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pump?
    “Thinking of mugging me?” a soft voice asked.
    Those tense muscles in his neck prompted a grimace as he whipped his head toward her, to where she stood not more than an arm’s length away. How had he not noticed her approach, when he’d hardly taken his gaze off her all day?
    What was it about her that drew and held his attention? Was it the bright red dress that bared her shoulders and the delicate ridge of her collarbone? Was it the glossiness of her sable hair? Or the warmth and vulnerability in her deep brown eyes?
    She stepped closer, as if she doubted he’d heard her over the music and raised voices of the other wedding guests. “Are you?”
    His pulse leaped in reaction. She was so damn beautiful that all rational thought fled his mind. All his plans, all his convictions evaporated in the heat of his attraction to her. “What?”
    She gestured toward the beaded bag, which he hadn’t realized he held. “I didn’t figure you for a purse snatcher,” she teased, her eyes shining.
    “You left it here,” he pointed out, “unattended.”
    “This is Cloverville,” she said, as if that explained everything.
    He lifted a brow. “And there’s no crime in Cloverville?”
    “Nothing more serious than my idiot brother and his degenerate friends spiking the punch.” She extended her hand, reaching for her bag.
    But he held tight. “I can’t give this to you.”
    “What?”
    When he fumbled with the rhinestone clasp, she gasped at his audacity. She had no idea how bold he could be, but now he wanted her to know. He wanted her to know him.
    “I have to take your keys,” he insisted. “You can’t drink and drive.” As a surgeon, he’d seen far too many drunk drivers and the people hurt by them.
    “I’m not driving.”
    “No, you’re not,” he agreed, as he pulled out her key ring.
    “Hey, those are my house keys, too,” she protested.
    “This is Cloverville. No crime,” he said, tossing her words back at her. “I doubt anyone here locks his door.”
    Colleen opened and then closed her mouth, completely at a loss. Her mother had never locked her front door, and since Colleen still lived at home, she could get inside without a key. But still, he had no right to take her property. No right to tease her.
    An urge came over her to tease him back, to make him want her as she’d wanted him for so long. The reckless desire coursed through her veins with all the fire of the spiked punch. Maybe she’d stifled her impetuous nature for too long. Or maybe the punch had loosened her inhibitions. Either way, she couldn’t act. She knew the ramifications of impulsive behavior. She always wound up getting hurt or humiliated.
    “Give me my keys and my purse,” she demanded as she managed to summon her earlier haughtiness again. But her hand trembled as she held it out.
    “I will,” he agreed. Too easily. “After I walk you home.”
    She ignored the traitorous leap of her heartbeat and lifted her chin, saying firmly, “I’m not leaving.”
    “Your blond friend has already left. And there goes the redhead with Josh.” He gestured toward the door.
    Colleen followed his gaze. Looking like an old married couple, Brenna walked alongside the groom, each of them carrying a sleeping twin. Their seemingly boundless energy was finally spent.
    “Abby Hamilton is ‘the blonde,’” she informed him, annoyed that he knew no one’s name. He’d skipped the rehearsal dinner, of course, so he hadn’t officially met anyone. But he could have at least read a program. “And Brenna Kelly is the maid of honor.”
    “The maid of honor put up Josh and the twins last night,” Nick observed.
    Yet she could hardly blame Nick for not being invested in the wedding when even the bride hadn’t seemed to care about the plans. Colleen nodded. “Brenna put them up at her folks’ house, so the groom wouldn’t see the bride before the wedding.”
    Even so catering to superstition hadn’t saved them from bad luck.
    Nick