by Jo Davis
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a nice steak and seafood restaurant on the outskirts of Nashville. Julian had chosen well. She’d been here once before, and she knew the place was fairly expensive, more for special occasions than everyday dining. He was out to impress with his thoughtful selection, and succeeded.
After being shown to a quiet, dimly lit corner, they ordered two glasses of wine and studied each other over the tops of their menus while pretending to consider the food. Instinctively, Grace decided against ordering the least expensive item on the menu because he’d get the wrong idea, and she didn’t want to insult him. She settled on grilled salmon and shrimp, then closed her menu and gratefully took a sip of her Merlot.
The waiter appeared, set down a basket of fresh bread, took their orders, and left them alone to eye each other. Julian propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his clasped hands, meeting her gaze from under a fringe of sinfully long, black lashes.
“How was your Friday?” he asked.
“Busy, but not too bad. And you?”
“I’ve had better, but tonight makes up for the entire day. No, scratch that—the whole month.”
“You’re too sweet,” she said with a little laugh. One side of his mouth quirked upward.
“I’m not sweet at all,” he murmured. “Or perhaps you need another demonstration?”
Hooo-boy! Her blood pressure skyrocketed and the sultry look on his sexy face gave her rock-hard party nipples. The memory of exactly how bad he could be, especially when applying that sensual, talented mouth, nearly sent her into hyperdrive.
Willing her jackhammering pulse to calm, she sent him a heated parry of her own. “I might at that. Sometimes I can be a slow learner and require a bit of a reminder.”
What are you doing? Friends, friends! That’s what you told him, Grace Marie!
“Invite me in for a nightcap, and I’m sure I can bring it all back to you,” he said, taking her hand and stroking it with his thumb.
In the face of the all-out sensual gauntlet he’d tossed down, she faltered. Never had a man gotten to her this way. He was the poster boy for blatant sexuality and promised untold satisfaction for the woman who snared him. She longed to experience all of him, but a niggling voice told her once she did, she’d be reluctant to let him go.
The thought was terrifying.
But her lips formed her reply independent of common sense. “Do you like Buttery Nipples?” Take that, stud.
He choked in the act of taking a drink of his wine. “What?”
She couldn’t help but chuckle at his surprise. “Buttery Nipple shots. You know, Baileys and Buttershots?”
“Oh. Right. I, uh, never tried them.”
His reaction was so cute—she suspected if his skin weren’t naturally bronzed, he’d be blushing. “Well, you’re in for a real treat! That is, if you’re game later on, at my place.”
His recovery time was remarkable. He gave her a slow grin. “I’m game for whatever you have in mind, bella.”
She’d just bet he was!
Grace settled in for a wonderful dinner, trying to recall when she’d enjoyed a man’s company this much. The answer was swift and simple.
Never.
He’d said the progression of their relationship was up to her, and she was comfortable in that knowledge. She trusted Julian.
It was her own mind—giddy, scared, and confused by turns—she wasn’t so sure of.
10
Julian shifted in his seat, mentally cursing the hard-on that plagued him all through dinner. This sensual, playful side of Grace breaking through her normal reserve had his blood boiling, his entire body coiled to pounce.
He wanted his lovely lady on her hands and knees as he thrust into her from behind, down and dirty. Maybe slow and easy next, her wrists bound as she writhed, at the mercy of his mouth and cock. He wanted to watch her shatter, her inner fire no longer hidden, but his to command.
And by God, she would be his. No other woman would ever challenge him, stimulate him, as Grace did.
But first, he’d have to come clean with her about his past, and about his visit to Warren’s office today. O-kay, that particular memory went a long way toward deflating his current problem. With new relationships came the baggage, and he was afraid his might be too heavy for Grace.
“If you think any harder, you’re going to short out your brain,” Grace said, waving her fork at him. “Wanna share?”
“Sorry. Just contemplating leopards and spots.” He gave her a lopsided grin he hoped masked his anxiety, and let her tranquil beauty wash over him anew. Not just physical beauty, but the inner light he wasn’t even sure she was aware of.
“Hmm. You know a leopard who’s looking to become a house cat?” Her violet eyes bored into his, growing pensive.
“Something along those lines. What do you believe? Can a leopard change his spots?”
“Maybe, but either way he’s still a beast at heart. He’d be much better off if he simply learns to love what he is, feral nature and all.”
They both knew they weren’t discussing cats. The invitation in her eyes was unmistakable, and his arousal threatened to return full force.
“Dessert, querida?” he asked hoarsely.
“I’ve got something sweet for us at my place, if you’ll recall.”
Ah, shit! He signaled the waiter for the check and in five minutes, they were walking to his car. He rested his hand at the small of her slim back, amazed at how right it felt. Like it belonged there. Like a real beginning. Did she feel it, too, or was he just a sappy fool?
When they reached his car, instead of opening the door for Grace, he took her arm and gently turned her to face him. Pressing close, he backed her against the side of the car, making his desire clear. He cupped her cheeks and stared into big eyes he wanted to drown in, had no prayer of escaping, and brought his lips within a millimeter of hers.
“I was right.”
“About?”
“You do outshine the stars,” he whispered.
And kissed her. Long, deep, and thoroughly. She responded with a needy little whimper that shot straight to his balls, and he raked his fingers through her hair, loving how the silky white blond strands slipped through them. Loving her lithe frame pushing into him, seeking more, pert breasts crushed against his chest.
He finally forced himself to pull back before he wound up bending her over the hood of the Porsche. The image nearly made him come in his pants, and he vowed to find a way to make the fantasy a reality. All his fantasies, with her.
“I’ve never done this before,” he said, tracing her lips with his thumb.
“Been on a date?”
“Would that surprise you?”
“Shock would be a better word, if I bought it. Which I don’t.” She stroked his chest absently where his shirt parted, making him tremble with need.
Shaking his head, he reached for his nerve. “No, I don’t suppose you would. What I’m trying to say is, tonight, with you, is different than anything I’ve ever experienced before. Being with you feels good and right. I’ve never cared this much, never wanted to please a woman the way I want to please you.”
She looked away, silent for a few moments. “In bed or out?”
“I’m not going to lie. I’m ready to take this to the next level, but I meant what I said the other night about moving things at your pace.” Grasping her chin, he coaxed her to look at him. “What matters most is that being with you makes me happy, Grace. Whatever we’re doing, you’re what’s important to me.”
“And if what makes me happy is sharing my bed with one very special man, enjoying his friendship, while maintaining my independence? What then?”
The stab to his gut was swift, painful. He couldn’t take being a convenient lover. Not anymore. Not with Grace. “You’d give me everything but your heart? You ask a lot of a man, bella.”
“Yes, I guess I am, at least for now. Am I worth the risk? Are we?”
&nbs
p; “Yes,” he answered without hesitation. Her words “for now” gave his spirits a lift. “Are you willing to let this be what it is between us, not close yourself off to the possibilities? Am I worth the risk? I have some things to tell you, so you might want to wait to answer.”
“I don’t have to wait,” she said, brushing his lips with hers. “I know you’re worth it. The problem is me, not you.”
The sick dread in his stomach eased a bit. She wasn’t closing any doors on what they might have together. He could live with that, for her sake.
For a while, as long as his heart could take the punishment.
“I do want to hear what you have to tell me, though,” she continued with a smile. “Take me home?”
“My pleasure.” He pressed one more kiss to her mouth, then helped her into the car.
Even with what he had to say looming on the horizon, his soul had lightened somewhat by the time he was back on the highway. What complaints did he really have? This was a new beginning, and if he wanted this woman’s love, he’d have to earn it the old-fashioned way—by winning her.
Love? Dios mío, I’m falling for her.
He had been falling for months, ever since the very first time she tilted up her regal nose and shut him down. And look how far they’d come since then! She’d known he had some growing up to do, and he liked to think he’d succeeded, for the most part. She was here, wasn’t she? With him, and no one else.
Bolstered by his inner pep talk, he settled back and basked in her nearness in the dark. In her light, fresh scent he wanted to rub all over his body and let soak into his skin. Damn, it was like he’d been bitten by some sort of exotic bug and she was the only cure for his fever.
At her complex, he parked beside her car and they went inside, a live wire of sexual tension sparking between them. Heaving a deep breath, he called upon every ounce of restraint he possessed to behave as a gentleman should—until he received the signal from her to do otherwise. Which he would. Gladly.
Grace switched on a floor lamp, bathing the living room in a soft, comfy glow, and tossed her purse and keys on the bar. “Can I get you something to drink? Beer or wine?”
“Depends on whether I have to drive any time soon.”
“Not unless you want to make a clean getaway.” She cocked one hip, giving him a sultry look.
“Honey, when you’re ready for me to leave, you’ll have to push me out.”
“Good. Don’t count on escaping too soon.” Kicking off her shoes, she padded into the small kitchen. “Let’s see, I’ve got Corona, Merlot, or Chardonnay—”
“How about one of those shots you mentioned?”
“Ah, a man after my own heart. Two Buttery Nipples coming up!” She rummaged around in a cabinet, grabbing two bottles and two shot glasses. “These are more like dessert than anything.”
“With a kick.”
“Not at first, but they sort of sneak up on you if you’re not careful.”
Grace joined him, setting the bottles and glasses on the coffee table. “These are really easy to make. Just pour equal parts. You like butterscotch candy?”
“Sure,” he said, watching her fix them. She handed one over and he held it up. “A toast to us and whatever the future brings.”
“To us!”
They clinked glasses and he took an experimental sip. “Smooth, buttery, and sweet, just like it sounds. It’s good. But I’ll bet no straight guy would order one of these in a bar.”
She giggled. “Probably not. But your rep is safe here, with me.”
“Then I’ll just have to indulge, won’t I?”
“All you’d like. We have all night.” She took another sip, studying him for a few seconds, weighing her next words. “Will you tell me now what’s on your mind? There’s never a great time to share something difficult, and if you don’t, it will sit between us until you do.”
This was it. He gazed at her expression, and found only concern and caring. He had to believe she’d stand by him. And if he didn’t believe in someone, he’d never have peace. “This is really hard. I haven’t told anyone this story in almost sixteen years, and the one time I did . . . Let’s just say it didn’t go well.”
“I’m here, and we have booze,” she said, attempting to make him smile.
It worked. He toyed with his glass, giving her a grateful look, lips turning up briefly. “Hope you have a good stash. There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just come out with it—when I was fifteen years old, I was molested.”
If he’d hit her, he couldn’t have shocked her more. “Oh, my God!”
“By Derek Vines,” he said softly.
“Oh . . . oh, no,” she gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “That’s why—sweetie, I’m so sorry. I never would’ve represented the slimeball if I’d known, and on a sexual harassment charge, no less!”
“Sexual harassment . . . Cristo.” Coincidence? From his position, it didn’t seem likely.
“Why is the asshole still free and not in prison?”
Despite the topic, he couldn’t help but be amused by Grace’s colorful language. He’d never seen her so undone. “I can’t speak for what he’s been doing in the years since I knew him, but in my case, the police were never informed.”
“What? Why the hell not?”
“I told Mama and my oldest sister, Maria, what I remembered, and they believed me. But we were poor and the Vines family was rich, connected. Mama was alone and afraid of them, with good reason; Warren Vines threatened her to keep me quiet. It also didn’t help that Mama was raised to believe that if you ignore a problem, it goes away.”
“Only it didn’t—not for you,” she guessed.
“Not by a long shot.” Pausing, he realized Grace believed him. What’s more, he had her support. Her strength fortified his own. “It really messed me up. I became depressed, got into drugs. I caused my mother a lot of grief, not to mention a load of guilt.”
“Because she felt like she’d let you down?”
“Exactly, and I guess, deep down, part of me wanted to punish her as well as myself. When I was sixteen, I overdosed on enough cocaine to kill a man twice my size. God knows why I didn’t die, and for years I resented that I hadn’t.”
Reaching out, she clasped his hand tightly, squeezed hard. “You were meant to save lives, like the man caught in the flood with his kids that day. That’s why you didn’t.”
Damned if tears didn’t sting his eyes. He blinked them back. “It’s comforting to think so.”
“This is horribly personal and perhaps even a conflict of interest for me to ask, but . . . what happened between you and Derek? If you don’t want to get into it, I understand.”
“No, it’s all right. I really need to tell someone about this because I got a different version of the story today, and I’m damned confused.”
She frowned. “From Derek? Tell me you didn’t confront him.”
“No, from his mother. I went to see Warren at his office today and his wife was there. I told them both what I remembered.”
“Good Lord, you didn’t! Julian—”
“Yeah, I know. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but holding the anger inside was making me sick. Knowing Warren and Derek were here, going about their lives as though they’d never destroyed mine . . . it finally got to me. Warren almost had an aneurysm.” He sighed. “I’ll admit, I got a certain amount of satisfaction from seeing him almost come unglued.”
“You took a risk, Julian.” Worry darkened her gaze. “From my dealings with Warren he strikes me as a dangerous man. Someone you don’t cross. He’s such a control freak, he sat in on the first meeting I had with Derek and he’s even phoned me for updates.”
“I don’t like you being around either of them,” he said tightly.
“So you’ve said, but now I understand why. Go ahead, finish your story.”
Julian blew out a breath. “Anyway, while Warren was about two seconds from detonation, his wife was the calm one. What she said thre
w me for a loop, though it shouldn’t have. I mean, what else was she supposed to say but give me a totally innocent explanation for Derek’s behavior that day?”
“She was there?”
“So she claims.”
Grace paused. “This is what you meant earlier when you said you might have lived your life based on a misconception.”
“Yeah. What his mother told me really screwed with my head.”
“Why don’t you tell me your version first?”
He did, leaving nothing out. Working in the hot summer sun all afternoon, being dizzy with a slight headache. Derek bringing him a cold drink. Blackness.
Awakening naked in Derek’s bed, to hands roaming his body.
Grace shuddered. “My God. You don’t recall a face, specifically?”
“No. In spite of what Zoe said, I believe he slipped me something. Have you ever been high? Or falling-down drunk to the point that everything seems amplified times twenty? Then the next day your recollections are hazy and disjointed?”
“I was drunk like that in college once. It’s an experience I don’t ever care to repeat.”
“That’s how it was for me. I recall touching I swear was inappropriate, and voices. Maybe more than one. I’m positive I wasn’t hallucinating—my privates were fondled until I . . . Christ.” He hung his head, willing down the awful memory. “Anyway, I finally came to enough to yank on my clothes and stumble home. I remember the doorbell rang, so Derek must’ve gone to answer it. I took the opportunity to escape while I could.”
He paused and when Grace remained silent, he glanced over to see her brow furrowed in thought. “What?”
“I just . . . nothing. Whatever teased my brain is gone,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I can’t imagine how terrible it must’ve been. How helpless you felt.”
“I’ve lived with this every day for the past fifteen years, running it over and over in my head, and I’m telling you there’s just no way it happened how Zoe claimed.”
“So, what was her version?”
“She claimed I passed out from heat exhaustion, and Derek took off my clothing, applied damp cloths to help cool me down. She said I was sick and my brain must’ve conjured the whole thing.”
