The Wrong Sister by Kris Pearson Read Free Book Online

black jeans and an icy-white T-shirt that stretched over his impressive shoulders and chest like a second skin.  
    They proceeded along the narrow pavement in awkward silence, walking close enough together to sometimes bump elbows or hips.  
    Fiona kept her eyes on Christian’s tanned forearms and hands as he pushed the stroller.  
    She knew quite well his eyes slid sideways every few seconds, drawn to the swell of her partly revealed breasts, no doubt quite visible from his superior height. A sudden chilly breeze swirled around the corner and her nipples tightened. A glance downwards showed the hard little nubs tenting her bright knitted top. She folded her arms, realizing too late that this made her breasts push together and rise even further into view.  
    “Is it far?” she asked. “Maybe we should have brought sweatshirts.”
    He shook his head. “Just around the next curve. Very sheltered.”
    Nicola crooned in her stroller, oblivious to the emotions strung bowstring-tight behind her.

    Laughter and a babble of conversation greeted them as they arrived. Everyone had gathered on the covered terrace cantilevered out from the harbor side of the house. As they approached, Fiona glimpsed long leather sofas and a vast flat-screen TV through floor-to-ceiling glass doors folded wide to the evening air.  
    Christian introduced her to his friends.  
    “Jan’s sister Fiona. Just helping out for a few days.”
    “Lovely to meet you, Fiona,” their hostess Jennifer said, accepting the salad with a nod of thanks and turning aside to place it on the expansive outdoor table already studded with platters and bowls of food.
    “Glad you could join us,” her husband Sam added as he shook Fiona’s hand in greeting. “We’ve all lost a great friend in Jan. Christian’s lucky to have you.”
    Her heart did a regretful dive.  
    He doesn’t see it that way. He doesn’t want me here. He doesn’t want me anywhere near him or his gorgeous daughter.  
    About twenty other adults were already there, all dressed casually but expensively. Fiona felt pleased enough with her new clothes.  
    And her hair. It was hard to remember the hair, but she caught Christian yet again eyeing it and then looking away. Not to his taste. Tough.
    Two black-aproned waiters circulated, offering trays of nibbles to the guests. Fiona chose a couple of skewered grilled bacon-wrapped scallops and dipped them into the accompanying bowl of tangy sauce.
    She drifted across to the railing edging the terrace. Christian’s home sat across the abyss; between the two properties, the land dropped away in a breathtaking sweep.  
    The harbor lay quiet, far below. She stood looking down for a few moments and then sighed with resignation, turned her back to the view and watched the other guests.
    Christian approached with two glasses of wine. He threw a greeting sideways to one of the other women and Fiona saw her straighten, raise her chin, and smile at him.  
    The late sun shot a golden sheen over his ebony hair and threw sharp shadows across his body. The white T-shirt molded to his torso. Her afternoon’s imaginings were accurate. The strength of his shoulders, the definition of his chest and the taper of his waist were all very evident. The snug black jeans showed off long taut thighs and a very cute butt. No wonder he’d drawn admiring glances from the woman. Now he was single again Fiona had to expect others would make a concerted play for him. He was seriously attractive, dynamic, wealthy—a real catch.  
    And forbidden to her.
    She reached for her wine at the same instant he handed it across. The glass tipped against her fingers. The wine cascaded over the rim, and on instinct she flipped her palm up to catch the liquid. Christian set both glasses down on the nearby railing and imprisoned her wrist in his big hand.  
    He lowered his face and Fiona’s senses jolted as his lips nuzzled her skin and sucked the wine into his mouth.  
    “Too good to