The Perfect Bride

Chapter Twelve

Thunder rumbled outside, the sound vibrating the window at Adam’s back. The storm was picking up.

The dismal weather perfectly matched his mood. Adam stared at the papers on the desk in front of him without seeing them. He needed to focus, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t.

No, he was doing exactly what he’d done for the past hour—stewing over Jillian Jones.

It was bad enough that he was attracted to a woman whom he didn’t trust, whose motives for being here he didn’t believe, or who, if she was telling the truth, might be engaged. But the idea she could be unhinged enough to think Meredith had pushed her down the stairs made the fact that he still couldn’t get her out of his head even worse.

The way she’d felt in his arms. The way she’d looked lying on the bed, peering up at him from the pillows.

The way she’d looked accusing his sister of trying to hurt her.

Damn it.

He had to get her out of here. Now more than ever.

He was making another attempt at forcing the words in front of him to make sense when someone knocked on the door.

Thankful for the distraction, he glanced up from the desk. “Come in.”

In the split second before the door opened, he realized it was her. Somehow he’d managed to become that ridiculously attuned to the woman in such a short amount of time.

As expected, she poked her head in, the sight of her face sending his pulse up a notch, then slid all the way inside, closing the door behind her back. Immediately the room seemed smaller, too confined. “I need to talk to you.”

He rose from the desk. “All right. Why don’t we go out—?”

“No,” Jillian said, stepping forward as he rounded the desk to move for the door. “Here. I need to talk to you alone.”

He stopped, eyeing the woman before him and the door behind her, which suddenly looked very far away. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

The corners of her mouth quirked slightly. “Am I that scary to be around?”

“I’m just not sure how appropriate it is.”

The smile fading, she stopped a few feet away and squared her shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not engaged. I’m not getting married. I never was. That’s not why I’m here.”

It took a few seconds for the words to register. He could only stare at her dumbly at first.

Then a thousand different emotions exploded inside him all at once. Disbelief. Anger. Triumph. Relief.

A sudden, ridiculous jolt of something that felt like...joy.

Anger. He’d go with anger. For doing this to Meredith. For wasting her time.

In a heartbeat, every inch of his body had tensed with barely contained fury. Damn it, he’d known it all along. It took everything he had not to yell. He managed to force out a tight, restrained “Get out.”

“No,” she said without blinking or moving a muscle. “Not until I get what I came for.”

“And what the hell is that?”

“The truth. Courtney Miller was my best friend. I’m here to find out what happened to her.”

He hadn’t expected anything she said to stop him cold again, but once again he was struck dumb. Oh, hell. The anger weakened slightly as a twinge of sympathy struck. All right, so she was grief-stricken. He could somewhat understand the lies, even if he couldn’t excuse them.

“Your friend died in a tragic accident—”

“No, she didn’t,” she said furiously, for the first time displaying an anger that rivaled his own. “Courtney was afraid of heights. She never would have been out on that balcony. It doesn’t make any sense.”



Seeing the emotion bursting from her almost tempered his fury toward her completely. Clearly she wasn’t lying about her relationship to Courtney Miller. The woman had obviously meant a great deal to her. But that didn’t change the facts.

He gentled his tone further. “I’m sorry, Jillian, but it’s the only explanation that does make sense.”

“No, it’s not. Courtney was murdered.”



He swallowed a sigh. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Really? Are you going to try to convince me that all the things that have happened to me since I’ve gotten here didn’t happen, either?”

“You mean falling down the stairs?” he said, unable to hold back his disbelief at the story she’d told him, her accusations toward Meredith.

“I was pushed,” she said through gritted teeth.

“By Meredith?”



“No,” she said. “I talked to her. She told me about...her marriage. Why this business means so much to her. I don’t believe she’d jeopardize that. It wasn’t her.”

Any relief he might have felt at her withdrawal of that ridiculous accusation was overruled by fresh anger that she’d forced Meredith to talk about that bastard. “Then who?”

“The same person who tried to suffocate me in my sleep two nights ago. I fought them off, but they managed to get in and out of my room unnoticed. That’s what made me decide to start looking for hidden passageways around here.”

Adam frowned, doubt tempering the instinctive outrage that someone would do that to her. “Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming?”

“I know I wasn’t,” she said firmly, her voice ringing with conviction.



“Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I figured if I said someone attacked me in my room, you’d expect me to want to leave, and I didn’t know how to explain that I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Why not explain the truth about who you are and what you were doing here? If you’re right, how long were you willing to put your life at risk before saying something?”

“As long as I had to. I didn’t know if I could trust you, and I couldn’t afford to have you make me leave, not before I knew the truth.”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“Because of what Meredith told me. I finally understand why you’re here, why you decided to open Sutton Hall for weddings with Meredith. I don’t believe you would do anything to jeopardize her dream. Which means you can’t be responsible for any of this.”

She’d thought he could be a killer? The idea stung, maybe more than it should considering he’d thought she was a liar.

“I could still make you leave.” Was still going to.

“No, you won’t.”

With anyone else, he would have been amazed at the certainty in her voice in challenging him. With this woman, all he felt was a reluctant admiration at her audacity. He arched a brow. “Oh, really? And why not?”

“Because you have just as much reason to want to get to the truth as I do. You’re right, there’s someone here who can hurt Meredith, but it’s not me. As long as there’s someone on the loose at Sutton Hall who’s this dangerous, Meredith’s dream won’t come true. And people have already been hurt. Someone murdered Courtney, and they’ve been targeting me since I’ve gotten here. There won’t be any weddings at Sutton Hall, not as long as someone is attacking any bride who comes here.”

“But why would somebody do that?”

“They obviously don’t want anyone getting married here.”

“For what reason? Everyone who works here needs this business to succeed to keep this place up and running or we’ll probably have to sell.”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. It’s what you should be trying to figure out. So help me. Let’s work together.”

“Assuming that you’re right, I can try to solve this myself. I don’t need you here, especially if you are right and someone has been attacking you.”

“How will you explain to Meredith why I’m leaving? That she can’t have any more weddings here? Or will you even bother? Would you let some other couple come here and put their lives at risk? Or are you hoping no one else will come?”

“What are you suggesting?” he challenged, even though he knew perfectly well. That didn’t mean he liked it, or believed it for a second.

Didn’t he? some small part of him asked.

“Let’s set a trap. This person is already coming after me. Let’s catch them in the act. Let’s catch them.”

He could only stare at her in astonishment, unable to believe what she was proposing. Then again, this was her. He could believe it all too well, and he knew without a doubt she meant every word. “You’re out of your mind.”

“No, I’m not.”

“If you think I’m going to let you put yourself in danger like this, you are.”

“I’m already in danger. I only want to use that to my advantage and catch this bastard.”

“If you’re right, then we’re dealing with someone who’s seriously deranged. You can’t predict how someone like that will behave. You won’t have an advantage.”

“I’ve told you from the start I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Well, clearly someone needs to!”

“I don’t need you to protect me. I’m not your sister!”



The idea was so ridiculous a laugh burst from his throat. “Trust me, I definitely don’t think you’re my sister.”

“Then don’t treat me like it!”

She threw the words out like a gauntlet, the challenge impossible to resist, tearing down the last bit of resistance to what he’d wanted to do for so long.

And there was only one thing he could do.

He surged forward, erasing that last, irrevocable step between them, and captured her face in his hands, taking her mouth with his.

* * *

IN THE LAST few seconds before he kissed her, before he touched her, before he erased what little distance remained between their bodies, Jillian felt no surprise. Deep down, she’d known it was coming, had been waiting for it. With every ounce of tension building from the pit of her stomach and gripping her body, with every bit of awareness racing along her nerve endings and electrifying her skin, she’d known. There was only one place this had been leading to, only one place it could possibly go.

And then, finally, amazingly, it happened.

He was right in front of her, no space separating them. His hands were cupping her face, pulling her toward him.

And his mouth was on hers.

He devoured her, his lips firm and hot and insistent as they worked against her own. Their mouths mashed together furiously, desperately, hungrily. Every stroke of his tongue, every brush of his lips, just made her want more. Of this. Of him. And from the way he met her every inch of the way, deepening the kiss second by second, she could tell he felt the same.

A giddy rush of delight spiraled through her. It seemed as if she’d been waiting to kiss this man forever, maybe from the first time she’d seen him coming down the main stairs. And now it was happening. Now his lips were on hers, his tongue sliding against her own, teasing and toying and tasting her. Now she knew what he felt like, tasted like. Her hands grabbed at his chest, for something to hold on to, to pull him close. She caught two fistfuls of his sweater and held him tighter to her, wanting every bit of him against her, needing him as near as he could possibly be.

He tore his mouth from hers just long enough to murmur, “This is crazy.”

“I know.”

He chuckled. His mouth back against hers, she felt it vibrate through him and into her. “My God, you’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

It was her turn to laugh. “You’re not exactly an easy case yourself.”

“Guilty.”

Beneath her hands she could feel his heart pounding, feel the hardness of his chest, the heat radiating from him. And she instantly wanted more. Needed more. Needed to feel his hot skin against hers. Needed to feel his arms wrapped around her. Needed to feel his heart pounding against his chest, the insistent rhythm vibrating through his skin and into hers.

He suddenly pulled away, robbing her of that precious heat. “I have to ask—”

“What?” she demanded, staring at his mouth, wishing it was on her.

“The man in the pictures with you. Your ‘fiancé.’ Is he...?”

“Just a friend.” A chuckle eased from her lungs. “And very gay.”

He matched her laugh. “Good.”

And then his mouth was back on hers.

They tore at each other’s clothes, sweaters pulled over heads, pants released and shoved aside, her bra dispensed with, his boxers kicked off. And in between, they stole every touch they could. She ran her fingertips over his abs, his side, his chest and arms. His fingers brushed over her breasts and nipples, skimming down her belly, scorching a trail over her skin everywhere they touched her and making her tingle from head to toe.

She’d never met a man she moved in such perfect sync with. There was no awkwardness to their movements, no clumsiness as they tried to match each other’s actions. They simply seemed to fall into an easy rhythm, recognizing exactly where they needed to be, where they each should move to be there to respond in time or shift out of the way.

His fingers hooked into her panties and shoved them down. She barely managed to shimmy out of them before his hands were at her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there, scorching her skin. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and lifted her up onto the edge of the desk.

She braced her hands there as he pulled away, reaching for his pants on the floor. She didn’t take her eyes off of him, drinking in the sight of him, his firm buttocks flexing as he walked, his muscles shifting beneath taut skin. He was beautiful. There was no other word for it, for him. His body was lean and tight. A light layer of dark hair dusted his chest and the ridges of his belly, trailing lower from his belly button to where the proof of his arousal rose from his body, hard and thick and pulsing.

Digging into his wallet, he came up with a condom. Within seconds he had the package ripped open and covered himself. He turned back to her, taking one step before suddenly stopping, his eyes feasting on her. And as she watched the pure male appreciation play across his face, she’d never felt more desirable, or more desired.

Then he was back in front of her, his erection jutting forward, leading the way to her. His hands returned to her hips, the tip of his arousal unerringly finding her folds, primed to receive him, needing him inside her.

In the split second before it happened, his eyes moved to hers, meeting her gaze. Those dark eyes she’d thought were unreadable so many times burned with desire, the emotion undeniable and aimed squarely at her.

He thrust into her, hard, deep, in one push. Her eyes drifted shut, a moan rising in her throat, at the sensation of him filling her, at the pleasure, at the rightness of it. It was good. So very good. Her mouth fell open, the moan nearly slipping out. And then his mouth was on hers, claiming it again, swallowing the sound. His tongue dived back between her lips, stroking against hers, even as his hips pulled back and he thrust again, driving another groan from deep inside her.

She hooked her legs around his hips and dug her heels into his thighs, spurring him to move faster, deeper. He did, gradually picking up speed. She rocked against him, matching his rhythm with her lower body, meeting him every step of the way. As the pressure began building low in her body, starting where their bodies met, she wound her arms around him and held him to her tightly. It felt as if they were connected everywhere—their mouths, their limbs, their hips—and were truly one. She struggled to hold on as long as she could, even when it seemed as though the pressure was more than she could bear and there was no way she could hold on any longer, even as he pushed her higher and higher. She wanted more, wanted to put off that sweet release as long as possible, wanted this to last forever.

Until finally, incredibly, overwhelmingly, with one final hard thrust, she erupted. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as wave after powerful wave ripped through her, obliterating every thought and sense in her mind, every bone and limb of her body in a rush of sheer pleasure. She distantly felt his body tensing beneath her hands, felt him go rigid in her arms, as he found his own release with her.

He sagged against her, his head dropping onto her shoulder. He remained there, leaning into her, still buried inside her. After a few long moments, he pressed the gentlest of kisses against her collarbone. The tenderness of it, the sweetness, sent another wave of feeling pooling through her, filling her with a fresh and entirely different kind of warmth. A sigh of contentment, of happiness, of so much more than she could begin to process, welled in her lungs.

The blistering, frenzied, desperate need that had overtaken them had faded, their passion satisfied. In its wake was a quiet intimacy that was even sweeter.

He continued to kiss his way along her collarbone, up her neck, finally reaching her mouth. Their lips met, softly this time, but no less eager, the kiss long and lingering and utterly perfect.

It ended too soon. He finally broke the kiss, leaning back. She braced herself for him to pull away, not ready for it to happen.

It didn’t. He stopped, still leaning over her, peering straight into her eyes, the look in them sparking the fire in her all over again. And she knew she’d been wrong. Her passion for him hadn’t been satisfied. Not really. Not completely.

I will never get enough of this man, she realized with a sense of wonder.

He remained there, looking into her eyes, his hard features softened with feeling. And she realized something else.

He wasn’t ready to pull away, either.



“This is crazy,” he said again, his voice hoarse with feeling.

“I know,” she whispered, sheer joy soaring through her. He wasn’t talking about what they’d just done or the depth of the attraction that had led to it. He meant this, this indefinable connection between them that went beyond simple desire, that she now knew he felt, too. The sense that they were bound together. The urge to hold on and not let go.

A slow grin curved the corner of his lips. Of astonishment. Of happiness. Of acceptance.

And he lowered his mouth to hers once more.