The First Love Cookie Club by Lori Wilde Page B

oozing from his pores. Her pulse strummed, restless, edgy.
    How she hated this out-of-control sensation.
    She pretended to have a sudden hankering for food and darted over to the pool-tables-turned-buffet, picked up a red plastic plate, and circled the spread. Maybe if she didn’t look at him, he’d go away.
    The chocolate fudge cookies beckoned. She’d stopped eating for emotional comfort a long time ago, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still have the urge to stuff down her feelings with a tempting dessert.
    She busied herself with studying the food selection, but from the corner of her eye she could see him following her over to the table. Crap! She stared at the cookies, willed herself into them— chocolaty, fudgy, rich and moist and crunchy with toasted pecans.
    She heard his footsteps behind her and closed her eyes.
Go away.
    “You know,” Travis said, coming to stand so near her she could smell his intoxicating scent, “I think we’ve been set up.”
    That was not what she was expecting him to say. She turned, jerking her gaze from the chocolate fudge cookies that were whispering,
Sarah, come eat me, you know you want to eat me.
What was it about being back in Twilight that made her want to throw Weight Watchers out the window and graze like a cow in a cornfield?
    “What do you mean?” she asked.
    His eyes twinkled in the glow from the colorful Christmas lights circling the dance floor. “No one bothered telling me that Sadie Cool, my daughter’s favorite author, was actually little Sarah Collier all grown up.”
    “Would it have made a difference?”
    “No,” he said. “But neither was anyone considerate enough to tell you that Jazzy was my daughter.”
    “Why
would
they tell me something like that? It’s not like it matters one way or the other,” Sarah said, still determined to pretend she remembered nothing about interrupting Travis’s wedding. When in doubt, deny, deny, deny.
    “Would you have come to Twilight if you’d known about Jazzy and me?”
    “Probably not,” she admitted. In fact, if they’d told her he was Jazzy’s father, she’d have been more likely to take a shuttle to the space station than come back here. “Certainly not just for a cookie club swap and a book signing. I’m not really into all the holiday hoopla. It was Jazzy’s letter that made the difference.”
    “Those meddlesome matchmakers have got something up their sleeves. Otherwise, why not just come clean?” Travis nodded toward the culprits.
    Why not indeed?
    She peered across the room at the ladies of the First Love Cookie Club. The seven of them were gathered around the eggnog bowl, sliding surreptitious glances toward Travis and Sarah. Raylene winked. Dotty Mae grinned. Belinda gave a double thumbs-up.
    “Oh God, you’re right.” She groaned. “They
are
playing matchmaker. You go out the back way, I’ll head for the front door.”
    He leaned in closer, his mouth almost touching the top of her ear. His warm breath made her shiver. “Running away is not the way to play this.”
    “No?” Too bad. Escape was her favorite method of self-preservation.
    “I think we should turn the tables on them,” he murmured. “Are you game?”
    “Why should I do that?”
    “If they think we’ve already connected, they’ll stop throwing us in each other’s paths.”
    That got her attention. He made good sense. “What do you have in mind?” Sarah asked.
    A small group of people were sliding across thedance floor in time to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” Travis cocked his head. “Shall we dance?”
    “Um.” A sudden heat swept through her at the thought of linking her arms through his. “I don’t know how to dance.”
    “No worries,” he said. “Just follow my lead.”
    “I’ll trample your toes,” she warned.
    “I’ll take my chances. Come on, let’s make them think their matchmaking worked.”
    Before she could think of another protest, Travis was leading her out onto