Snowstorm Confessions. Rachel Lee

      

       The world looked like a snow globe.

      She’d opened the drapes and turned out the lights to give him a view of the falling snow. Then she stood beside him. Luke should have thought it through, but he didn’t. He grasped her hand, and his heart thudded when she didn’t pull away.

      He wished he could find out if her lips were as sweet as he remembered, if her curves were as soft.

      But she astonished him by saying, “I want to hate you.”

      “I thought you already did.”

      “I did. But now I don’t, and I want to again.”

      “Why?”

      She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. Not a tentative kiss, but the kiss of a lover who knows her man.

      “I shouldn’t …” she whispered.

      “But I want it, too.”

      “That’s exactly what’s wrong,” she said. “Sex between us was always good. Everything else was the problem.”

      “We could talk about it, Bri.”

      “Why? It’s over.”

      “Not quite.” Then he drew her into a deep, hungry kiss.

      Conard County: The Next Generation!

      Snowstorm

      Confessions

      Rachel Lee

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

      MILLS & BOON

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      To Allison Carroll, for her infinite patience and kindness

      Contents

       Cover

       Excerpt

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Extract

       Copyright

Chapter 1

      “Luke!”

      Brianna Cole stared, stunned, at the last man on earth she expected to see standing at her front door. Icy winter air, defying the spring season, swirled around her, but she hardly noticed. Luke Masters, her ex-husband, stood there with smiling gray eyes she remembered all too well. His thick parka hung open despite the cold, showing her he still pretty much dressed like a lumberjack: plaid wool shirt, jeans and work boots. Why wasn’t he back at their old place in Chicago? What was he doing in Conard County?

      “Hi, Bri,” he said pleasantly enough.

      “What are you doing here?” Shock rapidly gave way to a sick feeling, an urge to deny what she was seeing and a swamp of memories she never wanted to think about again. How dare he?

      “Well, I’m on a project. I’ll be around for a few weeks, and I thought it would be better for you to find out this way. Besides, I thought we might catch up.”

      Catch up? The idea astonished her. They had parted three years ago for a lot of very good reasons. Well, they’d started parting ways before that, but the divorce had been finalized three years ago. Unfortunately, finalizing a divorce didn’t end the pain. “Why?”

      “Because there was a time we used to be best friends.”

      What kind of excuse was that? she wondered. Suddenly becoming aware of the frigid air, she realized she had to close the door. Either invite him in or send him on his way, but as she heard her heat kick on, she considered more practical matters. Thinking of the heat at least interrupted the emotional tsunami the sight of him had caused. “Come in,” she said irritably. “But don’t get comfortable.”

      He didn’t comment on her ungracious invitation, merely stamped his feet a couple times to shake off any remaining snow, then stepped inside.

      She closed the door behind him. The chill from outside seemed to reach her and she hugged herself, rubbing her arms. The forced-air heat blasted away but didn’t seem to warm her.

      He looked good, from what she could see. Time hadn’t changed him one bit, not even adding threads of gray to his dark hair. Bitterness filled her mouth. She’d always suspected that their divorce hadn’t troubled him as much as it had her. He looked fit, healthy and as self-assured as ever. On the other hand, upset had cost her ten pounds she hadn’t been able to put back on, and sleepless nights had made her look like a raccoon for over a year. “This is wrong,” she said. “On so many levels.”

      “Why? We used to be married. I’m in town. I just wanted a few minutes to see how you’re doing.”

      “Right.” She pointed to her shabby living room and