by Helen Lacey
“I’d catch you,” he said quietly.
Grace frowned. “Let me go...please.”
But she wasn’t afraid. She’d never feared Cameron. Despite their differences, she’d always trusted him. Grace felt the nearness of him and fought the sudden warmth spreading across her skin. That he could do this to her—make her boil with fury one moment and burn with awareness the next—only added to her resentment and determination to keep as far away from him as possible. He was the only man she’d ever known who’d been able to do that to her. The only man she’d ever thought could see through her, know her and work her out.
“Don’t...”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You are. You do. You always do. I just want...” She stopped, stalled and felt herself get dragged into meeting his eyes. She was flustered, uneasy. “I can’t...”
“What is it?” he asked softly. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
Grace’s resistance crumbled. The champagne she’d had suddenly freed up her tongue. “I just... I don’t belong here,” she admitted and pulled herself from his grasp as she stepped backward. “I don’t belong anywhere.”
* * *
Cameron’s hands burned from the feel of Grace’s skin and he clenched his fists at his sides. The pain in her voice knocked through him, settling behind his ribs in a way that made him think about every feeling he’d had for her—and buried.
“What do you mean?”
She turned away, clutching her arms around herself. “Nothing,” she said quietly.
Cameron pushed the heels of his shoes up from sinking in the sand and pressed on. “What do you mean you don’t belong?”
Grace twirled around and her long dress billowed around her knees. “Why do you care?”
Why indeed? He shouldn’t. Grace was nothing but trouble. A workaholic ice princess who had little time for anyone. Me included. He’d found that out the hard way. Beautiful beyond words, smart and independent—and about as warm as an Arctic winter. The perfect antidote for all his fantasies. Wanting her was about as sensible as wanting acid rain.
He shrugged. “Friendly concern.”
Her beautiful face looked almost luminescent in the moonlight as she shot him a death stare. “Don’t be nice to me,” she said quietly, looking suspicious. “We’re not friends and I just—”
“We were more than friends,” he said and took hold of her hand despite his best intentions to not touch her. “Once.”
She stared at their linked hands and this time, she didn’t pull away. Cameron’s fingertips tingled. He knew that would happen if he touched Grace...expected it...didn’t like it one bit but chalked it up to chemistry and tried not to let it mess with his mind. Over the years there had been the odd touch between them, the chance gesture of hands brushing...and every time it was the same. The same vibration rattled inside him, over his skin, through his blood. He knew it wasn’t like that for her, of course. Grace was supercool and controlled, with perfectly straight dark hair, immaculate clothes and haunting green eyes—like a mannequin on display. A mere touch wouldn’t jangle Grace. But he remembered what it was like to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her in his arms. Those memories were burned into his soul.
As expected, she pulled away. “A lifetime ago.”
Her dismissal cut deep. She’d left him without looking back all those years ago and as much as he wanted to deny it, that rejection still stung. He smiled because he knew it would infuriate her. “So, explain what you meant about not belonging anywhere?”
“No. It was nothing.” She shrugged lightly. “And now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to the party.”
He didn’t believe her for a second. So he pushed. Because he could. Because he wanted to know what was going on inside her beautiful head. “So, has this got anything to do with that suit you’ve shacked up with?”
Her lips came together. “Erik,” she said after a moment. “We broke up a year ago. And we were never shacked up. We both kept our own apartments.”
She crossed her arms. The movement pushed her breasts upward and Cameron did his best to ignore the swell of cleavage rising up and down with each breath she took. He’d never met the other man, since Grace had kept him under wraps in New York. But Cameron had heard about him from her brother. He was stupidly pleased the suit wasn’t in the picture anymore. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“Because it’s a moot point.” Grace scowled, but somehow managed to still look beautiful. “And I really don’t want to talk to you about my...love life.”
Cameron bristled. Did he even think Grace capable of love? “So you loved him?”
“No,” she replied swiftly. “I meant...I meant I have no intention of talking to you about him. Now, would you ignore everything I’ve said and leave me alone?”
Cameron wanted to laugh. “Ignore you? Yeah, right.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Ignoring me isn’t usually a problem for you. Except of course when you’re making fun or insulting me.”
“It goes both ways, Grace.”
She moved her feet and seemed to come a little closer. “I guess it does.” She dropped her arms. “It only happens with you.”
“Do you ever wonder why?”
She raised one perfectly arched brow. “Why would I bother?”
“It might explain one of the great mysteries of the world.”
She laughed humorlessly. He could sense her thinking of some kind of cutting retort and wasn’t disappointed. “I don’t want to rain on your monumental ego, but I really don’t have the time to waste wondering about things like that.”
“So you never think about it?”
She stilled. “About what?”
“You and me?”
“We were over a long time ago. It was a silly teenage summer romance. I hardly remember.”
Her response pushed his buttons. Because he didn’t quite believe her. The tension between them had never waned. Every time she returned to Crystal Point, every time they spoke, every time he caught her stare from across a room, the awareness between them was still there. He straightened his shoulders. Down deep, in that place he’d shut off because it stirred up a whole lot of hurt, Cameron remembered what it felt like to want her so much it haunted his dreams. “Maybe you need a reminder.”
She faced him with an indignant glare. “And what exactly do you propose?”
“Propose?” He smiled. “Is that what you’re after, Princess—a proposal? Couldn’t you get the suit to the altar?”
Her green eyes flashed. “I have no desire or plans in that regard. I’d think you’d know that better than anyone.”
He did. He wasn’t likely to forget. They’d started dating when she’d finished high school. She’d come home from boarding school that final time and he’d waited two weeks before asking her out. Three months into their relationship she’d bailed. She wanted a career and a different life...a life that didn’t include a small-town police officer. A life that didn’t include him or marriage or the possibility of children in the future. She’d made her intentions abundantly clear. Grace Preston wanted a career. And that’s all she wanted. She’d left Crystal Point for New York without looking back.
Except for now. This Grace was someone new. Someone who didn’t seem like she had her usual ice running through her veins. Grace never did vulnerable. And Cameron wanted to know more.
“The corporate life is still giving you everything you need, is it?” he asked, referring to her highly successful job as a finance broker.
“Of course.”
“So your little outburst earlier, what was that about?”
Her brows came up. “Are we back on that subject again? It was nothing. Forget it.”
“And let you off the hook?” He rocked on
his heels. “No chance.”
“Haven’t you got anything better to do with that mouth of yours than run off with it at me about my life?”
He did. Absolutely. And her words were like a red cape to a bull.
“Did you have something in mind?”
“No, I don’t,” she said with a caustic smile. “And don’t get any ideas.”
He laughed at her prickles. Only Grace could make him do that. Only ever Grace. “I could kiss you,” he teased. “That would shut me up.”
She stepped back. “Don’t even think about it.”
It really was all the challenge he needed and Cameron moved closer. “Grace, you know me better than that.”
Her green eyes were alight with fire and defiance. “You’re right, I do know you. I know you’ve got a reputation for nailing anything in a skirt. The last thing I want to be is a notch on your bedpost, Jakowski...so back off.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” Cameron placed his hands on her shoulders. She didn’t resist. Didn’t move. “Kiss me, Grace?”
She shook her head slightly. “No.”
The air shifted, creating a swift, uncommonly hot vacuum which somehow seemed to draw them closer. Their bodies brushed and it spiked his blood. He shouldn’t want this...shouldn’t do this. But everything about Grace Preston took him to another level of awareness. It was almost primitive in its intensity and it made him forget all his good intentions to stay as far away from her as possible.
“Then I’ll kiss you.”
“I won’t kiss you back,” she whispered, but he felt her slide a little closer.
Cameron’s libido did a wild leap as he moved his arms around her, bringing them together. “Sure you will.”
“I won’t,” she said boldly. “I hate you, remember?”
“You’ll get over it,” he said smoothly and moved one hand to her nape. For twenty years he’d wanted her like no other woman. For sixteen years he’d been angry at her for breaking his heart.
Grace stared up at him, her green eyes shining and wide in her face.
She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. More desirable. More everything. Without thinking...with nothing but feeling and the need to suddenly possess her, Cameron claimed her lips with his own.
Chapter Two
I will not make out with Cameron Jakowski.
Too late. Grace allowed his mouth to slant over hers and her breath left her sharply.
Maybe just for a moment...
Because he still knew how to kiss. And she hadn’t been kissed by Cameron in such a long time....
Her resistance faded and she opened her mouth, inviting him inside. Blood rushed low down in her belly, spiking her temperature upward like a roller coaster moving way too fast. Grace floated along and was quickly caught up in the deep-rooted pleasure which unexpectedly tingled across her skin. The kiss deepened and Grace felt his tongue roll gently around hers. It was so incredibly arousing she couldn’t prevent a low moan from escaping deep in her throat.
I should stop this...right now. But she didn’t. She just let herself float on a sigh and kissed him back. Her arms moved upward and she curled her fingers into his shoulders. The movement brought their bodies together and Grace melted against him. Strong and safe. The words spun around in her head and rocked her to the core. Because she knew she’d only ever felt that way with Cameron. Not with Erik. Not with any man she’d ever been with.
His arms came around her and one hand settled on her hip. And still he kissed her. Grace clung to him as heat charged between them. His touch became firmer and he bunched a handful of her dress in his fist. The tempo between them altered slightly, and the hot surge of desire fanned to life.
He said something against her mouth—her name—something...she wasn’t sure. But it fueled the growing need she had to feel his touch. She lifted her leg and wrapped it against him. Her dress rose up and she shuddered when his hand made contact with the soft skin behind her knee. It felt so good to be with him like this, even though some faraway voice told her it was madness. Every part of her came alive when he touched her and she arched her back with a hazy, wanting compliance.
“Grace,” he said, leaving her mouth for a moment. He trailed a line of kisses across her cheek and toward the sensitive spot below her ear. “I think it would be a good idea if we stopped....”
Grace turned her head so their lips met again. She didn’t want to stop. She only wanted to feel. “No,” she whispered into his mouth. “Don’t stop.”
“You’ll hate me tomorrow,” he said softly against her craving lips.
“I hate you now...”
She felt his smile against her mouth.
He’s right, we have to stop...
Only Cameron’s touch was mesmerizing and his kiss had her longing for more. His fingertips burned across her skin in an erotic trail, moving higher, and the blood in her veins boiled over in a powerful surge of narcotic pleasure. She felt his hand on the top of her thigh and she pushed closer. He was obviously as hotly aroused as she was and the notion drove Grace beyond rational thought, beyond reason. His palm curved around her bottom and he drew her hard against his body. Need uncurled low down, liquefying her bones. She groaned as his mouth sought hers again and kissed him back with a hunger that startled her, entwining her tongue with his. She was dazed, on fire, out of control. Grace’s knees almost gave way when his fingers traced the edge of her lace panties. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t feel this turned on. But she was so aroused, so completely oblivious to anything other the sudden and unexpected need to be taken to places she suspected he’d effortlessly be able to take her.
But reality intruded and brought her back to earth with a resounding, wrenching thud.
The music resonating from the wedding reception area came to an abrupt halt and the silence was suddenly deafening. “Oh, my God,” Grace moaned as she jerked her mouth from his. “My speech!”
Cameron released her. “What?”
Grace staggered back and shoved her dress down her thighs with shaking hands. “I have to give a speech. I’m the maid of honor. I have to get back.”
He looked annoyingly calm. “Okay, we’ll go back.”
“No,” Grace said on a rush of breath. “I’m not walking back up there with you. I look like...” She pushed a hand into her hair and was relieved to discover that the up style was still in its right position. But her blood raced, her breath was shallow and she was certain her mouth looked as though it had been well and truly plundered. “I must look like I’ve been—”
“You have been,” he agreed quietly, seeming completely cool and relaxed. “Don’t stress, Princess. You look fine—as picture-perfect as always.”
Grace crossed her arms and glanced toward the reception area. The big white tent stood out like a beacon in the moonlight. She heard someone speaking into a microphone and quickly recognized her father’s steady voice. “I need to get back. And don’t follow me.”
He didn’t respond immediately. He just looked at her. Looked through her was more the point. Humiliation burned across her skin like an out-of-control brush fire.
This was not supposed to happen. I didn’t come home for this. Nothing will stop me from getting my life and career back on track.
He grabbed the bottle and glass from the sand. “Let’s go,” he said quietly.
Grace considered some kind of cold retort, but failed to find one.
Cameron Jakowski had his hand up my dress.
“All right,” she said with a deliberate tilt of her chin and tried not to think about how good his hand had felt. “We won’t ever mention this again.”
“Sure we will.”
Grace lifted her hem fractionally and took a few steps up the sand. “We won’t,” she said defiantly. “I w
on’t. I intend to forget this ever happened.”
“Good luck with that.”
Grace stomped along the sand, headed for the boat ramp and walked back toward the reception. As she’d suspected, her father’s proud speech was in full swing and Grace circumnavigated the huge tent and slipped through an opening behind the wedding table as discreetly as she could.
But Evie’s hawkeyed radar caught a glimpse of her immediately and Grace did her best to squash a fresh wave of embarrassment from heating her cheeks. Evie raised both her brows inquiringly and Grace managed a barely decipherable shake of her head. It didn’t help that Cameron chose that moment to make his entrance through the same opening.
Busted...
The look on her sister’s face was unmistakable. She knew Evie would demand answers at some point. That was Evie’s way. Grace steeled herself with a deep breath and took her conspicuously empty seat at the table. Cameron did the same a few seats away and she used every inch of effort to not look at him. Instead, she concentrated her attention on her father’s heartfelt speech.
When it was her turn to say a few words, Grace stood and took the microphone from her father and softly kissed his cheek. All the guests clearly waited for her to speak. And she meant to. Only she made a fatal mistake and glanced at Cameron. And damn him—he smiled, winked and made her forget every word she’d planned to say in honor of the bride and groom.
Nothing came out, only a squeak, a kind of strangled sound that a distressed cat might make.
And it was pain-in-her-neck, thorn-in-her-side Cameron Jakowski’s fault.
* * *
Supercool Grace Preston was at a loss for words. Any other time Cameron might have been happy about that. But tonight...not so much. He could still taste her lovely mouth; still feel the silky texture of her skin against his hands.
One minute they were talking, the next they were kissing like a couple of horny teenagers. Cameron couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that. The last time he’d done that.
And he certainly hadn’t expected to do it with Miss Icy Britches.
