Читать книгу Tempted - Janelle Denison - Страница 8

“THIRTY-FIVE YEARS of marriage. Are you as impressed as I am?”

The deep, masculine baritone murmuring into her ear from over her shoulder caused Brooke Jamison to shiver. She turned and faced the owner of that sexy voice—her former brother-in-law, Marc Jamison. She met warm gray eyes framed in sooty lashes, and a mouth tipped in a lazy, sexy smile that was as natural as his gregarious personality. His thick, black hair, looking as soft and enticing as midnight, had been tousled by the slight breeze cooling the early August evening. In an attempt to maintain an executive image for his electrical contracting company, he wore his hair short, but the ends that curled over the collar of his sports jacket bespoke the rebel he was.

Startled by the unexpected flutter of awareness that tickled her belly, Brooke focused on his question and her answer. “Your parents’ marriage is amazing, and inspiring.”

Sliding his hands into the front pockets of his chocolate-colored trousers, Marc looked briefly to the guests gathered in his parents’ lavishly decorated backyard to celebrate Kathleen and Doug’s thirty-fifth anniversary. “So, are you having a good time?”

“Yeah, I am,” she admitted, glad that she’d accepted his mother’s invitation to join the celebration. She’d been hesitant at first, considering her and Eric’s divorce had been finalized two weeks before, but Kathleen and the rest of the Jamison family had made her feel welcome, including her ex-husband. Despite the inevitable end to their marriage, she and Eric still maintained an amicable relationship, rare among divorced couples. Still, Kathleen’s invitation had initially taken her off guard.

“I have to confess I’m surprised your family wanted me here, considering I’m technically not part of the family anymore.”

A small frown pulled at his dark brows, her admission obviously causing him concern. “Hey, once you’re a Jamison, you’re part of the family forever, didn’t you know that?”

Brooke smiled, liking the way that sounded. Unfortunately, in her experience families divided when couples split up. The dissension and emotional upheaval her own father had caused when he’d ended his marriage to her mother had been monumental. Without compunction, he’d shattered fragile family ties, forcing Brooke to mature beyond her thirteen years and leaving his other daughter hurt and disillusioned.

“That’s not usually the way a divorce works,” she returned, taking a sip of her drink.

“You divorced Eric, not the rest of us,” he countered easily. “My parents adore you, my mother thinks of you as the daughter she never had, and I think you’re pretty special, too.”

His complimentary words were simple and sincere, yet she was suddenly, inexplicably entranced by the warm glow in his gaze. Ignoring the odd racing of her pulse, she looked away and found her ex-husband trapped in a steady stream of one-sided dialogue with his uncle George, a boisterous man who reveled in dominating the conversation. The beefy hand resting on Eric’s shoulder guaranteed he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Eric’s hazel eyes met hers over Uncle George’s balding head and silently pleaded, “Have mercy on me, please.” He flashed her one of the endearing smiles that had won her over when she’d first met him, but now failed to elicit any stirring of desire or the inclination to help him out of his predicament.

Marc followed her line of vision to his brother and groaned. “Eric looks miserable, and we both know how long-winded, and boring, my uncle can be. Think we ought to go save him?”

An amused smile tipped the corner of her mouth as she considered Marc’s question for all of two seconds before breaking eye contact with Eric and leaving him in his uncle’s clutches. “No, I don’t believe I will,” she said without a hint of remorse. “It’s no longer my job to rescue Eric, or play the doting wife.” He was on his own, as she was. And she was pleased to discover she was fine with that.

Marc studied her expression intently. “You’re doing okay, then?”

“More than okay,” she verified, nodding. “Though after a two-year marriage, it seems strange to be single and available again.”

“I’m sure that status won’t last long.” He leaned toward her, so close she caught the faint scent of mint on his breath. “Between you and me, Eric never knew a good thing when he saw one. I was really hoping you’d be ‘The One.”’

She blinked up at him, not quite understanding what he meant. “‘The One’?”

“Yeah, the one woman who could make Eric settle down.”

Now it was her turn to frown. There was something in the depth of Marc’s eyes she couldn’t quite decipher. A hint of disappointment, she realized, but didn’t understand its source.

“I’m only one woman,” she said. “And that obviously wasn’t enough for Eric.”

Eric had tried to conform to their wedding vows, but ultimately he’d realized and admitted that he was a man who couldn’t commit to any one woman. A genetic flaw, he’d told her, passed on from father to sons. Except Eric’s father, Doug, had chosen to make his marriage work after his one indiscretion. Judging by the closeness Doug and Kathleen now seemed to share, their relationship had endured.

Resignation flickered across Marc’s lean features. “If that’s the case, it doesn’t leave much hope for me.”

His words held a longing she found curious. In the years that she’d known Marc she’d discovered that he steadfastly avoided serious relationships, didn’t commit himself to any one woman and preferred to play the field. He embraced bachelorhood.

So why, then, did she get the impression that he wished differently?

Placing her empty glass on the corner of the rented bar, she decided that talk of anniversaries and marriage was getting the best of her and making her come to absurd conclusions about her brother-in-law. Making her feel things she had no business feeling.

She called up a smile. “It’s getting late. I’d better say my goodbyes and be on my way.”

He nodded, his charming grin lightening the moment. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Half an hour later, after an endless round of hugs and farewells from the entire Jamison clan, Marc escorted her to the foyer. He rested his hand lightly at the base of Brooke’s spine, the heat of his fingers penetrating through the black linen pants she wore. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she couldn’t help but wonder how a simple touch from Marc could evoke such a startling response.

She stepped away from him as inconspicuously as possible when they reached the carved front doors, effectively dislodging that overwhelming contact that had her body tingling. Granted, she’d been without a man for a year, and Marc was extremely attractive, but she’d never thought of him as anything more than her husband’s brother.

Until now…

His gaze found hers, and the muted sounds of the party faded into the background, making Brooke aware that they were very much alone.

A smile eased across his lips, but his expression was more serious than she’d ever seen it before. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Tamping a sudden rush of emotion, she whispered, “Okay.”

He gathered her into a warm hug she hadn’t even known she needed until she was enveloped by his hard body. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of warm spice and male heat. Greedily, she leaned into him and absorbed his comforting embrace, reluctant to let the moment go.

As much as she was over Eric, the past year had been difficult, and at times, lonely. She’d moved into her sister’s apartment after her separation, and though Jessica provided female companionship, it wasn’t enough. With Marc’s arms around her, his hands stroking her back, Brooke realized how much she missed something as simple as a man’s embrace, a man’s touch. Eric had never been very demonstrative in their marriage, believing it wasn’t masculine to exhibit tender feelings. Marc had always been one to openly express his affection.

Too soon he pulled back, and she lifted up on her feet to place a chaste kiss on his cheek—the same time he turned his head. Their lips met, momentarily startling them both. Over the past four years she’d shared many platonic kisses with her flirtatious brother-in-law, and this one started as innocently as any, his mouth brushing hers lightly…except somewhere along the way the tenor of the kiss changed, for both of them.

This time his lips lingered a little longer, and his mouth gradually, instinctively, exerted a gentle pressure that surpassed those chaste kisses they’d shared in the past. To her shock, a soft, unexpected moan of pleasure tickled her throat, and his tongue stroked along her bottom lip in tentative exploration.

Her mind spun, her senses reeled, and she struggled to keep her perspective on the situation. Desires and denials clashed, confusing her. Nerve endings that had lain dormant for too long sizzled and came alive. And then she did something incredibly shameless—she touched her tongue to his.

She heard him groan deep in his chest, felt Marc’s large hands on her hips guide her backward…until her spine pressed against the wall, and the two of them were shrouded in a shadowy corner. The heat surrounding her was incendiary. She caught a quick glimpse of the sensual hunger glimmering in his eyes and shivered at the thought of being the recipient of all that wild, frenzied electricity.

She didn’t protest when he framed her face in his large, callused hands, didn’t object or struggle when he lowered his mouth to hers once again. Without preamble, he parted her lips with his, glided his tongue into forbidden territory, and seduced her with one of the hottest, most shockingly intimate kisses she’d ever tasted.

And she let him.

His fingers threaded through her hair, and his thumbs caressed her jaw. Her body swelled, and for a brief moment she felt reckless and wild. The feeling was liberating, exciting…until her conscience rudely reminded her who she was kissing—her bad boy, live-for-the-moment ex-brother-in-law.

Panic edged out pleasure, and she jerked her head back, effectively ending the rapacious kiss, but there was nothing she could do about the slow throb pulsing through her body, making her ache for primitive, erotic things she’d never, ever contemplated with Eric. Unfortunately, her ex-husband had never inspired such consuming lust, such excruciating need.

And that knowledge frightened her most of all.

Frantically, she pushed Marc away, and he immediately stepped back. They were both breathing raggedly, and judging by his bewildered expression, he was just as stunned as she was by the instantaneous flare of desire that had leapt between them. And intrigued—she recognized the thrill of a challenge in his quicksilver eyes.

Knowing that the dangerous, frivolous kind of interest she saw there could only cause trouble to her heart and emotions, she moved around him in a frenzied blur of motion and fled from the house. She sucked cool night air into her lungs, berating herself for a fool.

“Brooke, wait,” she heard his voice, then his clipped steps as he followed her down the brick walkway.

Shaken by what she’d allowed to happen, and refusing to engage in a conversation about her brazen response, she nearly ran to her car. Disengaging her alarm, she slid behind the wheel of her Toyota Four Runner, wincing as his low, exasperated curses reached her. Slamming the door shut, she started the engine, drowning out his voice, then left him standing at the curb with his hands jammed on his hips and his features creased with frustration.

She experienced a twinge of guilt for her abrupt departure, but knew her actions spoke louder than any words possibly could. No matter how much she might want Marc, she wasn’t interested in falling for another Jamison.