Free The Billionaire's Bridal Bid by Emily McKay Page A

in her elbow. Her hair had tumbled down around her shoulders; her makeup had lost its luster. Asleep, she looked so beautiful and relaxed, he didn’t want to wake her.
    In the time he’d worked with the rest of the team, he’d never once forgotten she was there. She’d spent the first couple of hours with Dylan. He’d gotten her coffee and they shared the dessert Matt should have eaten with her. She hadn’t complained. Never distracted him or whined or demanded attention. Finally, she’d grabbed a book off the community bookshelf by the break room, curled up in the chair and read until she’d fallen asleep.
    How many of the women he’d dated in the past decade would have handled this as well? He couldn’t think of a single one.
    He wanted to hate her. Wanted to resent the hell out of her, but, damn, she made it hard.
    Maybe it would be easier if she wasn’t so pretty. So vulnerable. Maybe if she didn’t seem so convinced that he wasn’t the only victim here. There were times when she seemed to think he was just as much to blame for their breakup as she was. Times when she seemed to be expecting him to apologize to her.
    Who knew, maybe she was right. They’d been young and he’d been so devoted to FMJ. He’d probably been a crappy boyfriend. Tonight, she’d said it hadn’t been about the person he was, but about her. Yes, she’d run, but the truth was, he hadn’t gone after her.
    Maybe all she’d wanted was for him to put her first. To make the sacrifice and chase her down. Things might have been very different.
    After tonight, he knew one thing.
    This thing between them wasn’t over.
    They’d only dated for six weeks. That was barely enough time to get to know each other then. The few times they’d seen each other since the charity auction wasn’t enough time to get past her barriers, let alone to get reacquainted. And he was now willing to admit that that was what he wanted. He was ready to set aside all the things he thought he knew about her and to learn who she really was.
    As gently as he could, he reached down, scooped her up into his arms and carried her out to the limo. She slept peacefully in his arms.
     
    Claire woke up in the limo, with her head resting on Matt’s shoulder and her shawl draped over her torso. His chest was beneath her cheek, the buttery fabric of his jacket soft beneath her skin, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath her palm. The woodsy smell of his cologne was faint and familiar and stirred something deep within her. The feel of his breath, warm against her hair, was the final proof that this was not just a dream.
    She jerked upright, and felt his hand slip off her shoulder.
    “You’re awake,” he said, rubbing his fingers over his own eyes, as if he, too, had been about to fall asleep.
    Then his gaze fell on her. He seemed to be drinking in the sight of her. Warmth washed over her. Along with a solid dash of nerves. A glance at her watch told her it had been over seven hours since she’d gotten ready for this date. Her makeup was probably long gone, her hair most likely a mess. Despite that—and despite the fact that Matt had dated some of the most beautiful women in the world—when he looked at her like that, she feltbeautiful. Like the overworked owner of a small-town diner must be exactly what he wanted most.
    She tugged her shawl around her shoulders and shifted her feet to the floor, saying the first thing that popped into her head. “The book I was reading. I was going to borrow it. I don’t suppose you—”
    He shook his head. “I’ll buy you your own copy.”
    “Oh. Thanks.” She scooted across the seat, trying to put as much room between them as possible, but it was hard when her senses still felt muddled from sleep and her mind was still full of the dreams she’d had of him. Dreams of being held in his arms. Of having his hand stroke her skin. Of hearing his voice murmur soothing words.
    To distract herself she asked, “The problem with the