Free A Breathless Bride by Fiona Brand

she had been two years ago, just seconds ago—driven, obsessed.
    The fact that Constantine had ended their engagement so quickly was no longer incomprehensible. She had always known he was ruthless and uncompromising in business; she just hadn’t translated that reality to his personal life. He hadn’t liked being left out of the picture and he hadn’t been prepared to take second place to either her father’s gambling addiction or Ambrosi Pearls.
    “Finally, you get it.”
    And suddenly he was close, too close. An automatic step back and the chill of the masonry wall, a stark contrast to the potent heat of his body, brought her up short. Lightning flickered, the display increasingly spectacular, followed by a growl of thunder.
    She should shimmy out, slip past him. A quick call to a taxi firm and five minutes on the roadside and she would be on her way home. If Constantine wanted a discussion it would have to be over the phone, or with lawyers present.
    His hand landed on the wall beside her head, cutting off that avenue of escape. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on two years ago?”
    “And watch you walk away, like you did when you found out about the proposed loan?”
    “I told you, I would have helped.”
    For a moment her mind went utterly blank. Until then she hadn’t realized how angry she had been at Constantine for walking away, for choosing not to even try to understand her predicament when she had desperately needed his support. “And then walked? Thanks, but no thanks.”
    “You could have used professional help for your father and the business.”
    “He wouldn’t accept the first, and we couldn’t afford the second.”
    The pad of his thumb slid along the line of her jaw. Her pulse pounded out of control, her body’s response to the sudden stifling intimacy of his touch intense and unsettling.
    She felt caught and held by emotions she didn’t want to feel: anger, frustration and, unacceptably, a heady, dizzying anticipation. Ever since those loaded moments in his car, she realized she had been waiting for Constantine to make a move on her.
    He muttered a short, rough Medinian phrase. “Why are you so stubborn?”
    “I guess it’s an Australian trait.”
    Reminding Constantine that after the Second World War, the Ambrosi family had chosen to uproot themselves from Medinos and make Australia their home was a tenuous counterpunch. But in that moment she was willing to grasp at anything that separated her from Constantine.
    His hold was gentle enough that she could slide away, walk away if she wanted…
    She saw the moment he logged her decision, the intent in his gaze as he angled her jaw so that her mouth was mere inches from his. She also learned something else. If she was still blindly, fatally attracted to Constantine, it was an unsettling fact that he also wanted her, and suddenly there was no air.
    Constantine’s mouth brushed hers. Sienna jerked back in an effort to control the heat that shimmered through her. She shouldn’t want to know what touching him again—kissing him—would feel like when she had spent two years working doggedly to forget. “This isn’t fair.”
    He grinned quick and hard. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
    His hands settled at her waist. Now was the time to pull back, to insist that they keep their relationship on a business footing.
    Instead, seduced by the mesmerizing fact that he did still want her, that if she wasn’t careful she could fall for him again, she lifted up on her toes, cupped his jaw and kissed him back.
    A bolt of heat seared straight to her loins. She could feel his fingers in her hair, the sharp tug as he pulled out pins, the soft slide of her hair over her shoulders.
    He cupped her breast through the double layer of silk and her bra. Her stomach clenched and for a timeless moment she hung suspended. Until a masculine voice registered and she was free, cool air circulating against her overheated skin.
    Constantine controlled the