Seven-Year Seduction. Heidi Betts

even though Lori had hit the nail on the head, he wanted to deny it. Needed to deny it.

      “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told her, sliding his hands into the pockets of his tux jacket. “Beth and I are friends. We grew up together. She isn’t keeping me from doing anything.”

      “I mean,” she growled, leaning in to be heard over the music, but not by anyone else, “I saw the way you looked at each other. The way you held her while you danced. I’m not blind, Connor. There was more there than friendship. More than dancing with your best friend’s sister.”

      “That’s ridiculous.”

      “It’s not.” Her voice grew thick and tears glistened along her lower lashes. “It explains a lot, actually. Like why there’s no ring on my finger,” she said, holding up her bare left hand as proof. “And why I’m at your best friend’s wedding instead of my own. We’ve been dating for six years, Connor. Living together for three. If that doesn’t prove you have commitment issues, I don’t know what will.”

      She turned her head in the direction Beth had earlier escaped. “Now I know why.”

      “Lori…”

      “I don’t think this is going to work, Connor. I don’t think I can live with you anymore, knowing I’m not the woman you really want to be with.”

      She walked to the table to gather her purse, then returned to stand in front of him. Without meeting his gaze, she murmured, “I don’t think you should come home tonight. Maybe not ever.”

      It crossed his mind to tell her it was his house…she’d moved in with him, not the other way around. But this was hard enough on her. He’d never meant to hurt her, yet here she was, in obvious pain because of him.

      His throat was too tight to speak, so he merely nodded.

      He saw the hitch in her breathing before she straightened her shoulders and left the reception hall like a queen leaving a grand ballroom, head held high, regal to the core.

      Damn, this night just kept getting better and better.

      “Hey, buddy.”

      Nick came up behind him, slapping him on the back and shoving a bottle of cold beer at him. Connor pulled a hand from his pocket and accepted the much-needed drink.

      “Thanks, man.” He took several long swallows before lowering the bottle.

      “No problem. Trouble in paradise?” his best friend asked.

      “Yeah. I think I just got kicked out of my own house.”

      “Ouch. You and Lori had a fight, then. What about?”

      Nothing he could share with Nick.

      “It’s not important,” he mumbled, hoping Nick wouldn’t press for details.

      He took another swig of beer, then dug into his pants pocket to feel for his wallet. “I hate to take off so early, but I’d better start looking for a hotel vacancy or I’m going to end up sleeping in my truck.” Which he’d have to walk home to retrieve, since they’d driven to the wedding and reception in Lori’s car.

      “Listen,” Nick told him. “Why don’t you stick around a while longer, enjoy yourself, then you can crash at my place. Karen and I are heading straight for the airport after this and won’t be back for two weeks. If you and Lori make up, great. But if you don’t, you can stay there as long as you like.”

      “Are you sure?” Connor asked, touched by his friend’s generosity. But then, the Curtises had always treated him better than he deserved.

      Even as a rough-and-tumble foster kid from across the street, they’d invited him in and acted as if he was no different than Nick or any other boy their age.

      Never mind that he was hell on wheels, with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, working on getting kicked out of his eighth or ninth foster home. They’d accepted him, trusted him, even grown to love him as much as he loved them.

      His eyes grew damp just thinking about how accepting they’d been of him, despite the asinine things he’d done to test them. They’d changed his life, and if it took him until the day he died, he’d do everything he could to repay them.

      “Mi casa es su casa,” Nick quipped. “I’d feel better knowing someone was around, anyway.”

      “Thanks, man, I really appreciate it.”

      “No problem. Now, why don’t you come on over to the table with us, and when we leave, we’ll swing past your place so you can pick up your truck.”

      Connor cast a sideways glance at his friend as they negotiated the crowd and headed toward a smiling Karen, still decked out in her white wedding dress and veil.

      “You’re going to ride me about this after you get back from your honeymoon, aren’t you?”

      Nick snorted, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Oh, yeah. Getting dumped at my wedding, kicked out of your own house… It’s too good to let go.” He slung an arm around Connor’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll still remember all the details when I get back.”

      Connor shook his head, rubbing at the headache that was beginning to form right between his eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

      The scent of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air and tickled Beth’s nose where it was buried in her pillow-case. She rolled to her back with a groan and slowly opened her eyes.

      Well, the room wasn’t spinning. That had to be a good sign.

      She wasn’t intoxicated—not anymore—but she was hungover. She could feel it, from the throbbing in her brain to the thick pile of cotton coating her tongue.

      What had she been thinking? She’d left her brother’s wedding reception with a full magnum of champagne and ended up drinking so much the bottle ached.

      She never did that sort of thing, and it galled her to realize she’d let things get to her so much last night that she’d turned to alcohol to numb her emotions.

      Thank God it was over, though. Nick and Karen would be on their honeymoon by now, or at least on their way to sunny Honolulu. And all of their guests would have gone home, Connor and his peroxide-blond girlfriend included. She never needed to see him again.

      Life couldn’t get much better.

      She pushed herself out of bed and lurched to the connected bathroom, using the nightstand and dresser to keep from falling over. After brushing her teeth and splashing a little water on her face, she felt more human. She was even walking straighter as she made her way downstairs, following the mesmerizing fragrance of java and the promise of a jolt of caffeine.

      Turning the corner into the kitchen, covering a yawn with the back of her hand, she opened her eyes to find a man standing at the counter with his back to her.

      A yip of fear and surprise passed her lips before she could stop it, and the man whirled in her direction. If she hadn’t been feeling so sluggish and out of sorts when she woke up, she might have figured out earlier that in order for her to smell fresh-brewed coffee, another body had to be in the house to make it.

      And she’d been wrong: Life couldn’t get much worse.

      Connor watched her with wide eyes, just as stunned by her sudden appearance as she was by his presence. He clutched a cup of steaming coffee in his hands, a splotch of the dark brew staining the front of his shirt where it had sloshed over the lip of the mug when he’d spun around.

      Good, she hoped he’d burned himself.

      “What are you doing here?” she asked, not kindly, grasping for the edges of a robe that wasn’t there. Instead, she was standing in the middle of her family’s kitchen, covered only by the paper-thin camisole she’d worn beneath her bridesmaid gown.

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