Claiming His Bride

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“Just checking if your hair’s dry.” His hands were at her nape, his fingers threading through her curls. It was the lamest excuse she’d ever heard, but she didn’t immediately jerk away, a strange languor sweeping over her, her skin tingling under his touch. Tristan had never run his fingers through her hair.

“Don’t,” she whispered huskily, but she still couldn’t seem to move, or twist her head round to shake him off.

“He wasn’t the man for you, Suzie. Trust me.”

That made her jerk back away from him. “Trust you?” she breathed. “You’d be the last man I’d ever trust!”

She gulped in a rallying breath. He was waiting for her to crack, to admit that his presence disturbed her. Waiting for her to throw herself back into his arms and confess how she’d missed him and how badly she wanted him back in her life, regardless of his faults and failings.

Well, you’ll be waiting, she vowed hotly. She’d had a lifetime of pain and disillusionment to harden her heart against irresponsible charmers like Mack Chaney and her father. She’d watched her mother being worn down, day after day, and had sworn she’d never end up like her.

Mack looked pained. “I saved you from marrying a potential bigamist, didn’t I?”

She scowled. “I suppose you expect me to be grateful to you.” Her voice trembled. “Well, all right, I’m glad you found out in time. B-but you had no right to interfere in my life. You should have asked someone else to check up on Tristan.” Anyone else!

“I thought I had the right as a friend, Suzie. Friends look out for each other.”

“A friend?” Her eyes seared his. “We haven’t been friends, or even spoken to each other, since—” She stopped, shaking her head. Since the night he’d come round to her place boasting of his big win at the casino, thinking she’d be happy about his stroke of good fortune and congratulate him.

“Since the day of your father’s funeral,” Mack finished for her, reminding her that he’d turned up unexpectedly on that somber occasion, a few months after their abrupt parting.

Suzie took a gulp of her coffee. Her mother had kept her closely under her wing from the moment Mack had shown up, so that he would have no chance to speak privately to her, except to offer his condolences to both of them. She’d turned sharply away from him afterward, making it plain that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

Any man so like her father! It would be disastrous to get involved with Mack again. He’ll end up the same way as your father, one of these days, her mother had warned her over and over again, and despite the feelings she still had for Mack, she’d known that Ruth was right.

Mack had taken the hint and kept out of her life after that, and a few weeks later she’d heard that he’d gone off to travel round Australia on his Harley-Davidson—a trip that could have lasted months or years. She wondered when he’d come back. Just as well he had! Nobody else had thought to check up on Tristan Guthrie’s past.

“It must have been tough, finding out that your bridegroom had a wife already,” Mack conceded, his voice a warm, deep rumble, “but you don’t seem too heartbroken, Suzie, I’m glad to see. You know in your heart, don’t you, that Tristan was wrong for you?”