Some Kind of Wonderful (Puffin Island 2)

‘Then marry my father. I hope you’ll be very happy.’ She was calm, trying to defuse a situation that was threatening to explode, but it was too late—and she saw the moment his anger snapped the leash and bolted.

In the past she’d handled every incendiary moment with care, never allowing it to reach this point. She’d soothed, placated, and occasionally walked out, putting distance between them.

But it was too late for any of those options.

The pin was out of the grenade.

His shoulders hunched. His features were contorted and ugly. And in that single split second she wondered how she ever could have thought him handsome. On the outside he was perfectly wrapped, but on the inside …

‘Richard, you need to get control of yourself.’ Her voice was sharp. ‘Take some breaths.’

‘You are a spoiled bitch.’

She flinched as if he’d hit her—and then realised in a moment of suspended disbelief that he actually was going to hit her.

His hand came up and instinctively she sidestepped to evade the blow. Her heel caught on the edge of a box and she fell heavily, smacking her head on the corner of the table.

Pain exploded in her skull. Her vision went dark and there was a distant humming in her head. Something warm and wet trickled down her face and she opened her eyes dizzily, trying to see through the pain.

He stood over her, hands raised to ward off the accusation he was clearly afraid she might make. ‘I didn’t touch you.’ There was a hint of panic in his voice. ‘I didn’t touch you.’

He made no move to help her.

Showed no concern for her wellbeing—only his own.

Her sense of betrayal deepened.

‘Get out, or I swear I will damage more than your career.’

Her voice sounded strange and distant. The world around her had blurred edges.

Oh, God, she was going to pass out. Just when she needed to be strong and kick his ass, she was going to faint.

‘It was an accident, Sky—a stupid accident because you didn’t look where you were going. You know how dreamy you are …’

‘You wanted two words? I’ve got two perfect words for you. Fuck off. Go. Now.’ She lifted her fingers to her head and they came away st

icky.

Crap. Forget ketchup—she was going to get blood on her new dress.

‘The press are out there.’ He growled the words, his eyes wild as his brain computed the potential PR nightmare. ‘They’re supposed to be reporting our engagement. Instead you give them this? Damn you, Skylar. You did this—you deal with it. Maybe a blow to the head will wake you up. When you come to your senses, call me. I’ll think about whether or not you’re really what I want.’

Without looking back he strode out of the side entrance and into the night, leaving her lying in her own blood.

What the hell were they doing in that room?

Alec prowled round the exhibition, ignoring the other guests. The crowd was thinning out, people were melting away—some speculating on the romantic scene that was going on behind closed doors.

The public proposal had taken him by surprise.

Brittany had described him as the ‘rat boyfriend’, which hadn’t sounded to him like a relationship on the edge of happy-ever-after.

He’d found the proposal uncomfortable to witness, but judging from the oohs and ahs from the women in the audience he was alone with that feeling—which was probably why he was single. What did he know about romance? According to his ex-wife: nothing.

She’d wanted sweeping gestures and frequent public demonstrations of his love.

Her insecurities and endless demands had made him feel as if he’d been given a life sentence for a crime he’d never committed.