BEVERLY BARTON - Whitelaw's Wedding

Manda saw him, then blinked her eyes and looked again. She hadn’t been imagining it. It was him. Hunter Whitelaw. Big, bold and towering over the other men in the room from his six-foot-four height. His shoulders were so broad, his arms so huge that she assumed the tuxedo he wore had been tailor-made for him. Except for a few lines around his eyes and mouth and just a hint of gray in his military-short hair, he had changed very little in the past eleven years. He was now, as he’d been then, totally, absolutely, devastatingly male.

She’d had the most gosh-awful crush on him when she’d been a teenager and had thrown herself at him more than once. But he had always rebuffed her—and wisely so, since he’d been a grown man and she only a sixteen-year-old girl. Of course, that last silly prank she’d pulled by the pool had curtailed Hunter’s visits. Like a spoiled child, which she had most certainly been, she had lied to Grams and insisted that Hunter had made sexual advances. Although her father and Perry hadn’t believed her, Grams had. Finally months later she had confessed her lie, but by then the damage had been done and Hunter seldom came to the house after that.

Suddenly she realized that Hunter was coming straight toward her, his gaze riveted to hers. An unbidden and uncontrollable fluttering began in the pit of her stomach, and the closer he came, the wilder the sensations inside her grew. She hadn’t felt this crazy feminine yearning since the last time she’d seen Hunter. His presence always created the same idiotic havoc on her nerves. Even with Rodney, whom she’d loved with all her heart, the sexual stirrings had never been so strong. It was as if she related to Hunter on a purely physical level. Woman to man.

She stood there watching his approach, her gaze remaining locked with his as he cut a path between Grady and Boyd to reach her. Both men stepped back, mouths slightly agape, eyes widened in surprise, as they gazed up at the big man. Chris actually jumped back.

Without even a nod of acknowledgment to the men surrounding her, Hunter reached out, took her hand in his and said, “I believe this is our dance.”

She went with him, moving past her trio of admirers, who grumbled among themselves. Hunter led; she followed. When they joined the other dancers, he took her into his arms and began moving with an amazing agility for a man so huge. He held her close, but not too close, a hairbreadth between their bodies. He didn’t speak, only continued staring into her eyes, as if he thought he would be able to see some profound truth revealed there. Speak, damn it, she told herself. Say something to him. Say, it’s been a long time. Or how about asking him what the hell he’s doing here?

“They can’t help themselves, you know,” Hunter said, no trace of humor in his voice or show of emotion on his face.

“What?”

“Your men.” He nodded toward where the threesome stood on the sideline and watched. “They can’t help being infatuated with you. When a woman looks the way you do, men can’t resist.”

When she stiffened in his arms, he eased her just a little closer, enough so that her breasts brushed his chest. “You certainly never had any trouble resisting me, did you?”

That’s it, Manda, dredge up the past. Remind him of what a scandalous little hussy you were at sixteen. Remind him of why he felt unwelcome in this house for so many years.

“That’s what you think,” Hunter replied, a grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

Manda gasped. “You certainly could have fooled me. You acted like I was poison.”

“Baby doll, you were poison. You were jailbait.”

She quivered when his large, hard hand spread out across her back, his fingertips resting against the base of her spine. “I didn’t stay sixteen forever. If you’d been interested, you could have made your move when I turned eighteen.”

“I could have,” he said. “But by then you had dozens of guys buzzing around you, ones far more suitable for you than I was. You and I both know that your grams wouldn’t have approved of me. Besides, I’ve never liked the idea of being part of a male harem.”

“A male harem?” Manda laughed. “This from a guy who can snap his fingers and have any woman he wants.”

Hunter grinned. “You overestimate my charm. I’m just a good ole boy who does his best to remember the gentlemanly manners his grandparents taught him.”

Enough idle chitchat, Manda thought. Time to get down to the crux of the matter. “What are you doing here tonight?”

“Perry invited me to Gwen’s birthday party.”

“Why accept this particular invitation? He’s been inviting you to family events for the past ten years and you’ve never shown up before tonight.”

“Let’s just say that Perry’s invitation intrigued me.”

“How’s that?” Manda asked.

“He made me a business proposition that I found interesting. He suggested I come to the party and then afterward, we’d talk to the other person involved in the deal and the three of us would come to an agreement.”

“I must say that I’m intrigued now. I can’t imagine what sort of business deal a former army major would have with a small-town lawyer.”

“It’s personal business.”

“Is that so? Mind telling me who the third person is?”

The music ended. Hunter stopped, but continued holding Manda. He looked at her point-blank and said, “You’re the other person.”

“What?”

“I take it that Perry hasn’t discussed his plan with you.”

She shook her head. “No, he hasn’t. But since I’m involved, why don’t you fill me in on the details?” When the people around them began milling about, she realized that she was still in Hunter’s arms. She tried to pull away from him, but he grasped her hand and led her toward the double set of French doors that opened to the backyard.

She didn’t balk when he practically forced her onto the patio. What was it about this man that made her accept his caveman tactics? Just because she had always responded to him sexually, on a purely primitive level, didn’t mean she wanted him to drag her around by her hair.

A dozen or so people meandered about on the patio, most of them smokers who had escaped for a nicotine fix. Hunter led her to the far side of the patio and into the shadows formed by the centuries-old oak tree at the edge of the house. A shiver of apprehension rippled up her spine. Once out of earshot of the others and with their bodies partially hidden in the jutting curve of the house, Hunter settled his hands on her shoulders, his touch gentle. She stared up at him. He was a good foot taller than she and his size alone was intimidating. But on some instinctive level she knew that he would never hurt her.

“Perry filled me in on your decision to never date again.”

“How dare he discuss my personal business— Oh, my God! He called you here to be my protector, didn’t he? I didn’t think he was serious when he said that what I needed was a man who could defend me against the crazy person who killed Rodney and Mike.”

“There was never any proof that Rodney was murdered,” Hunter said. “Perry pointed out that before Rodney died in a car crash, you hadn’t received any threatening letters, the way you did when you became engaged to Mike.”

“What difference does that make? Both of the men I planned to marry met untimely deaths. Because of me.”

Hunter tightened his grasp on her shoulders. “Manda, what happened to you is tragic, but if you stop living…if you give up and give in to this lunatic who’s trying to control your life, then you’re not the feisty, headstrong, determined girl I once knew. Sixteen-year-old Manda Munroe would have spit in the devil’s eye.”