Medical Romance July 2016 Books 1-6. Lynne Marshall

erection once captured between them for the condom.

      “Liam...”

      “Do you still have those panties and that bra?”

      “No.”

      She knew what he was doing. He’d done what he’d promised, he hadn’t held back, but now he was getting this fantasy-fulfilling evening back on course.

      “I went home and burned them. They were all tainted with unrequited longing and...”

      A little shifting and she felt herself stretching to accommodate the hardness pushing insistently into her.

      “Do you have some other ones? I think... I deserve some black underwear to complete this memory.”

      She wanted another night. Another ten thousand nights wouldn’t be enough.

       CHAPTER TEN

      ANYTHING SHE WANTED. After their night, when they’d both been drunk on pleasure and each other, when the idea that everything would be okay somehow had dominated his mind, Liam had announced he’d give her whatever she wanted. Ask him anything, he’d say yes.

      And he had. Even when she’d asked him to be her date to a wedding.

      So dumb. All of that was going to make this harder.

      Consequences.

      Liam tossed his keys to the valet and went to offer Grace his elbow. The boot that made it easy to walk without support didn’t go with his formal wear, so he was back to tape and a cane. Only today it didn’t hurt much at all with the tape. Unlike before. A sign of progress: that he’d healed enough for tape to work. At least physically, though his heart and conscience were starting to feel battered from the effort.

      He looked down at her smiling face and the pit of acid eating a hole through him widened, and he had to work to swallow it down. Whatever was between them was usually flirty and playful. Even when she’d been grumpy with him over his ankle, they’d still found their way back to that playful relationship.

      And there was the problem word. They no longer had one fantastic night, they had a relationship.

      This was a date.

      A date to a wedding, of all things. Because Grace was made for the fairy tale.

      He should have figured out some way out of that promise. But he’d considered it, and the fact that they’d be staying alone together in a hotel had overridden his sensibilities. One night had turned into one more night.

      But he hated broken promises, with all the promises made and broken in his childhood, so making promises lightly should be the last thing he’d ever do.

      And the Liam from Grace’s bed—the one satisfied down to every last atom—would’ve kept that promise. So today, even though he’d had two days to come to the conclusion that this was a bad idea, he had to keep his promise to Grace. He just couldn’t keep it well. The spirit of the promise was different from the tangible semantics of it.

      Tonight had to end differently than she wanted. It had to end differently than even he wanted. Because what he wanted was the opposite from what was right. Tonight had to be a bad night. To help her see things clearly. To knock the stars from her eyes.

      She gasped softly as they walked through the lit estate. Cool night breezes rolled off the ocean below and all the trees glittered with white lights.

      “I guess this is what the wedding of the children of Hollywood royalty looks like,” Grace murmured, squeezing his arm. “Your ankle okay?”

      “It’s fine.”

      “Are you sure? You look like you’re in pain.”

      “I’m okay.”

      “You’re scowling,” she said, waving with her free hand to different people they passed.

      Security took their names, and an usher came to escort them off to more white and gold, to rows of chairs in two blocks facing an astonishingly lit gazebo and a sea of puffy white flower balls that Liam couldn’t identify.

      “I’m...” He started to deny it, but then lowered his voice and his head to her so no one else would hear. “I’m not a fan of weddings.”

      “But it looks like a fairy tale.”

      Fairy tale.

      Seated, Liam shifted around, trying to get comfortable. “Yes. It does.”

      “You’re not happy for Freya and Zack?”

      “Don’t know Zack, but sure. Freya’s a good person.” Liam didn’t know her well, but they’d spoken a few times at some event or another. It was impossible to move in the same circles for years and not interact on some level. He had gone to The Hollywood Hills Clinic because it was attached to the Rothsbergs, after all. “She’s smart and she’s worked for what she has. So, sure. This is what they want? I’m happy for them.”

      * * *

      Grace leaned back a touch, studying him. Since they’d been around one another for this second chance...or whatever it was...she’d watched him study people. Been told a few too many times what she was thinking because he studied her. And she’d picked up a thing or two.

      He’d carefully positioned himself on the chair beside her so that they weren’t touching. His arms were crossed as he waited and other guests were shown to seats around them, and he didn’t even look at her when he spoke.

      Liam didn’t just not want to be there, he didn’t want to be there with her.

      Or was it a case of him not wanting to be there with her in front of people who moved in his circles? She only moved in adjacent circles that had some people who moved in his circles...

      Her blue dress was nice but not designer. It fit her well, but wasn’t couture. She hadn’t gone to a stylist to have her hair and makeup done. She hadn’t paid a week’s salary for her shoes or her handbag. And the simple diamond teardrop necklace she wore for special occasions wasn’t big enough to be specially insured. She looked nice, but far from glamorous.

      Liam, on the other hand, wore a handmade suit. His shoes were probably also made just for his feet. And he smelled like sin, but who even knew if that was a cologne or just the way he smelled? Not her.

      So was it the family thing again? Somehow, after their night together, she’d thought he was coming around to that. Nick wouldn’t be at the wedding. There were so many people there that even if camera crews gatecrashed, it wouldn’t be to see if Liam had brought his physical therapist again. No one in her family had to know yet, so it couldn’t be the circumstances tonight. It was about Liam not feeling it between them, even though she knew this path had to be leading somewhere if he’d just walk it with her.

      Off to one side of the gazebo, musicians lifted their instruments and began to play. As the groom and groomsmen stepped up into the twinkling gazebo, beautiful string music began to fill the air.

      She reached up and touched Liam’s elbow, causing him to turn and look at her finally. “It’s starting. You might not want to keep your arms crossed. It sends the wrong impression.”

      Everyone rose, so they did as well. Liam’s arms unfolded to hang at his sides, but tension still screamed from his frame. She should have stood at the end, at least then she wouldn’t be looking over his broad-shouldered surliness to see Freya in her dress.

      Well, his surliness wasn’t going to ruin the wedding for her. She wouldn’t let it.

      Unlike Liam, Grace loved weddings. She loved them even more when they seemed built to last rather than just being another notch in the bedpost of some star.

      As Freya passed their row, it was impossible to miss her glow. She belonged there under the twinkling lights. Radiant in her pregnancy, the twins