Page 31 of Bride By Committee

“It’s my phone,” she murmured apologetically.

“It sounds like someone’s torturing it.” Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on hispart.

She took a step backward, clutching her gaping dress to her chest. “I think the rain killed it.”

“What a shame.”

“There’s no need for sarcasm.” Sanity had returned with a vengeance, the rain dousing any hint of flame or fire. Judging by her expression all that remained was a heap of soggy ashes. She glanced over her shoulder at the picnic area. “Everyone’s left.”

Reluctantly he adjusted the straps of her sundress. Not that it helped much. The rain had drenched the shape from the garment, the weight of the water dragging it downward in the most interesting places. Her breasts glistened beneath the cleansing rinse and he gave in to temptation, sweeping the moisture from the rounded slopes. She didn’t protest his actions. Nor did she encourage them. Reluctantly he released her. There would be other opportunities, Harry reminded himself. No point in forcing the issue.

“Yes, everyone’s left,” he confirmed. “Apparently the other picnickers don’t like kissing in the rain as much as we do.”

She looked around, shivering. “Sunny and Bartholomew? Where are they?”

He shrugged. “Long gone, Iwould imagine. Idoubt they lingered once it began to rain.”

He’d said the wrong thing. Alarm flickered across her face. “Oh, no. This is terrible. Do you think they saw us?”

“Terrible?” Not even the chill of the rain could cool his flash of anger. “You mind telling me what’s so terrible about it?”

She avoided his gaze. “If they saw us, it’ll give them the wrong idea.”

“Funny. Ithought it might give them the right idea.”

“We were just trying out a few of the rules.” She backed another step away from him, her actions speaking far louder than her words. “That’s all. It was nothing personal.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” He swept the blanket from the grass. “If you’re into self-delusion, you might even be able to sound convincing.”

“You can’t believe it was more than that.”

He didn’t bother arguing. Crouching, he stripped away the shreds of her sandals and tossed them aside. He considered snatching her into his arms and carrying her across the grass to the parking lot. One glimpse of the tense set of her mouth and the wariness building in her eyes changed hismind.

He limited himself to catching her hand in his and resuming the trek to the car. The rain didn’t feel primitive and seductive anymore. It felt cold and wet and uncomfortable. He unlocked the car and held the door for her. Her dress clung, showing off a figure her business suit had only hinted at. Even the gold dress hadn’t done her full justice. There was something about wet red cotton pasted to a near-naked body that appealed beyond belief.

His annoyance dissipated. Patience, he reminded himself. He couldn’t expect to overcome twenty-five years’ worth of carefully forged barriers in just a few days. “Let’s get you home so you can change.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m freezing.”

“I’ll turn the heater on. It should warm you up in no time.”

The instant they were belted into their seats, she gave him directions to Magnolia, aresidential area on the outskirts of the city. Her home sat on a bluff with an impressive view of the Sound, and was a sprawling two-story affair that looked like it had belonged to the same family for generations. She hesitated before exiting thecar.

“Would you like to come in and dry off?”

“Yes.” He smiled at the conflicting emotions that slipped across her face—anticipation, wariness, nervous hesitation combined with a hint of renewed passion. “But I’m not going to.”

“Why?” The question was a mere whisper, part query, part complaint.

“Because I’d want to pick up where we left off in the park.”

She turned abruptly, staring through the front wind-shield. “Would that be so bad?”

“No. Ithink it would be very good.” Incredible, if he was any judge. “But there are still a lot of issues standing between us. Issues that need to be resolved before we take this any further.”

“You mean the book, and Sunny and Bartholomew.”

“It’s more than that, I’m afraid.”

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