“Don’t be. They’re always like watching a sitcom.” Besides, I am stupid because I do love you. I love you. “Viv, I—”
She held up a hand to halt him from saying more. “I don’t want to face my father yet, either. I’ll text him that I’m okay and we’re heading up to meet your family. That’ll make sense to him and it’s true.” She popped a potato wedge in her mouth. “I’ll explain everything to him later, but first let’s find Kent.”
Okay. First we find Kent, then I propose again, the right way.
Chapter Seventeen
‡
A week later, while in flight across the Pacific Ocean to Bright, Australia, Viviana was naked and curled up against Grant’s side on the bed of his private jet. She’d never flown on anything so extravagant and had been nervous at first. However, after having sex against the hallway leading out of the main cabin, then in the shower, and one last leisurely time on the bed, she was feeling quite relaxed. She traced the strong muscles of his chest and said, “If this flight is much longer I’ll need a day of rest before going to see Mrs. Thompson.”
He nuzzled her neck. “I missed you. I missed this side of us.”
“Apparently.” She chuckled. “Me, too.”
He ran a gentle hand down her neck, across her collarbone, and down her arm. “Have I told you how amazing you are?”
“You may have mentioned it once or twice, but don’t let that stop you.”
“My parents adore you, just as I knew they would. Kenzi told me the women in the family think you’re exactly what I need. Lance almost pissed himself when Asher refused to arm wrestle you; he thinks Asher was afraid to lose. Even Ian calmed down after meeting you. You not only helped me pull my family back from the brink of chaos, but you won them over while doing it. That is no small achievement.”
Her face warmed with a pleased blush. “You told me to be myself around them so I was.”
He kissed her nose. “Maybe just a tad less swearing in front of my dad, though.”
“I’ll try. You know how I get when I’m nervous,” she said with a grimace.
Grant shrugged and smiled. “On second thought, it’s probably good for him. He needs to lighten up.” He tucked a hair behind her ear. “I didn’t tell any of them we’re going to Australia.”
“Are you feeling guilty?” She raised herself up on one elbow, not minding at all that his attention was instantly drawn to the jiggle of her bare breasts. She loved that he found pleasure in her body because she certainly found pleasure in his. Despite being sated from their sexual marathon, she ran her hand down his stomach and loved that his cock surged in her hand.
He closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you but it’s hard—because I am again—that’s what you do to me. You reduce me to a bumbling, horny mess.”
“Sorry.” She moved her hand away from his sex. Their attraction to each other was addictive, but there was a serious reason for their trip. “What were you saying?”
He opened his eyes. “I forget. It was important though.”
Viviana pulled the bedsheet up to her chin. “Should I cover the distraction?”
“No, but this might help.” He bunched up a piece of the sheet and pretended to stuff it in her mouth.
She swatted his hand away. “Oh, you’ll pay for that.”
He laughed, rolled onto his back and pulled her onto him so she was straddling him. “I certainly hope so.”
Looking down at him, laughing with him like she was, she knew she would never love another the way she loved him. They were two people who shouldn’t complement each other, yet somehow they did on a level neither had experienced before. Sometimes the intensity of their connection scared her, but she refused to let that ruin her time with him. “All joking aside, what did you want to say?”
He rested his hands on her bare hips. “I have a feeling Alethea’s instincts about Pamela Thompson are right. Her brother was a custodian at Stiles’s clinic. She was a nurse there. Her brother drowned in a pool at a hotel he wasn’t staying at. It had to be murder. Pamela fled without telling anyone where she was going or taking any of her things with her. People do that when they’re afraid. She might be another dead end, but there’s a good chance she knows what happened to Kent. Tomorrow morning we could be heading home in an entirely different mood.”
She didn’t know what Grant was about to say, but she’d learned to give him time to find his words. Meeting his family had shown her why he’d built such a large buffer zone between them and his emotions. He’d never stopped caring about them, but he’d learned to protect himself by hiding in his work.
What was truly beautiful about him was that even as he’d pulled away, he never stopped taking care of his family. She’d listened to the teasing stories his siblings had shared and the common thread she’d heard was that nothing—not mockery, not rejection—stopped him from doing what he knew was best for his family. In her eyes, he was already the hero he thought he’d failed to become.
No, not the chest pounding, strutting type his family seemed to admire. Grant chose a quieter path. It was one with less fanfare and gratitude, but more noble in its goal because it served the greater good rather than his ego.
She’d once considered him weak because he took a punch without striking back. Now that she knew him she understood he was strong enough to not need to win every fight. One day, she hoped his family would see him for the remarkable man he was. Finding Kent could be what would finally open their eyes.
“Are you paying attention?” he asked with a smile.
“Sorry,” she said, returning her attention to him. “I was thinking about how wonderful you are.”
His eyes narrowed playfully. “Good cover story. Now focus. This is important.”
“Yes, sir.”
He opened a drawer beside the bed and took out the ring box she’d once rejected. “You set a criteria for me proposing again that I can now meet. Viviana Sutton, I love you. No one has ever stood by me the way you have. You inspire me to be bolder. You humble me by refocusing me on what is most important in life—family. Marry me because there is no me without you—no me I want to be.”
With tears filling her eyes she leaned down and kissed him. She could have simply said yes, but what would have been the fun in that? She raised her head and asked, “Even if I’m ordinary and average?”
There was a time when he would have rushed to deny it, and she would have doubted his explanation, but they were past that. A cocky grin spread across his face. “Even then.”
She pinched his side, but not too hard. With him, she was also strong enough to not need the win. They were on the same side. “Let me see that ring again,” she asked as if she weren’t bursting with happiness over his proposal.
He took it out of the box and held it before her. At the same time, she edged back onto him so his hardening cock was enfolded by her sex. She began to move her hips back and forth, wetting him while exciting herself. “I’ll have to think about this before deciding this time.”
“Think hard,” he growled and pulled back, thrusting himself deeply inside her. “And fast.”
She gasped with pleasure and her movements became more circular. There was no rush, just a slow, steady burn. “It’s the right size. Not too big. Not too small.”
He thrust upward again. “I’m glad you like it. Now say yes and give me your fucking finger.”
She bent over him, plundering his mouth thoroughly, before whispering against his lips, “Yes.”
He’d dropped the ring during their kiss and had to feel around on the bed beside him for it. All the while, she used her hips to take him deeper and her inner muscles to tighten around him. By the time he slid the ring on her finger, they were both glistening with sweat and hungry to taste more of each other.
He rolled them so he was above and kissed her breasts gently before thrusting harder and faster into her. The ring sparkled on the hand she ran across his
powerful shoulders, adding another layer to this claiming.
She was his, body, mind, and soul.
He was hers just as completely.
Sex was now as much about joining up as it was about the pleasure. She wanted him closer, deeper, in her mouth, all around her. He was every breath she took and when she finally gave herself over to an orgasm it was like slow moving lava that overtook her inch by inch until it consumed her.
He groaned as he came then growled, “Mine,” in her ear.
She tightened her legs around him in a full body hug and growled back, “Always.”
Chapter Eighteen
‡
As Grant parked his rental car on the street beneath a large maple tree, he glanced into the rearview mirror in time to spot another car pull onto a side street. He scanned the area in front of the car and nodded when he saw a brunette jogging toward them. Marc and Alethea were not as stealthy as they liked to believe, not if one paid attention to their patterns of behavior. Confirming their presence lessened Grant’s concern about bringing Viviana with him. He wanted her to be part of this, but he didn’t want to put her in danger, and no one knew what Pamela Thompson’s reaction would be to their questions.
“My father just texted me. He said you’re a genius and thank you,” Viviana said. “He also said next time don’t give anything that important to Dylan and Connor. They forgot to give the folder to him. He found it in the living room when he went back to check on our house.”
Grant laughed. “I was wondering why he hadn’t said anything.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for taking care of my family in a way that leaves them with their pride. It would have been easy for you to throw money at them, but they would have felt you thought you were better than them. My dad says you’re a keeper, and he’s never liked anyone I’ve dated.”
Grant’s heart pounded. She understands.
“So, are we doing good cop/bad cop?” she asked quickly in an excited tone. “Can I be the bad cop?”
With her expertise with colorful expletives, he was sure she could nail that role, but he preferred a more subtle approach. “She’s not a criminal, at least not as far as we know. She may have feared for her life when she fled. We can’t scare her. I don’t want to chance her running again before we know what she knows.”
“Gotcha. Good cop/good cop.”
“Or no cop. We’re just people asking questions.”
Hand in hand they walked up onto the wrap-around porch of a small brick home. It was nicely kept, but modest. Grant knocked on the door.
Barking ensued, followed by a woman hushing them and telling one to lie down. A moment later, a flustered brunette with a wild amount of curls and a bright smile opened the door. She looked about the age Pamela Thompson was said to be: 55. “You’re early,” she said in a rush, “but I’m glad you brought your husband. Wait until you see them. It breaks my heart to part with them, but I didn’t even want one dog—I certainly can’t have five.”
“No, of course not,” Viviana said smoothly. “We’ve been shopping around and talking to so many people lately that everyone’s stories have blended into one in my head. Where did they come from again?”
And just like that, Pamela led them into the house and invited them to have a seat on her couch. A black, long-haired female retriever ambled over to them and laid her head on Grant’s knee. He petted it absently and let Viviana take the lead.
“It’s a long story. Would you like a glass of water?”
Both Viviana and Grant said they would. Once they were all seated in the living room, the woman said, “Opal is a flat-coated retriever. She came to me when my neighbors decided to move closer to their grandchildren. They didn’t tell me she was pregnant so I don’t know who the father was, but if you’re willing to take a chance on them, I can’t imagine sweeter puppies. She’s a love, and I’m sure they will be, too. Would you each like to hold one?”
“That’s not—” Grant started to say.
“We would love to,” Viviana spoke over him.
The woman returned with two squirming black puppies. One was all black, the other had a stripe of white down its nose and belly. She handed one to each of them. Grant’s only experience with dogs had been Kenzi’s rescue. He wasn’t prepared for the amount of slobber and kisses that one small animal could deliver. He would have put it down, but at least to start with, it was important to appear interested. “This is a lively one,” he tried to sound pleased.
Viviana was cuddling hers, and it looked ready to fall asleep. Sure, she gets the quiet one.
“So, have you lived in Bright long? We’re in an apartment now, but we’re looking to buy a home,” Grant said.
The woman looked concerned. “I’ve been here almost thirty years. Make sure a puppy is okay with your landlord before you decide on one. I’d hate for you to have to bring it back.” She smiled as if reminiscing. “Everything changes once you take them home and fall in love with them.”
“Oh, we’ve already cleared it with the landlord.”
“That’s good,” the woman said with relief.
“Thirty years,” Grant said, “and yet I hear a slight accent. You’re not native to Australia, are you? Where were you originally from?”
The woman’s smile faded. “So, the female is the runt of the litter and the one your husband is holding should be one of the largest. If you’re looking for an active dog, I’d choose the male. If you want one that will lie at your feet, I’d choose the female.”
Grant exchanged a look with Viviana and made a decision. “We’re not actually here about the puppies.”
The woman’s eyes widened and she stood. “Then what are you here for?”
Viviana continued to cuddle the puppy to her. “We’re hoping you could help us find someone or find out what happened to him.”
The woman clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m always willing to help out when I can. Who are you looking for?”
Grant put the squirming puppy down by his feet. “You are Pamela Thompson, yes?”
“That’s right.”
“Was your maiden name Thorsen?”
She shook her head. “What is this about? Who are you?”
Grant stood. “We know most of the story already, we’re looking for you to fill in what we don’t. You can either talk to us or the authorities we’ll send here. One way or another, we’ll get the answers we came for.”
Pale, and with shaking hands, the woman picked up the puppy and returned it to a small pen then held out her hands to take the puppy back from Viviana. “I have no idea what you think I might know, but you should go now.”
Viviana handed her the puppy, but held onto it a moment after the woman accepted it. “No one thinks you were involved. We think you might have seen or heard something. That’s all. We don’t want to disrupt your life here or put you in any danger, but if you know something . . . please.”
The woman placed the second puppy back in the pen and walked to the door. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I will call the police if you don’t leave now.”
“Would you? Would you risk it? I don’t think so,” Grant said in a low tone.
Viviana tugged on his arm and shook her head. “She’s scared. That won’t work,” she whispered.
“Get out of my house—now,” the woman said as she reached for her phone. “Or I most certainly will have you arrested for trespassing.” She paused then said, “I wish I could help you, but I can’t. Sorry.”
Viviana frowned then said, “Grant, can I see your phone?”
He handed it to her without hesitation.
Viviana flipped through his photos until she came across a photo of his family. She held it out so the woman could see it. “We’re not the only ones looking for this person. Do you see the parents in this photo? They were told their son died during childbirth thirty years ago at a clinic in Aruba where you and your brother worked. Sophie Barrington has mourned
the loss of that son for thirty years, but she just found out the baby she buried wasn’t hers. Can you imagine how that is tearing her apart? The guilt? Worse—the hope that he might still be alive somewhere. She never forgot him. None of his siblings ever forgot him.” She touched Grant’s arm. “All Grant wants is to find out what happened to his brother so he can give his mother the comfort of the truth—the peace that one only finds in closure. You’re our only lead, our only hope of finding out what happened to Kent Barrington.”
A large older man walked into the room. “So are you taking one puppy or three?” he joked. When the room remained silent and still all humor left his face. “Pam, is everything okay?”
Pam raised a shaking hand to her mouth. “No.”
The man moved to stand protectively in front of Pamela. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but either start explaining or get the hell out of my house.”
Pamela covered her stomach with her other arm as if she were about to get sick. Grant watched both expressions carefully. She doesn’t want him to know what we’re doing here.
He doesn’t know.
Grant guessed at their relationship and followed his instincts on how to salvage a chance to speak to Pamela more. “We were undecided if we wanted a dog from a shelter, and my fiancée may have accidently offended your wife by saying she doesn’t approve of private breeders. I’m sure it’s the kind of misunderstanding we can put behind us. We know now that your wife has what we’re looking for.”
Pamela shook her head. “I don’t. Please, just go.”
Grant squared his shoulders. “Even if we leave now, we’ll be back.”
“I don’t like the way you’re talking to my wife,” the man said, rising to his full height.
“Please,” Viviana said, flipping to another photo. “This is Kenzi Barrington. She’s happily married, but she is plagued by questions about what happened to her twin. She believes he’s still alive. Imagine her pain. Anything you know could help ease it. Even if it’s something so horrible you don’t want to remember, please remember just this one last time so she can finally have her answers.”
More Than Love (The Barrington Billionaires Book 5) Page 19
