He's the One, Jane Beckenham [best new books to read TXT] 📗

hook up with one of those girls that give you the come-on at the bar,” she said, refusing to look at him.

"You sound jealous."

That caught her attention. Her head jack-knifed round, and her mouth opened and closed, but she said nothing. Just looked at him with those dark, cerulean eyes that tore at his soul. He was a drowning man.

"Cade, I can't do this."

He played for time. “This what?"

Taylor looked both ways, as if she was making sure the coast was clear. It revved up the nerve quotient several notches.

"It's okay, it's just us two,” he said trying to get her to relax. “Unless you've got a boyfriend lurking in the bushes?” He'd asked the question before he'd actually realized it, but knew gut deep he didn't want to know the answer.

Scaredy cat!

Too damn right, Cade conceded.

"Low blow, Cade."

He should have felt guilty, but didn't. “Yeah, I'm sorry. Actually, no, I'm not; I'm glad. I don't want you to have a boyfriend."

"Then you'll be pleased I don't."

He stepped closer, appeased that she didn't move away. Instantly, her perfumed assailed his senses and his eyes slid closed for a fraction of time, sparking fragrant memories. “I want it to be me."

"Oh."

"Just ‘oh'?” He watched her intently, waiting for some hint she was interested. “You still haven't given me an answer, Taylor. Why can't you do this?"

"Because it wasn't what we agreed. And besides, it was a one-off, a you helping me and vice versa sort of thing."

"True. But rules are made to be broken. Why can't we make a new agreement?"

"I don't want to."

"So that's it, I'm supposed to up and walk away?"

"Yes,” she said, not really looking at him.

Damn it. He didn't want to. Couldn't. “Shit.” Used to being chased and not the chaser, Cade felt like some damned puppet with someone else was pulling the strings.

Try harder, Harper. Use your charm.

Cade eyed the reception venue. The Victorian spires, the elegant woodwork. His hands fell to his sides and his shoulders slumped. “Show me what you do, Taylor. Your fantasies."

"Pardon?” That she didn't automatically say no fuelled a tangent of hope in Cade. Taylor wasn't as immune to him as she made out, but then how could a woman who had whispered such teasing fantasies during love making be immune?

And your immunity?

Cade ignored his subconscious. “Show me what is involved in a wedding."

"But you don't like weddings."

"I said I don't want my own; it doesn't mean I can't admire your skill at planning one."

"This one?"

"Why not?"

Taylor swiveled towards the stately building. “It's nearly over."

"Can I see, please?"

My God, he was begging. He didn't want her to say no and was scrambling to do everything to prolong the inevitable. He watched her as indecision warred with her conscience; teased by her glorious hair, remembering the moment he first threaded his fingers through it.

"I'm glad you wore your hair up,” he said, eyeing her sleek chignon.

Taylor's hand went automatically to her hair, smoothing the strands.

"It bares your neck, and I have an indescribable urge, Taylor Sullivan, to trail my fingers along your bare skin."

A soft pink tinge colored her face. “Oh."

"Then, I'd follow that trail, very closely with my lips.” He smiled then, reveling in the fact of being with this woman. No sex. Simply being together.

Cade choked back a groan. Man, he was really losing it.

"Don't.” Her voice was so soft, he barely heard it, a whisper on the breeze.

"Don't stop?” he teased. “Oh baby, I definitely don't want to stop. Then there are your long legs. Do you know how tempting they are, Taylor? Legs that lead to heaven. Legs you wrapped around me, your breasts pushing against me, hearing the soft plea of your voice as you climaxed against me, whispering in my ear."

"No."

He stepped closer still, barely inches separating them, and heard her faltered breathing. Saw the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her suit.

"You said you wanted more, Taylor."

"That was then."

Cade squeezed his eyes closed. Take it easy. Don't frighten her off. Don't screw up. “So who's the lucky couple?” he questioned. “No difficult questions from the bride this time?"

Taylor's eyes darkened, and she stared up at him through impossibly long lashes. The tip of her tongue slid across her bottom lip. Cade watched it every step of the way. He wanted to tangle with it. Taste it.

"You mean sex?” she said.

"Yeah, those questions.” And he couldn't help but smile at her. “They're what got us into this, after all."

Taylor's teeth scraped over her bottom lip. “A few,” she said.

"And you were okay?"

Her spine stiffened. “If you mean did I answer them, then yes."

"That's good. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Only suppose? I thought that was the whole idea. Get some ‘experience’ so you could answer the questions. You know if there's ever one you can't answer, you can always come to me for some ... ah ... technical advice."

"Not likely."

Cade chuckled at her answer. “Shame. Could be fun,” he countered hoping to remind Taylor what she was missing. “So, are you going to show me?” He held out his hand and willed her to take it. For a second, he thought she would as her gaze dropped to his outstretched hand, before traveling up his arm, washing across his face. Her appraisal held him rigid. He imagined he could even hear her thinking it over, sizing him up. Then she stepped back.

Damn.

"The wedding reception is underway, but we can take a peek from the sidelines,” she said, refusing his hand.

Taylor led the way through the side entrance, and the moment they entered, Cade felt her relax, nodding and speaking briefly with guests whose accolades for her work were certainly justified.

Laughter and music met them from every corner. Happy faces, bursting with the joy of a new life about to begin. Decorated in peaches and cream, baskets of flowers hung from the ceiling, all connected with streams of twined green vines. A myriad of twinkling white lights reflected a thousand-fold from the satin