The Perfect Bride - By Kerry Connor Page 0,43

more comfortable, what if I agree to stay out of the passageways?”

He almost laughed. “Like I said, I don’t think I can trust you. To stay out of them,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

From her narrowed eyes, she hadn’t missed that little pause.

“Alternately...”

Jillian immediately perked up, exactly as he’d known she would.

Adam picked up a piece of paper. Glancing at it, he grimaced, then slid it across the desk to her. “You can sign this waiver releasing us from any liability in case of injury.”

Eyeing him closely, she slowly edged to the desk and took the paper from him.

“Are you expecting something to happen to me?”

“Are you so sure it won’t?”

“Like I told you, I can take care of myself. Unless there’s a reason you don’t think I can...”

He nearly shook his head. She was impossible. “It wouldn’t be responsible of me not to consider any possible consequences.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and he wondered if she might actually decline to sign the document, felt a flicker of hope that this might be what got her to leave.

Lowering the paper to the desktop, she picked up the pen beside it and signed on the designated line.

Damn it.

Before she could pull her hand away, he reached out and caught her arm, holding her in place. Her eyes flew to his.

“It’s really that important for you to be here?” he demanded.

“Yes, it is,” she said seriously, her gaze as steely as he knew his own had to be. Then she slowly smiled, forcing a lightness in her tone and expression that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I want the wedding of my dreams.”

Damn her. He didn’t know what game she was playing, but it was clear she intended to play it out to the end. He just wasn’t sure what the end would be, more convinced than ever it would be a bad one. For all of them.

Yet knowing that didn’t get him to release her from his hold. Didn’t keep him from noticing just how soft her skin was, or how fast her pulse was racing beneath his fingertips. Even as he registered it, he felt it kick up another notch, throbbing insistently under his touch. Felt his own pick up speed in response, the heat of her skin seeming to sink into his own, entering his bloodstream and sending a straight shot of adrenaline to his heart.

Neither of them moved. He waited for her to resist, to try to pull away, to seem outraged, to prove that one of them was sane.

She didn’t, remaining utterly still, simply staring back at him. He might have believed she was completely unaffected. Except he knew she wasn’t. He held the evidence in his hands, her pulse still pounding unsteadily beneath his fingers.

Was this all part of her game?

The fact that he didn’t know—and that it wasn’t enough to kill his own foolish reaction—was reason enough to let her go.

He made himself relax his fingers and release her, even when all he wanted to do was pull her closer.

She took a single step back, letting her arm fall to her side.

“Is that all?” she said blandly.

“That’s all.”

With a slight nod, she turned her back to him. She walked to the door at an unhurried pace, as though nothing had happened, as though she hadn’t been affected by the contact at all. He watched her every step of the way, unable to look away.

So he didn’t miss it when, just before she slipped out the door, she reached out and touched the wrist he’d held with her opposite hand, rubbing lightly at the spot where his fingers had been.

A strange combination of victory and dread rose inside him. She hadn’t been as immune to the moment as she wanted to pretend.

She’s either engaged or a liar, he reminded himself.

And more than ever, he suddenly wasn’t sure which he wanted her to be less.

* * *

THE SLUT WAS too clever for her own good. Somehow she’d managed to find the passages and ruin everything. They were no longer secret enough, no longer safe to use.

It wasn’t going to be enough to save her.

All of this could have been avoided if she had died the way she was supposed to—a tragic, untimely death in her sleep.

Instead she lived. To continue planning her wedding, all the while panting after a man who wasn’t her husband-to-be. Wandering alone with him in those very passages. Going to his office for private meetings.

When she’d come out she’d