Three Weddings And A Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page A

hitch in my get along. Are you all right?”
    With her skirts tossed up as they were, Rachel was too flustered to feel any pain, if indeed she was injured somewhere. He flashed one of those disarming grins at her. “Lucky for you, no one but me is here to see.”
    She shoved at his shoulder. “I’d prefer that no one see, you included .”
    “I’m gonna see more’n that before all is said and done.”
    He attempted to get up, but only made it as far as his knees before losing his balance again. He waved away another plume of dust. “Well, hell.”
    Rachel read the defeat in his expression and was determined to have none of it. She would get him inside that church, she vowed, even if she had to carry him every inch of the way. “You can do it,” she said in an encouraging voice.
    “It doesn’t look like it to me.”
    “Yes, well, you’re drunk and therefore no judge.” She pushed to her feet, grabbed him under the arms, and strained to lift him. “Get up, Mr. Rafferty.”
    “I’m tryin’.”
    “Try harder!” Her throat burning from the dirt particles she had inhaled, Rachel groaned with frustration when, after utilizing nearly all her strength, he still hadn’t gained his feet. “You have to make it. After getting you this far, I can’t quit now.”
    He jerked his arms from her grasp. “Stop strainin’ to lift me,” he ordered gruffly. “You’re gonna keep on until you hurt yourself.”
    After making that assessment, he just sat there. Rachel bent over him, hands braced on her knees. “Well, then? Are you going to try or not?”
    He smiled blearily up at her. “You know, darlin’, I don’t believe I’ve ever run across such an eager little swatch of calico.”
    Rachel felt like jerking him up by his ears. “Please, Mr. Rafferty, at least try.”
    “Mr. Rafferty? If we’re gonna get cozy”—he rose to his knees again—“then you oughta at least call me by my first name.” With a great heave, he stood and started up the steps again, this time with no assistance, calling back over his shoulder, “You better get your little fanny up here and make hay while the sun’s shinin’. I feel a little sick.”
    Rachel hurried after him. Once at the landing, she caught his arm so he wouldn’t fall again. Drawing him toward the doors, she said, “Just a few more steps.”
    “I hate to tell you this, but gettin’ there may prove to be the easy part.” He chuckled as though he’d said something hysterically funny.
    She wrenched one of the double doors open and entered the church rump first, his hands clasped in hers so she could tug him along after her. When the door swung shut, an intense blackness swooped over them. The smell of varnish and beeswax assailed her nostrils. Groping blindly, she located the last row of seats and maneuvered Matt around until she could prop him up against the back of the pew.
    Now all she had to do was wait for him to pass out.
    That thought no sooner crossed Rachel’s mind than his hands settled at her waist. With a gentle strength that, given his condition, surprised her, he drew her toward him. Even in the darkness, she had no difficulty determining that he’d parted his booted feet to pull her between his legs. No more than a black outline, he seemed to loom over her, a threatening wall of masculinity. The brim of his Stetson bumped her forehead. The next instant, his hot, oh-so-soft mouth had taken command of hers and his hands were busily unfastening her bodice.
    Rachel tried to scream, but her breath was stolen by his kisses and any sound she might have made was muffled by his mouth. Grabbing his wrists, she arched away from him. Panic welled within her when she felt cool air touch her breasts. Just that quickly, he had opened her bodice. Now only the thin cloth of her chemise shielded her nipples from his searching fingers. His hard palms cupped her fullness, the contact snatching the oxygen from her lungs in a whining rush. A heartbeat later, he firmly