The Tender Trap. BEVERLY BARTON
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weeping female.
She had tried not to cry, but despite her best efforts she’d greatly resembled a leaky faucet all afternoon. But then, it wasn’t every day that a woman became a godmother.
Blythe lifted two empty champagne glasses onto the silver tray she held and placed the tray on top of the bar. Without thinking, she began picking up dirty plates and crumpled napkins from where they’d been left scattered around the living room in Adam’s Brickyard Landing Marina condo.
“Hey, leave that stuff.” Adam stepped inside through the sliding glass doors that opened onto his private brick patio overlooking the Tennessee River. “The housekeeper will take care of everything the caterers left when she gets here in the morning.”
“Sure. I guess I’m so used to picking up after parties at my house, I didn’t think.”
Blythe glanced at Adam. Big, tall, rugged Adam, with his macho stance, his gruff voice and his slanting dark eyes.
Remember that you don’t like him! Remember that he’s not your type!
It had been mutual animosity at first sight when they’d met at the engagement party Adam had hosted for his lawyer, Craig Simpson, and Joy Daniels, Blythe’s best friend. She supposed Adam was a nice enough man—if you liked his type. But she didn’t like his type, and it had been apparent, from some of his remarks, that he was prejudiced against strong, independent career women.
“Everything went well, don’t you think?” Leaving the sliding glass doors open behind him, Adam walked into the living room. “It was a new experience for me. I’ve never hosted a christening party before.”
“We could have had the party at my apartment.” Blythe had offered to give the christening party for her little goddaughter, but Adam had insisted on hosting the event. And Adam Wyatt always got his way.
“In that cracker box apartment of yours over on the southwest end of town?” Adam laughed, the sound a deep rumble from his broad chest. “You couldn’t fit ten people into that tiny place, let alone the thirty Joy and Craig invited to Missy’s christening. That’s why we agreed to have the party here. Remember?” Falling into a navy blue leather chair, Adam stretched out his long legs in front of him as he raised his arms over his head and burrowed into the seat.
“You’re right, I did agree for us to have the party here. I wanted today to be perfect. Joy is my best friend. Melissa is my goddaughter.” Blythe clenched her teeth, narrowed her eyes and glared at Adam. “And you knew exactly how much having everything go exactly as we had planned meant to me.”
“I figured you’d chew me out the minute we were alone,” he said. “Just because I made a few minor changes to expedite matters, to simplify them a bit—”
“A few minor changes, my foot!” Blythe slammed her index finger down against her open palm. “First of all, you didn’t use the caterer we had agreed to use.” Down came her finger again. “Second, you changed the color scheme I chose.” Smack. Her finger hitting her palm emphasized her aggravation. “Third—”
Adam threw up his hands in surrender. “Enough, woman! Enough.”
“More than enough!” Blythe closed her mouth tightly, hoping to prevent herself from saying something she’d really regret.
“Look, I run a multimillion-dollar construction firm and have a large staff at my disposal. You don’t. With your free time limited, I thought it more expedient to let my secretary handle the details of the christening party.”
Blythe threw the handful of used napkins she’d gathered straight at him, but they missed the target and fell silently to the floor. “There, that should give your housekeeper something to complain about. The caterers I wanted to use would have cleaned up everything!”
“Pearl never complains.” Adam grinned. “Unlike someone else I know who makes a habit of complaining.”
Damn, he thought, how that little ball of fire irritated him and yet amused him at the same time. Blythe reminded him of a scratching, spitting kitten who was always on the defensive, always protecting herself, always afraid of being hurt.
“Do you want an apology?” Adam asked, figuring she was the type who’d enjoy seeing a man grovel.
“What good would an apology do? Make you feel better? Well, it won’t change a thing. You bulldozed right over me, disregarding my wishes when you knew how important this day was to me.”
“I thought everything went beautifully,” he said.
“I suppose so. Everything went your way.” Huffing loudly, she crossed her arms over her chest.
He’d had no choice but to host this party with Blythe, since Joy was her best friend, but dammit, his gut instincts had told him the two of them could never work together. He had known some stubborn, hardheaded, independent women in his time—and avoided them like the plague—but Blythe Elliott took the cake. She was the most argumentative female he’d ever run across, and he’d spent two years keeping his distance. But heaven help him, it hadn’t been easy. Not when, despite everything, he wanted her—wanted her in his bed, crying out his name, begging him to pleasure her.
Crossing his arms behind his head, Adam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Every time he spent more than two minutes with Blythe, he found himself wanting to either strangle her or kiss her. He wasn’t sure which he wanted most. She had a chip on her shoulder when it came to him that he found hard to understand. He knew for a fact that she liked men, dated men and had men friends. But he was one man she didn’t like, and that bothered him greatly. As a matter of fact, it bothered him a lot more than it should.
Blythe seemed to disapprove of him with a passion, and he simply couldn’t figure out why. He’d never done anything to the woman. Hell, he’d given her a wide berth, staying out of her line of fire as much as possible, despite the fact that their best friends had married each other.
Opening his eyes, Adam sneaked a peek at Blythe and found her staring at him. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you by slightly altering our plans. I honestly don’t think you should object to an improvement over—”
“Let’s just agree to disagree on this one.” Glowering at him, Blythe sucked in her cheeks and blew out an exasperated breath. “And we’d better change the subject before I really lose my temper.”
“Good idea.” Shaking his head, Adam closed his eyes again and tried to relax. He didn’t want to argue with Blythe, especially not today.
Blythe bent over, picked up the napkins she’d tossed at Adam and placed them on the end table. She decided she would be civil to him and end the day on as pleasant a note as possible.
“I thought it was wonderful that Joy and Craig christened my goddaughter, Melissa Blythe, after Joy’s grandmother and me.” Blythe hadn’t been able to keep herself from crying during the christening ceremony. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d been so touched.
“Well, you could hardly expect them to name her Adam Tobias Maximillian Wyatt.”
Blythe stared at Adam, trying hard to keep from smiling. The effort failed. “Good grief, is that really your name? Adam Tobias Maximillian Wyatt?”
Blythe burst into laughter. Groaning, Adam opened his eyes and stared at her. He shot out of his chair and playfully grabbed her by the shoulders. Smiling, he shook her gently. “I can’t believe I told you. Forget you ever heard that. Okay?”
She trembled with laughter, her body quivering beneath his fingertips. Damn, but she was tiny, her bones so very fragile. He doubted she weighed much more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. She had to be a foot shorter than he was; the top of her head struck him midchest. If he kissed her, he’d have to pick her up to reach her mouth.
Hell, he couldn’t let himself think about kissing her. She was the last woman on earth he should want. But he did want—had wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her in a body-hugging