The Proviso Read Free Page B

face in the crook of her neck, her arms
wound around his shoulders and her fingers curled into his
hair.
    “Come home with me tonight,” he murmured, one hand
undoing her braid and the other splayed across her buttocks,
crushing her to him. “Please. I need you.”
    Bryce’s heart thundering in his chest, he pulled
himself away from the tableau in front of him and dropped back
against the wall. His mind churned through the implications of that
even as the silence lengthened, only to be pierced with the soft
sounds of kissing.
    He didn’t wait to hear her response. Nauseated, he
pushed away from the wall and stalked out of the funeral home.
    That Leah Wincott, Bryce’s friend and client, had
died for the sake of a man who had a mistress—it angered him.
    That Bryce wanted a woman he didn’t know, who
wouldn’t be interested in him anyway, the mistress of Leah’s
groom—it enraged him. Lilith , succubus.
    That the man between Lilith and Leah was Knox
Hilliard, well . . . Bryce felt thoroughly, inexplicably,
betrayed.
    Again.
    * * * * *
     
     
     
     
    2:
ROMEO & JULIET
     
    “One night,” Knox whispered into her mouth as their
kiss softened.
    In the aftermath of Leah’s death, with all the
attendant guilt and grief, Giselle understood that he needed her.
She couldn’t say she didn’t need him that way, too, but . . .
    “You know what I’m going to say,” she murmured,
pulling away from him. She placed her palms on either side of his
tanned, ruggedly handsome face and looked into his ice blue eyes.
She studied him and for the first time noticed how he had aged
under the weight of constant stress. Thirty-five going on
forty-five. “If we ever have sex, it can’t happen because of
something like this. We’re not teenagers anymore and it’s about
fifteen years too late for us. All you want right now is comfort
sex and I won’t do that. I deserve more, especially from
you.”
    He sighed.
    “Besides, what about last month?”
    He pulled away from her and stared at her warily.
“What about last month?”
    Her mouth pursed. “You know what about last month. I
was there, remember? You took one look at that girl and you were a
goner. I don’t know how you planned to work that out with marrying
Leah, considering your excruciating monogamy, but you weren’t
subtle about it.”
    “I am not going to discuss that with you right now.
Maybe not ever.”
    Giselle watched Knox pace in utter turmoil, but she
had her own guilt to deal with; she could have prevented Leah’s
death if she’d followed her gut.
    Honey, thank you, but I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m
the most high-profile woman in the country right now and Fen
wouldn’t dare have me killed. Once I’m married to Knox, Fen won’t
have any reason to try to kill you again.
    Leah, I don’t have a good feeling about this.
    Giselle! Put that gun away and stop pacing. If you
can’t do that, leave. I’m about to get married in front of five
hundred people. I don’t need your fidgets on top of mine.
    But—
    Out!
    Okay, you know what? I’m going to go get Knox.
    You do that.
    Leah’s rich south Texas drawl still echoed in her
head, even after two weeks. Giselle had no doubt that Knox loved
the woman in the casket. She also didn’t doubt that his guilt over
her death was now exponentially worse: not only had he taken Leah’s
side of the argument but . . .
    “Now you’re stuck with the added guilt of falling in
love with a woman you weren’t getting married to and can’t have
anyway.”
    He flinched.
    “And you want me to kiss your wittow owwie
and make it all better.”
    “Yes, I do,” he shot back. She found herself pulled
into his arms again, his big hand wrapping around the back of her
thigh, pressing her into his arousal, her skirt gathering over his
wrist as he stroked upward. They kissed with the confidence and
familiarity of thirty years of history.
    Knox didn’t do much for her, but she had her doubts
as to the existence of what she really