Needed: One Convenient Husband. Fiona Brand
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and sneakers stashed for the drive back to Auckland.
Kyle caught her arm, halting her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned the money.”
The tingling warmth of Kyle’s palm, even through the barrier of damp silk, sent a small, sharp shock through her. She jerked free. “I suppose you think I’m a money-grubbing gold digger who doesn’t deserve—”
“I don’t think that.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “You deserve your inheritance.”
Her chin jerked up. “Then why have you been doing your level best to deprive me of it?”
“Money isn’t the issue,” he muttered. “This is.” Bending his head, Kyle kissed her.
Eva inhaled sharply at the warmth of his mouth, stunned by the brief caress and the molten heat that exploded from that one point of contact. When she didn’t move, Kyle’s palm curled around her nape. The next minute she was pressed hard against the muscled heat of his body as his mouth settled more heavily on hers.
The passion was searing and instant and this time, Eva wasn’t content to just be kissed. Palms flattened against the hard muscle of Kyle’s chest, and all too aware that she was making a disastrous mistake, she lifted up on her toes and angled her head to increase the contact. His taste exploded in her mouth and the furnace heat of his body warmed her, so that she wanted to press closer still, to wallow in his heat and strength.
And suddenly, it registered just how alone and isolated she had been. Since her teenage fixation on Kyle, she had simply not allowed anyone else close. She had sidestepped relationships and sex. She hadn’t thought she needed either, until now.
The strap of her bag slipped off her shoulder. She registered the thump as it dropped onto the ground, and the sound of glass breaking and dimly remembered the champagne flute. Her arms closed around Kyle’s neck as the kiss deepened, and suddenly the cling of her wet clothes seemed sodden and restrictive, dragging against skin that was unbearably sensitive. His hand cupped her breast through the layers of wet fabric. Eva inhaled at the sharp beading of her nipple, but it was too late as heat and sensation coiled unbearably tight and splintered.
Kyle muttered something short beneath his breath. Eva pulled free of his grasp, her legs as limp as noodles, embarrassed warmth burning through her. Not only had she practically thrown herself at Kyle like some love-starved teenager, she had actually climaxed just because he had kissed her.
Dragging damp tendrils back from her face, she snatched up her bag and noticed that the champagne flute had broken at the stem and was in two pieces. Jaw set, she found the cake napkin and wrapped the base of the flute.
Kyle crouched down beside her and handed her the rest of the flute but, with her whole body still oversensitive and tingling, Kyle helping, Kyle intruding any further into her life was the last thing she wanted.
“Eva—”
She straightened, desperate to avoid him, but he rose lithely and blocked her path.
Too late to wish that she’d searched for her compact and checked her makeup. Her mascara was probably running. She must look a total mess—
“You wanted to know why I vetoed the grooms you chose. Two reasons. None of them were good enough. And I couldn’t let you marry anyone else because I want you.”
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