Page 42 of The Temptation of Roan Island

Pippa steps up next to me and places a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Shemaiah.”

I look down at her lace-covered fingers on my sleeve. So delicate. So feminine. So easily breakable, yet I feel as if she’s the one who could break me if I’m not careful.

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispers.

“Jafeth was right.” I sigh. “If I loved you, you’d know this story.” That’s why I told her. To keep up the ruse. That’s all.

The meadow is a dark mirror to the night sky, tiny white flowers gleaming like stars in the light of the moons. It’s colder than it was when we arrived, and Pippa holds my jacket tightly around her.

“I should get you back,” I say.

“Wait.” She places a hand on my chest, then immediately pulls it away. “For what it’s worth, she was a fool for not choosing you. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

My throat feels tight, so I simply nod.

She opens her mouth as if to say something more, then closes it. Her fingers rub her lips like she’s thinking, trying to decide something. I can see the moment she comes to a conclusion. Her hand falls, and she looks away from me, up to the starry sky. “Can we stay for just a few more minutes?”

“We can stay as long as you like.” I pull her into my side and rest my cheek against the top of her head, suddenly so very content to stand here with her among the stars.

18

PIPPA

Concentrating on my book is impossible. I’m sitting on the loveseat next to Shemaiah, my feet tucked under me, leaning toward him, a blanket over my lap to keep me warm. He’s got a foot propped up on his knee, a book in one hand, and the other arm stretched out behind me. Letting the book fall to my lap, I glance up at the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes.

Shemaiah’s fingers brush against my shoulder as he twirls a lock of my hair. I rub my palm in slow circles over my heart. Pretend. This is just pretend. It’s so that anyone walking by the library will think we’re in love.

This touch is completely within the agreements we made, and yet, that reminder doesn’t stamp out the flutter of butterflies in my stomach. I know better, having been in a position like this before. At least this time there are no lies or false promises. Shemaiah has been perfectly clear about what this is and what it isn’t. And now that I know his story, I understand. Still, I’m struggling to remember the rules, wanting to scoot closer, wondering what he’d do if I did. It would be so easy to climb into his lap and let my lips find his.

A foolish thought.

Shemaiah wants our fake relationship to stave off Anna’s pursuit. He doesn’t want love, not after the experience he had before. And that’s fine. I’m not looking for love either. It only leads to heartache.

His stroke skims my neck once more. I shiver, a chill racing down my spine and collecting in heat between my legs.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

I shake my head, offer him a short smile, and lift my book. “I’m at a good part.”

“Oh?” He turns toward me, closing his own book. His gaze drifts to where his fingers play with my hair. “Read it to me.”

Caught in a lie, I read the first paragraph I see. “Instead of giving her the shoe, I kneel in front of her. ‘What are you doing?’ she asks. In answer, I slide my hand behind her knee and gently lift and bend her leg. She wobbles, hands landing on my shoulders for balance..”

“I thought you said it was a good part.” He gently tugs my hair, smiling.

“I’m getting to it,” I say, nervous because, as distracted as I’ve been, I haven’t actually taken in any of the words on the page. “Be patient.”

He laughs softly, and his fingertips resume their motion.

My skin tingles as I continue reading. “I gently slip the black heel onto her foot, then rest it on my thigh. My thumb grazes her ankle, and little bumps race across her skin. I do it again, a little higher this time, smoothing the single digit over the curve of her calf. Her breath hitches. When I look up, she’s staring back at me with something more than anger. Something hungry and challenging. ”

I pause and clear my throat, my heart tripping forward, quite certain I know where this is going now.

“What is it?” Shemaiah asks.

Mortified, and sure he can hear my heavy heartbeat, I shake my head. “‘Do you know why I wanted to make a deal with you?’ I move closer, lifting her leg over my shoulder, making her skirt ride up. I give her time to push me away, to tell me to stop, but she doesn’t. With my eyes still on her face, I brush my fingers along—” I stop, my eyes wide and my breath moving too quickly to continue.

Shemaiah’s hand curves around my neck, fingertips pressing into my skin with the hint of his nails. “Why did you stop?”