The Virgin's Proposal - Shirley Jump Mills & Boon Silhouette

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waiting for a groom who never came, Barbara had been off consummating a different union.

      On Katie’s honeymoon. With Katie’s groom.

      And Steve—he’d probably been drinking their champagne in the crystal glasses her mother had bought, toasting another woman in a negligee. An eager woman. One who wouldn’t make him wait until the vows were said and done. And he’d probably been finding the exact kind of excitement he’d told Katie she lacked.

      She’d heard they’d moved to Lansing, Michigan. But clearly, they were back, and sharing their love—based on a mutual admiration for wrestling and Coors beer—with all of Mercy. Ugh.

      A year’s worth of anger, which Conventional Katie had kept under a tight, polite lid, boiled up inside her. She’d vowed to go on with her life, but that didn’t mean she’d forgotten. They’d betrayed her, even going so far as to keep the shower gifts, and she’d taken it all without a word, while Barbara sipped from Katie’s Waterford and kissed Katie’s groom.

      She wondered if she could be arrested for assaulting them with an extra-large box of Orville Redenbacher’s.

      “Excuse me, miss.”

      Katie wheeled around. Standing directly behind her, with a shopping cart full of the gastrointestinal nightmares that only bachelors seemed to buy, was Matt Webster.

      She was now in her own clothes, no banana suit to hide behind. It was a perfect chance to test the waters of her new spontaneity resolution, right in front of Barbara and Steve. Take a chance. Dip a toe in the wild side.

      A second peek around the corner and she saw Steve, one hand on Barbara’s waist, strolling down the aisle, debating popcorn choices. They were going to see her in a minute—the lovey-dovey couple encountering the lonely, jilted bride. She imagined the pity on their faces, the knowing smiles that said she was the unfortunate one, the one who hadn’t gone on, a year after the fiasco.

      It was high time she gave everyone in town something better to talk about. She was tired of being boring, dependable Katie. The same Katie who had been publicly dumped like an old, ugly mattress.

      Taking a deep breath, she dropped the basket to the floor, swung back to face Matt, and ordered, “Kiss me.”

      Chapter Two

      “What?” Matt choked out. “Here? But—”

      “Here and now,” she hissed and pulled his head to hers.

      It all happened so quickly, Matt had little time to react. Not that he would have refused her anyway. The odds of a strange woman coming up to him in a grocery store and demanding a kiss were about the same as the Red Sox’s chances of winning the World Series. Slim to none. And the fact that the woman was as beautiful as this one only made the situation more intriguing.

      Obliging her demands, but adding a few of his own, his mouth drifted over hers, and he tugged her closer. She wanted a kiss and she’d get one. He might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t one to disappoint, not when it came to kisses. Or other bedroom sports.

      He teased his tongue along the seam of her mouth, urging her for more, trying to satisfy the wave of desire that had slammed into him like a freight train when she’d grabbed him.

      She arched against him, bringing the softness of her breasts up to his chest. Flames erupted in his midsection, and for a moment, he forgot where they were.

      “Katie?”

      Matt’s gaze jerked toward the sound of two voices. A tall man a few years younger than Matt had his arm draped over the hips of a blonde. Both their mouths gaped in perfect, shocked Os.

      Although she ended the kiss, the woman in Matt’s arms didn’t pull away. “Oh my,” she murmured, so softly he barely heard her, “so that’s what it would be like.”

      Now that his head was in an upright position, he took a second to peruse his female body burglar. She was probably only five-foot-three, but what was packed into those sixty-three inches was exactly what he liked. She was slender, with a hint of curves under her loose-fitting tank and denim shorts. Her hair—long and the same honey-brown color as a good beer—fell loosely about her face in soft waves that made him remember exactly what kind of fun could be had in the back seat of his convertible.

      She stroked his cheek and held his gaze, giving him the fleeting sensation of a long-time lover. Then, poised and in control, she turned and faced the twosome.

      “Steve and Barbara, what a nice surprise.” Her voice was filled with sweetness and sarcasm. Matt noticed her hands clench into tight fists, out of sight of the happy couple, but right over the contours of her very pleasing backside.

      When his bike had broken down this afternoon, he’d thought returning to Mercy and staying at his parents’ house was a mistake. He’d vowed to come back, show the town he had bucked their predictions and become a successful businessman, not a felon. So far, he’d had little time to do more than tangle with a woman in a banana suit, change his clothes, grab his old convertible and head to the store for the kind of food his mother refused to keep in her pantry.

      And then, this woman, a pint-size ball of fire, had surprised the hell out of him and made his homecoming almost fun.

      Matt watched with amusement as the trio exchanged uncomfortable, stumbled greetings. The tension in the air was thick and sticky, but all were masking it behind a polite facade. He presumed Steve, one of those guys with a boyish smile, was the “ex” and Barbara the mistress who had turned his head. The woman’s kiss had probably been some sort of revenge.

      Steve dropped his arm from the blonde’s waist. “Katie, I didn’t think that was you. I saw you…kissing and well…” his voice trailed off. He looked shocked.

      “I guess you didn’t know me that well after all, Steve.” She hugged herself to Matt. He didn’t complain.

      “So, ah, how’ve you been?”

      “Oh, fine. Business is booming. I couldn’t be happier.” She grabbed Matt’s arm and plastered it to her side.

      Matt couldn’t help but take advantage. It was, after all, part of his baser nature. He stroked her waist with lazy movements that spoke of tangled sheets and spent passions. His hand glided down the soft cotton of her tank, along the fabric of her shorts, tracing her body. If she wanted Stevie Boy to think they were lovers, that was an easy, and enjoyable, part to play.

      She wasn’t going for an Oscar. She laced the fingers of her right hand with his, effectively stilling his hand and keeping it from straying anywhere interesting at all.

      Spoilsport.

      Whoever she was, this woman had lit a fire under him that wasn’t being doused easily. A fire that was going to be visible to the whole world if he kept letting his thoughts run toward taking her to bed. Mentally, he recited the Pledge of Allegiance, cooling his ardor with a dash of patriotism. It worked—a little.

      “Have you really been okay?” Steve moved forward.

      Barbara grabbed his hand before he strayed too far. “Stevie, we’re late for the party. They ordered the pay-perview fight, you know. We’ll miss the beginning.” She tried to reel him back in, but didn’t succeed.

      He waved his hand to shush her, his gaze on Katie. “I’m glad things are going well,” Steve said. “Since we moved to Michigan, I’ve lost touch with…everyone. Anyway, we drove down to Mercy today. We’re only staying for a week, because, well, Barbara and I are getting married. Next Saturday. It’s kind of last minute. We’ve barely told anyone yet so, I…I figured you might not have heard.”

      Matt glanced at Katie. Tears shone in her azure eyes. He saw her self-control eroding and cursed the man that could make a woman as beautiful as this one cry. She didn’t deserve this humiliation.

      “Congratulations, Stevie,” Matt boomed, falling into the charade of being

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