Чтение онлайн

Unclenching his hands, he lifted a small Post-it square from the left side of his desk and repositioned it on the right. The note had been there all week, a glaring reminder of the upcoming wedding. On the pale-yellow square of paper, Allie had written down the name of the Methodist church in Fair Oaks and the time and date of the ceremony. Reverend Frank Harmon, she’d penned across the bottom of the note, the neat flowing loops of her script as feminine as the woman who wrote them.

A knock on his office door sent tension zinging up his spine. He dragged a folder to the center of his desk and opened it, dipping his head down to the stack of papers he should have been reviewing. “Enter.”

Allie slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. As she crossed the office, her soft skirt rippled around her, shaping itself to the curves of her body. “Could we talk?” The faintest trace of irritation colored her tone.

He closed the folder with precise care. “Certainly.”

She stood before his desk, shoulders thrown back. “You might be able to see our marriage as a cold-blooded business deal, but I can’t. Even though we’re not marrying for love, we’re going to live together for the next two years. We ought to get to know each other better.”

He struggled to focus on what she was saying, distracted by the way the late-morning sun lit her slender form. Would her skin feel warmer under that yellow glow? He shook off the image. “What do you want, Allie?”

“I want you to stop avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you.”

She just stared at him a moment, her expression telling him she knew a snow job when she heard one. “I want to spend some time with you, Lucas. I want a chance to get to know you a little better before the wedding.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable request, if you ignored the heat rippling through his body that urged him to get to know her much, much better. More time spent with her meant an even greater trial for his libido. But hell, he was a grown man. He ought to be able to give Allie what she wanted without breaking his promise of a platonic relationship.

She stood there, watching him, no doubt preparing her next argument if he turned her down. Lord, she was a hell of a fighter.

“What am I doing for lunch?” he asked her.

The question caught her off guard. She glanced around her as if seeking her laptop. “No meetings scheduled.”

“I have one now,” he said. “With you.”

Her brilliant smile cut straight to his heart, setting off a flurry of unfamiliar emotions. Before he could catch his balance again, she’d moved around his desk and bent to put her arm around his shoulders. “Thank you,” she murmured in his ear.

The warmth of her breath teased him, the nearness of her crumbled his good intentions. Before she could straighten, he’d curved his hands around her face, brought her mouth to his.

His fingers dove into her silky black hair, the softness against his skin a sweet torment. He brushed his mouth against hers, telling himself with each light touch to back off, to push her away. But when he’d kissed her a week ago, he’d had only the briefest taste. The memory of it had haunted him every night, stealing his sleep, infiltrating his dreams.

And he had to have more.

Allie never should have touched him. In her delight over sharing lunch with Lucas, she’d let impulse take control. Now with him so near, with his breath fanning across her face as he stroked her lips with his, the snare of his passion wound around her.

She had to pull away. She took a step back to do just that when Lucas’s mouth drifted from her lips, along her jaw to nuzzle in her ear. She swallowed back a moan, her pleasure easing out in a sigh instead. The hand he’d buried in her hair moved restlessly, its random pattern electric and breath-stealing.

Her own hands took their cue from him, gliding along the stiff shoulders of his jacket to the warm column of his throat. She wanted to ease her fingertips into his hair, explore his sensitive scalp as he did hers. She wanted to do more—to shift to stand in the V of his legs, to press her aching breasts against his chest.

She was lost. With so little effort, Lucas had taken over. And yet she had only to take another step back, to straighten and tug herself away and he would let her go. He had to let her go.

Drawing in a trembling breath, Allie struggled to regain her strength, her will. She slid her hands from Lucas’s throat, pressed her palms against his shoulders. The instant he felt the pressure of her hands against him, he released her so that she nearly stumbled as she backed away.

He sprang from his chair, turning away from her. Facing the window, he pressed both palms against the glass, arms stiff with tension. “Hell.”

She heard a tremor in the softly spoken word. Raising a shaky hand, she smoothed her hair from her face. “I’m sorry.”

His head swiveled toward her, his eyes blazing. “What the devil do you have to be sorry for?”

“Because I…” Her stomach knotted, cutting off the words. She took a breath. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”

For a long moment, he just stared at her. Then he pushed away from the window. “No you shouldn’t. Because I damn well can’t seem to control…” Stabbing his fingers through his thick dark hair in agitation, he raised his gaze to hers. “I’m the one who should apologize. You did nothing wrong. I took advantage…hell.”

She’d seen Lucas angry, seen him throw on a cloak of intimidation that drove fear into the hearts of his adversaries, but she’d never seen him this way—flustered, uncertain, off-balance. His unsettling vulnerability set off a chord inside Allie, an unexpected tenderness.

Which sent her thoughts marching in a perilous direction. She edged away from him, headed for the door. She could feel his eyes on her every step, but couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Is lunch still…do you still want to…?”

“When are my appointments finished?”

“Twelve-thirty.” She chanced a quick glance at him. The softness she’d seen before in him had gone, replaced by his usual icy calm.

“Twelve-thirty, then.”

He retrieved his chair and lowered himself into it. She reached for the door.

“Allie.”

The gentleness of his tone drew her back around. Arms across her middle, she faced him. Something flickered in his eyes, emotions that seemed to struggle to the surface before sinking again into the mystery that was Lucas Taylor.