Kate Little - The Determined Groom

Just as he heard Laurel’s cries of ecstasy as she reached her peak, he felt himself topple over the edge. He shuddered in her arms and felt her tremble beneath him. Their mouths merged in a deep, devouring kiss as Connor moved within her with one last powerful thrust. He felt her shiver and grip him close, hearing her call his name as her body clenched around him, and they cleaved together in the ultimate of intimacy, as close as two beings could ever be.

Some time later, Connor and Laurel sat together in a close embrace, leaning back on the driftwood log. He had covered her with his suit jacket and then wrapped her possessively in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, tucked below his chin, her arms loped around his waist as he stroked her hair.

He stared up at the stars, still too moved to speak. Finally he said, “Tell me you won’t marry Todd Parson. I don’t think I could stand it if you did.”

“No, I can’t marry him,” Laurel agreed softly. She looked up at him and touched her hand to his cheek. “Right now, I can’t even remember why I wanted to.”

Seven years later

Laurel glanced at the small gold clock on her desk. Nine thirty-three. Barely two minutes had passed since she’d last checked, though somehow, it felt like two hours. Connor Northrup was due to arrive at ten o’clock. She would not go down to the meeting room until then.

She felt the flurry of butterflies churning her stomach and tried to ignore it. She turned her attention to her desktop, piled with papers, and tried to focus on the task at hand, trying to determine if Sutherland Enterprises should sue a supplier who had failed to keep to the terms of their contract.

Laurel flipped open a folder of correspondence and tried to concentrate on the stack of letters. Some were quite old, dated up to five years ago and signed with her former married name, Laurel Parson.

She didn’t like to be reminded of her marriage. She felt a wave of sadness, futile sadness, actually. When her friends and family had heard the story of Todd’s infidelity, they had naturally rushed to support her, to make Todd out to be the villain of the piece.

But Laurel knew better. It took two to make a mess of a marriage and she had played her part.

The truth was, she should have never married Todd in the first place.

The truth was, she had been unfaithful to him even before they’d spoken their vows.

One clear-cut act of betrayal with her body, on a moonlit beach—and after that, years of betrayal in her heart, believing herself to be irrevocably in love with a man who had simply used her to fulfill some long-simmering fantasy. A man who had promised her the world, and asked—no, demanded—that she turn her entire world upside down for him with a snap of his fingers.

Then…nothing. Not a word. Not a card. Not a single phone call.

So, she had gone through with her marriage, come back to reality, she thought. Fulfilled her promises, her responsibility, though she knew all along her heart wasn’t in it. And, unfortunately, neither was the rest of her body, she reflected. For although she had given herself to Connor with bold abandon, she’d never responded to Todd with anything close to that degree of passion and sensuality.

Todd had accused her of being cold. Frigid. That was the reason he’d needed to wander. It was really all her fault, according to Todd. She’d accepted the accusation without argument, for how could she dare explain why she knew it wasn’t true? Besides, she did feel guilty about her lack of passion for him. About the light of love that had burned in her heart for another man, for so many years, unseen and unrequited.

Yes, discovering Todd’s affair had been painful and humiliating. But the pain had been nothing compared with the sense of loss and betrayal she’d felt, the humiliation of being played for a fool, when Connor Northrup had used her for a one-night stand.

What other explanation was there for what had happened? If Connor Northrup had the nerve to offer one, she knew she’d refuse to believe it.

She had almost expected to see him at her father’s funeral two years ago. But Connor had been traveling on business at the time and had sent a note of sympathy along with a staggering arrangement of flowers. Her father had adored Connor. Taken a deep interest in him as a boy and helped him fulfill his potential as a young man. After Connor entered the work world, Charles had kept in touch with him, bragged about his successes as if Connor had been his own son. Sometimes she thought he liked him even more than Phillip.

Why should it matter so much after all this time? Laurel shook her head, silently scolding herself. She should know better by now. She should at least act as if she did. And, in about ten minutes, she would do exactly that. She would act as if it didn’t matter and had never mattered to her, in fact. She would put on such a convincing show of cool, polite, businesslike persona that even Connor Northrup would not dare to bring up the past.

She dreaded this meeting. She had dreaded this day ever since Laurel had learned that the firm that handled Sutherland’s annual audit had merged with a group of financial analysts headed by Connor Northrup. But now it had come—the day that they would meet again, face-to-face.

She remembered how handsome he was. Remembered much too well, in fact. She knew it was mean of her, but she hoped he’d lost his hair, or gotten a big potbelly. Or both. It had been seven years since she’d seen him. Anything could have happened. He might be married, with ten kids, for all she knew. She found herself frowning at the thought, then shook her head.

Laurel gave up on trying to review the old letters and pushed the pile of papers back into the folder. She rose from the desk and walked into the private bathroom that adjoined her office. She rinsed her hands, then quickly checked her appearance. Just as I would do before any other meeting of this kind, Laurel assured herself. She was not making any special effort for Connor Northrup. Still, she could not help wondering if he would find her appearance changed. She knew she had changed since that summer night years ago. People remarked on it. Or held themselves back from remarking on it, she had noticed.

Her body was basically the same—if anything she’d gotten a bit thinner. The expensive, high-style navy blue suit she had chosen for today with its sleek, severe cut certainly made her look model thin. The color complemented her fair hair. Her hair was still long, though she rarely wore it down anymore, and certainly not at the office. Today it was swept up in a sophisticated style. Her pearl earrings added to the elegant, businesslike image.

Her eyes—which Connor had once rhapsodized over—were still blue, she noted with a wry smile. But she was older and wiser and it showed, she knew. The sparkle was gone, replaced by a certain accepting dullness. Maturity, some might call it. But at that moment, Laurel wondered if it couldn’t more accurately be called cynicism. Bitterness. The shadow of vain hopes.

Silly thoughts. Useless thoughts, really. She couldn’t let Connor guess that she had any feelings about seeing him at all. After all, she did have her self-respect.

She’d never worn much makeup. Never needed to, and now, even when a bit of blush or concealer for the shadows under her eyes might have helped, she didn’t want to bother. She applied fresh lipstick in a brisk, efficient motion and snapped the tube closed.

She was as ready as she’d ever be. She checked her watch. Five to ten. Time to head down to the conference room near Phillip’s office.

Laurel grabbed her leather-bound notepad and a pen off her desk. When she left her office, she gave instructions to her assistant, Emily, then headed down the long hallway. The dark green carpeting was thick and her steps were nearly soundless.