rich husband number three.
Emma
. A woman with a real body and a smile that could quite possibly melt his heart if he wasn’t careful.
‘And a good night to you too.’ He drained the glass and set it down on the napkin, then picked up his bottle andglasses, rose and executed a bow. ‘Welcome to Sydney, Lady Kylie, enjoy your stay.’
He didn’t wait for a reply, simply turned on his heel and headed towards the ballroom to find Emma.
Emma’s hands shook so much she could barely swipe the keycard through its slot. On the third try she managed to let herself in and lean back against the door. She felt physically ill—as if the five-tiered wedding cake had lodged in her stomach.
One hand clenched on her parasol, she rubbed her free hand over her heart and up her throat. Jake hadn’t come near her since their upstairs ‘encounter’. For want of a better word. Never mind that she’d stupidly tried to avoid him; that was totally beside the point.
Flinging her hat into the air, she watched it sail across the room. She’d been hanging around in the ballroom, expecting him to come and find her. But he hadn’t. When it came to guys like him she really was
so
naïve.
Then
she’d
found
him
. In the lobby bar … with a woman who
looked
like a woman, not some under-developed teenager.
The soft knock at the door behind her had her whirling around. Heart pounding in her throat, she yanked the door open.
Jake leaned on the doorjamb, his jacket slung over one shoulder, shirtsleeves rolled back. His hair was a little mussed, his cravat was gone, and the top button of his shirt was undone, leaving his throat tantalisingly exposed. He dangled a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his free hand.
His eyes met hers. They burned with such hot, unsatisfied hunger her throat closed over and she couldn’t raiseso much as a whisper. All she could think was he’d come for her.
Her
.
He lifted the bottle. ‘You going to let me in? Or do you want the entire floor to know the best man’s planning a hot night with the bridesmaid?’ He grinned as he slid sideways and passed her, brushing his liquor-tinged lips over hers on his way. ‘I hope you hadn’t planned on starting without me.’
She took a moment to catch his meaning, then a wild fire swept up her neck and into her cheeks. All she managed was a gurgling sound at the back of her throat.
She closed the door and leaned back against it, heart pounding as she watched him toss his jacket over the couch, watched the way his muscles bunched beneath his shirt. His hair held the gleam of burnished gold threads amongst the brown.
He glanced back at her as he walked to a little round table topped with a crystal vase of fresh blooms. ‘You weren’t running out on me, were you?’
‘You … you were otherwise occupied.’ She found her voice.
He frowned. ‘I was
waiting
for you.’
‘I didn’t know.’ The door felt hard, the row of buttons digging into her spine.
He set the bottle and glasses down, brows raised, eyes dark as midnight. ‘You
didn’t know?
Jeez, woman.’
‘I thought maybe you’d …’
found someone more desirable, more attractive
‘… changed your mind.’
‘What? This weekend’s about you and me, remember?’
Her chin lifted. ‘I never agreed.’ Exactly.
‘You …’ He shook his head, eyes changing, finally comprehending. ‘Come on, Emma, do you really think I’d go for that type downstairs?’
‘I … hoped not.’ She swallowed, relief softening herlimbs, and allowed herself a smile. ‘Because then I’d have to hit you with my parasol.’
He grinned back at her, eyes wicked. ‘Maybe I’ll let you. Later.’
‘Um …’ Was she really up for an experienced man like Jake?
He popped the cork off the champagne bottle. ‘Tonight’s been a foregone conclusion all along, and we both know it.’
Yes. And for this moment, for what was left of the weekend, or for however long this spark burned, she knew without a doubt she wanted
Emma
. A woman with a real body and a smile that could quite possibly melt his heart if he wasn’t careful.
‘And a good night to you too.’ He drained the glass and set it down on the napkin, then picked up his bottle andglasses, rose and executed a bow. ‘Welcome to Sydney, Lady Kylie, enjoy your stay.’
He didn’t wait for a reply, simply turned on his heel and headed towards the ballroom to find Emma.
Emma’s hands shook so much she could barely swipe the keycard through its slot. On the third try she managed to let herself in and lean back against the door. She felt physically ill—as if the five-tiered wedding cake had lodged in her stomach.
One hand clenched on her parasol, she rubbed her free hand over her heart and up her throat. Jake hadn’t come near her since their upstairs ‘encounter’. For want of a better word. Never mind that she’d stupidly tried to avoid him; that was totally beside the point.
Flinging her hat into the air, she watched it sail across the room. She’d been hanging around in the ballroom, expecting him to come and find her. But he hadn’t. When it came to guys like him she really was
so
naïve.
Then
she’d
found
him
. In the lobby bar … with a woman who
looked
like a woman, not some under-developed teenager.
The soft knock at the door behind her had her whirling around. Heart pounding in her throat, she yanked the door open.
Jake leaned on the doorjamb, his jacket slung over one shoulder, shirtsleeves rolled back. His hair was a little mussed, his cravat was gone, and the top button of his shirt was undone, leaving his throat tantalisingly exposed. He dangled a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his free hand.
His eyes met hers. They burned with such hot, unsatisfied hunger her throat closed over and she couldn’t raiseso much as a whisper. All she could think was he’d come for her.
Her
.
He lifted the bottle. ‘You going to let me in? Or do you want the entire floor to know the best man’s planning a hot night with the bridesmaid?’ He grinned as he slid sideways and passed her, brushing his liquor-tinged lips over hers on his way. ‘I hope you hadn’t planned on starting without me.’
She took a moment to catch his meaning, then a wild fire swept up her neck and into her cheeks. All she managed was a gurgling sound at the back of her throat.
She closed the door and leaned back against it, heart pounding as she watched him toss his jacket over the couch, watched the way his muscles bunched beneath his shirt. His hair held the gleam of burnished gold threads amongst the brown.
He glanced back at her as he walked to a little round table topped with a crystal vase of fresh blooms. ‘You weren’t running out on me, were you?’
‘You … you were otherwise occupied.’ She found her voice.
He frowned. ‘I was
waiting
for you.’
‘I didn’t know.’ The door felt hard, the row of buttons digging into her spine.
He set the bottle and glasses down, brows raised, eyes dark as midnight. ‘You
didn’t know?
Jeez, woman.’
‘I thought maybe you’d …’
found someone more desirable, more attractive
‘… changed your mind.’
‘What? This weekend’s about you and me, remember?’
Her chin lifted. ‘I never agreed.’ Exactly.
‘You …’ He shook his head, eyes changing, finally comprehending. ‘Come on, Emma, do you really think I’d go for that type downstairs?’
‘I … hoped not.’ She swallowed, relief softening herlimbs, and allowed herself a smile. ‘Because then I’d have to hit you with my parasol.’
He grinned back at her, eyes wicked. ‘Maybe I’ll let you. Later.’
‘Um …’ Was she really up for an experienced man like Jake?
He popped the cork off the champagne bottle. ‘Tonight’s been a foregone conclusion all along, and we both know it.’
Yes. And for this moment, for what was left of the weekend, or for however long this spark burned, she knew without a doubt she wanted
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