The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
Читать онлайн книгу.
lure them to you, perhaps it is just the unusual chemistry of beauty and that subtle challenge your very existence offers.”
“So I’m no longer a little scheming bitch then?”
He paused, detecting hurt, a hint of aggression as if he’d wronged her in some way. He’d never called her that. Or had he? He tilted his head, trying to remember. “Let’s just say you’re not slow to take advantage of the qualities nature endowed you with.”
She glared at him from the bed.
“But you haven’t answered my question. Who the hell is he?” The burning curiosity astounded him. Damon wanted to find the stranger, tear him to pieces. How dare she carry another man’s photo in her purse when she made love to him like a wicked angel? “What’s his name?”
“James.”
“And where is he now?” he was driven to ask.
“Dead.”
The answer jolted him. Rebecca no longer glared at him. Her face wore a faraway expression, remote, and her eyes were lifeless. He wanted to shake her, kiss her, tell her to focus on him, that he lived.
“I’m sorry.” But he wasn’t at all sorry that the man she’d cared for was dead. He didn’t need that kind of competition. And then he realised what he’d thought….
Competition. He stalked to the window and stared blindly into the falling dusk. When had it all become a competition? When had it become so important that Rebecca’s attention be taken up with him and only him?
And why did anyone else matter? He had her now. What did James…Aaron…even Savvas matter? Now there was only him. And he had no intention of letting her forget that.
“Forget James.” He swung back. In two long strides he was back on the bed beside her. He pushed her flat and followed her down. He didn’t dare name the dark, hot emotion that coursed through him, making him determined to eradicate the memory of the other man, this James.
He kissed her with dark, sexual purpose. She jerked as his mouth took hers. His mouth softened at once. And it all changed. She gave a mewing groan and responded. No holds barred.
There!
Fierce triumph filled him. He reared up and stared into her aroused face, flushed with passion. “Did James kiss you like that? Did you feel that same wild abandonment that you feel with me?”
“Get away from me!”
“Admit it’s good.” He leaned to kiss her again. She pummelled his chest.
“Get off me.”
He let her go and sat up. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Her red top had ridden up, revealing the creamy skin of her midriff. He forced his gaze away before his thoughts scattered. “He couldn’t have meant anything to yo—”
“Why? Because I devour men like some black widow? Twist them around my little finger like trophies in some cruel game? Because I’m incapable of love?”
“Hell.” He couldn’t meet the reproachful challenge in her gaze. Something tugged inside him at the thought of her loving this James. He didn’t want her loving anyone…except him, he realised bleakly. He wanted her to save all that passion, all her smouldering ardour, for him and him alone. No man should mean anything to her, not while she made love with him with such sweetness.
He was jealous.
But before he could examine how in God’s name that had happened, he saw the tears spill onto her cheeks, and his heart tightened.
Rebecca who never cried.
Who had now cried twice in as many days.
Rebecca who gave as good as she got was sobbing her heart out…
She had loved this man, this James.
The realization devastated him. He turned away, needing to think about how he was going to deal with this latest discovery.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. This time it was true. He didn’t want to see her pain.
“Why? Because I loved someone? Or are you sorry for James? Maybe I drove him to suicide, too? Is that what you believe?”
He flinched at the acid words.
“Well, let me tell you this. He didn’t commit suicide. James was ill, terminally ill. But the funny thing is that he died in a car accident. A merciful release, everyone told me. But you know what? It doesn’t make it any easier. I miss him.” And she started to cry again, great wrenching sobs that make his heart tear.
“Shh.” Damon was beside her in a flash. Pulling her into his arms, he leaned back against the padded headboard, cradling her.
“Aaron, James—both dead.”
She sounded utterly desolate.
“Hush,” he repeated, at a loss of how to resolve this. How could it be that a wealthy man, a man responsible for the livelihoods of thousands, a man who prided himself on his control and who was admired as a business leader, a negotiator, a solution maker, didn’t know how to deal with the grief of the woman in his arms?
“Aaron, then James and then Fliss, too. Everyone I love dies.” She shuddered. His body vibrated with the force of it. “Yesterday T.J. nearly died, too.”
She wanted him to believe she’d loved Aaron? And James? Perhaps in her own fashion she had. And what about Savvas? Perhaps she wasn’t a woman who could only have one great love, as his mother had.
He tried to tell himself none of it mattered. But it did. It mattered very much. He desired her—wanted her with an endless yearning—even if he had to slay the shadows of a whole slew of ghosts in her past. Rebecca was the woman she was today precisely because of the relationships that had shaped her. Relationships with other men. They were part of her. If he wanted to keep her, he’d have to live with that, accept it, or he’d have no peace. He’d be torn apart every time he held her, made love to her.
She was still weeping, great tearing sobs that pierced him to the soul. He held her tightly. Tried to think of something to say that might help her deal with the loss of this…James. The loss of her husband.
Suddenly he found it. “When my father died, I was furious with him for leaving us so suddenly. It hurt so much, too. I didn’t know what was worse—the pain or the rage.” It was true. He’d felt deserted by his father. The father who’d been like a god to him. All-powerful. Above death. Damon stroked Rebecca’s hair. “But the pain passes. And for you it will, too. You’re strong, the strongest woman I’ve ever known.”
This time it was Rebecca who pulled away. He tried to hold her, but she wriggled until she’d put distance between them. Turning, she met his gaze, and he flinched at the bleak despair he saw there.
“James wasn’t my lover. He was my brother.”
The revelation struck him like a blow. His breath caught. “I didn’t know you had a brother.” But instantly the pressure that had been building inside him deflated.
James was not her lover.
“We were put in foster care but not together, not since I was ten. But we kept in touch. James grew wild, a real rebel. He went off the tracks for a while. Then later there was a girl…”
“There always is,” he said wryly.
“They fell in love. But she was scared, scared of the wildness in him. Insecurity and fear drove her away. James was devastated. He pulled himself together. They found each other. But then…he felt ill, tired. We thought he had the flu.” She fell silent and shot him an odd glance. Then she swallowed. “James was diagnosed with cancer.”
Damon had a funny feeling that hadn’t been what she had been about to say. But he wasn’t about to challenge her, not now. Not while her renewed pain was so fresh.
“Come.