Read Online Not Even for Love by Sandra Brown - Free Book Online Page B

Trembling fingers rubbed her forehead, which had begun to pound with the tension from within.
    “I don’t love Helmut. At least, not in that way. He’s fun, he’s charming, polite, and, yes, rich. I can’t deny that I was flattered when he began seeing me. I was. Any woman would be. But don’t you see, Reeves?” Now she looked up at him imploringly. “I’m a novelty. He has everything in the world he could possibly want. He plays. He goes on lavish vacations. He buys impulsively and compulsively. Right now I’m like a new toy. I’m not rich, not a jet-setter, not a socialite. When he tires of me, that will be it.”
    “If that’s true, why did you consent to marry him?”
    “I haven’t ever exactly
consented
—I just haven’t adamantly
refused
. Since I realize I’m a temporary fascination, I haven’t pressed the point. My constant arguing to the contrary would only increase his determination to have me. Understand? Helmut, despite his Old World charm, is over-bearing when he wants something. He only hears what he wants to. He hasn’t given me a chance to tell him how I feel.”
    “And how do you feel? I mean, if the novelty should wear off tomorrow, how would you feel if he did as you predict and dropped you?”
    “I told you, I’ve never intended to marry him. I never intend to marry anyone.”
    “Why? Because of Charles?”
    “Yes, partially.”
    “Partially? Do you have something against the institution of marriage?”
    His pious tone stung. “No. Do you?” she snapped. “You’re not married either.” Then a thunderbolt struck her. She looked up at him with remorseful eyes. “Are you?” she asked timorously.
    “No. I was once. A long time ago.”
    “What happened?”
    “Would I get clouted if I said, ‘None of your business’?”
    She laughed. “Probably.”
    He chuckled, then said seriously, “She didn’t understand why I wanted to go to Vietnam ‘to take pictures,’ as she put it. She filed for divorce soon after I left. We had been married less than a year.”
    “Oh.” Jordan turned away from him and walked to the railing of the bridge, listening to the water that churned under it.
    “Jordan.” When he spoke he was standing close behind her. He was as close as he could get without touching her. “Jordan,” he repeated.
    “Yes?”
    “Look at me.”
    No! She knew that if she did she would want to be held tight against him. Just as she had feared touching his hand that first night for no reason other than a friendly handshake, she feared looking at him now. It had been wrong for them then and it still was. He had his work, his ambition, which literally went worldwide. She had her tiny space on the planet and guarded it jealously, afraid of letting anyone disturb the equanimity she had so carefully constructed.
    His hands were on her shoulders and he was turning her toward him. With a now familiar gesture, he lifted her chin with his finger. “I like what you’re wearing.”
    That was the last thing she had expected him to say. “Thank you,” was all she could think of to respond.
    “You look great in clothes,” he said. “This, however, is a trifle bulky. I can’t see your figure.” His hands unbuttoned her coat and slipped inside. “I liked you much better in the slacks and sweater you were wearing the other night. They showed everything to full advantage.”
    He ducked his head and nuzzled his face in the hollow of her neck, which had, without instruction, arched up to meet him.
    “Reeves,” she breathed, “don’t.”
    Her protest was so feeble that he didn’t even honor it. “I remember what you look like in that pale pink sweater and I remember what you look like without it.” His voice was becoming unsteady as his lips skimmed her face, brushed across her mouth. His hands were under the shawl now, seeking the curves of her breasts. When he found them his moan of gratification matched hers.
    Into her hair he murmured, “I like the way you dress, the