Broken Heart. Laura Browning

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СКАЧАТЬ back, his thumb stroking her spine through the silk of her evening dress. “So exactly why I love you. You appear to be such a lady, but you have a mouth like a sailor.”

      “Mason,” she muttered. “Please don’t. This one night, can’t we have a ceasefire?”

      “I didn’t start this war, Blondie, but I’m willing to negotiate terms.” His expression was inscrutable.

      “There are no terms, Mason. I’m married. I won’t be unfaithful to my husband.”

      “How old-fashioned of you. I hope your spouse is equally reciprocative.”

      “Stop it.” Stacey felt as though he took her heart and twisted it in his grasp. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us.”

      Mason put his mouth next to her ear. “Don’t be sorry, baby. You were one of the best fucks I’ve ever had…and had…and had.”

      She couldn’t control the gasp, the hurt stabbing through her, nor could she control the way she jerked away from him. Aware their sudden cessation of dancing would attract attention, Stacey put a hand to her mouth. “Excuse me,” she said loud enough so the other couples dancing could hear. “I feel ill.”

      Without giving him a chance to grab hold of her again, she rushed from the dance floor and out of the ballroom in search of the sanctuary of the women’s lounge. She longed to simply break down, but she knew her mother, knew her family. Someone would be in here in a moment, and she needed to have a believable story to cover behavior that had drawn unwanted attention. Rushing into one of the stalls, she slammed the door behind her, stared at the toilet and let out a defeated sigh. From years of practice, she leaned over, stuck a finger down her throat and gagged before she brought up the contents of her stomach.

      “Stacey, darling?” It was her mother’s voice. “Are you ill?”

      She leaned one hand against the marble wall then grabbed a wad of tissue. “It’s nothing, Mother.”

      “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

      There was such a wealth of hope in her mother’s voice, but all Stacey felt were manacles tightening another notch around her wrists and throat.

      * * * *

      Mason had endured all he could. Even for Brandon and Lucy’s sake, he couldn’t stay here any longer. He was making himself miserable, and he’d made Stacey quite literally sick. He watched the doorway through which she’d fled, had seen her mother follow her, and waited now to see them return. As much as he wanted to get the hell out of there, he wouldn’t until he was sure she would be fine.

      What the fuck had he been thinking? How could he have said that to her? It would be better all the way around if he made sure to avoid any contact with her. She had made her bed the moment she’d accepted Jason Winchester’s engagement ring. If her marriage now turned out to be something other than what she’d hoped, it was none of his concern. As soon as he saw her return to the ballroom with her mother, he located his date, making the excuse he had plans to sail early the next morning.

      After dropping off the senator’s aide, Mason drove past the house where he and Stacey had met. It was nearly two years ago now. And how pathetic was that? He was still lusting after a woman who’d dumped him so long ago. As the Porsche idled outside the brownstone, Mason remembered seeing her for the first time. Tall and willowy, dressed in a conservative suit with her hair pulled back into a neat bun, she’d turned her Barlow-Barrett haughtiness on him, thinking he was nothing more than a delivery boy. He’d set her straight in pretty short order, right before he’d eased her tight skirt up, shoved her lacy underwear to one side and taken her on the dining room table. Even remembering it now, so long after the fact, his cock swelled and his balls throbbed.

      That was what pissed him off more than anything. He knew, given half a chance, he’d do the same thing again, married or not. But no matter how bitter he was, he wouldn’t be the one to disillusion her about her husband. That was a journey she’d have to make on her own.

      * * * *

      They were going home. Finally. While Jace drove the Jaguar, Stacey leaned her aching head against the rest and stared out the passenger window. She wanted nothing more than to be able to take off the fancy clothes, let down her hair and soak in her tub with a glass of seltzer water in hand. Instead, in the side mirror, she saw the headlights of Justin Worthington’s car. Jace had invited him for a drink. Stacey sighed. Her husband caught her hand.

      “Are you feeling better, darling?”

      “Yes.” Did she have a choice? Without even asking, he had invited his friend to their home, so no matter how she actually felt, she would still need to play hostess for their guest.

      But of course, she was positive none of what was going through her mind showed on her face when she smiled and welcomed Justin inside. It would go against everything she’d been taught to be less than gracious to a guest. When she started to remove the silk shawl from around her shoulders, it was Justin who took it from her. His grin was charming. “Allow me.”

      “Thank you.” Stacey watched as he folded it carefully and laid it across the arm of the chair near the steps. It helped redeem him a bit in her eyes. Jace was never so careful with her things. Stacey hated disorder. Justin was obviously a man who did as well. Perhaps she had only imagined his penis brushing against her thigh while they danced, but even so, she supposed she could excuse him. After all, it wasn’t necessarily something a man could control, was it?

      “Sherry, darling?” Jason asked. At her nod, his glance moved to Justin. “And you, Justin? Still drinking Remy Martin?” At the other man’s nod, Stacey watched her husband splash some of the cognac in two snifters. After handing her the glass of sherry, he delivered one of the snifters to Justin. Stacey settled herself on one end of the couch, a bit unsettled when Justin seated himself in the chair nearby, close enough his knee nearly brushed hers.

      After a sip from her sherry, she steeled herself. “So, do you also know Brandon?” She was trying to figure out how Justin had become one of the guests at the wedding, although she couldn’t remember seeing him at the church.

      He laughed. “The groom? No, I don’t know either your brother or his lovely bride. I happened to show up at the club, thinking I might get a decent, quiet meal there, when I ran into Jace. He invited me in to join the festivities.”

      She smiled and darted a glance at her husband, who seemed to be watching them both with unusual intensity. When she raised a brow at him, he shook himself and smiled. “You know, it’s uncanny, darling. There is an amazing resemblance between the two of you.”

      Justin laughed. “Coincidence, Jace, I can assure you. I don’t believe any of the Worthingtons, other than me, have ever traveled east of the Mississippi. That would certainly preclude any chance of our actually being related.”

      Stacey laughed, but she had to admit, Jace was somewhat accurate. Both she and Justin had blond hair of a similar color, though his was closely cropped while hers was confined in a sleek French twist, the way her husband liked it. They were of a similar height, particularly when she wore heels, and even his build was slender, though she had a feeling from having danced with him he was a lot stronger than he might initially appear. “You are too funny, darling. To even imagine Alexander Barlow-Barrett might have strayed…”

      Her father was far too uptight and upright. She had spent a lifetime trying to live up to his strict ideas of what was right and СКАЧАТЬ