by K. Bromberg
“Divinely glorious.”
I drum my pen on my desk.
Why am I nervous about texting him?
Maybe it’s because he hasn’t taken the first step to call me? I’ve tried telling myself it is because Luke is always present. I can tell myself it’s because it was a one-off thing and he doesn’t want to talk to me.
I can’t deny it stings a little that I thought we had a great time and now we’re at radio silence.
As much as I want to overanalyze the situation, I do have a job to do. One that I told Rissa was already done. One that is more important than being worried about my hurt feelings after sleeping with the self-proclaimed pussy ninja.
Even that makes me smile. Being mopey and having a smile on my lips don’t go together well.
Why am I being such a chicken about this?
Type the text. Do my job. Think of Haute. Think of Dad. Think of greasing oil all over Grayson’s chest during a shoot.
I pick up my phone.
Me: Hi, Grayson. Voting is going well. For the next round, we’ll need to get some new photos, though. We are having them done for all the contestants.
I add that last part in response to his comment the last time we went through the picture conversation. But I don’t hit send. I stare at the screen, wanting to say so much more.
Thanks for the other night.
I want it to happen again.
Jesus, you’re incredible.
After staring at the blinking cursor a bit longer, obsessing, I type none of that and hit send. I’m surprised when he responds immediately.
Grayson: You’ll have to work around my schedule with Luke.
Professionally, this is a good thing. He’s agreeing to the photo shoot without a fight. Personally, I can’t help but feel a little twinge in my gut that there are no niceties, no “how are you,” no nothing.
Then again, I didn’t offer any, either.
Me: Great! We can include Luke in the photos if you want. Some of the other men are including their children in their shoots.
I twist my lips while I wait impatiently.
Grayson: I told you before when I agreed to do this for you—no Luke.
Me: Why not? It might make him feel like he’s a part of the whole contest with you. It’ll be cool for him.
Grayson: I said no Luke. The Hoskins cast him aside without a second thought. There’s no way in hell I’m giving them a glimpse of my son. Non-negotiable.
I sit and stare at the words for longer than I should as I try to understand the kind of hurt that must have caused him. To love someone so much while other family members discarded him without a second thought.
I think of the fight Luke got into and can only imagine the quiet rage he doesn’t quite understand that fueled it.
I think of Grayson and how he pushes his wants and needs aside to make sure his son is okay.
Respect.
That’s what that text conversation just earned him. A respect that overshadowed my own insecurities and made me want to be with the man that much more.
Me: Understood. Send me your schedule, and I’ll set up the photographer for whenever works for you.
I put the phone down, thinking that will be the end of the conversation, and a second later, it vibrates again.
Grayson: We can use the helicopter for pictures if you want.
And just like that, he hands me the little extra Rissa was talking about. I’m still smiling as his next text comes in.
Grayson: The other night was incredible. When can I see you again?
I fight a little yelp of pleasure as well as the beginnings of flutters in my belly.
How about now? I want to ask but know that sounds a little too eager.
I’ll make him wait a bit before I answer. That way, he won’t read into it, and I won’t look so desperate.
I’m being pathetic. The man just wants more sex.
Incredibly good sex, that is.
And, of course, I’m slowly coming to the realization that I’m a bit more involved on my end of the stick.
Slowly? That’s a lie.
I know I want more . . . I’m just not sure what that more exactly is.
More lust? More sex? More friendship? More of a little bit of everything?
I’m leaving in a few months. That’s one thing I know for sure . . . so I guess that’s my answer. More lust and sex, please.
So why does knowing the answer feel less satisfying than I’d expect it to?
Reel it in, Thorton. Don’t be a giddy girl. Be a grown woman who can have sex without strings.
“I should’ve figured.”
“Should’ve figured what?” I ask to the door at which I’m currently staring, the one thing that is separating me from seeing Grayson. It’s been a long week since the last time we saw each other. A long week since his lips were on mine and the heat of his body was in my bed. And on top of me.
I’ve seen four other very sexy men up close and personal during my travels to the other finalists’ photo shoots over the past week. I’ve seen chiseled chests and flawless smiles and have been charmed to death by one after another. I’ve been taken to dinner, been wined by their wives, and dined with their children, and yet, the one man I can’t wait to see is standing behind the door in front of me.
Needless to say, I’m kind of anxious about it. Even if it’s in this setting: at his station with his crew sitting around and waiting for a call, all of them anxious to harass the hell out of him.
I’ll take him any way I can get him at this point.
“I should’ve figured that you’d finagle a way to see me.” His laugh is muffled.
“Finagle? Who me?”
“Says the queen of manipulation. Tell me, did you plant any stories in the Gazette telling people we’re getting engagement photos done today or something?”
I stare at the door with wide eyes, trying to say no and that it was all Rissa before, but before I can get the words formed and out of my mouth, the door opens, and I lose any and all ability to speak.
I may have seen other perfect men this week, but none of them stole my breath like Grayson does in this moment.
There is a teasing grin on that cocksure face of his and humor in his stunning blue eyes. Those two things together I may have been able to handle, but he’s in his flight suit, which makes it all too much. He’s just too damn sexy.
I allow myself a quick moment to appreciate the sight of every inch of him.
Just lust.
It’s even better knowing exactly what he looks like beneath it, too.
Just sex.
I feared he was too good to be true. That I’d relived the sex we had over and over in my mind—I mean, c’mon, that’s a normal thing to do—and worried that I made it better than it was. That I made him better than he was.
That’s all, I remind myself.
Now that we’re face to face, now that every part of me sighs at the sight of him, I know I didn’t make a damn thing up.
And I know I’m so very screwed.
“I did not finagle you. Not then. Not now.” I stand my ground, despite the smile playing at the corners of my lips. “Even if we are engaged.”
Our eyes meet. Hold. His smile turns salacious, and just as I hear voices down the hall, Grayson yanks me into the room where he was changing. Before I can even yelp in surprise, his mouth is on mine in a mind-numbing, lip-bruising, thigh-clenching type of kiss that I never want to end but know needs to if I don’t want to be ruined for any other guy.
When he finally tears his lips from mine, he steps back, leaving me out of breath and a little overwhelmed. The grin he flashes is one of pure arrogance.
“If we’re engaged, the least I get to do is reap the rewards for putting that imaginary ring on your finger.”
I look down at my ringless ring finger, raise my eyebrows, and then look back up to him. “Look who’s doing the manipulating now.”
He shakes his head and chuckles quietly before
putting his hand on the back of my neck and pulling me in for one more mesmerizing kiss.
Thankfully, we don’t get caught as we are sneaking out of the room like a pair of hormonal teenagers. In fact, we never even meet each other’s eyes as the photographer and I speak about staging and various ideas while Grayson gets teased by his crew about the photo shoot in general.
But I hear the taunting comments. I see the raising of eyebrows and lifting of chins in my direction, and I know the engagement photo rumor is in full swing and will most likely be perpetuated by these guys.
Knowing that my every move is being watched makes me heed caution every time I look Grayson’s way. Don’t stare too long. Don’t smile shyly at him. Don’t act like I’m familiar with him. Don’t drool at how sexy he looks.
I’m more than aware that one questionable cell phone shot snapped and sent to the Gazette would piss my dad off and jeopardize everything I’ve been working for.
But it’s extremely hard to watch Grayson in all his uniformed glory without giving any tells. With his hand on the door of the chopper and a serious look on his face. With his flight suit unzipped to his abdomen with a sneak peak of his delicious abs. With him sitting in the cockpit and a grin on his lips. Every picture is an aphrodisiac until the next one is clicked.
“What is it with these Malone boys? I mean . . . whew,” Marcy, the photographer says with a low hum of a whistle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I look over to her. She’s tall and lean and has her auburn hair piled on top of her head.
“I photographed his brother a while back. They both have the same good looks, but his brother Grady was cockier with his smolder, while this one here is more intense. But damn, I’d let him smolder on me,” she says and lifts her chin to where Grayson stands and waits for her assistant to shift the reflector and check the lighting.
“Don’t I know it?” My laugh is soft, and for the first time, I allow my eyes to remain glued to Grayson.
“You’re the one responsible for him being in the contest?”
“I’m the one who set up the contest, but his brothers are the ones who entered him. If you listen to the Sunnyville rumor mill, he and I are sleeping together, engaged, and maybe already have three children.”
This time, she laughs, drawing Grayson’s attention. He meets my eyes and smiles that smile I know will get me in trouble. Grady really isn’t the only one who can smolder. Damn. “I wouldn’t be complaining if I were you, but I’d definitely check my rearview mirror for angry women mad you took a great catch.”
“Let’s not be so loud. We don’t want his ego to get big,” I tease as Grayson angles his head to the side and tries to figure out what we’re talking about.
“I doubt he has one. Isn’t he rumored to have saved those people in the High Sierras but won’t let anyone credit him with doing it?”
“So they say,” I murmur as I watch him. It’s beyond me that a man so hell-bent on protecting his son would be so willing to risk his own life to save others, yet, Grayson does it all the time.
Just another mystery that makes me want to get to know him that much more.
“When I was setting up, one of the crew was telling me he had been grounded for disobeying orders. Something about flying in a thunderstorm when command tried to ground him, and then flying to a different hospital or something despite the dangerous weather. Pretty damn noble.” She looks through her lens at him for a beat and then looks at me with a laugh. “He can save me, any day.”
“No doubt.”
“So, Sidney, since you’ve seen what photos the other contestants have submitted, is there anything else you want me to shoot? Any special poses you want me to take that I haven’t already taken?”
“Let me talk to Grayson for a second to see what he’s comfortable with. The flight suit hanging around the waist is always a good look, but I’m not sure it’s one he’ll be willing to do.”
“Convince him,” she says as she looks down at her camera’s digital screen. “The camera loves him . . . and it would be a shame to hide that perfection underneath clothing.”
I walk toward him and the massive helicopter behind him. It’s white with red graphics, and I’m taken aback by its sheer size, maybe because it isn’t every day I get up close and personal with a helicopter.
Or, maybe it’s because of the man in front of it. Sexy. Endearing. He makes every part of me come to life in the few short feet I hold his eyes.
“Quit looking at me like that, Princess, or else someone is going to figure out we’ve slept together.” His eyes light up when he smiles.
“You’re in a flight suit looking sexy, but I’m not looking at you in any way,” I feign innocence when I’m anything but.
“But I’m looking at you that way.” He lowers his voice as his eyes track my movement until I stop right in front of him.
“You are, are you?”
His gaze follows my hands as I reach out and unzip his flight suit, wondering just how low he’ll let me go with it.
“Mm-hmm. I’m wondering what you taste like. I’m picturing that heart-shaped birthmark on the inside of your thigh. I’m thinking about the sounds you’ll make the next time I get to make you come.”
“Oh.” My hands falter. My thoughts liquefy into a heat between my thighs. But I don’t look at him. Can’t. Because if I meet his eyes, I’m going to want to kiss that sweet mouth of his that is saying such wicked things.
“You wore those heels and that skirt.”
“I wear them every day. So?” My voice breaks.
“And I wear a flight suit most days.”
I know that, if I don’t look up at him, the people standing around and his crew inside will read between the lines and there will be no denying that there is more going on here than just magazine editor and contestant.
So, in a bid to keep our secret, I look at him. There’s so much suggestion mixed with amusement in his eyes that my breath catches.
“Turnabout’s fair play, Sidney.”
“No one said anything about playing fair.”
He lowers his voice. “I’ll remember that the next time I have you.”
I glance over toward the building where I’m sure his crew is watching us from behind the tinted windows. “Aren’t there beds in this place?”
His laugh echoes off the concrete around us as he zips his suit up. “Beds. Plural. As in all in one room.” His smile is crooked when he shakes his head. “We won’t be using any beds here. I don’t like to share.”
I open my mouth to speak and then close it. “Who knew you were so dominant?” I tease.
“You know what they say . . .” he says as he takes a few steps back from me.
“No, what?”
“It’s always the quiet ones you have to worry about.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I take a few steps toward Marcy, who quickly averts her eyes to pretend as if she hadn’t been watching us, and then I turn back to Grayson. “Hey, Malone?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep the suit unzipped. Let the sleeves hang.”
“You’re undressing me in public now?” he asks, and laughs ring out around us. “What will I get in return?”
“Votes.”
“What did you forget?” I ask Rissa as the front door of the office opens and closes. I stare at the proofs of Grayson. The ones I can’t seem to take my eyes away from. The ones that tell me I’m in too deep when I’m not supposed to even have a toe in the water. When I realize I haven’t received a response yet, I ask again. “Rissa?”
I rise from my seat, startled to see Luke standing in my doorway. “Luke? Is everything okay?” I hate that my immediate reaction is to be worried about Grayson. “Where is your da—”
“Dad’s not here,” he says with a sheepish look on his face while I panic over what he is doing here. And then, before I make it around my desk, he holds out a bunch of handpicked daisies. Every hard part of me softens in a
way I never could have expected. “I’d like to know if you’d go on a date with me.”
“What?” My chuckle is one of disbelief as I look over his shoulder and spot a woman standing in the lobby. She has shoulder-length silvery-blond hair and a soft smile on her face. “Hello.”
“That’s my nana. She brought me here.”
“Oh.” I blink a couple of times as I look from his nana then to him and then back to her. “Please come in.”
“Stay there, Nana. I need to do this on my own,” Luke says, looking back at her. She holds her hands up and gives him the most adoring grin before she nods.
He clears his throat as he meets my eyes again. “Miss Sidney, I wanted to know if you’d go on a date with me.”
How this little boy melts my heart every single time I see him is beyond me, but he does. I drop down to one knee in front of him. “A date, huh?” I accept the flowers and sniff them. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”
“Nana says you’re supposed to bring a lady flowers. I’m not sure why. They smell pretty, but then they die, and you have to throw them in the trash, but she said you have to, so I did.”
“Well,” I say through a laugh, “they do die, but they also make the lady feel awfully special.” I cup the side of his face. “Where exactly would you like to take me on this date of yours?”
“I was wondering if you’d go to a picnic with me.”
“A picnic, huh?”
His teeth sink into his lower lip as he rocks on his heels. “There’s a picnic that we have here in Sunnyville, and I was wondering . . .” His eyes are innocent and full of hope.
“If I would go with you?”
He nods and then straightens his spine as if he realizes that he needs to act like a grown-up. “We were on our way there, and I asked Nana if it would be okay if we stopped by here and asked you to come with us. We already have a lunch made. There are sandwiches and sodas—I only get to have soda on special occasions—and chocolate chip cookies. Nana makes the best chocolate chip cookies because she puts extra chips in them and—”
