Pulse quickening, she left the brightly sunlit walkway and entered the shaded interior of the main stables. Assorted smells—molasses and oats, cured hay and wood shavings, and that particular scent of the saddle soap Reed and his workers used to wash the horses—assaulted Felicity’s senses as she walked inside. Although she had once been an avid horsewoman, she hadn’t ridden in many years. Her ex had considered riding and everything connected to the sport to be a waste of time and money, and for a long time, what Sam had wanted Sam had gotten. But today, once again among the familiar sounds and smells, she remembered with an ache of nostalgia all the reasons she’d loved horses and riding so much.
Reed stood a few dozen yards away, talking softly to a beautiful black gelding with a classically chiseled head. Felicity’s breath caught at the picture. She wasn’t sure which was more gorgeous…the horse…or Reed.
Feasting her eyes on Reed’s six-foot-two frame, his thick brown hair and his tanned, muscled, athletic body clothed in a white knit shirt and coffee-colored riding breeches, she couldn’t help thinking Emma was crazy. She’d told Felicity that once she’d seen Garrett again she’d finally realized she didn’t love Reed the way she should. But how any woman could not love—or at least lust after—Reed Kelly was a mystery to Felicity.
In her opinion, Reed was the perfect man, if such a thing actually existed. For not only was he gorgeous, he was sexy, lots of fun and nice. Warm, generous and kindhearted, he was the type of man both men and women liked. Added to all that, he loved horses.
If he’d been mine…
But he hadn’t been hers. And he never would be. Because she was no longer in the market….
Felicity didn’t finish the thought, because just then Reed turned. The stable was dim, and her eyes hadn’t fully adjusted from the July sun outside, so Felicity couldn’t quite make out his expression.
“Hello, Felicity,” he said quietly.
He didn’t sound mad. That was promising.
“H-hello, Reed.” Damn. She hated that slight wobble in her voice. She prided herself on always being calm, cool and collected. Some people even called her the Ice Princess, a name she had actively cultivated, for it helped her when she was dealing with the megarich, as she often did. Never let ’em see you sweat. Always give the impression you’re in perfect control. That had become her mantra.
“What brings you here? Did you come to gloat?”
Oops. Maybe he was mad.
“Gloat?” she said innocently. “About what?”
Instead of answering, he stroked the gelding one more time, then strode toward her.
Felicity had to force herself not to back up, even though that nervousness she’d managed to quell earlier was back in spades.
“Is everyone talking about me? Feeling sorry for me?” he said sharply.
Now she could see his eyes. She had never known that blue eyes could actually blaze. Her heart beat faster. “No, of course not.” But they were. After all, Emma and Reed’s breakup was one of the juiciest pieces of gossip to hit Eastwick in months. And Eastwick thrived on gossip. Especially that witch Delia Forrester, who seemed to think she might become the new Bunny Talbot now that the “Eastwick Social Diary” gossip maven was dead.
Reed’s jaw hardened. “Don’t lie to me, Felicity. I know everybody in the entire damned county is gossiping about me. Hell, I can hear them now. ‘There must be something wrong with Reed Kelly if Emma Dearborn has thrown him over.’”
“Oh, Reed.” Felicity’s heart melted at the realization that he wasn’t mad. He was hurt. Unable to help herself, she reached over and laid her hand on his arm. He flinched, but he didn’t pull away. Wanting to comfort him, she moved closer, sliding her arms around his waist and hugging him. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “About everything that’s happened.”
For a moment he stood stiffly, and Felicity was afraid she’d crossed an uncrossable line. Then his arms encircled her, and he rested his chin on the top of her head. Felicity closed her eyes. Being held like this, even if it was only a hug between casual friends, felt so good. It had been a long time since she’d been embraced by a man she respected. Especially a man as attractive as Reed.
She sighed and, drawing back slightly, looked up, wishing she knew what else she could say to make him feel better. “Reed…” she began.
He looked down.
When their gazes met, something electric and undeniable sizzled between them. And then, in an action Felicity knew she’d never forget, his head came down and his mouth captured hers.
Shock waves radiated through Felicity as his tongue delved. She moaned when his hands dropped lower to cup her bottom, pulling her even closer so that she could feel his arousal. Her insides had turned liquid, her entire body on fire with need.
Reed…Reed…
Her mind spun with the realization that one of her fantasies was actually taking place. For even during Emma’s engagement to Reed, there had been times Felicity couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it would be like to be Emma. To be kissed by Reed. To have him touch her. To make love with him…
Suddenly, penetrating the haze of desire consuming Felicity, she heard the sound of someone’s footsteps outside. Reed must have heard them, too, for he immediately released her, and she staggered backward.
For just a moment they stared at one another. Then Felicity, knowing her face was flaming, sputtered, “I—I have to go. Here. This is what I came to give you.” Reaching into her handbag, she grabbed the check she’d prepared earlier and thrust it at him. It was a refund of the deposit he’d given her months ago when he and Emma had asked her to handle the arrangements for their wedding.
Too embarrassed to wait for his response, she spun about and, as fast as she could manage on her four-inch heels, she fled the stable.
Hell’s bells!
What had he been thinking?
You weren’t thinking. At least, not with your brain.
Huffing out a breath, Reed swore at himself. Jesus. That had to have been the stupidest thing he’d ever done. He’d practically attacked Felicity. Why? Was he that horny? Or was he somehow trying to get back at Emma for making him a laughingstock?
He gritted his teeth.
That’s what galled him.
That’s what really galled him.
On some level he’d always known that something was missing in his relationship with Emma. She was sweet and lovely and exactly the kind of woman any man would be proud to have as his wife. But if he’d been honest with himself, he’d have admitted that there were no sparks between them, which didn’t bode well for their future.
In fact—and he couldn’t have admitted this to anyone—they had never been intimate. Emma had been reluctant, wanting to wait until they were married, and Reed had respected her feelings.
So when she’d broken their engagement because of another man, he’d
