silencing forefinger against her lips. “Some things shouldn’t be examined too closely.”
She reeled under the influence of the potent alcohol.
Or was she reeling under the influence of the potent Cajun?
Their slow dance had slowed down to a mere swaying from side to side. His smoldering eyes held hers with an intensity of wanting… and fear. Yes, that was fear she saw in his dark eyes. And she knew just how he felt. She was scared to death, too.
“It’s just the love potion,” she assured him.
“Maybe.” He licked his lips. The way he was staring at her lips, as if he wanted to kiss her, was enough to melt Sylvie’s bones… if they weren’t already butter soft. And the way the crotch of his jeans brushed against her as they danced was already melting some significant portions of her anatomy.
“How do you explain your wanting me?” His one hand was still planted against the small of her back, but the palm of the other was distractedly stroking—Be still, my heart!—up and down her back, from shoulder to waist.
“The bourbon,” she answered quickly, but she really wasn’t sure about that. Still, she sought for logic in what was becoming an increasingly illogical situation. “Luc, don’t try to make this more than what it is. It’s chemistry, pure and simple… whether it comes from a love potion formula or alcohol. You’ve never been attracted to me in all the years we’ve been acquainted.”
“Sylvie, Sylvie, Sylvie.” He shook his head hopelessly at her. “I’ve had a thing for you since we were kids… just like my brother René pointed out so annoyingly earlier today.” She could tell that he immediately regretted his admission.