Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)

by Cheri Allan

  She slipped her fingers from his. “You shouldn’t have made the trip. I understand completely.”

  “No,” he insisted, a confident smile tilting the corner of his lips as he brushed the hair from her temple. “I don’t think you do.”

  Liz wished he’d stop sticking his fingers in her hair and get to the point. No such luck.

  “Let’s go for a walk. You can show me your new patio,” he said.

  Goodie. A nature walk. Liz opened the slider and stepped out, memories of Carter and the last few weeks slamming into her. She swallowed and made a half-hearted sweeping gesture with her hand. “Here it is.”

  “Nice.” Grant was nodding appreciatively, totally ignorant of the magnitude of the patio in Liz’s life—one of the few horizontal surfaces she and Carter had yet to, um, dedicate. “I see you redid the walkway, too,” he said, following it around the side of the house.

  Liz trailed after him.

  “Grant…”

  She nearly ran into him when he stopped abruptly.

  “You told me your parents had eccentric taste,” he laughed, motioning toward the storage shed, “you didn’t do them justice. This looks like it belongs to the Griswold’s from National Lampoon.”

  The string of smiley-face deck lights Carter had hung on the shed grinned at her en masse.

  The Griswold’s? Liz grabbed the deck lights and tugged, embarrassment flooding her. Happy yellow faces bounced around merrily and sagged toward the ground.

  “I meant to take that down,” she muttered.

  But Grant didn’t seem to hear as he turned and let his fingers trail through the strands of her hair. Again. Maybe he was just surprised it was loose for a change.

  “I know my being here is a lot to take in,” he said.

  “Yes. Wow. You’ve no idea—”

  “I’m ready, Liz. You can believe it.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “You asked if I wanted to have sex with you,” he murmured. “The short answer is, yes. I do. Very much. And, preferably, as soon as possible.”

  “You came all the way from Chicago to tell me that?”

  She would have stalked away in dignified brilliance like the heroine of her own self-actualized drama, but he stopped her with a hand to her arm. “You didn’t let me finish. I’d love to make love… Just as soon as we’re properly engaged.”

  She blinked. Oh, Dear God. Did he say…?

  And then he was sliding his hand into his pocket and sliding out a little blue velvet box. “I’ve been waiting,” he said, “keeping you to myself, I know, not wanting to share you even with random strangers in restaurants. I’ve wanted you to want our relationship to move to the next level as much as I do. I think it’s time, don’t you?”

  He opened the box, and Liz could only stare into the cool brilliance of the largest solitaire diamond she’d ever clapped eyes on. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll marry me. Say you’ll be Mrs. Beacon-Blackerby.”

  “Beacon-Blackerby?” Ohmigod! How had she never thought how that would sound before now? “I— I need to think about it,” she lied.

  Grant blinked, his handsome features registering a moment of surprise. “Think? What’s to think about? We’ve already discussed this. I thought—”

  “I thought so, too. Now, I’m not so sure.” Liz ran a hand through her hair and grimaced. It smelled like window cleaner. “I’m sorry. You’ve surprised me, that’s all.”

  “Of course.” Grant nodded and smoothed his sport coat. “I didn’t give you any warning I was coming. You’re overwhelmed. You need a few moments to take it all in.” He pressed the velvet box into her palm. “Here. Take it. Think on it. It’s a big step, I understand. You wouldn’t be the woman for me if you didn’t take the time to make sure it’s the right decision. We’ll discuss it over dinner.” He leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth.

  Liz’s jaw gaped and she forgot not to swipe her lips in front of him as he walked down the front path. She found her voice as he reached his rental car. “Grant, wait!”

  “I’m staying at the Sugar Falls Inn,” he replied, opening the driver’s door. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  Liz watched in dismay and disbelief as he pulled away. She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d suggested they move to Tajikistan and drink yak’s milk. Engaged? He wanted to get engaged?

  She glanced down at the velvet box and turned its cool, silky weight in her palm. Her fingers flexed around it. She didn’t dare open it again. The brilliant solitaire only mocked the future she’d once thought she wanted.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  ____________________

  CARTER GRINNED AT THE goodies on the seat beside him and pressed his foot down on the accelerator. He’d had all of fifteen minutes to shower, shave and get dressed after his last job, but the flurry of activity had only fueled the buzz of energy he’d been riding all afternoon.

  Sure he’d made mistakes. He’d never been perfect, but he only saw good things ahead with Liz. For once, he—impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, Carter McIntyre—had a plan. He would surprise Liz with endearing gifts, delight her with romantic dinners and outings then win her over by helping her achieve every item on her “Liz Never” list. His hand fisted over the deck of cards on the seat beside him.

  If all went well, by tonight they’d be crossing off number three with their own private game of strip poker.

  Carter pulled into Liz’s drive shortly after six-thirty. Imagine him, Carter, early! After a few moments with no answer at the front door, he walked to the back slider, whistling. He knocked, a light-hearted staccato beat to match his mood.

  No answer.

  Perhaps she was in the shower? He tried the door. Locked. Maybe she’d gone into town with Trish or Bailey on a quick errand. Hmm. Maybe she’d decided to spring for some new lacy underthings? Heck, he grinned to himself, a man could dream.

  He shrugged and decided it was fine Liz was out. It would give him time to plant something fun and whimsical in her front yard. Like the giant fake sunflowers he’d gotten at the lawn center earlier. She wouldn’t mind. He’d fill in the holes when he was done.

  He retrieved the fake flowers from the bed of his truck and laughed. For a landscaper, you’d think he’d at least have the sense to bring a shovel.

  Chuckling over his own scattered wits, Carter headed to the side shed. He knew Liz had been keeping it locked, but it was his lucky day, because the door was ajar when he got there. He pushed it open and scanned the jumble of tools and debris slumping lazily against the walls and floor for a shovel.

  Shed clean-up had obviously not been tops on Liz’s to-do list.

  Spying what looked like a shovel handle in a far corner, Carter pushed aside a half-used bag of fertilizer with his foot then muttered in annoyance as it upended.

  He stooped to pick it up and paused as he noticed plastic-wrapped packages of something on the floor under a tarp. He pulled the tarp aside… and swore harshly under his breath.

  What the hell?

  The idiot. Some people never learned.

  Carter flipped open his cell phone. Someone needed a wakeup call.

  LIZ CLOSED HER EYES and imagined it over. She’d been trying to talk to Grant the whole ride to the inn, and yet here she was, sitting across from him, no closer to breaking the news than when he’d first opened the car door.

  Her hand closed around the velvet box in her lap as she listened to the cool splash of wine in her goblet. She swallowed uneasily and looked across the table at Grant.

  He sat confidently—stylish, composed. The height of gentlemanly demeanor and masculine chic. He was everything she’d ever wanted.

  Until now.

  Liz reached out to take a quick, bolstering sip from her glass then set it aside. “Grant, we need to talk.”

  “I agree.” Finally!

  She’d hoped to do this in private, but Grant had kept murmuring hush like she was a child about to
spoil a surprise the entire ride over. If he only knew.

  Her tongue dashed out to moisten suddenly dry lips as her gaze darted to the other diners in the room. “This is all wrong,” she murmured despairingly.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “This... all of this.” She gestured vaguely at the crisp linens and gleaming place settings.

  “You don’t like the restaurant?”

  “No!” She buried her face in her palm for a moment as a hysterical burst of laughter threatened to overcome her, then set her shoulders. “No. That’s not it. It’s just... I don’t know what to say, Grant. I thought... I don’t know what I thought, but I never expected this.” She pulled the velvet box from her lap and placed it on the table.

  Grant frowned and reached to cover her hand. His fingers were cool around hers. “This? This is what we’ve been talking about. Are you going to tell me you’re having second thoughts?”

  “Second thoughts? I wasn’t even sure you were having first thoughts! I mean, just two weeks ago you were—well, I don’t know what you were doing, but it didn’t strike me as a business meeting. Gone for an entire weekend? I’m not that naïve.” Okay, maybe she was, but that wasn’t the point.

  Grant pursed his lips and nodded regretfully, pulling his hand away. “No. You’re right. I wasn’t completely honest about that weekend.”

  “A-ha!” Liz said, oddly satisfied. If he’d cheated, too, she need not ever bring up Carter. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Ethan and I—”

  “Ohmigod,” she breathed, choking on her Pinot Grigio. “You’re having an affair with Ethan?” She sat back. “I suppose it all makes sense now. Your overt homophobia. Your willingness to wait to have sex for WAY longer than any normal—I mean straight—man would wait… ”

  Grant regained his power to speak. “I am not in a homosexual relationship with Ethan!”

  “You’re not?”

  “And, for the record, my views on commitment ceremonies versus marriage vows do not make me homophobic.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Liz, I am not homosexual. I’ve asked you to marry me, for God’s sake!”

  “Then what’s with you and Ethan?”

  “Ethan and I…” Liz waited patiently while Grant took a breath to compose himself. Clearly it was harder to come out of the closet than he was willing to admit. “We’re leaving Ames & Reed. We’re opening a boutique firm of our own.”

  Liz gulped her wine. “I’m sorry. Did you say you were leaving the firm?”

  “Yes. We’ve only just worked out the details, but our lawyers tell us we’re free to do so as long as—”

  “You’ve hired lawyers?” Her wine glass sloshed as she plunked it onto the tablecloth in disbelief.

  “Yes. That was the real business behind that trip Ethan and I took. We couldn’t move ahead with our plans if we’d get slapped with a non-compete and we needed to set up—”

  “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you’re not having an affair?”

  “No.”

  “With Ethan or anyone?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “But you have gone behind my back, hired lawyers and decided to leave the firm we both work for?” For some reason she couldn’t explain, this upset her far more than the idea of Grant having an affair, homosexual or otherwise.

  He reached across the table and gripped her hand again. “Don’t you see? We don’t have to worry anymore! As of next month, we’ll no longer be coworkers. We’re free to take our relationship—”

  “—to the next level,” she completed dully.

  “Exactly.”

  She shook her head, suddenly, vividly aware of how disinterested she was in taking anything to the next level with Grant. “Did it ever occur to you that I might want to be included in this decision?”

  He frowned, his forehead furrowing lightly. “Included? How? This was between me and Ethan.”

  “You’re right. At least... it is now.” She looked at the velvet box then slid it across the table, amazed at how easy it was to do so. Amazed at what a few short weeks could mean in a person’s life. “Thank you, Grant. Thank you for being the man you are... and for helping me see what I need to be happy.”

  He stared at the box, unable or unwilling to pick it up. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not the person you think I am. I like sneaking mango smoothies at the gym more than running. I think it’s cute for the cat to sit across from me while I have breakfast. I think smiley-face deck lights are whimsical… I’m the kind of woman that likes to wear real lipstick and sweatpants and have sex on the kitchen table even though it’s wildly unsanitary... I eat swiss cake rolls for crying out loud!”

  “You’re a different person since you’ve been home.”

  “No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m finally the person I always was.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “I know. But for your sake, someday, I hope you will. For now... could you give me a ride home?

  CARTER PACED IN THE driveway. Waiting.

  Damn it! This wasn’t how he’d seen the evening playing out. The evening he’d planned was fun, surprising and most of all ended with him enjoying himself in every way imaginable.

  It certainly didn’t include standing around wondering when the authorities might arrive.

  Carter’s muscles tensed as he watched a car roll into the drive. Closing his eyes briefly, he blew out a breath and raised a hand in a casual hello.

  Crap. Crap. Crap.

  “Carter!” John inclined his head in greeting as he stepped from his car. “What’s up?”

  “Not much. Waiting for Liz.”

  A muscle twitched in John’s cheek as he glanced behind Carter at the house. “I thought she’d gone back to Chicago already.”

  “She decided to stay a couple extra days.”

  John’s eyes flicked down the drive as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. “When is she coming back?”

  “Not sure. Could be any time.”

  “You going out?” John’s eyes slid over Carter’s suit.

  “That was the idea.”

  John chewed the corner of his lip as he held the smoke in his lungs then looked down the drive again. Exhaled.

  “Expecting someone?” Carter asked.

  John shrugged noncommittally. “Just a friend. Said he might be stopping by.”

  Before Carter could reply, another car pulled into the drive. He hadn’t seen this particular vehicle for a while—not since quitting the fire department. “You still hang out with Rick Mercer?” he asked, swallowing his distaste.

  “We see each other now and again,” John hedged.

  Rick closed his door, his eyes twitching in surprise and recognition as he spied Carter. He cocked his chin. “Hey, Carter. How’s it hangin’?”

  “Good.” Carter flashed the easy smile he’d worked a lifetime to perfect. He didn’t trust Rick as far as he could throw him, but he’d be damned if he’d walk away now. “So, what’s up? You guys have plans for tonight? ” Any chance I can help you on your way?

  “Uh, I’m kind of on a schedule here, John,” Rick prompted. His car keys jangled in his hand.

  “Schedule’s changed,” John replied. “My sister’s on her way.”

  Rick swore crudely. “I don’t have—”

  “Relax. We’ve got company.” John said, his eyes glancing toward Carter.

  “Him? He’s cool. Could have turned me in a few months ago, couldn’t you, man? Took the rap for me. He won’t bother us.” Rick gave Carter what he could only assume was a grateful smirk.

  “But my sister—”

  “Then make it fast. I need—”

  “Oh crap.”

  Carter couldn’t have expressed his own thoughts any better as Liz pulled up in an unfamiliar sedan that stopped at the end of the drive. His heart clenched in his chest as he watched her lean over and kiss the driver on the
cheek, then step out.

  Now who the hell was that guy?

  She paused when she spotted him, her cheeks pink as she walked toward him.

  Carter caught the end of a murmured exchange between John and Rick.

  “I’m not taking it back,” Rick muttered under his breath.

  “I’m telling you, it’s no good,” John replied.

  “And, I’m telling you if it’s opened I can’t—”

  “What’s going on?” Liz asked, stepping up to them.

  Carter shook off any questions about the man in the car for later and focused on the moment. He had to divert Liz. And fast. Clearly things were getting ugly. He didn’t want any of their mess to spoil his evening.

  Rick glared at John. “What’s this? A convention? I thought you wanted this on the Q.T., Beacon.”

  Carter stepped between Liz and Rick and took her arm. “John just, ah, stopped by to see the new walkways. His landlord was interested in re-doing their front walk, and he thought he might put a good word in for me. Right, John?”

  “You have a new place? That’s wonderful! Carter, did a beautiful job, don’t you think?” Liz asked.

  “Great,” John said. “Thanks for showing me, Carter.”

  “No problem. But, if we’re going to make our dinner reservation, Liz, you’ll have to run and get changed.”

  She looked down at the skirt and cardigan she wore. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “It’s fine, but I’m sure you’ll want something fancy. Let’s go have a look. Love to stay and chat, guys, but duty calls.” Carter steered Liz toward the house.

  “What the—?” She frowned as Carter shoved her through the door and into the house. He shut the door abruptly behind her then peeked through the transom.

  “Would you mind telling me what’s going on? Who’s that other—? Oh, isn’t this beautiful!”

  Carter turned to see her holding the little glass bird he’d meant to surprise her with later. Its cool, clear green reminded him of a new spring leaf. Made him think of Liz. “I thought it’d look nice on your windowsill. It would remind you of home. I mean, here, when you’re in Chicago.”