Remarried In Haste

“Why were these earrings buried in your haversack?”

“That’s none of your damned business!”

She was swearing at him, he thought in deep relief; the ice-cold, controlled woman of last night was gone. In her place was a woman whose eyes blazed, whose cheeks were stained red with rage and whose breasts—those delectable breasts—were heaving. He retorted, “Just answer the question.”

“Oh, because I’m dying with love for you,” she stormed. “I’m obsessed with you, I think about you night and day, week in, week out. Hadn’t you guessed that? Or could it just possibly be because I’d planned to wear them on this trip since they’re kind of neat earrings and when you arrived I decided against it, in case I put any ideas in your head?” She snorted. “I don’t need to put any ideas in your head, you can come up with more than enough all by yourself.”

“I didn’t—”

“I’m actually starting to be pleased that you’re here, Brant Curtis, and how do you feel about that? Do you know why?” She didn’t stop long enough for him to answer. “You’re confirming all the reasons I left you. Every last one of them. By the time you get on the plane in Antigua to go home, I’ll be free as a—as a bird, and don’t you dare tell me that’s another cliché. I’m going to get on with my life. Without you. And I’m beginning to think I’ll have you to thank for that.”

So angry he was beyond thought, Brant closed the distance between them in two long strides. Taking her furious face in his hands, the earrings digging into her cheek, he planted a kiss full on her open mouth.

Rowan kicked out at him; his tongue sought all the sweetness he’d missed so desperately for so long, and from behind them Peg gasped, “Oh, my goodness!”