Three Times A Bride. Catherine SpencerЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER TWO

      HE STOPPED and turned back to face her. He looked at her long and thoughtfuly then, as he retraced his steps, said with ominous intent, “Did I really? Well, that’s one mistake I certainly don’t have to repeat.”

      Georgia’s heart flapped around behind her ribs like a chicken trying to save its neck from the hatchet but Adam didn’t care. He just kept moving until he loomed no more than twelve inches from where she stood rooted to the plush blue carpet under her feet.

      Trapped by the desk behind her and the reckless words she’d flung at him, she did the only thing she could without losing what was left of her pride. She tilted her head to one side and with regal condescension, offered him her cheek.

      “Oh, no,” he murmured, capturing her face in cool fingers and turning it back toward him and bending his head to hers.“Not like that at all. Like this.”

      As soon as he touched her, she fell apart. A soft roaring filled her mind, dimming her hearing and clouding her vision. Her legs buckled, sending her reeling into him for support. She grabbed at him blindly, intending only to anchor herself upright, and instead found herself smoothing her hands over his face in tactile renewal of its beauty.

      His mouth lowered. She felt the warm drift of his breath against her lips. And then, in excruciating slow motion, he kissed her.

      It wasn’t aggressive, as kisses between a man and a woman often were. There was no audacity, no thrusting invasion of privacy. He simply settled his lips on hers and let them rest there. Yet, for all that, it was a lover’s kiss, delicately, temptingly erotic. A hothouse flower on the brink of bursting into fragrant bloom—or more accurately, an echo so painfully sweet of a splendor she’d once known that she couldn’t bear to let it end.

      She pressed herself to him, winding her arms around his neck and softening her mouth in acquiescence. A murmur escaped her—a plea for just a little more, just a little longer—soft enough that only he could hear it, yet able to deafen completely all those parts of her brain that were trying so hard to scream out a warning.

      The hopeless, helpless longings she’d stored away, having found a crack through which to escape, took full advantage but she was too enthralled to notice. All she cared about was that Adam responded to her overtures by sliding his arms tightly around her and directing the seductive finesse he’d always employed so well to a different turn, one no longer defined by propriety.

      His mouth grew bold, investigative, cajoling. As if she weren’t willing enough to surrender to its assault! He tested her lips, tasted them and, when they opened to him, accepted the implicit surrender they offered.

      At least, she thought he did. Was so convinced, in fact, that it took a while for her to comprehend that he was declining after all. Not that he was so ungallant as to shove her away and remind her that she was supposed to be engaged to another man. He merely ended things. Slowly, regretfully even, but quite firmly, leaving her no choice but to abide by his refusal.

      “Will that suffice?” he asked.

      She wrapped her arms around her waist as the cool aftermath of his rejection infiltrated every pore of her skin to lay an icy wreath around her heart. Drawing in a great shuddering breath, she managed to nod.“Yes,” she said.

      He prepared to leave again and had one foot out the door before he tossed a final word over his shoulder.“Liar,” he said.

      Adam strode across the sidewalk and out into the rainslick road, narrowly missing being hit by a van that turned the corner too quickly. He barely noticed. It wasn’t his time to die; he’d already proved that with the business up north a year ago. And he had weightier things on his mind right now, like the lingering feel of Georgia in his arms, and the fact that some parts of him hadn’t been the least bit impaired by crash-landing in the frozen tundra of the Arctic.

      “Hah,” he muttered with fake insouciance to the bronze statue of Eugene Piper that presided over the little public garden in the middle of the square, “that’ll teach her!”

      But it had taught him, too—a lesson he’d briefly been disposed to forget: she was about to marry another man. While he’d been recovering from multiple fractures of the thigh, a dislocated shoulder and four broken ribs, not to mention a coma brought on by trauma to the brain and major bruising of just about every internal organ he owned, she’d been casting her net at Steven Drake.

      The woman to whom he’d given his heart and his ring, and for whom he’d been willing to give up a career that he’d truly loved, had taken his apparent death in stride and gone ahead with her life without missing a beat. So what did he think he was doing, getting himself all fired up over a kiss when he ought to be congratulating himself on his lucky escape?

      “Not that I expected her to spend the rest of her life alone, draped in widow’s weeds and burning a candle under my photo, you understand,” he grumbled to Eugene.“But couldn’t she have waited a decent interval? And chosen to look a bit further afield than my best friend?”

      Eugene stared sightlessly ahead, rain dripping off his face mournfully. Some best friend, Adam, old buddy!

      “I don’t blame him,” Adam said defensively.“He’s a nice guy who didn’t see what was headed his way until it was too late to duck. And at least he didn’t sweep me under the carpet the way she did. He showed some sort of conscience about the whole affair.”

      In fact, from what Beverley had said, Steven had done a lot more than that. During the weeks immediately following the jet’s disastrous test flight, he’d been a frequent visitor at her house. He’d taken time out from consoling the bereaved fiancée to offer comfort to an opinionated, autocratic old lady who didn’t have another soul in the world who really gave a damn about her once her grandson had apparently shuffled off.

      “He actually asked my permission to court that foolish child,” Beverley had told Adam, stemming her pleasure in his survival long enough to allude to Georgia with the customary disdain she reserved for all the Chamberlaines.“Under the circumstances I gave him my blessing and wished him luck. Heaven knows he’s going to need it, marrying into that straitlaced lot.”

      She’d been referring, of course, to the long-standing feud between the Walshes and the Chamberlaines, two of Piper Landing’s founding families. It went back two generations, to the time when his maternal grandfather, Simon, had dumped Georgia’s paternal grandmother, Celeste, to marry Beverley. Well, the tables had been turned now, with a vengeance!

      “In the long run it’s probably just as well that things fell apart between Georgia and me,” Adam confided to Eugene.“Hell, there’s enough grief in the world without a man finding himself caught in the crossfire between warring in-laws, wouldn’t you say?”

      Although Eugene continued to stare commiseratingly into space, a young woman pushing a baby carriage through the little park heard Adam muttering to himself, flung him a startled glance, and gave him a wide berth.

      Just then, the Courthouse clock struck the quarter hour, reminding him that he was taking Beverley to lunch at one.“Well, enough of this rubbish,” he decided, turning up the collar of his jacket and heading for his grandmother’s 1979 Rolls-Royce which he’d prudently parked on the far side of the square, just in case Georgia had spotted it and decided not to answer the door to