Second Chance With the Rebel: Her Royal Wedding Wish Read Online Free PDF Page A

parents, her friends—only saw in her what they wanted her to be. And that was something that filled a need in them.
    And then Mac had come along. And effortlessly he had seen through all that to what was real. Or so it had seemed.
    And the truth was, soaking wet, gasping for air on a rotting dock, lying beside Mac, Lucy felt now exactly as she had felt then.
    As if her whole world shivered to life.
    As if black and white became color.
    It had to be near-death experiences that did that: sharpened awareness to a razor’s edge. Because she was so aware of Mac. She could feel the warmth of the breath coming from his mouth in puffs. There was an aura of power around him that was palpable, and in her weakened state, reassuring.
    With a groan, he put his hands on either side of his chest and lifted himself to kneeling, and then quickly to standing.
    He held out his hand to her, and she reached for it and he pulled her, his strength as easy as it was electrifying, to her feet.
    Mac scooped the blanket from the dock where she had dropped it, shook it out, looped it around her shoulders and then his own, and then his arms went around her waist and he pulled her against the freezing length of him.
    “Don’t take this personally,” he said. “It’s a matter of survival, plain and simple.”
    “Thank you for clarifying,” she said, with all the dignity her chattering teeth would allow. “You needn’t have worried. I had no intention of ravishing you. You are about as sexy as a frozen salmon at the moment.”
    “Still getting in the last shot, aren’t you?”
    “When I can.”
    Cruelly, at that moment she realized a sliver of warmth radiated from him, and she pulled herself even closer to the rock-hard length of his body.
    Their bodies, glued together by freezing, wet clothing, shook beneath the blanket. She pressed her cheek hard against his chest, and he loosed a hand and touched her soaking hair.
    “You hate it,” she said, her voice quaking.
    “It wasn’t my best entrance,” he agreed.
    “I meant my hair.”
    “I know you did,” he said softly. “Hello, Lucy.”
    “Hello, Macintyre.”
    Standing here against Mac, so close she could feel the pebbles of cold rising on his chilled skin, she could also feel his innate strength. Warmth was returning to his body and seeping into hers.
    The physical sensation of closeness, of sharing spreading heat, was making her vulnerable to other feelings, the very ones she had hoped to steel herself against.
    It was not just weak. The weakness could be assigned to the numbing cold that had seeped into every part of her. Even her tongue felt heavy and numb.
    It was not just that she never wanted to move again. That could be assigned to the fact that her limbs felt slow and clumsy and paralyzed.
    No, it was something worse than being weak.
    Something worse than being paralyzed.
    In Macintyre Hudson’s arms, soaked, her Winnie-the-Pooh pajamas providing as much protection against him as a wet paper towel, Lucy Lindstrom felt the worst weakness of all, the longing she had kept hidden from herself.
    Not to be so alone.
    Her trembling deepened, and a soblike sound escaped her.
    “Are you okay?” he asked.
    “Not really,” she said as she admitted the full truth to herself. It was not the cold making her weak. It was him.
    Lucy felt a terrible wave of self-loathing. Was life just one endless loop, playing the same things over and over again?
    She was cursed at love. She needed to accept that about herself, and devote her considerable energy and talent to causes that would help others, and, as a bonus, couldn’t hurt her.
    She pulled away from him, though it took all her strength, physical and mental. The blanket held her fast, so that mere inches separated them, but at least their bodies were no longer glued together.
    History, she told herself sternly, was not repeating itself.
    It was good he was here. She could face him, puncture any remaining illusions and get on with her