toward her, his forehead pleated with fine lines. “What’s the matter? It’s like a dark cloud moved right over you.”
She took a step back, afraid he might come close enough to touch. Or to smell. She’d caught his aftershave in the car. He had it custom-made in London so that it was absolutely and definitively Sean. She used to keep an item of his clothingafter they saw each other so she could smell him when they were apart.
Gah, how high school.
“I’m fine.”
He stepped closer, and with a wall behind her, she was trapped. “You don’t look like it. Tori, I have to admit I’m worried about you. You have these little lines.” He lightly touched the side of her mouth. “They weren’t there before.”
She pulled her head back as a jolt of awareness rockedthrough her. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Why, because it might breach this wall you’ve put up? Why not let it?” He edged a bit closer, his mesmerizing eyes holding her in thrall.
Oh, the thought of forgetting everything for just a short while, of letting herself go, was so tempting . . . but afterward she’d be a ball of regret and self-recrimination. She backed up as far as she could. “BecauseI can’t.”
He moved closer, and his scent overwhelmed her. There had to be a pheromone in that damn fragrance, as the heat spiraling through her was enough to make her grab his shirtfront and pull him against her. But she didn’t.
“Tori.” Her name lilted from his silver tongue and swept over her like a caress. “Remember that night at that little restaurant in Pasadena?”
It was burned in her memory.She’d gone down to visit him the second weekend after New Year’s. They could barely keep their hands off each other. Two solid days of kissing, touching, and sex. Lots of sex. The restaurant had been tiny, with a single bathroom tucked in the back. Between the salad and the main course, they’d made good, albeit quick, use of that bathroom.
Desire curled through her core, making her entire bodyfeel light and desperate for his touch. He leaned closer, his lids drooping over the magnificent blue of his eyes.
Just before his lips touched hers, she put her hands on his chest and held him back. The connection burned through her hands and almost crushed her resolve. She slid away, putting as much distance as she could between them. When she was back at the threshold to the hallway, she turnedand looked at him. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep an open mind, but I can’t. A physical attraction isn’t enough. After what happened . . . I just can’t do this. Getting married was a stupid, stupid idea in the first place. We barely knew each other. I’m sure you’re a great guy.” His eyes widened, and he started to shake his head in protest, but she barreled on: “Hell, I know you’re at least a goodguy—but it’s not enough to keep this marriage going.”
He stopped shaking his head and pressed his lips together. “Tori.” His gaze traveled to somewhere behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood completely on end.
Slowly, she turned. And saw the look of shock drenched all over her sister’s face.
Son of a bitch.
Chapter Four
A S MUCH AS Sean had wanted her family to know about their marriage, he’d never wanted it to come out like this. He’d hoped, once upon a time, that Tori would’ve joyfully shared the news.
He could see only the barest profile of Tori’s face, but it was enough to register that her expression had gone to utter horror in the amount of time it took a celebrity breakup to trend on Twitter.
Sara wasn’t alone, either—Dylan was with her, and he looked about as uncomfortable as a person could. His gaze was fixed somewhere into the far distance, and he took a step backward.
The awkward silence stretched into a year, and Sean opened his mouth to save them all, but Sara got her words out first. “You’re married?”
“On paper,” Tori said. “We had a drunken weekend in Vegas. No biggie.”
No
She took a step back, afraid he might come close enough to touch. Or to smell. She’d caught his aftershave in the car. He had it custom-made in London so that it was absolutely and definitively Sean. She used to keep an item of his clothingafter they saw each other so she could smell him when they were apart.
Gah, how high school.
“I’m fine.”
He stepped closer, and with a wall behind her, she was trapped. “You don’t look like it. Tori, I have to admit I’m worried about you. You have these little lines.” He lightly touched the side of her mouth. “They weren’t there before.”
She pulled her head back as a jolt of awareness rockedthrough her. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Why, because it might breach this wall you’ve put up? Why not let it?” He edged a bit closer, his mesmerizing eyes holding her in thrall.
Oh, the thought of forgetting everything for just a short while, of letting herself go, was so tempting . . . but afterward she’d be a ball of regret and self-recrimination. She backed up as far as she could. “BecauseI can’t.”
He moved closer, and his scent overwhelmed her. There had to be a pheromone in that damn fragrance, as the heat spiraling through her was enough to make her grab his shirtfront and pull him against her. But she didn’t.
“Tori.” Her name lilted from his silver tongue and swept over her like a caress. “Remember that night at that little restaurant in Pasadena?”
It was burned in her memory.She’d gone down to visit him the second weekend after New Year’s. They could barely keep their hands off each other. Two solid days of kissing, touching, and sex. Lots of sex. The restaurant had been tiny, with a single bathroom tucked in the back. Between the salad and the main course, they’d made good, albeit quick, use of that bathroom.
Desire curled through her core, making her entire bodyfeel light and desperate for his touch. He leaned closer, his lids drooping over the magnificent blue of his eyes.
Just before his lips touched hers, she put her hands on his chest and held him back. The connection burned through her hands and almost crushed her resolve. She slid away, putting as much distance as she could between them. When she was back at the threshold to the hallway, she turnedand looked at him. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep an open mind, but I can’t. A physical attraction isn’t enough. After what happened . . . I just can’t do this. Getting married was a stupid, stupid idea in the first place. We barely knew each other. I’m sure you’re a great guy.” His eyes widened, and he started to shake his head in protest, but she barreled on: “Hell, I know you’re at least a goodguy—but it’s not enough to keep this marriage going.”
He stopped shaking his head and pressed his lips together. “Tori.” His gaze traveled to somewhere behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood completely on end.
Slowly, she turned. And saw the look of shock drenched all over her sister’s face.
Son of a bitch.
Chapter Four
A S MUCH AS Sean had wanted her family to know about their marriage, he’d never wanted it to come out like this. He’d hoped, once upon a time, that Tori would’ve joyfully shared the news.
He could see only the barest profile of Tori’s face, but it was enough to register that her expression had gone to utter horror in the amount of time it took a celebrity breakup to trend on Twitter.
Sara wasn’t alone, either—Dylan was with her, and he looked about as uncomfortable as a person could. His gaze was fixed somewhere into the far distance, and he took a step backward.
The awkward silence stretched into a year, and Sean opened his mouth to save them all, but Sara got her words out first. “You’re married?”
“On paper,” Tori said. “We had a drunken weekend in Vegas. No biggie.”
No
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