Bracing her hands to his chest, she pushed back and ended the kiss. Her only consolation as she bent to catch her breath was that he looked just as off balance. When she straightened, they stood there, breathing heavily, looking into each other’s eyes.
I should introduce myself. She stuck her hand out. “Viviana Sutton.”
He looked down at her hand then back up with a lusty smile on his face. “Grant—Grant Enynaim.” His hand closed around hers—strong and sure—just like his kiss.
That touch also ended too soon.
Don’t just stare at him—speak. Explain again that what he thinks might happen won’t and run. “Well, it was nice to—meet you.” She took a step back. “I should try to catch up with my friend.”
“Do you like wheatgrass?”
“I don’t know what that is.” It sounded familiar.
He nodded toward a place behind her. “There’s a juice bar across the street. Want to try it?”
Juice bar? That didn’t seem like a potentially bad life choice. In fact, it sounded refreshingly healthy. “With you?” Duh? What is wrong with my brain? She looked him over slowly. He’s too good looking—that’s the problem. I shouldn’t talk to him; I should just appreciate the view for a moment more then go before he says something that ruins this memory for me.
Like: “Hey, I’m married.” Or “I only killed a couple of people—that doesn’t make me a serial killer.”
He didn’t appear to mind that she’d had less awkward conversations with her gynecologist. “No expectations. If it makes you feel better, I’ll even let you pay.”
Seriously? “You’re asking me to join you for a drink that you want me to pay for?”
He seemed to battle with himself before saying, “I didn’t bring my wallet with me.” Then he smiled and any disappointment she’d felt at the idea that he might be more broke than she was melted away. How much could one juice cost? It couldn’t be that much. And I did break his phone.
She glanced over her shoulder at the juice bar. Well lit. Busy. Seems safe enough. Why the hell not?
Out of the corner of her eye she realized Audrey was lingering and watching. Viviana waved her to go and Audrey did with a huge smile. When she turned back to Grant she caught him watching her and the expression on his face sent a rush of heat through her. Her gaze dropped to his crotch, seeking confirmation before she dared believe he felt the way she did. There it was—an impressively large erection in the front of his jogging shorts. Big and bold just like the man sporting it. Wheatgrass, huh? Can we roll around naked in it?
“I don’t mind paying,” she said in a whispered voice. She raised her eyes to his. The air between them sizzled. She could almost hear her father saying, “A man who makes a woman pay isn’t a man she should be with. It’s a respect thing.”
Being respected is overrated. She shook her head to clear it.
Not that anything is going to happen between us.
I’m not that kind of person.
I hold myself to a high standard of dating someone at least six months before indulging in mediocre, turn-the-lights-off-please sex.
“Great, let’s go,” he said, placing a hand on the lower curve of her back and guiding her across the bike path and toward the street.
Moments later they were at the counter of the juice bar ordering two shots of what looked like lawn cuttings. A perky teenage girl swiped Viviana’s credit card then held out two nasty looking green liquid shots to them. They each took one then stepped off to the side.
Viviana told herself that trying new things was the reason she’d moved to Boston. No one in Cairo served wheatgrass. I’m here to broaden my experiences. Recreate myself. Maybe this new me loves gross looking health drinks. “Should we make a toast?”
“We should.” He raised his plastic shot cup and said, “To chance encounters.”
“To chance encounters,” she repeated and tapped her shot cup against his.
He downed his.
She downed hers then made a gagging sound as she thought she felt a piece of grass tickle the back of her throat. “That’s quite a drink. You can literally feel how good it must be for you.” She wanted to wipe a napkin across her tongue to erase the taste but didn’t.
“You hated it,” he said, one corner of his mouth curling in a smile.
There was amusement in his eyes and Viviana relaxed a little. So I don’t know him. Isn’t everyone a stranger until you take the time to get to know them? “I’m a strawberry smoothie kind of girl.”
He leaned in and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “It’s good to try new things. You can’t really say you don’t like something until you taste it.”
Oh, yes. Viviana followed the path of his thumb with her tongue until she realized what she was doing and watched a flush darken his cheeks. Holy crap. As she stood there simply looking up at him, she thought: Audrey thought he might make me feel better.
I feel pretty damn good.
Shouldn’t I quit while I’m ahead?
“Want to get a table?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered in a breathless tone as she imagined him taking her on it. Now that is the kind of sex I’ve always dreamed of—table sex. I’ve done it on beds. A couch a couple times. I almost did it once in the backseat of a car but I was too paranoid someone would come across us.
But a table—that’s a whole different level.
I bet he has that kind of sex.
He guided her to one near the window. They sat across from each other without speaking at first. She caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the glass and groaned. Her hair was falling out of the elastic she’d tied it back with. Not only did she not have makeup on, but there was also a post workout shine to her face. She tried to discretely tuck some of her hair back in then felt foolish when it sprang free again.
“Let it down,” he ordered in a low tone that sent desire licking through her.
She could have refused, but she wanted to make him feel the way she did—completely inappropriately turned on. There was nothing inherently sexy about reaching behind her head and removing the hair tie, but she did it slowly and hoped it looked as sensuous as it felt. His eyes dilated and his nostrils flared slightly when she adjusted her newly freed long curls. Knowing that she had the power to turn him on was exciting.
He ran a hand up her neck and through her curls. When his hand fisted, she arched her head back and parted her lips. Never, never had she felt sexier.
He groaned. “You are . . . unexpectedly irresistible.”
Irresistible? Me?
If I’m dreaming, Audrey had better not wake me up.
Me. He craves me.
He bent and brushed his lips lightly over hers. She leaned into the kiss. Location didn’t matter. Every inch of her was focused on him and the way she came alive beneath his touch. How much better could this get? If I walk away without knowing, I will spend the rest of my life wondering: What if?
“Dangerously so,” he added.
It is dangerous. He could be anyone. Is that what makes this so exciting? “I don’t do things like this. I don’t meet men and dive into kissing them before I know anything about them.”
“I don’t care if you do.”
Ouch. His blunt honesty stung like a slap. She broke physical contact with him by sitting back in her chair.
He watched her closely like a man trying to solve a puzzle. “Would you rather I lie?” he asked in a low growl.
She opened her mouth with a snappy retort but didn’t utter it. What do I want him to say? He respects me? Sidney had said all the right things and still stolen from her in the end. He probably thought I had more money than I did.
It would have saved us both a lot of time and aggravation had we been honest with each other.
So, isn’t this better? He’s not pretending this will go anywhere. He wants to fuck me. Not make love. Not consummate our feelings for each other through intimacy. Just fuck.
That’s awful—isn�
�t it?
It doesn’t feel awful.
It feels exactly how he described it—dangerously tempting.
I can’t. A wave of disappointment in herself washed over her. I want more. “Thank you for the”—she stopped when she remembered that she’d paid for the drinks—“company. I should get going.”
“Stay,” he said in the same tone that she’d obeyed a few moments earlier, but she didn’t let herself succumb to it a second time.
She shook her head, more for her own benefit than his. “I’m working overtime at the office tomorrow morning.”
“What do you do?” he asked.
Viviana paused her retreat. He seemed genuinely interested. And I can be vague. “I’m an appointment scheduler for a medical center.” Which is technically true.
“Do you like it?” The simplicity of his question put her at ease. Maybe it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. They could be two people simply getting to know each other. Not dangerous. Not naked. No reason to bolt.
She shrugged. “It pays the bills. How about you?”
He took long enough to respond that she thought he’d come back with an elaborate lie. “I have a few things in the works.”
Yep, I’ve dated men with that career before. I knew he had a flaw. Men that good-looking don’t remain single unless there’s something. “I hope one of them comes through for you.”
He nodded. “Did you grow up in Boston?”
“No, I just moved here.”
“Really. What inspired the move?”
She could have made up a story, but she doubted she’d ever see him again and saying it aloud was freeing. “I wanted a fresh start. I met my ex-boyfriend through my job and that didn’t work out well.”
“What did he do?”
“How do you know it wasn’t me?”
“Just tell me.”
“He took my debit card out of my wallet and emptied my bank account before he broke up with me—via a text.”
“What an asshole.” Grant sat up straight as if preparing to punch someone right then and there. “Did you go to the police? I hope he’s rotting in jail.”
Viviana grimaced. “I didn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t worth it.”
“Not worth it? He stole your money.”
“Fifty bucks.” She shrugged, regretting she’d brought the topic up.
“That’s all you had in the bank?” The raised pitch of his voice and the real surprise in his eyes was insulting.
Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “Do you know who shouldn’t judge me? Someone who mooches drinks off complete strangers.”
“I assure you—” He stopped, then said, “You’re right.”
“I am,” she said, feeling uneasy about how easily he’d agreed with her.
“I want to repay you,” he said in a serious tone.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It is.” He went to the counter, returned with a pen and wrote a number on a napkin. “This man is a genius when it comes to retirement investment plans. Tell him that Grant sent you.”
Viviana reluctantly accepted the napkin. “Thanks, but I’m still operating on the ‘paycheck to paycheck, fly by the seat of my pants’ system.”
“I don’t understand.”
She raised and lowered one shoulder. “It involves hoping I’m dead before seventy . . . possibly sixty-five.”
His mouth dropped open. “You’re joking.”
She frowned. No matter how hard she’d tried, she had never been good enough for her father or her brothers. The last thing she needed was another judgmental male in her life. To make her point she moved her drink to use the napkin as a coaster. “I’m not.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be offended. I didn’t realize how bad off you are.”
“Well, this has been fun.” She pulled her hands away from his and stood. Why would God make a man that attractive but that obnoxious? Sick joke?
He rose quickly to his feet. “Don’t go. Believe it or not, this is me trying.”
“To piss me off?”
“To get to know you. I shouldn’t have brought up finances. It’s none of my concern.”
She sighed. “Technicially, I started it.”
“Don’t go. How about if I tell you something embarrassing about me then we call it even and start over?”
It would have been a whole lot easier to refuse and walk away if her heart wasn’t pounding wildly in her chest simply because he’d stepped closer to her. She folded her arms across her chest. “Okay. Shoot.”
“I don’t know how to talk to someone I want so badly that I can hardly think around them.”
“Oh.” Viviana let out a shaky breath. You’re not doing so bad now.
“So, are we even?” A boyish smile spread across his face.
Even isn’t how I would describe how we are. “Sure.” Viviana sat back down mostly because her legs had gone wobbly beneath her.
He retook his seat across from her.
“That was really smooth,” she said as she took the napkin, wadded it up, and stuffed it in her wheatgrass shot cup. No way was he getting off the hook that easily. “Now, cough up an actual embarrassing story.”
Chapter Three
‡
Grant sat back and laughed. His family often accused him of not having a sense of humor. He had never thought too much about it, but perhaps that’s who he had become. Decades of being told to be perfect, never be too happy or too sad around the family, had taught him to hold back. It felt good to relax.
That night he didn’t want to be a financial wizard. He didn’t want to think about the reason that had brought him out to the Charles River. He wanted to simply be a man who was enjoying the company of a beautiful woman. Viviana didn’t know who he was. She had no expectations of him, and that was freeing.
Her smile had returned, and he found himself grinning right back. “I can’t think of any.”
“Try harder.” She arched an eyebrow in challenge, and he forgot what she was asking him for. Whatever it was, he wanted to give it to her.
He was momentarily reminded of a similar sensation during a tour through an art museum as a child. His teachers had told him Monet was a talented painter, but he hadn’t agreed until he’d seen one of his paintings from across a large room and it had come to life for him. It had ceased to be paint on fabric and had become a feeling he’d never forgotten. Regardless of what happened with Viviana, he knew it would be the same with her. Other women had turned him on, but never like this. He could feel her—every subtle change in her expression, every breath she took, every time she bit her lip nervously. She was gloriously disheveled, and he wanted her so badly he ached.
“Well?” She was also getting adorably impatient.
Oh, yes, she wants a story. He considered admitting where his mind had wandered, but he didn’t want to rush getting to know her. He hunted through his memories for a time when he’d been embarrassed. “I’ve got it. When I was in kindergarten—”
“Seriously? You can’t do better than a childhood story?”
“It’s a good one.” At least he hoped she’d think so.
She cocked her head to the side skeptically. “Okay, I’m willing to hear it, but the jury is still out on whether I accept it or not.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckled. Refreshingly hard to impress. “When I was five years old I fell in love with my first teacher, Mrs. Dube. She wore the prettiest dresses that had buttons from the neckline to the hem. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to help her with those buttons so I did the respectable thing and asked her to marry me.”
Viviana gasped with amused pleasure. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” He loved the sparkle in Viviana’s eyes as she pictured it. “Of course she turned me down. She said I was too young, but I was welcome to ask her again when I was older.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet. She didn’t want to hurt your young pride.”
“I thought she simply needed time to think about it.
So, the next year, on the first day of school I showed up with my luggage and my mother’s engagement ring.”
A laugh burst out of Viviana. “No.”
“Yes. She explained to me that when she’d said older—she’d meant much older. Then she called my father. I don’t know if she would have told him if I hadn’t showed up with a real diamond.”
“What did your father do?”
“He picked me up from school and took me to the office with him.”
“That’s it?”
“And he gave me the look.”
“The look?”
“It was a disappointed, I-thought-you-knew-better look. Highly effective.”
“Really? That’s it? You didn’t get grounded for taking your mother’s ring?”
“My father didn’t believe in punishment.”
“I can’t imagine that. I was grounded all the time.”
“So your parents were strict.”
“Parent. My mom was sick when I was little. She died when I was eight.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. My father raised me and my two brothers. None of us are in prison, so he did something right.”
“That’s a low bar to measure success by. Don’t you have any aspirations?”
She cocked her head to one side and said, “How do you do it?”
“What?”
She leaned forward and went nose to nose with him. “How do you go back and forth between sounding like a nice person and a complete dick?”
He coughed back a surprised laugh. “I’m working on the latter part.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Well, at least you’re aware of the problem. They say that’s half the battle.”
The battle was to not pull her across the table and onto his lap. “I like you, Viviana.”
She blushed, and he savored the sheer beauty of it. “I think I like you, too.”
He laughed. “You know how to keep a man humble.”
More Than Love Page 3
