by Robyn Grady
Now he was a name in Massachusetts joint venture public works. Head of Hayes Developments, a construction company second in size and influence only to her father’s in this state. The skinny boy had grown into an educated successful businessman on the rise.
Boston’s most eligible bachelor.
While her dad and Griffin caught up, Vanessa stole a canapé from a passing waiter’s tray, popped it in her mouth, checked things out. She’d accompanied her father to a few of these evenings. Good work was done. Money raised for hospitals, for disaster relief, for schools. Tonight’s beneficiary was cancer research, a cause close to her heart.
Rounding up his conversation with her dad, Griffin spoke to Vanessa again. “Do you like auctions, Nessa?”
Vanessa hesitated. No one called her Nessa anymore, except her dad. But she didn’t mind. Somehow it sounded right.
He’d asked about auctions.
“Depends what’s on offer?”
“How about an evening with the host?” her father cut in, swirling the ice in his tumbler of sparkling water. “Every girl in this room is waiting for that one.”
“Yeah.” Looking sheepish, Griffin scratched his ear. “That was PR’s idea.”
As her lips twitched (poor baby), Vanessa made a show of studying the nearby lot displays. “I’ll check it out before bidding starts.”
“Griffin, why don’t you show Nessa what’s up for grabs? I see Emmet Waldren over there with some guys from my union days.” Her father clapped Griffin on the back as he headed off. “Take care of her, son.”
Vanessa loved her dad to bits but, while she would always be Ronan’s daughter, she wasn’t a child anymore.
“You don’t have to babysit me, Griffin.”
But he’d already taken her free arm, and with a confidence that left her no room to argue. Or was that resist?
They strolled by displays highlighting each auction item. An original Baccarat perfume bottle formerly owned by a legendary French actress. Original designer jewelry that made Vanessa drool. An audience with a Milan fashion designer. She would keep her eye on that one.
Griffin stopped at a display depicting an island paradise, but he didn’t release her arm and Vanessa didn’t try to slip free. She had dated some memorable men. But there was something different about Griffin…a subtle, uninterrupted vibe that radiated out, burrowed in and made her glow.
As Vanessa stole a lingering glance at his profile, she wondered. How many women had Griffin been with? Was he seeing anyone now? Not that she was interested. With a new season storyboard past due and factory refurbishments underway and ongoing talks with her website designer… Life was already way too busy.
“How about a trip to the Mediterranean kingdom of Teirenias?”
Vanessa considered the name. “I know I should have heard of it…”
“It’s an exclusive twin island state steeped in myth. A college graduate from my hometown ended up there on a working holiday. She became the royal prince’s private maid for a week.”
Vanessa didn’t hide her grin. “Or maybe she has a good imagination.”
“An ancient fertility goddess brought them together…if you believe the story.”
The way Griffin was smiling at her, his lidded gaze searching hers as if he knew her every thought, past as well as present… She felt exposed, stripped bare. But not in a bad way. Not a bad way at all.
Feeling her cheeks pink again, Vanessa grabbed another canapé and then just put it out there.
“There’s a bigger crowd checking out that date with Boston’s most eligible bachelor.”
He tried on a modest grin. “I’ll never live that down.”
“Uh-huh. So embarrassing standing up on a platform while females throw crazy offers all over the place.”
“If it’s so easy, I can speak with my team. How about a date with Boston’s most eligible bachelorette?”
Vanessa choked on the canapé. “Me?” She’d been known for her adventurous bent in college days. But now? “I’m really a behind the scenes girl.”
“The one who gets things done.”
She thought about it and nodded. Sure. “Must have inherited it from my dad.”
“Inherited his business brain, too.”
“Definitely not for construction.”
“For fashion.”
She smiled. Her father would’ve given him the lowdown. “Fashion for every body.”
“Catchy slogan.”
“It’s been a work in progress pretty much all my life.”
No need to go into the personal struggle behind that phrase. Some people turned to drink, turned to drugs, when they felt sad or lost or, yeah, embarrassed. Vanessa turned to food. But she’d learned to accept herself…her feelings, her body. The lot.
Pretty much.
“You were eight the last time we met,” Griffin said as they strolled again. “Your dad was having trouble with his reel and you’d lost a saddle.”
She thought back, remembered. Right. “For my favorite horse. Ten inches tall, white with a long blue tail.”
“You lost the saddle in sand not far from the lake cottage your family rented that summer.”
“Our last summer…”
His hold on her arm tightened a little and his voice lowered. “Ronan told me about your mom. About her illness. I’m sorry, Nessa.”
She had some vivid memories of her mom…helping her dress her dolls in their different outfits, making fudge double-chocolate brownies together for picnics. Sometimes, all these years later, she’d find herself floating away, remembering, wanting to stay in the perfect past.
“The saddle…” Griffin went on as they passed more auction lots, “You promised me a silver dollar if I found it. I searched the beach, those dunes, for weeks.”
Vanessa winced. Her early childhood had been so cruisy compared to his. “Wish I’d known. I would’ve given you two dollars.” Five.
He looked amused. “I didn’t do it for the money.”
Another couple joined them, and another. The entire time, Griffin never let go of her arm. Because her father had asked him to take care of her? Or because he enjoyed the contact, maybe as much as she did. What girl wouldn’t?
Simply put, Griffin was over-the-top yum. She’d forgotten about her school girl crush, the way he’d made her blush.
Or, she had until tonight.
Chapter 3
As a boy, Griffin had intrigued her.
As a man, he couldn’t be outdone.
At the charity event, Vanessa hadn’t bid on Boston’s Most Eligible Bachelor. Holding back had been so worth the looks Griffin had slid her way from the stage while dozens of eager women had kept the offers flying.
When the hammer had come down, a determined cougar from Denver sashayed up in her slinky silver evening gown and, coiling her arms around Griffin’s neck, had planted a full-on kiss smack on the mouth. Vanessa had laughed along with the rest. Funny, right? The winner had let everyone know she planned to get her money’s worth. And while the media didn’t paint Griffin as a playboy, nor was he known for his halo.
Good luck to them both. She didn’t exactly plan on seeing ‘the man of the moment’ again anytime soon.
But Griffin had other plans.
Wednesday the following week, her VP, Jacinta Burrows, had knocked on Vanessa’s office door.
“Delivery for you in Reception.”
Vanessa had glanced up from a sketch she’d been agonizing over for hours. Her new designer’s vision for the fall didn’t convince her. It failed to convey VeeTee Fashion’s mission, which was not to suck up to society’s crazy pants ideal of ‘normal’ and/or ‘beauty’.
She and the designer had a meeting in ten minutes to figure out ‘where to from here’. So, “Unless it’s urgent―”
“Yeah. You need to come see this now.”
Vanessa set her pencil aside and flexed her fingers while the other woman leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. “Jace? You’re grinni
ng like the time you discovered inca berry chilli chocolate.”
“This is something just as special.”
Vanessa wandered out. The delivery man held a saddle―the kind that belonged on a horse. A blue saddle encrusted with rhinestones and other ‘jewels’.
Jace stood beside her boss, eyebrow cocked. “This makes sense to you, right?”
Grinning from ear to ear, Vanessa was already reading an attached personal note written in strong sweeping strokes.
I don’t give in.
She laughed and nodded. “It makes perfect sense.”
Back in the office, with the saddle glittering away on top of her desk, Vanessa tracked down Griffin’s business number.
“I owe you a silver dollar,” she said when he picked up.
A sexy chuckle rolled down the line. “Sorry. The price has gone up.”
She sat back and grinned. “Because the saddle’s bigger?”
“Uh-huh. Everyone’s grown up, including your pony with the long blue tail.”
“Hate to tell you, but I don’t have that horse anymore.”
“You don’t, huh?”
“It’s a really nice thought though.”
“I have another one.”
“Another saddle?”
“Another thought. You and I going out to grab something to eat.”
Vanessa’s stomach filled with butterflies a heartbeat before she winced. There were those sketches, that meeting, the fact that she had a mountain of work to get through by Monday…
“Casual,” he said. “Oysters and cocktails.” A pause. “You like oysters?”
“I love oysters.”
She imagined his smile, slow and on the brink of satisfied.
“Later, a comedy show,” he said, “followed by lobster rolls and live music.”
Vanessa dropped her forehead to the desk. Since that auction night, she’d thought about Griffin and his sultry brand of charm more than once. She’d imagined the next time they might meet. Her father must have his successful mentee over from time to time. But right now.
“I seriously have a hundred hours to get through before the week’s done.”
“Trust me. The work never goes away.”
She was shaking her head. Griffin had called it himself. Vanessa Toomey was a person who got things done. That meant putting effort first every time.
But then the saddle caught her eye again…all that bling and planning and absolute cuteness. And an image popped into her head―an eleven-year-old boy searching day and night through the sand dunes.
I don’t give in.
*
Griffin arrived at her door that night wearing jeans and a pale blue shirt rolled up at the cuffs, unbuttoned at the throat. Standing on her porch, with the light illuminating his tall obviously ripped frame, he looked even more impressive than he had decked out in a custom made tuxedo.
Hell, he looked hotter than any man on earth.
As the evening wound on, minutes evaporated into hours, and Vanessa kept reminding herself. Keep those feet on the ground, girl. But how often did a date go without a single hitch? Without even one awkward moment? They had so much stuff in common. Her father, businesses to run, memories of Point St. Claire.
And the sexual attraction?
It crackled. She could practically see the sparks.
They ended up at a bar in Kenmore Square, listening to live music while debating whether a man could really survive alone on Mars, if orange could ever be the new black, and which mortal force was stronger―greed or love.
Vanessa was stoked they agreed on that one.
But as the evening drew to a close, she imagined that age-old first date question hanging over their heads.
Would Griffin kiss her goodnight? And she wasn’t talking a friendly peck on the cheek.
Around one in the morning, Griffin drove her home. He walked her to the door and waited until she unlocked before confessing, “Don’t let this go to your head, but I had the best time tonight.”
She was blushing again and he obviously knew it, so she raised her shoulders, let them drop. “It’s what I do.”
His lips twitched before he curled a wave of hair away from her face and leaned in a little closer. “I think I’d like to do this again.”
“Oh, you do, huh?”
“There’s something we need to get clear first.”
“Sounds serious.”
“You decide.”
As Griffin closed the distance between them and his mouth captured hers, her bones dissolved. There was so much steam. All at once, so much want. Good that a strong warm hand was pressing on the small of her back or she would have melted into a puddle then and there at his feet.
And as his lips parted more and the kiss deepened into the next heart-pounding level, Vanessa made the decision before she knew there was a choice.
A divine eternity later when his lips gradually left hers, she kept her arms looped around his neck, to keep her balance as much as anything. Her head was spinning.
“So…” She siphoned in a breath that was laced with his masculine scent. “Wanna come in for coffee or something?”
“Yeah.” His lips grazed and circled hers. “I really do.”
Vanessa waited, her heart pounding, but when he didn’t run with it, she wondered. Was he worried that maybe, somehow, he would be taking advantage of the situation?
“Griffin, I’m over twenty-one, remember?”
“It’s just I have a better idea.”
His mouth was so close…so delicious and warm.
A better idea? “Not possible.”
She felt his other hand on her hip, kneading as he searched her eyes. “Come away with me for the weekend.”
Stop. Breathing. Now.
Sure they were getting on better than great. She’d asked him inside on a first date. A great big ‘first time ever’ for her.
But going away together? That was a whole other beast. Something held over for when things were more…well, yeah.
Serious.
She went with the other excuse.
“I really am up against it at work. I shouldn’t have taken tonight off.”
He only hummed against her lips and murmured, “I understand,” right before he kissed her again.
Deeper. Longer. Better. Her every cell began to sizzle then ignite. Blood transformed into molten mush.
When he finally broke the kiss, his lips stayed teasingly close. “Pick you up Friday night at seven?”
She sighed and nodded. “I’ll be ready by six.”
*
When Griffin collected Vanessa for their stolen weekend away, he wouldn’t say where they were going. He did, however, give her one of his simmering kisses at the door before taking her overnight bag. In the car, he plugged in some road trip tunes (Illy and Lukas Graham and Chainsmokers―the DJ duo not the deed) and headed north. As the Interstate miles rolled by, Vanessa got an idea where they’d end up.
They stopped for burgers and discussed which was more necessary―pickles or pimento cheese―and whether it was possible to divide by zero.
An hour on, back in the car, the ‘Welcome to Point St. Claire’ sign came into view. The weirdest feeling rippled through her. It’d been almost twenty years. Last time she was here, her mother was alive.
As the sign slid by, Vanessa cocked her head. Wondered again. No. She was sure that Griffin hadn’t mentioned his mother once over the course of their night out or during this drive.
But he was thirty plus years old. Grown men didn’t chat about their mommies. Still, Vanessa was curious.
She looked across at his profile. A smile was hooking this side of his mouth. His thumb was tapping the steering wheel in time to the song filtering through the speakers.
“I guess your mom doesn’t need to run that bait shop anymore.”
He darted a look at her like she’d asked if he’d remembered to pack underwear.
“She doesn’t need to.” He concentrated on the r
oad again. “I bought her a nice place in the center of town close to everything.”
Vanessa waited a few beats before asking what might have been obvious.
She hoped not.
“Are we, ah, staying with your mom?”
He laughed. “No. We’re not staying with my mom.
Vanessa exhaled but added, “Not that I don’t want to meet her.”
She expected him to say, something like, I know Mom would love to meet you, too. But he didn’t. And that lazy smile was gone. His thumb wasn’t tapping anymore, either.
Vanessa shrunk into her seat.
She’d imagined Griffin and his mother would’ve been tight.
Guess she was wrong.
*
By the time they turned into the driveway of an impressive looking house on the lake, the moon was high and Vanessa was filled with all kinds of emotion. Like a movie reel playing in her head, she remembered the street, the lulling draw of the water. In her mind she heard seagulls cry overhead, felt summer’s kiss on her cheeks.
The final time she and her family had said goodbye to Point St. Claire―the day her mother had fallen ill―her mom had said something about summers…about last summers…
What had it been?
Vanessa blinked and then looked across. In the shadows, Griffin was studying her, a line cut between his brows. She wanted to explain: she was trying to remember something that suddenly seemed important.
But then he reached across, held her hand.
“I’m not going to pounce on you, Nessa.”
She grinned and cocked a brow. “Thanks. Good to know.”
He angled more toward her. “So, what were you thinking?”
She tried to put a finger on it. “How fast time passes. How memories get to be like a dream you can’t quite remember once you wake up.” Her nose started to sting, so she laughed to shake it off. “Weird.”
But she could tell from his eyes. Griffin understood.
“I get like that every time I come back. The memories. The ghosts.” His gaze had drifted off. Now he refocused. “Do you want to see the place where you used to stay?”
Was she ready for that?
“I don’t think so. Not this trip.”
