BEVERLY BARTON - Whitelaw's Wedding

“If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man,” Hunter whispered. “I think we should put those three at the top of our suspects list.”

“You’re kidding? Those guys are harmless. They wouldn’t—”

“Never assume anything about anyone. It never pays to trust too easily. Professionally or personally. People are seldom what they seem. And putting your trust in the wrong person is a sure way to get your heart broken.”

“Speaking from personal experience?” she asked.

“Definitely.” He took her in his arms and joined the other couples dancing to the slow, sensual beat of a cool jazz tune.

She found that she liked the feel of his strong arms around her. It had been such a long time since she had allowed a man to hold her, even to simply dance with her. Hunter was so big that she should have felt dwarfed by his size, but somehow she felt protected and comforted. And even cherished. Damn, but he was a good actor.

“So, tell me, who did you trust that wound up breaking your heart?” She gazed into his stormy gray eyes and noted a hint of pain. Someone had hurt him. Maybe his ex-wife had broken his heart.

“I don’t make a habit of talking about my personal life.”

“No fair. If you get to know all the intimate details of my life, then I should at least be allowed to know something about yours.”

He brought her closer until their bodies pressed intimately against each other, then he gazed down at her as if he were going to kiss her. Not here, she thought. Not in front of all these people. That would be taking the act a little too far and a little too fast.

“Do you remember meeting my ex-wife, Selina, at Perry and Gwen’s wedding?” Hunter asked.

“Yes. She was a lovely woman.” Manda remembered that several people at the wedding had mentioned the similarity between Selina Whitelaw and herself. Both blue-eyed blondes, about the same age. And she had later learned that Selina came from the same type of background—a respected, blue-blooded Southern family with old money.

“She was a spoiled, selfish, promiscuous hellcat,” Hunter said, his smile never wavering.

He’d thought the same of her once. At least the spoiled, selfish hellcat part. At sixteen she might have been daring and determined where pursuing Hunter was concerned, but she hadn’t been promiscuous. Actually, she’d still been a virgin. And you still are! No one would believe it. Sometimes she had a hard time explaining to herself how a thirty-three-year-old woman could still be a virgin. As a teenager, she’d been rebellious and self-centered, but had drawn the line at experimenting sexually with any of the guys she dated. She and Rodney had been very much in love, but both had agreed to wait for their wedding night. But that wedding night had never come. And her relationship with Mike hadn’t been sexual. They had been friends, drawn to each other out of mutual admiration and similar interests. They had been affectionate with each other, and had they married, she didn’t doubt that they would have been compatible sexually. But they had never married.

“I take it that Selina was unfaithful to you,” Manda said.

“Mmm… I caught her in bed with one of my friends. Later, I found out that he wasn’t the first.”

“And you’ve never trusted another woman since. If that’s true, then you’re probably as afraid of forming a new relationship as I am.”

“There’s a difference. You want and need a husband and a houseful of kids. Or at least that’s what Perry told me.” He paused, as if waiting for her to deny his statement, which she didn’t. “I, on the other hand, have no desire to remarry. And I date as much as I want to, have as many women in my life as I need.”

“Need being the operative word?” Manda asked. “Need, as in physical need? You’re afraid of an emotional relationship, but you don’t have a problem having physical relationships. Am I right?”

“Are you inquiring for a personal reason?” Hunter nuzzled her neck.

Manda gasped as pure sensation shot through her. “What…what—”

“If you’re wondering if after we get married, I’d be willing to screw you even though we won’t be emotionally involved, then the answer is yes.”

She tensed in his arms, then stopped dead-still. “Grams is right—you can be very vulgar.”

When she tried to pull away from him, he refused to release her. “If you don’t want to dance any longer, then why don’t we go through the buffet line and get some cake? After all, we don’t want anyone thinking that we’re having an argument. Not when we’re supposed to be falling in love.”

Manda resigned herself to accept his smothering attention. Every glance, every hug, every kiss as phony as a three-dollar bill. But necessary, she reminded herself. If they were going to pull off this dangerous charade, she couldn’t allow herself to be affected by anything Hunter said or did. Or by her own unwanted feelings for him. Crazy as it might seem, she found herself as strongly attracted to him now as she’d been at sixteen.

Don’t you dare fall for this guy, she cautioned herself. Caring about Hunter would be dangerous—for him and for you. Even if there was no external danger, no lunatic watching and waiting for her to choose a new mate, she didn’t dare risk losing her heart to Hunter Whitelaw, a man who still saw her as spoiled and selfish, the way his ex-wife had been.

As they made their way to the buffet table, Manda noticed Gwen heading in their direction. The birthday girl herself, all smiles, but with unmistakable curiosity in her eyes. She and Gwen had known each other most of their lives and had at one time been friends. But that was before they’d both fallen in love with Rodney Austin. Manda didn’t think her sister-in-law had ever quite forgiven her for being the one Rodney had loved and wanted. Even though Gwen had married Perry only a year after Rodney’s death, Manda wondered if her sister-in-law had ever truly loved Perry. They seemed to have a stable marriage. Gwen was the ideal wife for an up-and-coming lawyer with political aspirations. And she thought Perry was content, if not genuinely happy. He doted on Gwen, gave her anything her heart desired and had even accepted her decision for them to not adopt a child after she had found out that she couldn’t have a baby of her own.

Before Gwen reached them, Claire Austin stopped Gwen to give her a hug. Hunter urged Manda into the line at the buffet table and as they waited their turn, he kept his arm around her shoulders and occasionally rubbed his hand up and down her arm in a gesture of affection. As Manda picked up a plate holding a piece of birthday cake, prepared by Atlanta’s renowned Chef Maurice Claude, she cast a quick glimpse over her shoulder and saw that Gwen and Claire, talking happily to each other, were heading their way.

Manda tried to hurry Hunter along, but he insisted on acquiring flutes of champagne for them. By the time they had cake and champagne in hand, Gwen closed in on them.

“Manda,” she called, and waved. “There you are. I haven’t had a chance to even say hello.” Moving nearer with each step, Gwen brought Claire with her. “I just had to postpone opening the rest of my gifts so that I could mix and mingle more with my guests.”

Gwen sized up Hunter, her gaze traveling from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes. “Hunter Whitelaw, we haven’t seen you in ages. I’m simply delighted that you’d drive down from Atlanta just for my birthday party.”

“Happy birthday, Gwen,” Hunter said. “You don’t know how glad I am that I accepted Perry’s invitation. Manda and I are getting to know each other all over again, and I must say that I’m finding myself intrigued by your beautiful sister-in-law. So much so that I’m staying over a few days, since I’ve persuaded Manda to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night.”