A PERFECT RENDEZVOUS

First Dance

The reception in the park that Zayn half-expected to be rather plain turned out to be a lavishly festive affair with twinkling lights in the trees and linen-covered tables groaning under an array of beautifully prepared food that equaled in taste anything Zayn's caterers had ever provided.

Standing off to the side with Liam Payne, he watched Patrick Swayze cut in on Harrison Ford, who'd been dancing with Harry, and he smiled to himself at the memory of his shocked face in the receiving line when Zayn began introducing him to nearly all the men he'd mentioned being his favorite movie stars. After his initial amazement, however, he had recovered and handled Zayn's famous guests with an unaffected graciousness that had filled Zayn with pride.

"Great wedding, Zayn," Warren Beatty said, holding his wife's hand and juggling a plate of hors d'oeuvres in the other. "The food is fantastic. What is this stuff anyway?"

Zayn looked at the plate. "Bar-be-qued ribs," he said dryly, "Texan style."

When they left, Zayn glanced at his watch, then he looked around for Harry and saw him dancing with Swayze again, laughing at whatever he was saying.

"He's captivated all of them," Liam said with an approving grin.

"Especially Swayze," Zayn observed, noting how well he danced with Swayze and trying not to note how closely he was holding Harry.

Liam nudged him a few minutes later and nodded toward Meredith. "Look what I have to endure—that's Costner's third dance with her. Meredith," he added, "is a great admirer of his."

"And vice versa, it would seem. Luckily, Swayze and Costner are both married," Zayn observed with a lazy grin. Putting his champagne glass down on the table beside him, he said, "I think it's late enough to claim the last dance and then leave."

"In a hurry to start your honeymoon?"

"You wouldn't believe the kind of hurry I'm in," Zayn joked. Reaching out, he shook Liam 's hand, but he didn't thank him for the years of unflagging friendship or his many favors. His gratitude was too deep for that, and they both understood it.

Pausing to ask the orchestra leader to play a particular song, Zayn went to retrieve his husband. He abandoned Patrick Swayze with gratifying speed, coming into Zayn's arms and smiling into his eyes. "It's about time you came to get me," he told him softly.

"Ready to leave?" he asked as the orchestra's song came to an end.

Harry was dying to leave, to go away with him and be alone together. He nodded and started to move away, but Zayn shook his head and said in a husky, meaningful voice, "After the next song."

"What song?" Harry asked in the silence, but he only smiled, and then the song Zayn had asked the orchestra to play began its hot, steady rhythm.

"This one," he said, meaningfully as the seductive words to Feliciano's song began to pound in the night.

"Light my fire, Harry," he ordered huskily, beginning to move with him to the beat of the music.

Harry fell under the spell of his heavy-lidded eyes and inviting smile within seconds. Oblivious to the crowd who was turning to watch them, Harry moved closer to him, his body matching the subtle movement of his. He slid his hands around Harry's waist, holding him closer. "More."