She huffed. “Just a touch.”
Shane chuckled. “I think that’s like being a touch pregnant, Auntie.”
“That’s not the point, boy,” the ornery old woman said. She’d had five husbands and put every one of them in the grave; in her mind that made her the expert on everything. “The point is it’s not right for a man to worry about calories.”
It continued to elude him why everyone gave a damn about his eating and exercise habits. He liked to take care of himself. In most circles this was a good thing. But not his family, who’d taken it as something they needed to fret about.
He sighed, shrugging at Evan, who’d finally moved his hand off Gracie’s chair. “Evan exercises way more than I do.”
“That’s for his job,” Aunt Cathy said. She lasered her intent focus on her youngest nephew. “You wouldn’t exercise if you didn’t have to, would you?”
“No, ma’am,” Evan said, all lazy and sly.
“See,” Aunt Cathy said, her expression rife with satisfaction.
His mother put a hand on her arm. “Let James be.”
Aunt Cathy shrugged and glowered at James. “I liked you better the other way, boy.”
Gracie’s head shot up and she zeroed in on him, the questions clear in her expression.
“Auntie, you know there’s no use trying to convince him to be a couch potato,” Shane said, rescuing James from a response.
Fortunately, the waitress came to the table to take their orders and James ignored the snort of derision when he ordered an egg-white omelet.
“You okay?” Maddie asked as they washed their hands in the restaurant’s bathroom.
“Sure, of course,” Gracie lied. She didn’t know what she was, but okay wasn’t it. She’d contemplated making an excuse and heading back to Revival this morning, but in the end she couldn’t do it. Running away was not her style and she wasn’t about to start because of the professor.
Her friend pressed. “You sure?” Maddie looked lovely in a white top and fitted jeans, her red hair loose. The green eyes she shared with her brothers shone with happiness and Gracie could barely stand to look at her. She was a breath of fresh air, in direct contrast to how Gracie felt after a horrible night’s sleep. The only things that gave her any satisfaction were the dark circles under James’s eyes, indicating he hadn’t slept any better than she had.
They’d suffered alone, but at least they’d both suffered.
Gracie beamed her brightest smile. “Of course, what could be wrong?”
“I don’t know, you’ve been quiet since yesterday and that’s not like you.”
Gracie shrugged. Under normal circumstances she’d confess everything to Maddie. Share every detail about the kiss and the emotional upheaval she currently internalized, but how could she? James was Maddie’s brother. Yes, Shane and Mitch routinely gave each other shit about sleeping with the other’s sister, but that was different. Gracie was pretty sure Cecilia and Maddie weren’t plopping down and comparing notes. Besides, the thought of some girl talking about Sam the way Gracie thought about James was enough to give her the heebie-jeebies. “I’m good. I’m just tired and ready to get back home.”
Maddie glanced at her in the mirror, her expression concentrated and speculative, but finally she shrugged. “Okay. But you’d talk to me if you needed to, wouldn’t you?”
“Don’t I always?” Questions about James burned in her chest. Namely, what exactly had Great Aunt Cathy meant when she’d said she liked James “the other way”? It was the second time a family member had alluded to James being different in the past, and Gracie was near desperate for answers. But of course she couldn’t ask.
Maddie’s face clouded. “Lately it doesn’t seem that way.”
That’s because I can’t stop thinking about your brother. Or the way his mouth felt against mine. Gracie turned away from the sink, dried her hands, then turned back to her friend. She gave her a big hug. “I’m fine, I promise.”
“Okay, as long as you’re sure.” Maddie squeezed back.
“I am. Come on, let’s get back.” She needed to figure out a way to get James alone and confront him about last night. She needed to make sure he understood that kiss had been a mistake. Last night, she’d lain awake in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, and had never been so grateful to be rejected. If he kissed like that, once would never be enough. Her plan only worked if it was a disappointment, which clearly wouldn’t be the case.
Sex with him could only lead to disaster.
As luck would have it, the gods were smiling upon her, and twenty minutes later James’s car and hers were the last ones in the valet line. Thankfully, Chicago’s busy streets didn’t allow for lingering, and everyone had said their good-byes and driven away. Gracie tapped her foot anxiously as Cecilia waved before climbing into their Mercedes. As soon as Shane and Cecilia had driven away Gracie took a big breath and turned to James. “About last night.”
Brow cocked, he cast those cool, evergreen eyes on her. “About last night.”
She cleared her throat, cursing the nerves jumping in her stomach. “I think we can agree it was a mistake.”
“Was it?” That voice, that smooth, steady voice.
“Yes.” There, she sounded quite certain.
His gaze dipped to her mouth. “Then why do I want it again?”
“Stupidity,” she quipped.
To her shock, he laughed. A real laugh that made his dimple flash and her heart skip a beat. “I’m not going to argue with you there.”
She stubbornly ignored how his hair ruffled in the breeze. “That’s a first.”
The smile stayed on his lips even after the laughter faded away. “I’ve discovered there are other ways to occupy you besides arguing.”
Heat. How could there be nothing but heat after all this time? She swallowed hard. “Don’t even joke.”
“Who’s joking?” He stepped closer and she had to look up at him.
What had possessed her to wear ballet flats today? Oh yeah, her feet had been killing her after all the time she’d spent in heels. And she hadn’t anticipated him towering over her. On the defensive, she said the first dumb thing that entered her brain. “Look, it was an okay kiss, but that’s as far as it goes.”
“Just okay, huh?” He appeared amused versus insulted.
“Yes,” she said, her throat Sahara-desert dry.
“Liar.”
“I am not.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “I didn’t need more than a kiss to know I was right about you all along.”
“That I’m a complete dud.” Again, with that bemused expression.
Why couldn’t he be normal and be insulted? “Exactly.”
His gaze slid over her. “Your pulse is pounding.”
The observation made her hyper aware of her rapidly beating heart. “Wrong.”
“Your pupils are dilated.”
With the sun, she could hardly blame the weather. She gave a nonchalant little shrug.
“And you can’t stop thinking about that kiss.”
She licked her parched lips. He was far too observant. “How can you be this much of an egomaniac when I’m rejecting you?”
He took another step forward. The brightness of the day made his eyes so bright and compelling she couldn’t look away. “I’ve had mediocre kisses before, and that wasn’t one of them.”
“Maybe you just lack experience.”
His expression flashed. “It’s so much easier for you that way, isn’t it? Pretending I’m some bumbling professor with patches on his tweed sports coat, who doesn’t know his way around a woman’s body. But you can’t quite buy it, can you?”
He was acting different. Or was he? She couldn’t tell. All she knew was she was confused and needed to get away from him, only her feet were glued to the sidewalk. “You’re delusional.”
“Is that so?”
He was so frustrating. He didn’t fight like a regular guy and it threw her off-balance. And she hated feeling off-
balance. One more mark against him on an already long list. So why did she want him so damn much? “Yes, that’s so.”
The valet sped to the curb with her SUV. She pointed to it. “There’s my car. See ya.”
With a sigh, he shook his head, grasped her arm, and pulled her close. His mouth covered hers and everything else ceased to exist.
It was a hard, demanding kiss. He took complete control, giving her no other option but to respond. She wanted to remain rigid, but her body had a mind of its own and her arms wound around his neck.
His tongue thrust, twining with hers. She plastered her chest against his, moaning into his mouth.
It was better than last night. More aggressive. She shuddered. Dirtier.
His mouth was so damn sure. So damn confident. Some deranged part of her had always been attracted to arrogance and his kiss was nothing but.
The noise of the traffic, the people on the street, the wind at her back, all faded into the background. She was lost. She rose to tiptoes, needing closer.
His arm tightened on her waist as his fingers tangled in her hair. His tongue rolled over hers, and she moaned, low and deep.
Then he pulled away, leaving her gasping for breath.
He ran a finger over her cheek and down the curve of her neck. He released her and she swayed. Steadying her, he flashed a wicked smile she’d never seen before, turned, and walked to his car, which had pulled behind hers while she’d been locked in his arms.
Both the valets watched them with smug, knowing expressions.
James pulled open the door of his sensible, dark gray sedan. “See ya.”
Then he was gone and she could only stare after his car in utter shock.
Chapter Nine
It had been a strange, crazy day.
Gracie hung up the phone, tapping her pen on the pad of paper in front of her. Including Ron Sorenson, she now had five orders from people who’d attended Shane and Cecilia’s engagement party.
Five. And it was only Monday.
She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. She had confidence in her baking abilities. She might not be a professionally trained pastry chef, but she’d worked her ass off perfecting her craft. When she’d made the cake for Shane and Cecilia’s party, all she’d been thinking about was her love for her friends and how she wanted to create something spectacular for them. Getting new clients from the party had never crossed her mind. If she had thought about it, she would have assumed all those Chicago people had some couture bakery they all patronized.
She put down the pen she’d been holding and took a deep breath. This was a huge deal. All the potential customers wanted elaborate designs that would stretch her skills as a baker. They’d asked for Web pages and portfolios. Tasting menus and cupcake flavor profiles. Things the good people of Revival never asked for, considering they’d known her since the day she was born. And they rarely wanted artistic. Sure, she did wedding cakes, but most of the town’s residents were conservative and liked the traditional, white-tiered cakes she could do in her sleep.
These cakes were for the high society, Chicago power-set Shane and Cecilia ran with. They expected perfection and grandeur. Ideas raced in Gracie’s head at the speed of light as butterflies danced a tango in her stomach.
Ron Sorenson’s daughter’s sweet sixteen party was in three weeks. Crazily enough, his wife had canceled the other cake she ordered because she’d loved Gracie’s so much.
She blew out a hard breath. Yes, five orders less than forty-eight hours after the event was a lot, but it was still only five cakes. The deliveries to Chicago would be a bit tricky, but it was doable. It would be fun. Something different that would stretch her as a baker before she returned to her regularly scheduled program.
In the town where she’d lived her whole life, she never got a chance to stretch her wings creatively. And that was fine with her for the most part. She was happy. She had a good life. She knew everyone and everyone knew her. She had a nice, comfortable business. She was busy but not crazy. She made a decent living that allowed her to cover her expenses and still save some money. She had her friends and Sam, and she loved them all fiercely. Yes, sometimes she wished she’d gone on some of the grand adventures she’d dreamed of when she was a girl. But that wasn’t the way her life turned out, and she wasn’t one to whine, especially when she was so fortunate.
But these orders would be a chance to do something new, to test the skills she’d honed but rarely had a chance to use. She did love a good challenge.
And, the cakes were going to Chicago.
She traced her lower lip with her fingertip, remembering James’s mouth on hers. How every cell sparked to life when he’d kissed her. He challenged her.
And scared her.
She hated that he was right. She couldn’t control him. He didn’t conform to her expected mold. While the men she dated dripped with testosterone, they were vanilla cupcakes with buttercream frosting and sprinkles, something she could handle in her sleep.
She gripped the counter and took a deep breath.
Had she started playing life safe? She thought of all the adventures she’d planned that had never happened. All the things she’d wanted to do that had faded into the background as real life took over.
When she’d graduated high school she’d never wanted to go to a traditional college. Instead, she’d longed to attend a program in Paris. As soon as she’d finished high school she’d started working with her mom, who’d baked for extra money. Gracie also took any odd job she could get her hands on, working two or three jobs at a time. Four years she’d worked her ass off, saving every cent she’d earned until she had the money to apply to the program, pay the tuition, and live for a year in the most beautiful city in the world. When she’d received her acceptance she’d been overcome with joy.
Two weeks later her mother had been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer.
Gracie had never claimed her spot. In fact, she’d never even replied, throwing every letter from the institution into the garbage, unopened. She’d turned her back on her dream and devoted all her energy to taking care of her mom, promising herself that after her mom was better she’d reapply. But slowly her savings dwindled away as she dipped into her stockpile to pay for the things insurance wouldn’t cover.
Her mom never got better.
Gracie used the last of the money to pay for her mother’s funeral, and never dreamed of Paris again.
Sam had tried to convince her to go, but even if the money weren’t gone, she wouldn’t leave him. Three years younger than she, he’d been finishing high school, running with a bad crowd, and getting into too much trouble. She needed to stay and make good on her mom’s dying wish of getting him straightened out.
She’d never broken her promise.
And she’d never regretted her decision.
She shook her head and straightened. She walked over to her industrial oven and turned the temperature to three fifty.
Maybe it was time for a little adventure. Break out of her comfort zone and do something different. Since that adventure wouldn’t include Professor James Donovan, fancy cakes for Chicago high society would have to do.
“So that was the infamous Gracie, huh?” Jane Conway asked, sitting across the large island in her open kitchen.
It had only taken her five minutes to ask. That must be a world record in restraint.
James gave his best friend a droll look. He’d met Jane his first year of college and he’d been trying, and failing, to keep things from her ever since. Despite his best intentions, she’d ferreted out information on Gracie shortly after he’d met her and had been bugging him ever since.
Still sweaty and hot from their long run, he took a sip of his Gatorade and tried not to remember the way Gracie’s mouth tasted. It had been an impulsive move, brought on by her insistence that he would be bad in bed and the kisses that they’d shared hadn’t meant anything. Despite what she believed, he wasn’t the prude she thought he was, and he i
tched to disabuse her of the notion. Now he paid the price.
The woman had proved to be as big a distraction as he’d feared. At times when he needed to concentrate he found himself plotting what he’d do to her. How he’d make her beg. Scream his name.
“Earth to professor.” Jane snapped her fingers in front of his face, yanking him out of his thoughts. “Damn, I knew you had it bad, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I had a thought about the Jane Doe we’ve been working on.” He did not have it bad for Gracie, she just . . . preoccupied him.
Jane grinned. “Oh really? What is it?”
His mind instantly blank, he blinked. Well, he hadn’t thought that through, had he?
He blamed his blond vixen.
Colleagues at the university, James and Jane often consulted on cases together and had recently been called by the Chicago police to help identify the remains of a woman found in the Chicago River. Several pieces of data had stumped them and they’d been working on solving the mystery of what happened to the woman.
Caught in his lie, he cleared his throat and said, “I’m still formulating my theory.”
Jane snorted. “Sure you are.”
In an effort to change the subject he focused on their late afternoon run, a Tuesday ritual left over from their college days when they’d shared an apartment. Jane was as much a fitness fanatic as he was, and they still trained together a couple times a week. “You knocked a minute off your time. At this rate you’ll break your marathon record without any problem.”
Jane took a large bowl of fruit from the fridge, a vintage-inspired red number that reminded James of a 1950s diner, and put it on the counter. “You’re avoiding.”
“You’re nosy,” he shot back.
He was saved when Anne, Jane’s partner, bounced into the kitchen. “Who’s nosy?”
James smiled at the petite strawberry blonde. “Your wife.”
“You promised to wait for me!” Anne sat on the stool next to him and grinned. “Gracie is seriously hot; I don’t blame you one bit for crushing on her.”
The Name of the Game Page 10
