Free The Temptation of Laura by Rachel Brimble Page B

firmly, not wanting her to slip on the worn stones.
    The heat of her study burned at his temple, but he stared resolutely forward. He didn’t want her to sense his disbelief of what was happening. Nor for her to guess this was the first time he had taken a woman to his home so openly and freely. Cagey and territorial over his space, he rarely let anyone over the threshold for fear of having to share the life he kept private.
    Yet now, he took Laura there. He waited for the trepidation, the regret, the abrupt change of heart. None came. Instead, excitement and pride thundered through him, making him want to run with her rather than walking at a pace nearly killing him with frustration. Closer and closer they came to his address and, with each step, his eagerness to be alone with her, to show her his work, grew inside him.
    The pressure behind his ribcage was as welcome as it was painful. Was it madness to feel the prospect of a future he dreamed of could come to fruition because of the woman beside him? He had no idea why that should be so, but it was the truth.
    What would make her go home with him unless instinctively, she, too, knew it was important she did so?
    “What is it you have in mind to do when we get to your home, Mr. Lacey?”
    Her voice and question chilled him. Her tone was almost amused, as though a silent joke at his expense hung in the air between them. Annoyance prickled the hairs at the back of his neck. Didn’t she feel it? Didn’t she know it was the natural order of things that they’d met at the theater?
    “I have something I want to show you.”
    She guffawed. “I’m sure you do.”
    They neared the end of the street where he lived. He halted and looked directly into her phenomenal eyes. The skin at her neck moved as she swallowed, but she didn’t turn or look away.
    “I’m a playwright.”
    Her brow furrowed and the humor in her eyes vanished. “A playwright?”
    “Yes.”
    Her hand slipped from his arm and she held her basket in front of her. “Why are you telling me this?”
    He lifted an eyebrow. “Most likely for the same reason you so readily agreed to come home with me. I live just a little way along this street. Let us go inside and unravel the mysteries of our actions, shall we?”

Chapter 7
    What was she doing inside Adam Lacey’s house, sitting upright and rigid upon a settee she could never afford? Laura crossed and recrossed her ankles as she glanced around his drawing room. His home was masculine, bare of trinket or flower, but compared to her and Bette’s place, it screamed of achievement. He’d left her to go upstairs and change out of his wet clothes. She glanced at the wall clock. The ten minutes she’d been alone could’ve been an hour.
    She needed to leave. Get out of there. Go back to where she belonged. Back to Bette.
    Standing, she stepped toward the door just as it swung open and Adam entered. Her breath caught. The man was ridiculously handsome. His dark blond hair was darker than usual, after his unplanned swim, and his face scrubbed clean. Her gaze drifted, of its own accord, to the smattering of chest hair just visible at the vee of his open-necked shirt. The man was unfairly relaxed. Laura inhaled. Handsome—stupidly, stupidly handsome.
    He halted, his smile dissolving. “You’re leaving?”
    He moved to touch her, seemed to think better of it, and dropped his hand to his side. Their eyes locked and silence descended. Her heart beat fast with the knowledge she would’ve given the world to stay there. Eye-to-eye, toe-to-toe with a man who fascinated and intrigued her.
    She stepped back. It was too dangerous. The atmosphere between them too potent. Her attraction to him kicked and punched at her heart. It was strong enough to make her want to kiss him, touch him, and bring that dazzling smile to the surface over and over. For little more than another breath, she would risk everything to run her fingers over his biceps and up to the plane of his wide