His Forbidden Kiss. Jessica Lemmon

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СКАЧАТЬ an antique lock fixture that had engaged.

      “Crap.” Sweat beaded on her brow as she jiggled harder, and she suddenly wished she’d carried her clutch in with her instead of leaving it on the table in Addison’s care. At least then she would’ve had the light from her phone.

      She wasn’t particularly claustrophobic, but the options of suffocating in a coat closet or passing out from panic weren’t good ones.

      The instant she’d observed Brannon admiring the ring nestled in the Tiffany & Co. blue box backstage, she should have handled the situation. Where was a time machine when she needed one?

      She strained to hear music or voices. Not a single sound infiltrated her insulated new home. Giving up on the doorknob, she backed up to throw her shoulder into the panel and bust herself out, when the door swung open, easy as you please.

      Silhouetted in the frame was a pair of imposing shoulders in a black tuxedo jacket, long legs in matching trousers, and above that shadowed, sharp jaw she could easily imagine a frown.

      Brannon’s older brother.

      “Taylor? What the hell are you doing in here?” Curiosity lined Royce Knox’s voice. Even though he wasn’t yelling at her, and even though he scared her about as much as a passing butterfly, her building anxiety pushed forth a gusty breath.

      “Royce, thank God.” She gripped his forearms. Over the material of his jacket she could make out the corded muscle, the sinew that made up those damned attractive arms. Once, years ago, she’d stumbled on her way to the limo and he’d been there to catch her. She was sixteen years old when she gripped his arms then. They weren’t as muscular or thick as they were now, but the fluttery feeling in her belly was the same. When it came to Royce, there was never any question if she was attracted to him. She totally was.

      She hadn’t missed her father’s scolding glower at that party afterward. He’d told her under no uncertain terms to stay away from the older Knox brother. “He’s too old for you.”

      Her father hadn’t wanted the older, more serious Knox brother for Taylor. He’d dreamed of a union between her and the younger, more eager one. Brannon.

      She yanked her hands from Royce’s forearms, unsure if she was more troubled by inadvertently obeying her father’s wishes and dating Brannon, or feeling an attraction for Royce she still couldn’t deny. It was there, though—pounding in her bloodstream.

      “I thought I was going to die in here,” she mumbled into the tight, dark space.

      A short grunt came from Royce’s throat. “Highly unlikely. Bran’s looking for you.”

      “I know.” She pictured the engagement ring and her stomach did another somersault. “This was our last date.”

      “What?” Royce’s alarmed question was interrupted by another voice. Bran’s coming from down the corridor.

      “Has anyone seen Taylor?”

      Since the closet she’d sprinted into was around a corner, Bran hadn’t seen her or his brother yet. Nor would he. She wasn’t ready.

      Taylor yanked Royce into the small space and pulled the door shut behind him, lock be damned. Suffocating in here might be better than facing the man who was about to go down on bended knee.

      “Hey!” Royce protested as the door clicked. She clapped her hand over his mouth, feeling the barest hint of stubble pushing past a sharp, clean shave—his preference. He reached for her wrist but froze when she gently shushed him. Together, they listened. Her to her erratic pulse sloshing in her ears and just under that, Brannon’s receding voice as he continued his search.

      She let out the breath she’d held and became aware of two things. Royce’s long, blunt fingers covering the pulse point at her wrist and the feel of his warm exhalations on her hand that still covered his mouth.

      “This is where my parents were engaged.” Taylor’s voice was soft with reminiscence. Royce couldn’t make out her expression in the dim light but he could hear the sadness. “At the Valentine’s Day gala. Mom said it was the most romantic night of her life.”

      His heart ached for Taylor and her mother. Losing Charles had been hard on all of them. The Knoxes and Thompsons had practically been family since Royce was in grade school.

      “That’s probably why he did it,” she tacked on glumly. Before Royce could wonder if she’d found out about the surprise, she confirmed with, “Brannon.”

      Gently, he pulled her hand away from his mouth, the soft scent of her perfume tickling his nose. She smelled good—she always had whenever he’d been this close to her, which was a rare occasion. Charles had seen to that.

      “You know,” he said. “About the proposal.”

      “Not until very recently, but yes.”

      And she didn’t sound the least bit happy about it. He couldn’t dredge up surprise at hearing that. She’d been dating his younger brother for what? On and off for three weeks? When Brannon came to show him the ring, Royce’s reaction had been immediate and it hadn’t been favorable. Brannon led with his heart and Royce was more of a numbers guy, so he’d stuck to what he knew and told his brother the truth. Seems soon in the time line for that, Bran.

      “It’s too soon,” Taylor echoed now and Royce could swear the feeling in his chest was akin to relief. Bran’s plan to propose was a mistake. Anyone should date longer than three weeks before stepping into engagement territory.

      “It was supposed to be a surprise. Who blew it?”

      “I saw Bran admiring the ring.”

      “She’s a beauty,” Royce said of the diamond solitaire that was God only knew how many carats.

      “He showed you?” She sounded almost anguished.

      He released her wrist and felt for a light switch, which he found after a few failed attempts and moving Taylor one step left and then right. Once the light clicked on he could see three things: empty hangers, plastic bins containing, according to the labels, holiday Decorations, and Taylor’s expression: simultaneously distraught and beautiful. The beauty he was used to; distraught was a new look for her.

      Shoulder-length dark blond hair swept up for the event, her lips painted a shade of pink darker than her usual. Taylor fit into the world of class and wealth as well as any of them. They were accustomed to attending events like this one—to being trussed and preening for the elders in their midst. Royce had grown used to the game over the decades. He’d been groomed on how to behave—in life, at work. It came as second nature to him now. He supposed Taylor could say the same.

      Even her sparkling gown couldn’t hide the ribbon of seriousness strung through her, the ambition she couldn’t mask with glitz and glam. That, in part, was why Bran’s suggestion to marry her had taken Royce by such surprise. They’d seemed an odd fit from the start. Taylor was like an unofficial sister, a little older than their actual sister, Gia.

      But then, he hadn’t had a chance to think of Taylor any differently before her father declared her off-limits.

      When СКАЧАТЬ