Too Wise To Wed?. PENNY JORDANЧитать онлайн книгу.
he’s got cold feet and decided to make his escape,’ Chris suggested.
Star gave him a cool look.
‘If he has, there are plenty of others to take his place,’ she responded.
She could see Sally biting her lip and giving Chris a warning look as he opened his mouth to say something else, but she waited until Chris had excused himself and left them on their own before telling her friend gently, ‘It’s all right Sally, you don’t have to protect me from Chris. I know he doesn’t approve of me.’
‘It’s not that,’ Sally protested. ‘It’s just...’
‘It’s just that he doesn’t like it when a woman behaves like a man?’ Star suggested.
‘You deliberately try to give him the wrong impression,’ Sally defended her husband. ‘You make him think...’
‘Make him think what?’ Star taunted her. ‘I make him think that I like sex...that I like men.’
‘But you don’t, do you?’ Sally countered swiftly, shocking Star into silence. Then seizing the advantage she had gained, she continued, ‘You don’t really like men at all, Star; you despise them. You think that all men are like your father,’ she added sadly, ‘and they aren’t. They—’
‘No?’ Star fought back. ‘Tell me that again in ten years’ time, Sal!’
‘Oh, Star,’ Sally protested under her breath as she watched her friend stalk off.
‘Where’s Star gone?’ Chris asked his wife a few minutes later as he rejoined her. ‘Off on another manhunt?’
‘Oh, Chris, she isn’t like that. Not really,’ Sally protested. ‘She just...she’s just so vulnerable, really. She was hurt so badly when her father left her mother and rejected her, trying to claim that she wasn’t his child, and then there were so many bad relationships in her mother’s life, so many love affairs that went wrong, that it just reinforced her belief that men can’t be trusted. She tries to pretend she doesn’t care—she even jokes that she can’t remember any more how many step and half brothers and sisters she has got because there are so many of them—but deep down inside, I know that she does care, that she—’
‘You’re far too soft-hearted,’ Chris told her lovingly, curling his arm around her and swinging her round so that they were face to face. ‘I don’t know whether it’s all this fresh air or not, but suddenly I am very, very hungry.’
‘Hungry...?’ Sally gave him a startled look. ‘Chris, we’ve only just eaten that wonderful buffet; you can’t possibly—’
‘Who said anything about being hungry for food?’ Chris whispered in her ear. ‘It’s you I’m hungry for... Mmm...and you taste very, very good as well...’
‘Chris!’ Sally protested as he started to nibble her ear, but she was laughing as she tried to push him away.
On the other side of the lawn someone else observed them. He had been watching too when Star had been with them, had seen her stalk away from Sally in obvious high dudgeon.
It was funny, but although he had heard quite a lot about her both from Sally and from Claire he still hadn’t recognised who Star was until she had made that comment about doing some PR work for Brad, Kyle acknowledged.
Listening to Claire and Sally describing her and her background as they’d explained the events surrounding the throwing of Sally’s wedding bouquet and the trio’s avowed determination to remain unwed despite having caught it, he had felt mildly sorry for the unknown Star and, if he was honest, a little smugly self-satisfied that he was too well balanced to share her warped outlook on life—and he could have done, given his own family history.
His mother had regularly dumped him on whoever she could find to take charge of him whilst she went off with her latest lover. His father had finally and unwillingly taken him under his own roof whilst making it clear how little he wanted him. But happily the bitterness which could have tainted the whole of his life had never been allowed to take root, had in fact been washed away, flooded out by the outpouring of love he had received from his stepmother’s older sister, the woman who had become a surrogate mother to him and whom he still gently mourned.
But now... now he had met Star, had witnessed at first hand the powerful, turbulent, magnetic pull of her sexuality, had felt his body respond to it and to her! And it had responded to her... Was still responding to her, if he was honest.
Intellectually he might be aware of all the pitfalls involved in following through on what was running through his head right now, but physically...
He had seen the look she had given him when he had stopped Clay from making his play for her, and the even more contemptuous one she had sent him when he had informed her of his views on sex without emotion. He suspected he knew exactly why she had been so determined to get him to have dinner with her—and it didn’t have anything to do with any desire to get him into bed. He only wished that he could say the same about his own motives in accepting.
Right now the thought of all the ways he would like to pleasure her if he had her spread out on a bed underneath him was driving him wild, with the kind of ache that was rapidly becoming a sharp urgency.
For starters he certainly wanted to see that smooth hairstyle all mussed and soft and those challenging sea-green eyes hazy and dazed with the joy of what they were both experiencing, and he surely wanted to feel those full, firm lips quivering eagerly beneath his, clinging to his, whilst he slowly stroked her silky skin. Oh, yes, he surely wanted that.
He wanted to peel her clothes from her body and share with her that spiralling, giddying, breathtaking climb through the delicately, deliberately erotic foothills of shared foreplay, across the plateau of escalating desire and then on to the heights where they could look down on the rest of the universe and momentarily believe that they were superhuman, immortal; but for that it was necessary to reach out and share yourself mentally and emotionally as well as physically and Star had made it more than plain that that kind of intimacy was not on her agenda.
And he had spoken the truth when he had told her that, to him, sex without emotion was like a flower without perfume, and he felt as sad and compassionately sorry for someone who had been denied the ability to experience that emotion as he did for someone who had been denied the gift of sight.
Of course, there had been occasions when he had been growing up when he had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the experience of exploring his sexuality, but since then there had been only two serious relationships in his life—one with a fellow student whilst he’d been at college, which had ended shortly after their graduation by mutual consent, and another which had been over for several years now and which had ended when he had moved from New York City to set up in business here in this quiet, sturdily American small town.
He remained on friendly terms with both his ex-lovers and was godfather to both their eldest children.
It had been the death of Grace, his ‘surrogate’ mother, that had prompted the heart-searching which had led to the ending of his New York relationship, bringing about as it had the admission that the emotion which he felt for Andrea had become that of a close friend rather than a lover. She had begun to feel the same way, she had confessed when he had finally brought himself to broach the subject with her.
He had promised himself when he’d left New York that the next time, the next love, would be his last, his for all time and beyond time, and, perhaps because of that, or perhaps simply because he was older and wiser and maybe tired too, he had found himself reluctant to embark on any new relationship, sensing that ultimately it would not fulfil his need to form a lifetime bond with that one special woman who would accept him and love him as he was and for what he was, as he would her.
He knew that many of his friends considered him to be something of an idealist. Well, why not? He wasn’t ashamed of his feelings, his needs. Why should he be?
And it was only very, very rarely now that his body reminded him that