Free Jilted in January by Clarice Wynter Page A

her neck and down her spine. She squealed and wiggled out from under him, grabbing the sheet to wrap herself in.
    “Ah, you’re clever. Distracting me like that. You can shower first if you want. I’ll make some toast and coffee.”
    “Don’t worry about me.” He scooped up his clothes from the floor. “I’ll slip out quietly so the neighbors won’t gossip , and I’ll go home. I don’t want to mess up your morning routine.”
    She cocked a brow and gave him a sassy smirk. “Are you implying it’s routine for me to have gentlemen callers in my bed on weekday mornings?”
    He winked. “Only when you drink.”
    She threw a pillow at him. “I’ll meet you downstairs. Bathroom is across the hall.”
    He grudgingly obeyed and hurried off to the bathroom to slip on his hopelessly wrinkled shirt and pants. His tie hadn’t made it to her house , and he only hoped none of the TF staff would have cause to go into the bridal suite first thing this morning. He hadn’t figured out how he would explain parts of his wardrobe having been left there.
     
    * * * *
     
    Harper threw on a nightshirt and a pair of sweats and ran downstairs, her heart thumping wildly and her stomach doing flip-flops. She’d really done it. She’d enticed Grant into her bed, and she wasn’t the least bit sorry. On the contrary, she felt fantastic. The thought of him, those deep blue eyes, his gentle skill in bed, the sound of him whispering her name—she had to hold on to the kitchen counter to keep her knees from buckling. Being bad had never been so much fun. She wanted to go to Taverna Fiora and just peek into the bridal suite. She’d never look wistfully at that room again. It was hers now. She owned it, and no bride would ever adore it as much as she did.
    She had coffee brewing and toast toasting by the time Grant came downstairs. He’d left the top button of his shirt open and had the collar standing up around his throat. His hair was mussed as though he’d tried to comb it with his fingers. She whimpered and clutched the counter. Who needed food? She could eat him alive.
    “Your tie…”
    “I lost it.” He grinned knowingly. “We were very careless with our clothes last night.”
    “Hmm. I recall things being tossed all over the place.”
    “Yeah. That’s why I need to get to work early.” He kissed her nose, her chin, her lips. She sighed.
    “Okay. You sure you don’t want something to eat?”
    He nibbled her ear lobe. “This is fine.” He kissed her lips. “And this.”
    “Okay.”
    He let her go, and she followed him to the front door. “I will call you later today. All right?”
    “Sure, yes. Any time.”
    She pulled the door open for him, reluctant to let him leave. Why hadn’t she picked a Saturday night to seduce him so he wouldn’t have to rush off at the crack of dawn?
    “Who the hell is this?” Bradley’s voice intruded on their good-bye kiss.
    Harper’s spirits plummeted , and her heart skipped a beat. In an instant all her giddy shamelessness transformed into guilt. This looked bad. Why? She couldn’t explain it. She knew she shouldn’t have had to. “What are you doing here, Brad?”
    He thrust a plump paper bag into her hands. “I was bring ing you bagels and coffee and I was going to suggest we have breakfast together and talk some more. I guess someone beat me to it.” He glared at Grant. “Who the hell are you again?”
    Harper had to give Grant credit for his smooth style. His voice remained perfectly modulated and casual. “I’m Grant ,” he said as if that explained everything.
    Brad shifted his hard gaze to Harper. “Now I get why you were so eager to break things off.”
    “As I recall, I didn’t break things off. You walked out on our wedding. That, in my book, equals breaking things off.”
    “And I suppose Grant here was just waiting in the wings.”
    “Actually we met when she came to pick up the flowers at the catering hall,” Grant offered, his voice still even. He