Wedding Party Collection: Once A Bridesmaid...: Here Comes the Bridesmaid / Falling for the Bridesmaid. GINA WILKINS

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Wedding Party Collection: Once A Bridesmaid...: Here Comes the Bridesmaid / Falling for the Bridesmaid - GINA  WILKINS

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he was the one who’d felt suddenly off balance.

      It was the dress, he told himself. It was a monumental distraction, that dress. Petal-pink, too damned tight, too damned short.

      And the black heels—too bloody high, with little black pearls studded in the leather and those crisscrossed ribbons around her ankles. How could a man not think about sucking her toes when he saw those shoes?

      Thank God he’d got that first surge of heat under control enough to kiss her cheek instead of shoving his tongue halfway down her throat. Because that had been touch and go!

      Now, however, the heart-thump suggested derailment was imminent again.

      Well, he would just have to share the derailment around.

      ‘So, then, let’s go check out hotels,’ he said.

      ‘Are you—? Are you going to come with me? In the car?’

      He thought about saying no—he’d realised that seeing him on the bike was going to be her breaking point and he wanted to get to that point fast. But in that tiny car of hers they would be very close to each other. So close she’d be able to feel him even without touching. He could use that. He was sure he could use that.

      ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The car.’

      But when he squeezed himself into the passenger seat, and the scent of jonquils hit him like Thor’s hammer, he thought perhaps he had made a tactical error. He just freaking loved that smell.

      ‘Seat belt,’ she said, and waited like a good little Girl Scout until he’d buckled up before starting the car.

      He could see a faint blush on her cheeks. She’d get a shock if he touched her there. One finger along the rosy heat.

      So he did, finding it shockingly easy to do.

      But touchy-feely Sunshine swivelled as though he’d slapped her.

      She stared at him.

      He stared back.

      And then he smiled. ‘You know, Sunshine—your pupils are dilated. Got any internet facts to share about dilated pupils?’

      * * *

      Yes, Sunshine knew all about dilated pupils.

      But she wasn’t answering that.

      Not with visions of straddling him right there in his seat popping into her head. He was so close that every time she changed gears her hand brushed his thigh. She had a sneaking suspicion he was deliberately putting his leg in the way. Another yank of her chain? She’d said hands-off, so he—the great un-toucher—had decided it was hands-on, just to needle her into a decision. And she’d thought he’d needed exposure therapy for his touching phobia!

      It was just as well the first hotel was close to the restaurant. It was such a relief to be out of the car and in the open air.

      Until Leo put his hand in the small of her back to guide her across the car park to the hotel entrance—enough with the touching, already!—and she wanted to slap him.

      She was a pacifist—she should not want to slap!

      Sunshine stepped away from Leo the moment they were inside the hotel.

      ‘I loved what I saw on the internet about this place,’ she said, with an enthusiasm that actually managed to sound insincere even though she truly meant it.

      That was what Leo was doing to her. Making her over-babble.

      She looked around, taking in the use of dark wood, the pale stone floor. ‘I think I’m going to book my own room here. Are you planning on staying overnight? I think you should. You know, you don’t want to...to ride...after the party.’

      Babbling. Shut up, shut up!

      ‘I won’t be riding home if I don’t have a bike,’ he pointed out calmly. Yanking her goddamned chain! ‘But in any case I have a house here, and hopefully there’ll be furniture by then.’

      ‘A house? By then?’

      Ugh. She’d turned into a parrot. A babbling parrot.

      ‘The house was only built last year, and it’s largely a furniture-free zone.’

      ‘Are you going to live down here permanently?’

      ‘Not permanently. I have too much on my plate in Sydney.’

      Sunshine knew all about having too much on your plate. It kept you nicely occupied so you only had to think, not feel.

      Think. Not feel.

      That sounded good.

      Think, not feel.

      If she just remembered that everything would be all right.

      And if she thought—ha—thought!—about Leo’s full plate, it was clear that although he might talk about this mythical abyss-jumping woman of his dreams he was no different from her. He couldn’t fit that kind of commitment into his life. Otherwise he would have it by now. He had enough women to choose from, for God’s sake! She’d looked him up on the internet again yesterday, and seen the paparazzi photos. And, all right, that particular bit of searching had been a weak moment that she would not be repeating!

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