Free The Rent-A-Groom by Jennifer Blake Page A

frustrations.
     
    “Maybe he has troubles, all right,” Gina said with a grim emphasis.
     
    Etta tipped her head like a wise sparrow. “I see what it is. You just don’t trust him.”
     
    “That about covers it.” Gina avoided the maid’s gaze as she ran a hairbrush through her hair.
     
    “Now that’s a real bawler. I never saw a handsomer couple than you two. There’s got to be something somebody can do.”
     
    “I wouldn’t count on it.” Gina reached for a headband, holding it in her hands a blind instant as depression washed over her. Then she pushed the band in place with determination and gave a final glance in the mirror at her aqua T-shirt and turquoise shorts. She looked neat and cool, if not particularly exciting or glamorous. Her steps firm, she headed toward the door.
     
    The maid shook her head as she watched her go, but the expression on her piquant face was thoughtful.
     
    A pair of peacocks strutted and screamed outside the fence of the tennis court when Gina reached it. Race was waiting at the gate. Sunlight made a golden sheen in his hair and slanted across his features to reveal his barely controlled impatience. He was not alone.
     
    Bradley and Sandra, in spiffy, regulation tennis whites, stood next to him. Bradley glanced around as Gina approached, flashing a cocksure grin.
     
    “Gina, love,” he called, “tell this man of yours that you wouldn’t mind a foursome. Last night was one thing, but he seems to have some crazy idea that you’d rather avoid us this morning, too.”
     
    “Maybe he’s right,” Gina said as irritation rose inside her. The last thing she wanted was to be forced to deal with Bradley and Race at the same time.
     
    “If you wanted that, you’d have checked out by now.”
     
    “Why would I do that? This was always my choice, if you’ll recall.”
     
    “Yeah,” Bradley said as he lowered his voice to an intimate note. “I remember we were supposed to be here together.”
     
    That blatant attempt to disconcert her, and in front of Sandra and Race, made her temperature rise. It only added fire to the anger that had been simmering inside her since she learned that not only had Bradley attempted to spy on her but Race was not who he claimed. The combination fueled the impulse that made her walk right up to Race, put her hand on his chest and stand on tiptoe to press a kiss of greeting to his lips.
     
    His chest swelled as he caught his breath in surprise. Then he circled her waist with one arm and pulled her close.
     
    His lips were smooth and warm, their firm touch beguiling. Her own lips parted in startled surprise at the transfer of initiative. The careful sweep of his tongue just inside the sensitive lining of her mouth sent an unwanted tremor of pleasure along her nerves. She met his entry, delicately defending against it, fighting the captivating sweetness and tender skill of his incitement.
     
    But the battle was provocation in itself, a warm clash of tastes and textures and inclinations that routed thought, leaving only intuitive response. Beneath its force, she felt her hostility draining away against her will, being replaced by the despairing need to be held close and closer still.
     
    Exhilaration swept in upon her in a surging flood. She lifted her arms to link them behind his head. Race drew her closer. Molded to him from breastbone to knees, she felt time slow to a standstill. Almost, she forgot what she was doing and where, who was watching, and why. Almost.
     
    “God,” Bradley said in tones of disgust, “are you two sure you want to play at all?”
     
    Race lifted his head, releasing her lips but not his grasp. Dark concentration was in his face as he spoke without looking at the other man. “Yes, we’re sure, or rather I am. Though tennis may not be the right game.”
     
    “Come on, just a friendly set or two.”
     
    Race released Gina, though he caught her hand, twining his fingers with hers. Turning with her, he began