Bridegroom on Her Doorstep by Renee Roszel

Author:Renee Roszel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

COLE sat at the kitchen table in his two-room cabin, staring into his half-empty coffee mug. He couldn’t get his mind off last night and his crazy behavior. What had made him go back to that beach? Why had he grabbed Jen and kissed her? The memory caused renewed hunger to come on in a heated rush. He slammed his mug down, quelling the unwanted feelings.

He’d been unable to sleep all night, damning himself and wondering why in blazes he’d said Jen’s kiss needed work. The truth was her kisses were so blasted awesome she could lecture on the subject! Guilt stomped through his consciousness. He’d spent hours beating himself up, speculating on why he’d growled such a bold-faced lie. Somewhere around dawn it came to him. It had been a stab at self-preservation, a tactless attempt to put distance between himself and a scheming woman he felt an unexplainable attraction for.

He’d kissed her, conscious only of her nearness, her lips—lips sending fire through every nerve in his body—then he’d had a fleeting memory of his father’s hopeless love for his mother. It had been in that instant that he’d snarled the rejection.

His withdrawal had come too late to allow him to walk away unscathed. He felt like a shipwrecked seafarer. No woman’s kiss had affected him that way. Hell, no woman’s kiss had affected him at all—except for momentary gratification.

Why did Jennifer Sancroft’s taste linger? The memory of fireworks exploding in his brain during the encounter refused to fade. Why had he reacted so intensely to a mere meeting of lips? It was a troubling mystery.

To get his mind off the kiss of a woman he shouldn’t find attractive, he’d pulled out his laptop computer, deciding to work on analysis charts for the three vice presidents vying for the D.A.A. president slot. He’d finished the one for Melvin Seals, the vice president he’d dined with on Thursday evening. A good man. Steady. Intelligent. Humorless.

Working at his kitchen table, he’d begun the chart for Jennifer Sancroft. So far, under “possible problems” he’d written, “too methodical,” “does not trust her instincts” and “no passion.”

No passion? After that kiss?

He ground out an oath. Shut up about the kiss, Barringer!

He took a sip of cold coffee and grimaced, then typed in, “overly career-oriented.”

Was that really a negative? Would he have written that about Melvin if he were single? Melvin had a wife to care for their three children while Melvin did his forty to sixty hours a week and traveled to meetings or seminars.

He deleted that and typed, “cares deeply for animals.” It had nothing to do with her job and wasn’t even in the right column, but the recollection of her standing on the beach, clutching that squirming duck, made him smile. She’d been so frightened, but absolutely determined to help. That showed courage. Essential in a good leader.

“Makes a great roast pork.” Maybe she didn’t admit to being a cook, and maybe she didn’t cook very much, but what she did cook, she cooked well.

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