Barbara Hannay

One Winter Wedding


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out to him again. The embarrassment of Connor pulling away was too painfully fresh in her mind, and her heart was too vulnerable to risk rejection a second time.

      In the end, she didn’t have to reach out; she didn’t even have to move. It was Connor who pulled her closer, Connor who lowered his head, Connor who brushed his mouth against hers. Any thought of him pulling away disappeared as he deepened the kiss. He buried one hand in her hair and wrapped the other around her waist, holding her body tight to his, as if she were the one who might back away.

      But escape was the last thing Kelsey wanted.

      Instead she wanted to capture this moment, bottle it up, save it for a time when memories were all she would have left of Connor. But even that proved impossible, as he slanted his mouth over hers, his lips and tongue stealing her breath, robbing her of her ability to think, and leaving her with no choice but to feel…

      Her breasts against the hard wall of his chest, her heart pounding desperately enough to match the rapid beat of his, the firm press of his fingers against her hip. She splayed her fingers across his back, searching out as much contact as possible, the material thin enough, soft enough, heated enough, that she could imagine his naked skin and the play of muscles beneath her hands.

      “Connor.” His name escaped her on a breathless sigh as he trailed a kiss across her cheek to her jaw, his warm breath setting off a chain reaction of shivers down her spine. She swayed closer, her hips brushing against his solid thigh. The heated contact weakened her knees, and all she wanted was to sink to the floor, pull Connor down with her and feel the weight of his body on top of hers.

      She might have done just that if not for the ring of the bell and an embarrassed “Oops. Pretend I was never here.”

      Kelsey tore away from Connor in time to see her friend Sara backing out of the door with a platter of food in her hands. She wanted to call Sara back, but it was too late, leaving Kelsey with little choice but to face Connor. With his eyes dark with passion, his chest rising and falling, it was all she could do not to dive back into his arms.

      Two seconds ago an interruption was the last thing she wanted. But now with passion clearing, she realized it was exactly what she needed. Already Connor was going to her head; it wouldn’t take much for him to go straight to her heart. “That, um, was Sara. I should ask her to come back inside.”

      Her friends were waiting, her dreams were waiting and she didn’t dare push them aside. Not even for Connor. No matter how much she wanted to.

      Hours later, Connor looked around Kelsey’s shop, amazed by the transformation. The scent of paint filled the shop, and the soft pink and green colors highlighted the walls. The carpets had been shampooed, and the new rug and drapes stored in the back would soon complete the new look. Kelsey’s self-proclaimed talent for stripping away the layers and revealing the beauty beneath was on magnificent display in all the work she’d done.

      How could she possibly doubt her own worth, her own ability? Connor wondered…until he tried to imagine Emily—or heaven forbid, Charlene—dressed in a T-shirt and cutoffs, with their hair covered by a bandana, a streak of pale pink war paint on one cheek and spackle on the other. None of the other Wilson women would be caught dead looking the way Kelsey did right then. Yet seeing her eyes sparkle as she laughed with her friends, celebrated every small success and worked her ass off, Connor didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman look as vibrant, as alive, as sexy, as Kelsey.

      As if feeling the heat of his gaze, Kelsey glanced his way. Heat flared in her cheeks, and she ducked her head, taking a sudden interest in flipping through the phone directory, cell phone in hand as she searched for a plumber.

      A phone call to her uncle, and her plumbing problems would have been solved. Hell, a single call to Gordon Wilson and all her problems would have been solved. Gordon could have easily set up Kelsey in a furnished, upscale Scottsdale or Paradise Valley suite instead of a work-in-progress strip mall in downtown Glendale.

      He’d meant every word when he called Kelsey strong and fearless. She’d been only sixteen when she went to live with her aunt and uncle, an age when most kids would have lost themselves in a world filled with wealth and privilege. But not Kelsey. She’d stayed true to herself, to the lessons her mother had taught her. Even now, when her family’s money could make her dream an instant success, Kelsey refused to take the easy way out…not like he had.

      He’d had his reasons for taking the money Gordon Wilson had offered him to leave town all those years ago, reasons he believed justified his actions, but he couldn’t help thinking that had Kelsey faced the same choice, she would have found another way.

      She flat-out amazed him. He would have liked to ignore the emotion spilling through him, but Connor had learned his lesson when it came to ignoring feelings…even if this one wasn’t hitting his gut as much as it was pulling at his heart.

      “Place looks great, doesn’t it?”

      The sudden question jerked Connor from his thoughts, and he turned to face Lisa. Judging by the woman’s sharp gaze, he doubted Kelsey’s shop was on the woman’s mind. “It does. You, Trey and Sara were a huge help,” he added.

      Kelsey’s friends had thrown themselves into helping, Trey especially. But despite the close eye Connor kept on the other man, he hadn’t seen any proof Trey and Kelsey were anything other than friends. And yet Trey’s touchy-feely familiarity had set Connor’s teeth on edge. A reaction as unfamiliar as it was uncomfortable.

      He rarely felt possessive over a woman, and certainly not after a kiss or two. But then again, what a kiss! He could still taste her, could smell the cinnamon and spice he’d come to associate with Kelsey. No too-sweet floral scents for her. Nothing expensive, nothing fancy, just…Kelsey.

      “You weren’t too bad yourself,” Lisa said with enough tongue-in-cheek attitude to make Connor wonder if she’d noticed how he strove to outlift, outwork, outdo Trey. Turning serious, she said, “We’re all glad to help Kelsey. She’s the kind of friend who always takes care of everyone else. This is the first chance we’ve had to pay her back.”

      “I doubt she expects payment.”

      “She doesn’t. It’s in her nature to help.” The brunette paused, and Connor sensed her debating over her next words. “I think a lot of it comes from taking care of her mom.”

      “Kelsey told me her mother died when she was sixteen.” But despite what she’d told him, Connor knew he had only part of the story. Why had Kelsey’s mother—Gordon Wilson’s sister—raised Kelsey on her own? Single mom or not, she should have had the family fortune at her disposal, and yet that clearly hadn’t been the case.

      What had caused the rift between Kelsey’s mother and her family? And what about the father Kelsey never mentioned? Connor didn’t ask Lisa those questions. It was up to Kelsey to offer answers…if he asked her.

      With a glance at her watch, Lisa told him she had to go, but she left with a few final words he translated into a warning. “Kelsey’s a great girl. She deserves the best.”

      Connor waited for the woman to add that Kelsey deserved better than him, but when she merely gazed at him in expectation, he realized Lisa wasn’t telling him Kelsey deserved better than him; she was telling him Kelsey deserved the best from him.

      “Well, I finally found a plumber who can come this week…” Kelsey’s voice trailed off as she walked from the back room, cell phone in hand.

      Connor stood alone in the middle of the shop. Even with the progress they’d made, bringing her dream closer to reality, he overwhelmed the place. If anything, the shop’s increasingly feminine decor only served as a larger reminder of Connor’s masculinity. And after that kiss, Kelsey didn’t have any doubt whatsoever about his undeniable and—she was beginning to fear—irresistible masculinity.

      “Lisa had to take off,” he explained.

      “Oh. She was probably afraid I’d put her to work again if she didn’t sneak away.”