The Wedding Band by Cara Connelly Read Free Book Online Page A

face.”
    He should know how to respond; it was wired into his brain. But Christy had fried his circuits.
    Undaunted, Danni inched up under his nose. The scent of her shampoo wafted up—­peaches.
    She took advantage of a bump from behind to smush her chest against his, drawing attention to the melons threatening to roll up out of her top. She licked cherry lips. “Whatcha thinking about?”
    â€œFruit.”
    She blinked. “Fruit? Is that a euphemism?”
    â€œUsually,” he said, puzzled. “But at the moment, it’s just fruit.”
    A commotion broke out off to his right. “There she is.” “That’s her.” “Is she alone?”
    His pulse leaped, and like everyone else, he stared as Christy stepped from the shadows, smile on her lips, glossy waves curling over pale, naked shoulders.
    The crowd blocked his view of her body, so he zeroed in on her eyes. Warm and welcoming, they locked with his, and he forgot where he was. Every drop of blood in his veins sizzled.
    She came toward him, and magically, the crowd parted, clearing a path between them. She shimmered like a vision. Glimmered like flame.
    Then her gaze dropped from his eyes to his chest, and her smile flattened into a cynical line.
    Uh-­oh.
    He looked down. Danni clung like a vine.
    And for some reason, probably instinct, he was cupping her ass.
    He dropped it, raising his hands like a crook. Christy came to a standstill just out of arm’s reach.
    She ran an eye over Danni. “Nice dress,” she said, dropping his own words like turds.
    Danni looked dubious. “Um, thanks?”
    â€œI mean it.” Christy gave her a smile. “I wish I could wear that style.”
    Danni beamed, and unclung to do a dainty pirouette. “It’s adorable, right?”
    Christy’s reply was swallowed up as the sharks surrounded her—­every unattached man and a few who’d shaken off their dates.
    Kota got busy shaking off Danni. “Scorsese’s over by the band—­”
    Enough said. She disappeared like smoke.
    He turned back to Christy. At the center of the feeding frenzy, her low, husky laugh was chum in the water. The little sharks gobbled it up, embarrassing themselves. Pretty-­boy Gosling flirted like a teenager. And Clooney, the old fart, had his hand on her elbow.
    Kota waded in, the great white, the biggest and baddest shark in the sea.
    Shoulder-­bumping Clooney, strafing Gosling and the rest with a get-­back glare, he hooked a hand around Christy’s waist. “Zach’s looking for you,” he lied. And stiff-­arming a path through the diehards, he hustled her into the house.
    Another mob met them there, and he shoved through it bodyguard-­style, pushing his way down the hall, through the gallery, the media room, using his size the way God intended, to carry his woman back to his cave.
    Palming into the library at last, he slapped the door shut behind them.
    Then he stepped away from her. Big men could be scary, or so Ma had drilled into his head. He didn’t want to scare Christy. He wanted her to come to him.
    She didn’t.
    Instead, she put a hand to her brow and peered around like she was searching for land. “It’s kind of dark,” she said, “but I think I’d see my father if he was here.”
    He hit a light switch. A single reading lamp came on, throwing a warm glow at one end of the sofa. “He’s outside. I can get him.”
    â€œOr you can send your spy for him.”
    â€œOr that.” He moved toward the sofa, hoping she’d follow. “I thought you’d be glad someone’s keeping an eye on him.”
    She drifted deeper into the room, but toward the desk, not the sofa. “That would mean I don’t trust him.”
    â€œHard to trust an addict.”
    She ran a hand over mahogany, then propped her fine ass on the edge and brought her gaze around to him at last.
    It