Sweeter Than Revenge Read Free Page B

wondered if he wouldn’t break into the kind of triumphant dance receivers did in the end zone after a touchdown. She wished she could call him back so she would have some buffer, some layer of protection, no matter how thin, between herself and the man who could still tear her to pieces with just a look. She wasn’t safe alone with David.
    David stared down at her for a long, considering moment, igniting every inch of her bare skin with a heat that should have given her third-degree burns. Her poor heart hammered so strongly against her chest she was amazed it didn’t bulge out like one of those horrible incubating creatures in Alien.More embarrassing were her heaving breasts, the result of her heroic struggle for breath in this man’s presence, and pointed, painful nipples.
    The agony threatened to undo her. How could she do this? How could she talk to this man who’d killed her dreams and still owned her body?
    Ignoring the numerous other loungers, chairs, benches and assorted seating devices available, David sat on her lounger, his butt brushing her thigh. Facing her, he rested one hand on the other side of her legs and caged her. One muscular forearm brushed her skin, branding her with his warmth.
    At this distance the intoxicating, familiar smell of his cologne—one of those fresh, clean, linen scents that she remembered so well and that immediately shifted her mind to sheets and beds—filled her nostrils and made wet heat flow between her thighs. She waited, frozen. Her pride wouldn’t let her rub her leg against him or shrink away, both of which she wanted to do.
    He leaned closer. “Take your glasses off, Ree-Ree.”
    “No.” The use of his nickname for her was an unbearably low blow, and the knot in her belly tightened. “And don’t call me that.”
    He made an irritated noise, snatched the glasses off her nose and tossed them onto the table, out of reach. She cried out with surprise. Blinking from the sudden infusion of bright light, she stared defiantly.
    Their gazes held for what felt like a millennium. Finally one side of his mouth turned up. “You look good.”
    Her mouth opened to say something cool and disdainful, but what came out was, “So do you.”
    A new, soft light appeared and immediately disappeared behind his eyes and then his jaw flexed with some dark emotion she’d never be able to identify. Turning, he looked out across the pool.
    “So,” he said in a mocking, infuriating tone. “How’s married life treating you?”
    “Much better since the divorce.”
    His gaze, sharp and narrowed, swung back to her. “Find someone richer already, did you?”
    “No. He found someone with a warmer bed than mine,” she told him, having long since gotten over the humiliation of her husband’s defection.
    That glittering, insolent stare drifted down to her breasts again, then back up. “No one’s bed’s warmer than yours, Ree-Ree,” he said softly.
    She gasped even as desire—powerful, hot and wet—pulsed through her core. She wondered if he had the faintest idea of what his presence still did to her, or if he could smell her arousal through the tiny scrap of thin nylon that stood between them.
    Pulling away with no particular hurry, he stood and resumed his leaning stance against the pergola. “I assume you made him pay for the affair.”
    “Oh, I made him pay.”
    “Good.” He laughed.
    When his amusement faded away, they stared at each other in a silence that seemed to throb with energy and meaning. Thinking was a struggle and speaking was worse. Still, she wanted to tell him something she’d never had the chance to say.
    “I heard your father died last year,” she said softly. “I was sorry to hear that. I…always wanted to meet him.”
    He blinked. Once, twice…and then he turned his head to look off toward the rose garden. When he turned back, he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the strong column of his throat, and seemed unable to speak.
    Maria felt