Liz Talley – A Touch of Scarlet (страница 4)

Rayne’s smile faltered when she saw Scarlet standing in front of the car, arms crossed. Rayne looked beyond beautiful. Absolutely tasteful, refined and…a little scared. Scarlet couldn’t believe her older sister had gotten married and not invited her.

The pain razored across her heart again, but Scarlet ignored it. “Guess I missed the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ part of the ceremony.”

“Scarlet,” Rayne stammered, glancing desperately at her handsome groom. “You came!”

Cameras edged closer, but Scarlet was accustomed to being in front of them. They were an afterthought. “Yeah. I came to stop this sham of a wedding.”

Rayne’s eyes grew as big as the diamond on her left hand. Which was pretty damned big. Her sister looked at Brent, who glared at Scarlet.

“See? I told you not to call her,” he said.

“Call me?” Scarlet looked past the elegant lace on her sister’s shoulder to where her mother and father stood with Aunt Frances. They looked fairly alarmed, too. “No one called me.”

One cameraman came too close. Scarlet whirled. “Back off, buddy. This is between me and my sister.”

He immediately stepped back.

Amateur.

“Scarlet, you’re making a scene,” Brent said, taking her elbow so he could move her out of the way.

“Really?” Scarlet asked, trying like hell not to cry. Rayne had married this too-good-looking waste of skin. Scarlet was too late. All that effort to stop Rayne from making a colossal lapse in judgment, and Scarlet had arrived an hour too late.

If only that cop hadn’t stopped her. She might have made it. Might have burst in and objected…on the grounds that Brent Hamilton was a man-whore and not fit to lick the soles of her sister’s shoes.

“I always make a scene,” Scarlet said drily, wrenching her elbow from his grasp and ignoring him. She looked at her sister instead. “Rayne?”

“Sorry, Scarlet. I love you, but I love Brent, too. We’re married and we’re staying that way. I don’t care if he screwed half of Texas, he’s my husband now. So stop the drama.” Rayne pushed past Scarlet, dragging Brent with her. The limousine driver opened the door with a flourish.

Rayne turned around. “You can come to Serendipity and celebrate with us if you’d like.”

Then she disappeared into the depths of the car with Brent right behind her. Henry, Rayne’s son, sped by Scarlet and leaped onto Brent’s lap.

“Come on, Aunt Scarlet! We’re gonna party!” he yelled out the window as the limo pulled away from the curb.

Scarlet didn’t say a thing. She couldn’t have if she wanted. She’d failed miserably. She felt like crying into a vodka tonic, but Oak Stand was a dry town. Hell. If there was any time she needed a drink, it was now.

Her mind tripped back to the little bottle of rum lying beside the crumpled speeding ticket. It was all she had to take away the sting of failure. The sting of hurt.

Man, this day sucked.

CHAPTER TWO

HE’D LOST HIS COMPOSURE.

Not cool. He shouldn’t have baited her. Shouldn’t have implied she was a bitch. And he damned sure shouldn’t have touched her.

Adam Hinton dusted the dirt and gravel off his boots as he watched the taillights of the BMW fade into the distance. He’d polished the black motorcycle boots last night and now they looked dusty.

Damn it.

He reached inside the cruiser for the backpack holding an assortment of necessities. First-aid kit, flashlight, extra clothes and other things he might need when away from the small house he rented in the middle of Oak Stand. He pulled a package of wet wipes from the depths. Not the best thing to use on leather, but it would do. He’d apply another coat of polish later tonight.

He needed to stop by the Hamilton reception. He’d told Brent he would, even though technically he was on duty. It could count as his lunch hour. He liked both Rayne and Brent, though he didn’t know them as well as others in the small town did. He’d only been in Oak Stand for nine months. But as the newly appointed police chief, it was in his best interest to drop by the much-anticipated event. Nearly everyone in the town had been invited to the wedding and reception, which was being filmed as the premiere of A Taste of Texas, a new show featuring Rayne Rose, a rising chef in the culinary world. Not only was it a joyous celebration of the love shared between the couple, but also of the opportunity Rayne Rose had given Oak Stand when she’d talked the network into using Serendipity Inn as the base for filming the show. Everyone was thrilled about the potential benefit to a town still trying to get on its feet after a tornado ripped through last spring.

Everyone except obviously one smoking-hot redhead.

The image of Scarlet arching against the rear of the BMW like a naughty advertisement for porn popped into his mind. She’d had him salivating at the blatant taunt. He’d done his best to remain impassive, but inside his libido had ratcheted up several notches and revved to near out of control.

She was everything he wanted and nothing he needed.

Adam felt his groin tighten. Oh, yeah. Scarlet Rose was the type of woman he lusted after. Lush, brash and absolutely naughty. He liked the girls who wore their clothes too tight, drank Bud from a bottle and had tattoos of La Vida Loca on their backside. Years ago, he’d gone through a parade of women who threw things at him when they got angry, wore cheap red lace bras and drove him totally over the edge.

Why he preferred trouble to perfectly acceptable in a sweater set escaped him. He supposed it had something to do with his father and his sexcapades. That’s exactly what his shrink would say. Perhaps Adam could explore that line of reasoning the next time he went to Houston and saw Dr. Fitzgerald. Maybe he could find out why coiffed blondes with monogrammed stationary turned him off. Why cute soccer moms with juice packs and empty smiles left him cold. And why women who went to Bible study and drank hot tea with lemon made him want to run for the hills.

Because those kinds of women were what a police chief needed. An acceptable lady. Not a sex kitten.

He gave himself a mental shake and pulled his thoughts from women of his past, present and future.

He was on the clock with a job to do.

He tossed the soiled wipe into the trash bag he kept on the floor of the idling cruiser and climbed inside. One pass around the town, then he’d stop at the reception. Hopefully, the redhead hadn’t caused any problems. By his watch, she would have been too late. But something told him she wouldn’t let Rayne and Brent get in her way.

Desire unraveled in his belly. He tamped it down.

Scarlet Rose spelled trouble. With a capital T.

And if there was one thing Adam didn’t need in his life, it was that kind of Trouble.

ADAM CLIMBED THE STEPS of the century-old house that served as Oak Stand’s only bed-and-breakfast. It was a gingerbread of a house, freshly painted a cool blue with bright white trim. Lush ferns greeted visitors as they made their way onto the wide porch featuring rocking chairs and a porch swing. He could hear the hum of the crowd, most of which likely filled the interior and the pristine backyards of both the inn and the Hamiltons who lived next door. No one was on the front porch.

Except Scarlet.

She sat on the porch swing, looking as if someone had kicked her. Hard.

“Hey,” he said, a little too loudly.

She started. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah,” he said, for want of anything clever to say. As he stood there contemplating a feast for the eyes, his libido tapped him on the shoulder and whispered, “I want some of that.” Libido was hard to ignore.

She sighed and leaned back, causing the swing to tilt and her breasts to thrust forward. A gold shoe charm hung from a chain around her neck, nestling right in the middle of her breasts. He wanted to be that little shoe. His mouth went dry at the thought. His libido resumed the incessant tapping.

“Wow. Not only are you competent in the art of detection, but you excel in the art of conversation, too. Bet the ladies in town are lining up.” Sarcasm didn’t drip from her mouth. It gushed enough for him to shove his libido under a rock.

“No luck in stopping the wedding?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You gave me that DUI test on purpose.”

He shook his head. “No. I detained you because a bottle of liquor fell from your glove compartment. I’m entrusted with a job to protect this community.”

She snorted. “Yeah. I’m a real danger. Hide your children.”

“Just doing my job.”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t in time. Guess we bitches don’t always get our way.”

He winced. “I shouldn’t have implied you are a bitch. It was unprofessional. I’m sorry.”

She averted her eyes toward the large magnolia tree that squatted in the yard between the inn and the street. “No problem. I am a bitch. Everyone knows it.”

Silence descended on the porch. He thought he heard crickets.

“I’m sure you’re not, um, well, not to everyone.” Damn. What was he? A tongue-tied virgin standing in front of a wet-dream fantasy girl?

Amusement twitched at her mouth and her gaze caught his. Her eyes weren’t brown like her sister’s. More of a hazel with flecks of gold and green. They looked like the granite on his kitchen counter. Mesmerizingly gorgeous. Of course, he couldn’t see them from where he stood, but he remembered from earlier. “You’re being nice to me.”