The Wrong Sister by Kris Pearson Read Free Book Online Page B

groin, the incredible heat of his body. He clamped a large hand across her belly and held her close until she stood steady again. She struggled to step forward and break the contact between them.
    “Having a lovely time thanks.” She turned her head only enough so he’d hear her amongst the throng of chattering people. She didn’t dare look at his face—he was too close, too tempting, and still had one hand resting on her hip.
    “I like your trousers.” He rubbed his thumb over the slippery fabric at her waist.
    “I bought them this afternoon. Thought I deserved a treat. Brought this top as well.”
    He rested his chin on her shoulder.
    “It shows off your...charms...beautifully.”
    Fiona knew quite well that he had a birds-eye view of her breasts from that angle. Let him look! There was very little she could do about it until she escaped with her food. She drew a frustrated breath.
    “Oh yes...” he murmured. “Just beautifully.”
    She could smell the wine on his breath and decided he must be slightly drunk to be talking to her like this. The best course was to take no notice.  
    Then she felt his fingers slip up off her waistband and begin a teasing little dance over her skin. Nothing too deliberate—he could almost have been keeping time with the music that flowed from the luxurious room next to the terrace.  
    Should she tear herself away from him? Or would that make it too obvious she’d put a different spin on his actions? She shuffled forward and he followed, his big hand curling a little more possessively around her waist.
    His fingers started to run to and fro, up to the edge of her bra...down to her trousers...in an erotic tingling caress. Her body caught fire, reacting to the sensation of his skin rubbing against hers.
    “Stop it!” she finally grated. “I’m not Jan. People will see.”  
    “They’re far too keen to grab their dinner,” he murmured. “But you’re right—you’re not Jan. Sorry.” He removed his hand and Fiona missed it immediately. Had he been flirting? Pretending she was Jan? Or just absent-mindedly relaxed by the wine? She had no idea at all.
      She helped herself to a small steak from the barbecue, some slivers of chilled lobster from a platter on the big table, and a portion of crisp mixed salad. She felt far from hungry, but selecting food meant she could draw away from Christian.  
    “So when will you be in Italy next?” Sam’s mother enquired.
    “About six weeks. I’m helping to look after my niece—and my brother-in-law, if only he’d let me.”
    “Tragic, tragic,” the woman murmured. “Jan and Jenny were good friends. We were so pleased when Christian accepted the invitation for tonight. We thought he mightn’t, it being so recent...”
    “Will people think it’s wrong he’s at a party so soon after his wife’s death?”  
    “Good heavens no, dear. He mustn’t molder away. That’ll do him no good. And it’s as if poor Jan’s been gone a lot longer in some ways—time in and out of the hospice, and so on.”  
    Fiona nodded, holding the other woman’s shrewd blue eyes with her own.
    “They were very much in love, my sister and Christian. She’ll be hard to replace...but I hope he eventually finds someone else of course...”
    Liar! Liar! The words scraped in her throat like fish-bones.
    Sam’s mother smiled sadly. “When I was first widowed I couldn’t quite believe it was real because I kept finding things like Harry’s gardening shoes out in his shed, and a lot of the mail still arrived addressed to him.”
    Fiona wondered which of Jan’s possessions would most cut Christian’s heart to ribbons in the months to follow.
    “It was ages before I came out the other side,” the woman continued. “But you do, you do. You simply have to get on with life.”
    Easier said than done when the life you want is here, and the life you have to lead is half a world away, Fiona thought.

    Time slipped by until full darkness fell.
    One of