“Are you even hungry? Your lunch wasn’t that long ago.”
“I can always eat,” he assured her, folding the last of the bags to stash them under the sink.
She moved into the living room and turned on the television. Her familiarity with the remote told him she’d probably spent TV time with his Uncle. While she flipped through the channels, he divided the chicken salad croissant onto two plates, grabbed a bag of chips, and carried everything to the couch along with his own H2O. He’d seriously debated that choice after the coffee shop, but decided the notion of some love potion being in the town’s water was too loony to consider past a joking thought.
Jenny thanked him when he handed her a plate, and then gestured with the remote. “Frank has some episodes of Last Man Standing DVR’d. How does that sound?”
“Never heard of it.”
“Do you like Tim Allen?”
“Saw his comedy show in New York once—he’s funny.”
“That a yes?”
He settled onto the opposite corner of the couch with his plate. “Sure, turn it on.”
They spent the next hour laughing with each other, and at the characters on the show. When the third episode came to an end, Jenny held up the remote and raised her eyebrows.
“One more?”
“I’m game if you are, but first I’d like dessert.” Grant gathered their empty dishes from the coffee table and carried them to the sink. Jenny shifted to face the kitchen as he lifted the white bag. “This puppy’s been calling my name since you handed it over. Want to split it?”
“I’m not sharing mine in the morning,” she warned.
“Not even if I show up at your door?”
She smiled. “It’ll be gone before you even think about opening your eyes.”
“I might just surprise you.”
“Doubt it.”
“We’ll see. I’m making coffee, too—you want some?” At her agreement, he let the water run in the pot while taking down two mugs. Jenny folded her arms across the back of the couch and rested her chin as she watched him start the coffee. Grant was enjoying their bantering, happy she seemed to have relaxed in his company.
“You’re from New York, right?” she asked. “How’d you end up with an apartment building in Redemption, Wisconsin of all places? Was it because of Frank?”
He took out a knife to split the cinnamon roll before warming it. “I grew up here until we moved when I was sixteen. I knew the previous owner and got a good deal on the place because it needed lots of work.”
“I remember it before it was renovated. Lots of work is putting it mildly. Do you have other properties as well?”
“Not since the market took a nose-dive.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. I managed to get out before I lost everything, but just barely. A lot of others weren’t so lucky.”
“Is that why you moved out here instead of hiring a new apartment manager?”
Grant put the plates in the microwave and checked the coffee. The appliance gurgled, signaling the end of the brew cycle, so he set the microwave timer for thirty seconds and hit start. “My lease was almost up on my New York apartment, and I’d been thinking about making a change. When Uncle Frank had his heart attack and told me he wanted to retire, it seemed like a sign.”
He held up the coffee pot before pouring. “Cream, sugar?”
“I’ll make my own.” She joined him in the kitchen as the microwave beeped. “Frank has hot chocolate that I usually add to sweeten mine.”
She opened the cupboard, then paused to tilt her head up. Grant watched her raise on her tiptoes to stretch for the top shelf before he remembered he’d done some rearranging. Since he didn’t normally drink hot chocolate, he’d moved it out of his way.
“Here, I’ll get it.” He surged forward and reached above her to grab the canister.
Momentum brought his body up against hers, aligned from his hips to his chest. With her slim form practically sandwiched between him and the counter, he felt her stiffen in the space of a heartbeat.
After the past hour of shared laughter and conversation, he’d completely forgotten about her background, but her reaction brought it back. It took everything he had to not jerk away. He took a breath, secured the can of chocolate powder, and nonchalantly eased back while handing it over. Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, he removed the cinnamon roll halves from the microwave and scooped up his coffee mug, two forks and napkins.
“I’ve got your plate when you’re done making your latte, or whatever you call that.”
She hadn’t said a word, and he snuck a glance back on his way around the island counter to the couch. Their gazes met for a split second before she averted her eyes and busied herself scooping powder into the mug he’d set out for her. The spoon clinked against the ceramic mug as she stirred, then he heard it drop into the sink.
Jenny sat down as he shoveled in his first bite of cinnamon roll. The most delicious sensations swamped his taste buds.
“Oh my God,” he moaned. “You’re right—this is worth getting up early for.”
Her told-you-so smile eased any lingering tension over their physical contact in the kitchen. For her it seemed, anyway. His level of awareness rose the longer he was around her. Watching her take a small bite of pastry and then lick melted frosting from her lips didn’t help. It was hard not to think about kissing the gooey sweetness off her mouth.
No, it was easy to think about it, hard to keep from leaning over to do it.
Grant sat forward for a gulp of coffee and jabbed the play button on the remote. All through the next episode, he barely concentrated on the comedy, even though he made sure to laugh when the audience did.
Part of him wanted to let her know he knew about Roy and see if they could move beyond her past.
The other part told him if he opened his mouth, she would run and never look back. It was too soon. She wasn’t even divorced yet.
“Really? Not even a smile on that one?”
Jenny’s disbelieving question brought Grant back to the here and now. He glanced at her, then the TV. “Sorry—I was thinking about something.”
“Let me rewind it.”
She scooted sideways across the cushions to reach the remote in front of him on the coffee table, bouncing a bit as she settled. Her thigh rested so close to his, he swore he felt her heat through both their jeans. Cinnamon inundated his senses, though common sense told him it was the dessert they’d split, not her enticing scent.
She’d taken the work ponytail out, so her hair cascaded over her back and shoulder when she leaned forward, elbows braced on her knees. He noticed there were subtle lighter streaks throughout and fought the urge to reach up and brush the shiny strands back so he could see her face.
Her head swiveled toward him, and she grinned while reaching out a hand to nudge his leg. “Hey, you missed it again.”
Her light touch burned as if they were skin on skin. To hell with it, he thought, and covered her hand with his while sitting forward to lock his gaze with hers. She went completely still. Inside him, electricity sparked, jolting along every nerve ending in his body.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
Chapter 7
Humor evaporated and Jenny’s eyes widened. Heart pounding dizzyingly loud, she pulled her hand free of Grant’s. He let her.
“W-what?”
“You heard me.”
Yes she had. The bold statement echoed in her head. Even more shocking was the anticipation adding fuel to her revving pulse.
I’m going to kiss you.
And yet he didn’t advance so much as an inch. She swallowed hard, completely captivated by the intensity in his unwavering brown gaze.
“Why would you—I mean, I didn’t...” Her gaze darted down to where she’d unconsciously touched his leg and jerked up again. “That wasn’t—”
“I know.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw his hand coming toward her face and in
stinctively flinched away. The tightening of his jaw soured the growing excitement in her stomach, but all he did was lower his arm.
Common sense should’ve set her on her feet, running for the door. Instead she sat there, like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to fly away despite the certainty of being burned. Or at the very least, singed.
Finally, he shifted his upper body forward, slowly, giving her even more time to avoid the kiss he’d declared. His careful approach strengthened a growing sense of trust.
Expectancy built as the seconds ticked by. Jenny realized she was holding her breath when she became lightheaded and had to draw another.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Her voice seemed to have deserted her, but she managed a nod and self-conscious smile. It had been years since the last time she’d wanted a man to kiss her, and suddenly she didn’t want to wait any longer.
Closing her eyes, she bridged the gap and pressed her mouth to his.
Either surprise or her forward momentum rocked him back, but a second later, he leaned into the kiss. His lips were firm, moving across hers with confidence, yet somehow still soft and undemanding. It was nowhere near what she’d expected, and at the same time, better than she could’ve imagined. When she’d been with Roy—
No! Don’t think of him. Not now.
But the thoughts crowded in. About how he’d only kissed her when he felt like it, and never gentle like this. About how sex had always been for his satisfaction, never hers. Ever. Even before they’d been married. Something told her Grant wouldn’t be so selfish.
That’s right—Grant. You’re kissing Grant. Think about him.
Angling her head, she tentatively parted her lips—
Except he chose that moment to pull back. “Still okay?”
“Yes.” She opened her eyes to his steady regard.
“You sure? Because it felt like I lost you there.”
Damn Roy. He was still ruining things in her life.
She dropped her gaze to Grant’s mouth—that amazing kissable mouth—before dipping her chin to focus on the coffee table. Grant’s hand rose again, but this time she was able to control her auto-recoil.
He brushed her hair back and lightly rested his hand on her shoulder. Jenny took a deep breath, gathering the courage to face him. When she did, the concern and understanding in his eyes nearly undid her. Her eyes stung, and a lump formed in her throat as she experienced another first—the need to tell someone about what she’d endured.
Not someone. Grant.
Fear kept the words locked deep inside. Fear that telling him everything would turn concern to pity. Or contempt. And it would. Because who stayed in a marriage for five years when their husband beat them? Dr. Laura at the women’s shelter had insisted her husband’s actions weren’t her fault; that she shouldn’t blame herself, and there was nothing wrong with her, but she still had her doubts.
How could Grant respect her when she didn’t even respect herself?
If she told him how weak and pathetic she’d been, he may not want to see her again. Or kiss her. And now that she’d gotten a tiny taste of gentleness, of feeling like she was special, she wanted more.
No, better to keep quiet about an abusive husband. Forge ahead as if everything were fine. Normal.
“I’m right here,” she assured Grant. An encouraging smile came easier than she expected. “Waiting.”
His lashes lowered to half-mast; his gaze zeroed in on her lips. The fire in his eyes told her this kiss would be different. She acknowledged a twinge of apprehension, and then forced the unwanted emotion from her mind when he threaded his fingers through her hair to draw her forward. This kiss was hers, and she refused to tarnish it with bad memories of the past.
He slanted his mouth over hers, seeking entry that she granted. Control was all his, because after years of oppression, she had no clue how to lead in the dance between his tongue and hers. Even the thought of taking charge sent a shimmer of anxiety along her spine, and she gladly surrendered to the command he mastered so well.
Not once did she feel threatened or vulnerable to his superior strength. Somewhere in the heat of the kiss, she became aware of the desire to be closer. To feel his arms around her and the hard wall of his chest against hers. But except for the gentle massage of his hand at her nape, and the intoxicating give and take of his mouth, he didn’t crowd her at all. It became apparent closer was one move she was going to have to make all on her own.
Baby steps.
She flattened one trembling hand against his chest, intending to ease her way up, only to pause at the rapid thud of his heart against her palm. His breath rasped a little louder, just like hers. Evidence of the affect their kiss had on him eased her nervousness and sent her hand skimming to the solid bulk of his shoulder.
His soft groan of approval was cut short by a loud knock on the apartment door. As if caught doing something wrong, Jenny jerked back. A lot less jumpy, Grant sighed at the interruption, withdrawing his hand with obvious reluctance.
Another knock echoed through the silent apartment. Not even the TV made noise, the sitcom episode having ended sometime during their kiss. The abrupt return to reality was a grim reminder of why she’d accepted his invite in the first place, and her gaze darted toward the source of the disruption before shifting toward the windows.
Roy’s Charger had been in the parking lot earlier when she’d helped Grant with his purchases and the curtains were wide open. Had he seen her in here? Had he seen them kiss? She raised her hand to her sensitive lips. Divorce final tomorrow or not, Roy had always gone ballistic if she even appeared to look at another man.
Grant’s muttered curse drew her attention as he strode across the room to answer the door. Jenny surged to her feet, arm outstretched to stop him, but unable to force the words of caution out before he stood face to face with the knocker.
Nadine Hansen’s voice, coupled with a glimpse of sophisticated business attire left Jenny a little weak in the knees. Their words were muffled, but she made out introductions and Grant’s explanation about Frank.
She moved around the couch, and Nadine hesitated when she saw Jenny. Her gaze volleyed between her and Grant before she continued. “It wouldn’t be such a big deal, and I would’ve waited until morning, but there’s more than one out and it’s really dark up there.”
“What’s the matter?” Jenny asked as she approached.
“Some lights on the second floor are burned out,” Grant explained. “It’ll only take me a couple minutes to change them if you want to wait here?”
“I should get going anyway, so I’ll just come with,” Jenny said. Then she could walk to her door with Nadine in company. She hadn’t wanted to ask Grant to walk her ‘home,’ and the kiss would’ve made the request even more awkward, as if they’d been on a date, but she hadn’t wanted to be alone, either.
Grant motioned her ahead of him. “Let me grab a ladder and some bulbs from the storeroom, and I’ll meet you ladies up there. I’ll double check the breaker while I’m at it.”
While Grant gathered supplies, Nadine linked her arm through Jenny’s and led her toward the stairs. “I’m so sorry. Did I interrupt something with the new guy?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
A little taken aback by the blond’s sudden closeness, Jenny ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward to hide the heat flaming in her cheeks. “Of course not.”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that idea,” Nadine said. “You deserve some fun, and he is one fine-looking hunk of man. I say go for it.”
She glanced back to see Grant carrying the ladder toward them with ease. Nadine was right about one thing—he was fine. More than fine. But even after the cinnamon and coffee flavored kisses in his apartment, she didn’t expect things to go further. Heck, it’d taken her five years to work up the courage to escape an abusive husband; things with Grant weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
“Wasn’t the breaker,” he said, moving ah
ead of them up the shadowed stairway.
Nadine jostled Jenny with her elbow. “Check out that butt.”
“Shut up,” she hissed, pushing Nadine’s arm away.
Nadine laughed softly at Jenny’s self-conscious smile, but thankfully didn’t say more. At the top of the stairs, Grant peered down the dim hallway, looking for the first light. When he walked forward, Jenny heard a muted crunch from under his boot.
“What the heck?” he muttered.
“Was that glass?” Nadine asked. She moved forward to check out the damage.
“I think so,” he replied. “Maybe the bulb exploded?”
“That’s strange,” Nadine said.
Or it was broken on purpose.
The chilling thought made Jenny hug her arms to her stomach. She glanced back and forth along the hall, that one glimpse of Roy earlier bringing out all kinds of paranoid now. Anxiety eased her closer to Grant and Nadine.
He climbed the ladder, neck craned to see the ceiling. After another muttered curse, he joined them back on the ground. “Bulb’s definitely broken. I’m going to have to cut the power to get it out safely. The hallways are on separate breakers, so if you two want to head to your apartments, I’ll get this taken care of and cleaned up. I’m going to need a flashlight anyway.”
“Okay, thanks,” Nadine said by way of agreement. “And it was nice to meet you, Grant. We’ll see you around.”
“You, too. Have a good night.”
Grant turned to Jenny as Nadine moved down the hall toward her apartment, the opposite direction of Jenny’s. The realtor had almost reached her doorway when another crunch sounded in the quiet hall.
“Ah...Grant? This one’s broken, too.”
Grant grabbed the ladder and went to examine that socket. “Are there any kids on this floor?”
“A couple,” Nadine confirmed. “But they’re all younger. Too young for vandalism like this, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Jenny had followed them instead of going to her own place. She was afraid she knew exactly who was responsible, but didn’t say a word. If it’d happened tomorrow, after the ink had dried and her divorce was one-hundred percent completely final, she’d voice her suspicion and call Sheriff Chase Lowell herself. But today, she wasn’t willing to risk anything holding up the hearing in the morning.
Hold On To Me (Welcome To Redemption) Page 6
