there. Molly is my friend.”
“She’s my friend, too.” But just a friend. He’d have to tell Molly that—if she came back and expected him to go through with the wedding. Even though he hated to break his promise and risk hurting her, he couldn’t marry her. “And she’s great. Hell, so was Amy. She was just too young. So Nick’s only half-right. But it’s not the women. It’s my judgment. It’s me —I’m the problem.”
“I find that hard to believe—unless you have a whole other side of your personality, and I doubt that,” she said, narrowing her eyes as if studying him. “So tell me, are you Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”
He shook his head. “Nope. What you see is what you get.” He snorted. “Apparently the women I’ve been married to—or engaged to—don’t want what they see.”
“I can’t believe that,” Brenna said, her voice a sexy rasp. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight and she stared up at him as a bride might her groom on their wedding night.
This was supposed to be his wedding night. Brenna Kelly was the maid of honor and not his bride. But he’d never been as attracted to either of his brides as he was to her.
He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. His fingertips shaking, he skimmed them along her jaw and lifted her face toward his. “Brenna…”
She lifted her hands between them, as if to push against him and free herself. But instead her palms skimmed over his chest, touching skin left bare by his partially unbuttoned shirt, and her breath audibly caught. Her voice tinged with confusion and longing, she murmured, “Josh…”
Her lips parted on his name and he kissed her, his mouth moving hungrily over hers. She tasted of the chocolate cake with butter-cream frosting her parents had baked for his wedding, but she was far sweeter than any bakery confection. Electrified by the touch of her hands moving over his chest, Josh deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between her lips.
But then Brenna shoved him back against the railing and pulled herself out of his arms. She stared up at him, her eyes horrified, before running back into the house.
Alone again on the porch, Josh turned to the railing and wrapped his hands tightly around the wood when he would have rather had them wrapped around her.
“Yup.” He sighed, his breath a ragged noise on the quiet night air. “I should be used to women running out on me.”
A FLOORBOARD CREAKED outside Brenna’s door. He’d followed her upstairs? Her heart pounded with fear—not of Josh, but of herself. If he knocked, she’d let him in. She wouldn’t be able to help herself. But the footsteps continued past her room to the one next door. The boys. One of them must have gotten up to use the bathroom.
Her breath shuddered out and she flopped back against her pillows. Not that she’d been sleeping. She’d been upstairs only a few minutes, cursing herself for how she’d betrayed Molly. How could she have kissed her best friend’s fiancé?
Sick with guilt, she stared up at the canopy that was draped over the four posters of her antique bed. From the canopy to the rosebud-patterned chintz on the curved window seat in the turret, the room belonged to a little girl. Even though she’d lost out on the house she’d fallen in love with, she knew she needed to keep looking. She loved her parents, but she couldn’t be their little girl forever. Time to grow up and take the responsibility for her personal life that she’d accepted in her professional life when she’d taken Kelly Confections national.
Time to take responsibility for what she’d done tonight, too. Hand trembling, she fumbled next to the bed for the phone. Unconcerned with the late hour—or early hour—she dialed a number, which went directly to voice mail. “Molly, please call me back. I need to talk to you. I need to know what happened today.” She glanced at the clock, the time illuminated in glowing pink. “What happened yesterday.”
She
“She’s my friend, too.” But just a friend. He’d have to tell Molly that—if she came back and expected him to go through with the wedding. Even though he hated to break his promise and risk hurting her, he couldn’t marry her. “And she’s great. Hell, so was Amy. She was just too young. So Nick’s only half-right. But it’s not the women. It’s my judgment. It’s me —I’m the problem.”
“I find that hard to believe—unless you have a whole other side of your personality, and I doubt that,” she said, narrowing her eyes as if studying him. “So tell me, are you Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”
He shook his head. “Nope. What you see is what you get.” He snorted. “Apparently the women I’ve been married to—or engaged to—don’t want what they see.”
“I can’t believe that,” Brenna said, her voice a sexy rasp. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight and she stared up at him as a bride might her groom on their wedding night.
This was supposed to be his wedding night. Brenna Kelly was the maid of honor and not his bride. But he’d never been as attracted to either of his brides as he was to her.
He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. His fingertips shaking, he skimmed them along her jaw and lifted her face toward his. “Brenna…”
She lifted her hands between them, as if to push against him and free herself. But instead her palms skimmed over his chest, touching skin left bare by his partially unbuttoned shirt, and her breath audibly caught. Her voice tinged with confusion and longing, she murmured, “Josh…”
Her lips parted on his name and he kissed her, his mouth moving hungrily over hers. She tasted of the chocolate cake with butter-cream frosting her parents had baked for his wedding, but she was far sweeter than any bakery confection. Electrified by the touch of her hands moving over his chest, Josh deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between her lips.
But then Brenna shoved him back against the railing and pulled herself out of his arms. She stared up at him, her eyes horrified, before running back into the house.
Alone again on the porch, Josh turned to the railing and wrapped his hands tightly around the wood when he would have rather had them wrapped around her.
“Yup.” He sighed, his breath a ragged noise on the quiet night air. “I should be used to women running out on me.”
A FLOORBOARD CREAKED outside Brenna’s door. He’d followed her upstairs? Her heart pounded with fear—not of Josh, but of herself. If he knocked, she’d let him in. She wouldn’t be able to help herself. But the footsteps continued past her room to the one next door. The boys. One of them must have gotten up to use the bathroom.
Her breath shuddered out and she flopped back against her pillows. Not that she’d been sleeping. She’d been upstairs only a few minutes, cursing herself for how she’d betrayed Molly. How could she have kissed her best friend’s fiancé?
Sick with guilt, she stared up at the canopy that was draped over the four posters of her antique bed. From the canopy to the rosebud-patterned chintz on the curved window seat in the turret, the room belonged to a little girl. Even though she’d lost out on the house she’d fallen in love with, she knew she needed to keep looking. She loved her parents, but she couldn’t be their little girl forever. Time to grow up and take the responsibility for her personal life that she’d accepted in her professional life when she’d taken Kelly Confections national.
Time to take responsibility for what she’d done tonight, too. Hand trembling, she fumbled next to the bed for the phone. Unconcerned with the late hour—or early hour—she dialed a number, which went directly to voice mail. “Molly, please call me back. I need to talk to you. I need to know what happened today.” She glanced at the clock, the time illuminated in glowing pink. “What happened yesterday.”
She
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