“Why did you kiss me?” he demanded.
He skewered her in place with his hands and the weight of his long, impossibly hard body. Her eyes widened. Her breasts prickled. An unmistakable stiffness bit fiercely into her pelvis. Oh, God. Somehow, with that awkward and pitiful excuse for a kiss, he’d gotten aroused.
And Beth was so…so shaky. She hadn’t felt this in years. Ever.
“I…”
Wet by her, his plush, gleaming lips were the most distracting thing she’d ever beheld.
His fingers tightened on her wrists and his rolling deep voice vibrated across his muscles. “I don’t play games, Bethany. My sense of humor runs thin and if you raise a little red flag at me one more time, I will charge.”
“Lan, there you are. You’re up for the microphone.”
He abruptly released her and Beth rubbed her sore wrists. A striking dark-headed man scrutinized them both from the doorway. Interest lit up his features and made his lips curve upward. “And who might the lady be?”
“Halifax’s wife.” With that disgusted statement, Landon stormed out of the room.
“I’m not his wife!” she shouted after him.
The newcomer shot her a look of incredulity, and Beth spread her trembling hands down the plackets of her jacket, futilely attempting to regroup. She snatched the book, which lay open, facedown on the floor.
“Garrett Gage,” the man said with a wry smile.
She hesitated before seizing his outstretched hand. “B-Bethany. Lewis.”
“Bethany, you need a drink.” He handed over his glass and easily tucked her free arm into the crook of his. He patted her fondly, like they were new best friends about to share intimacies. “Talk to me, Beth. May I call you Beth?”
Two
Revenge.
Revenge on a blonde, blue-eyed, tempting little platter. Landon couldn’t quite push her image aside. Elegant in her blue suit, dignified with her chin jutting out defiantly. Bethany Lewis.
With circles under her eyes.
He doubted she slept any more than he did. He cursed under his breath, telling himself he did not care whether she, too, fought demons at night.
He should have been
inclined to doubt her claims. A man became suspicious after the wind was knocked out of him…I’m leaving you for another man…
But the story had flooded the papers. Bethany Halifax, now Lewis, had endured a dirty divorce and an even uglier custody battle.
Which Landon shouldn’t give a damn about.
On his fifth glass of red and after the ordeal at the microphone, he downed the liquid slowly, forcing himself to enjoy the taste as he rested his elbows on the stone balustrade and contemplated the hotel gardens. The night had grown quiet, so that through the sound of water lapping against the edge of the hotel pool, through the sound of lonely crickets in the distance and the faded sounds of traffic even farther away in the city, he could hear his own thoughts.
Hector Halifax’s woman.
Kissing Landon’s lips like her life depended on it. Kissing him not subtly, but hard and fast and desperately.
It irked him immeasurably, her desperation, and he wasn’t certain why. Perhaps because he knew desperation. What shallow company it was, what a lousy counselor it became.
Perhaps because despite his resistance, he’d responded to her. Why her? She was not even the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and certainly not that sexy with that man-eating fury in her gaze. But when he’d felt her coaxing lips against his, he’d experienced the strangest, most exhilarating ecstasy. With her, trapped between him and the wall, the urge to rip off that tasteful jacket and fill his hands with her, fill her mouth with his tongue, had been more than he could bear.
He should’ve tasted her. He hadn’t felt this bothered, this turned-on, in years. He should’ve tasted that mobile, hungry little mouth—was it sweet? Hot?
He tensed when behind him, long sure footsteps approached, followed by his brother’s voice. Garrett. The youngest, Julian John, had to be around somewhere, too. Maybe necking with a waitress.