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PARKER REYNOLDS
They
gave her a curious look, as if she were clumsy bug that
had skittered into their midst, but Parker’s smile was
warm and real. “Hello, Meredith. Enjoying your evening?”
Meredith nodded.
Behind
her, Parker finally remembered their dance. “What about
the dance you promised me?” he said good-naturedly.
Meredith
whirled around, her face lighting up, “Oh, that. I’d
forgotten. Do you want to? Dance, I mean?”
“It’s
the best offer I’ve had all evening,’ he gallantly
replied, and as the musicians began to play “Bewitched,
Bothered, and Bewildered,” Meredith walked into Parker's
arms and felt her dream become reality. Beneath her
fingertips she could feel the smooth fabric of his black
tuxedo jacked and the solid hardness of his back. His
cologne smelled spicy and wonderful, and he was a superb
dancer. Meredith was so hopelessly overwhelmed that she
spoke her thoughts aloud. “You’re a wonderful dancer,” she
said.
“Thank
you.”
“And you
look very nice tonight in your tuxedo.”
He
chucked softly and Meredith tipped her head way back,
basking in the warmth of his smile as he said, “You look
very nice too.”
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