Take a Chance on Me (Baymoor Book 3)

by D. A. Young

  He was bad news all the way.

  So what if he was funny, liked to read, was sexy as hell, charismatic, and knew his way around the kitchen? Graham even made coffee better than the coffee shop she stopped by on her way to work if she had time. His first morning in the house, he was cooking in the kitchen by the time Annabelle and Rory came downstairs, and a blueberry crumb coffee cake was cooling off. He’d handed Annabelle a Thai iced coffee that was delicious and perfectly brewed and told her to have a nice day. Sorcerer.

  Last night, Graham had almost given Annabelle her first orgasm from a man. His osso bucco with herbed mushroom gorgonzola polenta was life-changing. The tender braised beef had fallen off the shanks, and the earthy flavors of the cheese and mushrooms were a hit, even with Rory who despised mushrooms. Her explosive moan had Annabelle wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole as conversation around the table came to a halt.

  “Are you okay, Mummy?”

  Annabelle flushed hotly and covered her mouth to apologize. “Yes, baby. Sorry about that. I didn’t know it was going to taste so amazing.”

  “It’s good to know that my time in the kitchen wasn’t in vain.” Graham’s lips twitched as he reached across the table and filled her wine glass halfway with Cabernet Sauvignon. “Do you know what the secret to a good meal is, Annabelle?”

  The bite she’d taken was going down her throat as smooth as a boulder at the sizzling intensity in his eyes. Somehow, Annabelle managed not to choke on it. “Why don’t you enlighten me, Mr. Carlton?”

  His eyes lowered to her lips that automatically parted as if he’d touched them and lingered before rising to imprison her in his molten gaze. “Inspiration. Anyone can cook out of necessity, but a great meal is born from an inclination to inspire happiness in others.”

  Annabelle picked up her glass and swirled the deep red liquid around, choosing to ignore the sweltering heat of desire streaming through her veins. “I see. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “The interest developed in the Marines,” he replied. “I insulted a mess hall cook and was challenged to do better.”

  “And did you?” Edith chimed in, surprising Annabelle. Intently focused on Graham, she’d forgotten they weren’t alone at the table.

  With an embarrassed grin, Graham admitted, “I went into the kitchen and made a complete fool of myself! The eggs were undercooked and runny, and the grits were rock hard. Don’t even get me started on the bacon; I burnt all of it to a crisp. Everywhere I went on base, I was getting clowned left and right. Maaan, I couldn’t hold my head up and was ready to fight everybody.”

  He allowed the women a good laugh at his expense before continuing, “My pride demanded a rematch, so I threw down the gauntlet and spent a month researching cookbooks and watching cooking shows and was intrigued. I had no idea there were so many ways to make eggs or types of cheeses. The hard work paid off. I went back and won the throw down, but I also discovered that being in the kitchen relaxes me. After that, there was no turning back. I was hooked on cooking.”

  Rory’s scandalized gasp was loud and dramatic as she threw her arm over her eyes. “Mr. Ram, you burned bacon! What’d you do that for?”

  Graham hung his head with shame but snuck a wink at Edith and Annabelle. “I know, babygirl. It was an accident and I haven’t done it since. I didn’t burn it this morning, remember?”

  “Mmmkay. Just don’t do it again,” Rory warned as she scooped up some polenta and rewarded him with a toothy grin. “Mr. Ram, what do you call a bear with no teeth?”

  Her baby stayed with the jokes, Annabelle thought affectionately as she listened to the exchange.

  “A dentist?”

  “Nope! A gummy bear!”

  “Did you like the military?” Edith wanted to know. “What made you decide to join?”

  “It was just what I needed at the time.” Graham’s expression closed off as he took a sip of his wine and turned to Rory. “Do you know what happens when an egg laughs?”

  She clapped her hands eagerly. “No. What? Tell me!”

  “It cracks up!”

  He’d changed the subject after that. There was a story there; Annabelle could feel it. She sensed it had to do with why Georgie was so standoffish when she’d first come to Baymoor as well, and Annabelle wanted to know what it was.

  Her intercom buzzed again. “Mrs. Farlow and Rocco are here.”

  “I’ll be right out, Dotty.”

  It was time to stop avoiding Graham but at a cost. If Annabelle wanted information, she would have to give up her own secrets to get it.

  ***

  There was no denying it. Graham Carlton was in love. He didn’t think such a thing could happen so fast, especially to him, but it was an undisputed fact. She’d whirled her way into his life three days ago, ensnared him with those big brown eyes, and he was a goner. She kept him on his toes with her impulsive behavior and made him laugh like he hadn’t in a long time at the simplest things.

  He could honestly say that his life was definitely enriched by Aurora ‘Rory’ Gaines’s presence in it and he felt privileged to have her in his life.

  The lovable toddler was an open book with many complex layers that Graham was enjoying uncovering. For instance, Rory loved to wear her Batgirl costume with her feather boa and tiara on while playing soccer or throwing her football with him. She was fast and had a good arm for her age. Instead of cartoons, she avidly watched the National Geographic channel. Every morning, she blasted Kirk Franklin’s “Smile”, put her explorer’s vest on over her pajamas, and grabbed her magnifying glass and notebook before leading Graham into the backyard. Rory patiently taught him about the different types of plants, flowers, and insects in the backyard that she’d learned about from her mother. Afterward, she’d sit down at the kitchen table and draw what she’d observed.

  Australia was known to have unique-looking creatures, and some of the insects looked downright prehistoric. Rory, however, showed no fear, just excitement at her findings. It wasn’t anything that Graham would have ever paid attention to on his own. As long as it wasn’t poisonous, man-eating, and something he could die from, Graham was cool. But through Rory’s eyes, everything was an adventure. Afternoons were spent playing and lazing on the beach, followed by a nap for her before Annabelle came home from work. They all ate together before she whisked Rory off to spend some alone time with her daughter before heading off to her room.

  She was avoiding him, hiding behind her family and then closing her bedroom door, denying him the satisfaction of seeing her pretty face and enjoying her sharp mind as she discussed politics and current events with Edith. Annabelle was suffering from the misconceived notion that if they didn’t see one another, the attraction would evaporate. For a doctor, she could be incredibly naïve at times. Graham was content to wait a little while longer. For now. He didn’t want to start something with Annabelle then have to leave and be distracted by worrying about her on the other side of the world.

  “Mr. Ram, do you know what kind of undies clouds wear?” Rory quizzed him as they worked together to build a sand castle.

  “Boxers?”

  Rory laughed at him. “No, silly! Thunderwear!”

  “Good one, babygirl.”

  “We need a moat, Mr. Ram!” Rory ordered briskly. She peered up at him from beneath the floppy wide brim of her white beach hat. “We gotta protect the queen in the castle. No bad guys can enter it! You hide them from the dragons, and I’ll shovel sand.”

  “Ask and ye shall receive, Ms. Rory.” Graham picked up the two Barbie dolls they were building this labor of love for and silently wondered who was going to protect the men from them as he critiqued their developed, hard plastic bodies with pointy feet decked out in cling attire. Why didn’t they make church clothes for these dolls?

  A pop of color caught his eyes, and the dolls were forgotten as Graham got an eyeful of Annabelle heading their way, wearing a jade-green one-piece that was high cut and crisscrossed ar
ound her tummy and cleavage, amplifying her voluptuous figure as the matching wrap flowed around her with the breeze. Gawdamn. And he wasn’t the only one to notice. Graham’s thunderous frown around the beach had motherfuckers averting their eyes as they met his possessive ones.

  Annabelle was his. There wasn’t a doubt in Graham’s mind that she’d been created specifically for him. He wanted to bury his head between her legs and get lit on her taste until Annabelle was a quaking, sweaty, hot ass mess suffering from amnesia. Maybe later, there’d be time for sweet lovemaking, but for now, Graham wanted the kind of sex that’d have her climbing the walls, visiting a chiropractor consistently, and stumbling around bowlegged. He could tell from the passionate way Annabelle approached her food that she would enjoy it as well. The constant lip and finger licking combined with the erotic moans and blissful sighs were driving him fucking insane, and he was tired and frustrated of nightly hand jobs to relieve the tension and ease the semi-permanent ache in his balls.

  “Are plastic dolls on that list of yours, Carlton? Please tell me that I don’t need to worry about toys mysteriously disappearing when you leave?” If Annabelle passed out on the beach, it wouldn’t be from too much exposure to the sun. It would be from fighting the urge to touch Graham’s wet-dream inducing body checking for herself to see if any of those rippling muscles were airbrushed. Seriously, not one flaw anywhere. It seemed as if even the sun was biased in his favor, forming a “Highway to Heaven” filter directly on his ass. So unfair.

  “I wasn’t planning to, but now that you mentioned it, I’m recommending that you frisk me on my way out,” he suggested helpfully. “All I ask is that you take your time and let me return the favor. It’ll tide us over until we link up again.”

  “Yeeeaah, that’s gonna be a hard no for me, Carlton.”

  “Scared you might like it too much, Doc?” Graham taunted, enjoying their sparring and loving the way her eyes sparkled despite her sarcastic tone.

  Yesss.

  “Pffft! Don’t flatter yourself, boo” Annabelle retorted then scolded, “And stop looking at me like that!”

  “Like what?” Graham asked in a sotto innocent voice while his eyes once more traveled over her with frank admiration.

  “Like I belong to you and am already in your bed!”

  The words were meant to be censorious and accusing, but instead, emerged husky and dipped in raw yearning, the longing apparent even to her own ears. Horrified, Annabelle clasped both hands over her mouth as Graham’s eyes grew heavy-lidded with a raging desire he wasn’t attempting to hide. He stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to a raspy octave and inquired, “Do you want to be?”

  Do. Not. Answer. That. Question, she lectured herself.

  Images of them tangled up in bedsheets and him owning her pussy created a pool of moisture between her thighs. The sexual frustration he was serving up was un-fucking-real. Annabelle threw her head back, braids flying about as she addressed the cloudless blue sky. “Aaargh! Cut it out! Have you no shame?!”

  “Relax, Doc,” Graham consoled her, but Annabelle should have known by the naughty glimmer in his eyes that he wasn’t done with her just yet. Lowering his voice, he drawled, “We don’t have to rush things. I’ll settle for baby steps if you’re cool with that. Picture this: we’ll start with snugglefucks then transition into some bomb-ass foreplay before—”

  “My God, I’ve never met anyone wrapped looser!” Annabelle smacked his chest. Rock hard pecs. Shocker. “What is wrong with you? Totally inappropriate and wrong! No shame whatsoever! You don’t know right from wrong, do you?”

  “Damn, that’s rude as hell, Doc!” Graham looked offended, but the devilish smile he gave warned Annabelle to tread with caution. “Of course, I do! Wrong is the fun one. But cheer up; I’m a firm believer that if you’re going to do something wrong, then you might as well do it right.”

  “Mummy! You’re home early!” Rory jumped up and ran to Annabelle with outstretched arms. “Is it because of my dance tonight?”

  Annabelle caught her daughter and twirled her around. “Hi, baby! Yes, you do have a dance recital, but I’m also home early because what’s today?”

  “It’s Friday!” Rory shouted then added, “And you ain’t got no job, and—”

  “Rory!” Mortified, Annabelle covered her daughter’s mouth as Graham burst out laughing. “Where did you learn that, young lady???”

  “From Gigi’s movie!” the little girl declared proudly. “I seen it when I was ‘posed to be taking a nap!”

  “You know that Santa’s elves are watching to see if you really take a nap? They let him know if you should go on the naughty or nice list at Christmastime,” Annabelle warned her. “Naptime is important, kiddo.”

  Put out by her mother’s words, Rory’s squinted her eyes and crossed her arms. “I don’t want to be on the naughty list! Make naps shorter.”

  “Or you can just take them anyway so you can still have dessert?” Annabelle pointed out reasonably.

  “Naps and any dessert I want!”

  “No naps mean more vegetables, no dessert, and an earlier bedtime, Aurora,” Annabelle warned, her eyes squinting now too.

  Rory’s lips quivered as she pouted and her eyes resembled pools of melted chocolate chips when she turned to Graham. “Mr. Ram…”

  Shit. The last place Graham wanted to be was caught in the middle of the Gaines ladies. Rory’s look said she’d love and adore him forever if he took her side. Annabelle’s pursed lips and arched eyebrow said she’d flay him alive and he’d have a better chance of winning megabucks than getting on her good side again if he didn’t choose wisely. But Graham had a thing about seeing the underdog win, although in this case, between these two, he wasn’t sure who was which…fuuuck.

  Graham plucked Rory out of Annabelle’s arms and set her on top of his shoulders, holding onto her legs as she wrapped her arms around his head. “Babygirl, I think you have to listen to Mummy because she loves you very much and takes good care of you. If you didn’t listen to Mummy, she’d be sad and we can’t let your mummy be sad, can we?”

  With a long-suffering sigh, Rory nodded her consent.

  “I promise I’ll be good, Mummy!” she shouted down at Annabelle, who was blinking back tears at Graham’s input one minute and then groaning in the next when Rory shouted, “Hey, everybody, look at me! I’m sooooo high!”

  “She’s probably going to be the CEO of her own company with those aggressive negotiating skills,” Graham boasted.

  “Or have a rap sheet and ankle bracelet,” Annabelle eyed her daughter with exasperated adoration. “Either way; the world is her oyster.”

  Rory waved and called out to everyone on the leisurely walk back to the house. Her infectious greetings were returned along with curious glances from her neighbors for Graham. Aware of the speculation toward her houseguest, Annabelle simply smiled, waved, and kept it moving while Rory sang “Itsy-Bitsy Spider” at the top of her lungs.

  To her surprise, they greeted Graham by name, and like Edith and Rory, they were charmed by him as well.

  “I tried your hollandaise sauce recipe, Graham! My bridge club loved it!”

  “Took your advice and decided to give yank football a go! Created a dream-team fantasy football team!”

  “You were right about my cologne not matching my personality. I switched it to your recommendation, and my girlfriend was all over me!”

  “Someone’s been busy making friends,” Annabelle remarked snidely and Graham flashed her a charming smile.

  “Why do you sound so surprised? I’m a people person, Doc.”

  “Mmm, it sounds more like Stockholm Syndrome to me, Mr. Rogers.”

  “Are you trying to say I’m not growing on you, Doc?”

  “Yes, like a fungus,” Annabelle deadpanned, to which Graham rudely snorted, “I guesss you aiiight. Thanks, by the way.”

  Graham looked down at her, but she avoided his gaze, choosing to focus instead on the house in the near
distance.

  “For what?”

  “Being good with Rory. You’re a natural with her. I knew parenting would be hard work, and I just pray that I’m getting it right. Some days, I ace it and can walk around like Ali after defeating Frazier. Other days, I’m Frazier looking up at Ali and wishing my baby arrived with an instruction manual.” Annabelle wrung her hands together. “I’m her only parent and can’t afford to mess up. I want her to grow up to be strong, independent, and make better choices than I did. To make sure she never makes my mistakes and to always keep her safe.” She wrapped her hands around her middle and tried to shake away the negative thoughts. “If anything ever happened to her…”

  The anguish in her voice sliced through Graham like a machete. “No harm will come to her or you, Annabelle. I promise.”

  “Davis and his family can never know about her!” Annabelle forced herself to take steadying deep breaths to squelch the rising panic and fear of such an occurrence. “He would try to take her from me! I’ll kill…Excuse me—”

  Annabelle tried to slide away, but Graham grabbed her hand and held it after securing Rory’s legs with his other hand. “Don’t.”

  His harshly uttered command gave Annabelle pause, and she tried to focus on that instead of the sparks his touch ignited, or how warm, comforting and perfect his large hand felt intertwined with hers. He held it like he had the right to, no hesitation and oozing confidence that she’d catch up and come to the same conclusion as well.

  “Don’t run from me, Doc. I’m not your enemy nor would I ever hurt you or Rory. I’m not him, Annabelle,” Graham said quietly as he squeezed her hand then brought it up to his lips. He kissed her fingers, and the brush of his supple lips and goatee on her flesh made Annabelle shiver with need. “You have my word.”

  Annabelle was startled by his confession. “I never said you were. You don’t have to convince me of that, Graham. If you were anything like that, you would never have helped Edith or Misha.”

  “Then why are you avoiding me?” Graham threw back at her. “You get ghost as soon as the opportunity presents itself.” He nudged her playfully. “Is it my breath? Or do I smell?”