“We’re going.” His wanting to take her had nothing to do with Thad Humphreys. Bill wanted to help Grace. Getting her a safe, reliable vehicle was the first step to her leaving town. He returned the phone to the charger. “We can take Liam with us if you don’t want to leave him with my mom.”
Grace walked toward him. “I’m sure Liam would rather stay home and play with your mom than have to look at cars for a few hours.”
The baggy T-shirt Grace wore didn’t hide the bounce of her breasts. Her hips swayed seductively.
His temperature spiked.
The tip of Grace’s tongue darted out and dragged across her lower lip.
Damn, she was sexy.
Look, don’t touch.
Except looking might get him in trouble tonight. Pretend she’s Leanne or Zoe or Carly or Hannah. But all he could see was Grace. “I’ll, um, let my mom know. Did Thad help you get what you needed?”
“Yes, he did. He was so helpful. A very nice guy.”
Helpful. Nice. Bill wanted to choke. But he was going to be good guy, too, and not say a word. For Grace’s sake. “Glad it worked out.”
Her eyes shone, sparkled, as if full of tiny diamonds. “Tonight at the brewpub, you and Thad were going at each other.”
“Men being men. Nothing else.”
“That’s what Thad said, too.”
Bill rocked back on his heels. “Did he say anything else?”
She closed the distance between them. “Just that he was happy to help me however he could.”
“I’m happy to do the same.”
“I appreciate that.” Something flickered in Grace’s eyes. She touched his shoulder.
Her fingertips seared his skin. He sucked in a breath. “What...?”
“You have tattoos.”
Heat emanated from the point of contact. His pulse kicked up a notch. Okay, three. “A couple.”
“Who’s Nick?”
Bill tried to think. Not easy to do with her so close, touching him. He took a deep breath. Focused.
Oh, yeah. The memorial tattoo.
“Nick was a good friend killed climbing Mount Hood.” Warmth flooded Bill. He tried not to think about Grace’s fingertips outlining the scrolled name. “We grew up together. Hung out. He taught me to climb, fish, hunt. Pretty much everything having to do with the outdoors. He was a couple of years older. The closest thing to a big brother Leanne and I had. Nick was a total jokester, too. He wore the stupidest Santa hat. The ball lit up and turned different colors. We used to give him so much crap over that hat.”
“Sounds like a good guy.”
“The best. I think about him every day.”
Grace trailed her finger down Bill’s arm, making his nerve endings dance and spark. “This tattoo looks job related.”
“A helmet with our squad name.” He ground out the words. If she didn’t stop touching him, he was going to want to touch her. He needed another cold shower or a whopping dose of reality. “Did your, um, husband have any tattoos?”
Her lips parted. She pressed her arm against her side. Her hands balled, then she released them.
A mix of regret and relief washed over Bill. He missed her touch, but knew this was for the best—the best for Grace.
She raised her hand and brushed his right biceps, her fingers soft and warm.
Damn, he hadn’t expected her to touch him again, but he liked it. More than he should.
“Damon had several.” She drew an arc across Bill’s skin, sending pleasurable sensations bursting from his nerve endings. “A Ranger Scroll from the 3/75 here.”
“Three seventy-five?”
“Third battalion.” She traced a line to the back of Bill’s shoulders, starting sparks shooting down his arm. “He had the Ranger DUI here.”
Bill had no idea what was going on. He didn’t care, even if he should. He’d given her the chance to stop. She was the one who started it. Both times. Talk about a turn-on. “I have a feeling that doesn’t mean driving under the influence.”
“Distinctive Unit Insignia.” She drew something on his shoulder blade, making his temperature shoot up another ten degrees. “It’s the insignia on a Ranger’s tan beret, a shield with four quadrants. One with a sun, another a star and two with a lightning bolt.”
Her hand remained on Bill.
His heart pounded, so loud he was aware of each beat. Blood rushed where he didn’t want it to go.
Common sense told him to back away. Too bad he was never one to do what he was told when a beautiful woman was touching him.
Might as well go all in. “Did your husband have any others?”
She ran her fingertip up across Bill’s right shoulder to the left side of his chest.
Something fluttered, a tightness, a pang.
“One was right here.” She drew a heart. “For me.”
His groin tightened. His temperature spiraled until he was downright feverish. All he could think about was kissing her hard on the lips until neither of them could breathe or see straight.
But he couldn’t, could he?
Bill tried to focus. He attempted to shut off the X-rated fantasies playing in his mind. All the words of caution from his mom, Thomas and Welton, along with his own, echoed in his brain. He couldn’t offer what Grace wanted or needed. Yet here they were....
His gaze locked on hers. “What are you doing?”
She lifted her chin, giving him a great view of her neck, a neck that should be showered with kisses. His kisses.
Her face flushed. “I...I don’t know.”
That made two of them. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to kiss you.”
The corners of her mouth curved into a slow smile. “Not if I kiss you first.”
* * *
Oh, my. Oh, my. Oh, my.
Grace couldn’t believe she’d said the words aloud. Oh, she’d been thinking them. Insane.
She forced herself to breathe. Not an easy task when each breath was coming quicker and quicker.
A come-here-sexy-lady grin crinkled the corners of Bill’s eyes. “I’m waiting.”
Oh, boy. She had never been flirty or forward. Not ever. But seeing Bill shirtless had ignited a fire deep inside her belly. Her fingers had tingled, aching to touch him. She’d wanted two servings of dessert.
Temporary insanity?
More likely loneliness and raging hormones.
But she couldn’t help herself.
Memories had stirred. Feelings. Desire.
She’d needed to touch him. So she had.
And now...
Grace stared at his wide shoulders and muscular arms. Her gaze lowered to his solid chest and rock-hard abs. The waistband of his pajama pants rode low on his hips.
She looked up at his face. His mouth. Lips.
One kiss. That was all she wanted. A little kiss.
Something to remember him by. Something secret. Something hers alone.
Grace rose up on her tiptoes. She brushed her lips against his.
Sparks erupted. Heat flared.
Wowza. Forget fireworks. They could have their own Fourth of July celebration right here in December.
She pressed harder against his mouth, soaking up his heat and taste. Her nerve endings shivered. She wanted more.
“Grace...” It sounded like a half groan, half plea. “We shouldn’t.”
His words proved Bill was a good guy. But she didn’t want to stop. “Please. A little more.”
There. She wasn’t being greedy.
Bill answered her with more kisses. His lips parted, moved skillfully over hers. Tasting, teasing, pleasing.
Grace’s legs wobbled, her knees weak from the sensations shooting straight to her toes. Light-headed f
rom the kisses, she leaned against his firm chest.
So strong.
His arms wrapped around her, embracing her with strength and warmth and a sense of belonging she’d never thought she’d feel again.
Stop, a little voice cautioned.
She knew she should.
Everything she was feeling and thinking was telling her to stop.
But she didn’t want to stop.
Grace didn’t know if she’d ever be kissed this way again. She wanted to make the most of it while she could.
Tongues tangled and danced.
She ran her hands over the muscular ridges of his back and through his damp hair. She couldn’t get enough of Bill’s kisses, of him.
She was...home.
Panic ripped through her.
Not home. A temporary place. In temporary arms.
He cupped her bottom, pulling her even closer.
She went eagerly, pressing against him. She arched—
“Mommy?”
Grace jumped back as if she’d been shocked by ten thousand volts.
She turned to see Liam, his hair sticking up. He stood in the hallway, holding Peanut against his heart.
Oh, no. She covered her bruised and throbbing lips with her hands. Tried to calm her breathing, cool the heat in her cheeks, pull down the bottom of her shirt.
Bill, his breathing as ragged as hers, walked over to her son and knelt. “What’s up, little dude?”
Liam stared at the ground. “Peanut woke up. Mommy wasn’t there.”
Bill touched the stuffed animal. “As you can see, Peanut, your mommy’s right here.”
Liam nodded.
Grace pulled herself together and joined them. Kneeling in turn, she touched his shoulder. “Did you wonder where I was?”
Another nod.
She hugged him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there beside you, but it wasn’t my bedtime yet.”
Liam wrapped his arms around her neck. “Sleep. Sleep.”
The last thing she wanted to do was sleep. That meant she should go to bed. “We can sleep now.”
She was a mom—Liam’s mom. Her son needed her and she needed him. Even if her lips wanted more kisses.
More kisses weren’t a smart idea.
The hunger in Bill’s eyes matched the way she felt inside. Thank goodness Liam had woken up, or things might have gone further than she intended. “I need to get him to bed.”
“I know.” Bill brushed his hand over Liam’s hair. “Sleep tight, bud.”
The little boy’s thumb was in his mouth. His eyelids drooped.
Bill cupped Grace’s face. “We’ll talk about this later.”
She’d tried hard to set a good example for Liam, but tonight...
Heat spread up her neck. She couldn’t believe her son had caught her making out with the big dude.
Grace stood, then carried Liam to the guest bedroom. She glanced back at Bill. “Let’s forget it ever happened.”
“I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.”
Neither would she. But she would have to try.
The bedroom door was open. She stepped inside the room. “Good night.”
Bill stood in the doorway. “Sweet dreams.”
His gaze, full of desire, made her shiver with want.
Darn the man. She’d likely be having hot dreams because of his toe-curling kisses. “See you in the morning.”
“I’ll be seeing you sooner.” He winked. “In my dreams.”
Her mouth dropped open. She stood with her son in her arms, her heart roaring in her ears.
Wicked laughter lit his eyes. Bill twisted the lock on her side of the knob. “Good night, Liam. Gracie.”
He closed the door. The latched clicked.
Gracie? No one called her Gracie. Oh, they’d tried. Damon had given up and called her babe. She’d been named Grace and that was what she wanted to hear.
But the name didn’t sound so bad coming from Bill’s lips.
She laid Liam and Peanut on the bed and covered them with the sheet and comforter. Her son was sound asleep in a minute.
Grace changed into an Iowa Hawkeyes nightshirt.
Bill Paulson spelled ten types of trouble. He might be a good guy, but his kisses had Bad Boy scribbled all over them. Fun for a moment, dangerous for any longer.
She was clever enough to know better than to mess around with a man like him.
But clever or not, she wanted to kiss the bad boy again. And again. And again.
What was she going to do?
It’ll be okay, babe.
“Quiet.”
Usually, she welcomed Damon’s words and the assurance they promised, but not tonight.
Not when her lips throbbed, not when her heart ached, not when she wanted to fall asleep in another man’s arms.
Not any man’s. Bill’s.
Grace covered Liam with another blanket. He didn’t stir.
She would brush her teeth, floss, wash her face, then crawl under the covers to hide. She might not be able to forget the kisses she’d shared with Bill, but maybe she could pretend those kisses had never happened, that she imagined or dreamed them.
That would allow her to sleep.
And she needed sleep. Almost as much as she’d needed kisses.
* * *
Bill leaned against the wall next to the guest bedroom door. He didn’t know how long he’d been standing in the hallway. He didn’t care.
He couldn’t remember how many women he’d dated, how many women he’d kissed. But not one had made him want all of her—mind, body and soul—like Grace Wilcox.
He’d felt like a randy teen kissing her, almost losing control, falling over the edge and embarrassing both of them. Well, him.
That had never happened before.
Not even the first time making out with Maggie Freeman in the storeroom of her father’s general store on Main Street.
Thanks to Grace, Bill ached with need. He wanted to touch her again, hold her again, taste her again. He shouldn’t feel that way about any woman, especially one with a kid. He was too much like his dad to be a forever type family guy. But when she’d touched him, he’d gone mad with desire. When she’d kissed him, he’d struggled to remain in control. When she’d kept kissing him, he hadn’t wanted to stop.
The guest bedroom door opened.
Crap. Bill straightened.
Grace stepped into the hallway. Her long brown hair was messy and tangled, as if she’d changed quickly. A baggy nightshirt hid delicious curves, but the knee-length hem gave him a great view of her calves.
Toned muscle. Smooth, pale skin.
Sexy.
What the hell was wrong with him? He was getting turned on looking at her lower legs.
They were great calves, though.
She left the door ajar.
“Forget something?” He tried sounding casual, as if he hadn’t been skulking outside her door, fantasizing.
Grace drew back. Her brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
“Thinking about you.”
She started to speak, then pressed her lips together. Her gaze bounced from Bill to the guest bedroom door. “I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to Liam.”
She hurried past Bill, like a gust of wind roaring through the Columbia Gorge. Only this squall swirled around him with a sweet aroma of jasmine and vanilla.
The bathroom door closed. Locked.
Bill fought disappointment and rising frustration. He should have said something different, something more. But retreating wasn’t an option. He needed to figure out what was going on.
Maybe he’d misjudged the impact of her kisses. Blown them out of pro
portion. He hadn’t kissed a woman in over a week. He could be imaging things to be better than they were. That would explain his over-the-top reaction.
Bill needed to get her and her kisses out of his system. He knew exactly how to do that.
Kiss her again.
One more kiss would disprove this nonsense. Another kiss would be nice. Special, even. But not enough to change his world—his perfect world.
Kissing her again was a good plan. If Grace agreed...
Minutes ticked by.
Bill waited. He wasn’t the kind of guy to swan dive into a foot of water over some woman, let alone a kiss.
All Hood Hamlet, including your mom, knows you’re a heartbreaker.
Welton’s words echoed in Bill’s head. He’d worn the title of heartbreaker like a badge of honor, stepping into the role after Jake Porter and Sean Hughes married. Being called a player brought a rush of pride. Everyone knew, everyone expected that kind of behavior from him.
Everyone but Grace.
Bill didn’t want her to find out about his reputation. She didn’t seem the type to be impressed by his womanizing, even though he got involved only with women who understood the rules and how he felt about relationships. But Grace might not absolve him of responsibility for any resulting broken hearts.
Not that she had anything to worry about. He would be careful and keep her safe.
But he needed to know if her kisses really made him feel so incredible, so invincible. Or if the December dating hiatus made him kiss-hungry for any pretty woman.
Testing his hypothesis, as his friend volcanologist Sarah Purcell would say, made sense. Another kiss—a test one—wouldn’t take long.
The door to the bathroom opened.
His pulse jolted like a Thoroughbred out of the starting gate. But he was feeling like the long shot in the race.
Standing in the doorway, Grace sucked in a breath. “You’re still here.”
“I want to talk.” Not exactly true, but saying “I want to kiss” might freak her out.
“Liam might wake up.” She glanced at the bedroom door. “I should get in there.”
She should, but Bill didn’t want her to go. Not yet. “It won’t take long.”
The bridge of Grace’s nose crinkled, matching the creases on her forehead. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What?”
A Little Bit of Holiday Magic Page 12
