Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

would have
remained at the registry office, insisted she was fine, and spent an hour
ringing around to cancel the restaurant and honeymoon, apologizing to everyone
for the inconvenience. Birdie would shake hands with Mal and say it had been
good, and wouldn’t it be great if they could stay friends.
    For the first time in her life, Bridget
couldn’t associate with that girl at all. She wanted to rip Mal’s head from his
shoulders and spit down his neck. She wanted to scream and cry and lash out at
everyone in reach. She wanted to keep walking, and never come back.
    Maybe she would. Maybe she’d go home, grab
her passport and purse, head off to the airport in the morning, and jump on the
first available plane. Actually, perhaps she should go to Vanuatu on her own.
She might meet some gorgeous islander there, and she could take him back to the
honeymoon suite and screw him in her wedding bed.
    Fuck Mal.
    Fuck everyone.
    Hot tears coursed down her cheeks.
    Turning, she opened the cubicle door and
switched on the shower. The guy—what was his name? Aaron?—was right. She needed
to get out of the dress, have a shower, and have a drink. Or two. Then she’d
head off. She couldn’t possibly impose on him any longer. He’d been so sweet,
but she needed to be alone.
    She slid off his padded jacket and hung it
on the back of the door, then surveyed her veil. Her stylist had pinned it to
her hair with hundreds of grips to keep it in place. She began to pull them
out, losing her temper when several got stuck. She tugged it viciously, ripping
out strands of hair in the process, relieved when the veil slopped to the floor
in a heap of sodden lace.
    The cowl-back wedding dress had no zippers
or buttons, so it only took seconds to lift it over her head and drop it on top
of the veil. It was an elegant but simple gown she’d chosen because Mal had
said a frothy dress wouldn’t fit with their small ceremony. She’d studied the
gorgeous tulle ball gowns with envy before turning the pages to the more modest
slim line ones. Oh well. If she’d had a more expensive dress she would have
wasted more money. She had to look on the bright side.
    She gave a humorless laugh. There wasn’t a
bright side to this, no matter how hard she looked. She’d been jilted at the
altar. Find the silver lining in that, Birdie.
    It left her standing in what Rowan called a
torsolette—a torso-hugging camisole resembling an old-fashioned corset in a
beautiful white lace embroidered with silver thread, complete with garters that
held up her white stockings. She scowled at it and spent a few minutes
struggling with the hook-and-eye fastenings and the ribbons to get it undone.
    Perhaps she should ask Aaron to help, she
thought darkly, imagining his face if she opened the door and called for him.
    She’d hardly been able to focus out on the
quay and had only been aware of a pair of kind gray eyes, dark brown hair, and
a short beard. In the elevator, she’d gotten a better look at him. He was older
than her, she thought, early to mid-thirties, a big guy, good looking in a
boy-next-door kind of way, with broad shoulders, large hands, and a no-nonsense
look in his eye that suggested he was a true Kiwi man—the sort of guy who could
change a tire, cook a mean steak on the barbecue, score a try at rugby, and
still have enough energy to kiss a girl senseless when the sun went down.
    Normally, she would never have considered
accompanying a man she didn’t know back to his hotel room, but his kind eyes,
as well as the fact that he had a young son, had told her he could be trusted.
    Unlike some people.
    She gritted her teeth and returned to
taking off her underwear.
    After undoing the final hook, she peeled it
off and threw the whole lot on the pile, adding her panties and stockings to
finish.
    Old Birdie would have hung it up carefully
so that someone else would be able to use it.
    New Bridget kicked it into the corner.
    She opened the door to the shower,