The Name of the Game

by Jennifer Dawson

  “Hello, Gracie, it’s James.” His deep voice rumbled over the line and her whole body broke out in goose bumps.

  Her gaze flew to Maddie, who watched her with a big question mark written across her forehead. Gracie swung around and put her hand on the counter to brace herself as she remembered what she’d done this morning while thinking about the last time the professor kissed her.

  “Did I lose you already?” he asked. Oh man, when had he started sounding like pure sex?

  “No,” she squeaked and then cleared her throat. “I’m here. Are you looking for Sam?”

  “I’m looking for you.”

  Surprise raced through her. In all this time, he’d never called and she’d never expected him to, regardless of how hot their kisses were. He’d made himself clear and she knew how disciplined he was.

  She could feel Maddie’s eyes burning a hole in her back. Determined to play it cool, she asked, “How may I help you?”

  “Let me guess—you’re not alone?”

  “That’s correct.”

  There was a pause over the line. “Is my sister there?”

  “Yes.” Her throat had gone bone-dry. When was the last time she’d been this nervous talking to a man? She thought back . . . um, never.

  He chuckled and it about seared her through the phone. “Then I’ll make this quick. Shane told me you’ll be in Chicago to deliver a cake to the mayor’s chief of staff.”

  “Correct.”

  “On Friday, two weeks from now?”

  “Yes.” She felt like an idiot. Where was he going with this? She honestly had no idea. Maybe he wanted her to do a cake for some professor thing.

  “What time is your delivery?”

  “Three o’clock.”

  “Would you like to have dinner after?”

  Was he asking her on a date? Her fuzzy brain, shocked at hearing his voice, found it difficult to string together coherent thoughts. “With who?”

  He outright laughed now. “With me.”

  She gripped the counter. Yes. Yes. Yes. “But . . . why?”

  “Because I can’t stop thinking about you. No matter how hard I try, or how many arguments I make about what a bad idea it is.”

  “It is a bad idea.” A terrible idea, but the more she’d thought about him, the more she knew she had to find a way to get him out of her system.

  “I agree. Are we on for dinner then?”

  This had disaster written all over it. Her relationship with her friends. The way he refused to eat sugar. That she’d never get rid of him. And someday she’d watch him bring some other woman, who looked a lot like Lindsey Lord, over for Christmas. Her breath came fast. “Yes.”

  “Will you stay at my house instead of Shane and Cecilia’s?”

  She had a thousand questions and couldn’t ask any of them with Maddie listening to every word. What about sex? Yes, she’d propositioned him, but that was before he’d kissed her and blown all her preconceived notions about him out of the water. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You can stay in my spare bedroom. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

  “That doesn’t seem smart.” God, she cursed having to answer this call now while stuck with the ability to only deliver vague responses.

  “Maybe not, but I was hoping I could persuade you to spend Saturday with Declan and me.”

  She could only blink down at her hardwood floors. He wanted her to spend the day with him? And his cousin? Her head spun. This was the last thing she’d predicted when she woke up this morning. “I don’t know.”

  “If you stay with Shane and Cecilia, I’ll have to come pick you up. Which is fine by me, but you do understand we’ll suffer a lot of questions, and every person we know will find out before we even get in the car and drive away.”

  He played dirty. Damn him. She sighed. “Fine. As long as there’s a separate . . .” With Maddie behind her she couldn’t say bedroom without raising suspicion, so she settled for a less meaningful word. “Area.”

  “Deal. Then it’s a date?”

  “Yes.” In a daze she hung up the phone.

  She had a date . . . with the professor.

  In the end, what to do about Gracie had been a spontaneous decision.

  James, who thought through every detail of his life with careful, methodical reason, wasn’t quite sure what had come over him. In his office at work, sitting at his desk, ready to work on his recent publication about body mass estimation from cranial variables. His research had been organized, his document open, fingers on the keyboard.

  The next thing he knew, twenty minutes had passed and he’d written the word the.

  Instead of working, he’d stared off into space, thinking about Gracie. Her mouth. The flash of her blue eyes when she was mad at him. Which was always. The way her body felt under his palms. And how he didn’t think he could live without touching her again. Without tasting her. He thought about what Jane and Anne had said. He either needed to take action or ask out the psych professor who had been tossing him signs so blatant they may as well have been in neon. The kind of woman he always dated.

  And there had been no contest. Every time he attempted to conjure up Alison’s face, she morphed into Gracie.

  Shane had mentioned in passing about Gracie coming to Chicago. James wanted to see her.

  No matter how he fought it, she was there, lurking in his thoughts. He was tired of fighting his attraction. It wasn’t working. Now that he’d kissed her, everything felt unfinished.

  He needed to take control of the situation and finish it.

  The idea had popped into his head and before he knew it, the phone was in his hand and he’d Googled her number.

  Five minutes later he had a date with the most wanted woman in Revival.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gracie rang the bell of James’s townhome and hoped she wouldn’t faint. This was it. In retrospect, agreeing to dinner tonight had been a stupid idea. She’d been up since five putting the finishing touches on the cake. Then she’d driven for hours to make the delivery on time. She was drained, exhausted, and sore.

  It had been worth it. The stress and adrenaline and frantic work had paid off because her cake was spectacular. One look at the happy mother and daughter told her she’d hit her mark. It came out exactly as she’d envisioned, clean and sophisticated enough for a fancy party, but with the sixteen-year-old’s wishes firmly in mind. When the girl had hugged her and whispered a reverent thanks, Gracie’s heart swelled.

  Gracie couldn’t be more proud of her accomplishment. Or more exhausted. Once the cake had been delivered, the adrenaline had seeped out of her, leaving her wanting to curl up in her bed and sleep for a week.

  But instead she was here for a date with the professor.

  If not for the nerves jumping in her stomach, she’d have fallen asleep on the front stoop. Luckily, she was too tired to contemplate how much she wanted to see him. Or how she’d ached for this day since he’d called her and asked her out. They’d only spoken one other time to go over the details of her arrival, and even though she’d been alone, she’d still been tongue-tied.

  Which frustrated and confused her.

  Before she could ruminate any further, James opened the door and her throat dried up.

  He looked gorgeous. His hair was slightly messy and he wasn’t wearing his glasses, so his green eyes seemed to hit her right in the solar plexus. In a pair of faded jeans, his broad shoulders filled out a blue T-shirt with a white police box on it and the words Trust Me, I’m the Doctor. Next to him she felt like a bedraggled mess.

  He smiled and held out a hand. “Can I take that for you?”

  She blinked and froze. Everything would change once she stepped over the threshold.

  James took the overnight bag from her hand and opened the door wider, gesturing her inside. “Come in, Gracie. I won’t bite.”

  She waited for the “unless you want me to” pun men normally made after comments like that, but thi
s was the professor, so of course it didn’t come. She swallowed hard, urging her feet to move.

  They stared at each other for several long moments before she finally cleared her throat and stepped inside. “Thank you for having me.”

  He grinned and her heart leapt in her chest. “My, aren’t we polite today.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m always polite . . . except to you.”

  The door clicked behind her as she entered the foyer.

  “I guess I’m a lucky man.”

  “Guess so.” Behind her she heard a thump she assumed was her overnight bag.

  “I figure you’re exhausted.” He sounded close. Too close.

  She nodded.

  He pressed a hot, open palm to the center of her back, which burned through the cotton of her blue top, urging her forward, and she tried not to flinch in surprise. If he noticed her tension, and she was sure he did, he didn’t mention it. For all her tightness, he couldn’t have sounded more relaxed when he spoke.

  “Kick off your shoes and go put your feet up so you can relax. Give me your car keys. I have to run outside and put a permit on the dash.”

  “Okay.” She grabbed her keys from the front purse pocket where she always kept them and handed them to James.

  He led her to the couch and nestled her into the corner, running his hands down her jeans-covered legs to lift her feet onto the sofa. It was an intimate, caring gesture and she wasn’t sure why she let him handle her that way, other than it was nice. Unexpected.

  “How’d it go?” he asked.

  “Good,” she said, letting her head fall back against the soft cushion. She didn’t know if she was dead on her feet or he really had the most comfortable couch in the world. “I have pictures.”

  “I’ll check them out when I get back, but for now, rest. I won’t be but a minute.”

  And then he was gone.

  She glanced around the room. His house was so warm and open, nothing like the man himself. Was that true? Or was his perceived coldness another layer of defense she put between them? She let her shoulders relax and her lashes drifted closed. She’d think about it later. For now, she’d sink into these lush, soft pillows and be thankful she could finally put her feet up.

  Her lids grew heavy.

  She yawned.

  Her body eased and she let her mind drift.

  “Gracie,” a man’s voice said from a distant, faraway place.

  “Gracie.”

  She snuggled deeper into the warm haven and mumbled, “Go away.”

  A deep chuckle pulled her into consciousness. “Come on, open up. I have something for you.”

  As the voice finally registered, she bolted straight up, instantly wide-awake. “Where am I?”

  “You fell asleep.” James sat on the couch next to her, the heat of his thigh pressing against her hip.

  She relaxed into the cushions. She didn’t remember drifting off. “How long was I out?”

  “About forty-five minutes.”

  She scrubbed at her eyes, belatedly aware she wore mascara and probably had smeared it all over her face. She must look a wreck. “I’m sorry, I don’t normally come into a person’s home and pass out.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m sure it’s been a long day. That’s why I got you something.”

  She blinked at him. He got her something? “What?”

  He jutted his chin toward the stairs. “It’s why I couldn’t let you sleep any longer. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  She licked her dry lips, and as though he was a mind reader he held out a chilled glass. “I figured you’d need this.”

  Grateful, she took the glass and drank. It was delicious. It tasted like water and lemon, but with a hint of something else. Refreshing and crisp. She downed the whole thing, then looked at him quizzically. “What’s in there?”

  “It’s infused with cucumbers and lemon. It boosts energy and helps flush toxins.”

  Instead of her normal churlishness when he spouted health-fanatic stuff, she couldn’t help but smile. Especially when it tasted surprisingly good. “It’s delicious, thank you.”

  Their eyes met. Locked.

  Heat filled the space between them.

  She soaked in his features. He might not drip testosterone like the men she normally dated, but he had a presence even more compelling.

  She swallowed, unable to look away. She wanted his mouth on hers. For weeks she’d been thinking about the way he kissed. Had barely been able to get it out of her mind.

  As if he read her thoughts, his gaze dipped to her lips, and those evergreen eyes darkened.

  Her lips parted in anticipation. Her breath caught.

  He shook his head, then stood, and disappointment washed over her.

  He held out an open palm. “Come on.”

  Her attention slipped to his T-shirt. What did a police box have to do with being a doctor? She pointed to his ridiculously impressive chest. “The doctor?”

  He laughed. “It’s from Doctor Who. Maddie gave it to me last Christmas.”

  “Who’s that?” She took his hand, and when his fingers curled around hers electricity shot up her arm.

  “It’s a sci-fi show about a time traveler who’s only known as the Doctor.” He tugged her upstairs. “We can watch it on Netflix if you want to check it out.”

  “Is it good?”

  “It’s awesome.” He came to a door and opened it. The bedroom was dimly lit, and soft, soothing music filled the air.

  Her heart sped up to a gallop and for one brief moment she thought he was about to take her to bed, but then a short woman in a white shirt and pants stepped out from another door. “I’m ready, Mr. James.”

  Confused, Gracie regarded him. “What is this?”

  “I thought you’d be tired and sore from your day, so I arranged a massage for you.” He gestured to the woman standing patiently by a table. “This is Rosa. She gives the best massages on the face of this earth. You’ll be in good hands for the next ninety minutes.”

  Openmouthed, Gracie could only gape at him. “You did this? For me?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged, frowning at her. “I thought you would like it.”

  She shook her head. “It’s too much.”

  “It’s not. I wanted to. Besides, I think our dating experiment will go better if you’re not dead on your feet.”

  She couldn’t believe he’d done this. She was stunned. Floored. She couldn’t be more surprised if he’d offered her diamonds. Hell, this was better than diamonds. It was too much. “I shouldn’t.”

  He cut her off. “Don’t deny me.”

  His words caused a tingle low in her belly. She bit her lip, then put a hand on his arm, hoping to convey her gratitude from this unexpected gesture. “Thank you. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  He rubbed his knuckles over her arm and she shivered. “Then you haven’t been pampered nearly enough in your life.”

  She’d never been pampered at all. Men normally focused on getting her naked, not taking care of her. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll enjoy yourself and let Rosa work her magic.” He pointed to the closed door. “The guest bath is through that door. It’s got a state-of-the-art steam shower and a heated Jacuzzi tub. Feel free to use either or both. I put your bag in there while you slept.”

  He’d thought of everything, and for the first time she found herself thinking maybe an analytical, overly prepared man wasn’t all bad. She was so overwhelmed with gratitude she wanted to raise to her tiptoes and kiss him softly on the lips, but didn’t dare. Instead she whispered, “Thank you, James.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice gruff. “Now go.”

  She went, turning herself over to Rosa.

  Two hours later Gracie wandered downstairs, her skin pink, damp curls around her face. Rosa had left a bit ago and James had been waiting for Gracie to appear. He laid t
he book he’d been reading across his stomach and smiled, trying not to wonder if she was naked under that big, fluffy robe. She shouldn’t look sexy, but of course this was Gracie they were talking about. The woman could make a burlap sack alluring.

  The bags under her eyes were gone. The fatigue that had pinched her face when she’d arrived had also eased. She looked fresh, her cheeks rosy. Makeup-free, her expression held an innocence and vulnerability he’d never seen on her before. She sank into the corner of his couch, farthest away from the club chair where he sat, and tucked her bare feet under her.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  “I feel excellent.” She smiled, all soft and warm. “I’m so relaxed, I’m Jell-O. You’re right; Rosa is a genius. Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I had a hunch you might, and a good massage never hurts after you’ve been working your ass off, as I’m sure you have been.”

  Gracie picked up the end of the tie of her robe and started to fiddle with the edges. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I wanted to.”

  She bit her bottom lip and her gaze flitted to his, then away. “Why?”

  He picked up the book and put it on the end table next to him. “I wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted to take care of you, because I’m guessing you don’t get that often. But I’m selfish too; I didn’t want you exhausted.” He decided to be bluntly honest. “Besides, if you’re going to be preoccupied thinking about a bed, I’d rather it not be because you’re dying to go to sleep.”

  “I see.” More fiddling with her robe. “So you’re not that much of a Boy Scout.”

  “Nope. Although I stand by my promise to be a complete gentleman.” He still wasn’t sure sex was a good idea, but when he’d asked her out he’d decided to stop pretending it wasn’t a possibility. Since the weekend of the engagement party, the dam had burst, and he wasn’t sure there was any stopping it. Or if he wanted to.

  She shifted restlessly on the couch as though she couldn’t find a comfortable spot. “You know this is a stupid idea.”