“I’m only offering coffee, sugar.” The beautiful hazel eyes twinkled with amusement as the waitress winked at Cade.
When she turned to take her leave, Greyson couldn’t stop himself from calling out to her.
“Excuse me.”
She stopped, and turned back to him. “Yes?”
“Do you know Blaise Knight? Owner of Knight in Bloom two doors down?” Greyson could hardly believe the words that were tumbling out of his mouth. What the hell had possessed him to ask this complete stranger about a woman who was virtually a stranger to him as well?
“Yes, I do,” she answered hesitantly. “She’s my best friend.”
Now what, genius? You gonna ask her to ask Blaise if she likes you? “Have any advice for me to get her to go out with me? Help me out?” Greyson kicked Cade under the table when he heard the choked laugh. He wanted to be kicking himself, but took perverse pleasure at the pained grunt his friend let out.
“Mr. Steele, as I said, Blaise is my best friend, so if I helped you out, I’d essentially be betraying her, wouldn’t I?”
She talked about him! How else would the waitress know his name? Especially saying it that way. “I see you know my name. Let me properly introduce myself. I’m Greyson Steele. Oomph!” Greyson glared at his friend, reaching down and rubbing his aching shin. “And, this oaf is Cade Drake.”
She laughed softly. The woman really was quite beautiful, but Greyson had one woman on his mind. And apparently he was willing to make a fool out of himself for her.
“Ellie.” She met Greyson’s hand, shaking it firmly.
“Ellie? As in Ellie’s Diner?” Cade asked.
“That’s me,” she answered Cade with a smile before turning back to Greyson. “And, I still can’t help you, Mr. Steele.” She hesitated for a moment. “All I can do is try talking to her when she comes in for her usual dinner.”
A wide grin spread across Greyson’s face. “I think you may be seeing a lot of me, Ellie.”
“I should warn you that if you show up tonight after everything that has happened today, it may not be a good thing.”
Greyson nodded thoughtfully. “Got it. I really hope everything else here is as good as your coffee.”
“Everything here is delicious,” Ellie responded proudly.
“I just bet it is,” Cade said, looking Ellie up and down.
To her credit, Ellie didn’t seem too offended, and Greyson mentally gave the woman points for not pouring coffee over his friend’s head. He watched, captivated, as she leaned close to Cade and lowered her voice.
“You’d win that bet,” she said seductively, her voice an octave lower, and sexy as hell. “Zagat rated top five.”
Greyson laughed when she tapped her finger on Cade’s nose before straightening.
“Can I get you anything else?” The mischievous look on Ellie’s face made her look really young, and Greyson found himself having a hard time judging her age.
“Your number,” Cade answered confidently.
“Two coffees at two bucks, plus tax. That’ll be $5.44. Plus, a generous tip for being so understanding with you,” she smiled again. “Are those enough numbers for you?”
Greyson rumbled with highly amused laughter, slipping a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet. “Keep the change. You earned it putting up with him.”
“Thank you,” Ellie smirked, then glanced at Cade with a wink. “Have a nice day, sugar.”
With that, she walked away and Greyson watched his friend scowl after her.
“Have a nice day? That’s gotta be code for something, brother,” he grumped.
“Code? For what, man? Go fuck yourself?” Greyson lost his amusement, and frowned as he thought about it. Surely not, he thought sourly. Well, Ms. Blaise, challenge accepted. Greyson didn’t know why he was willing to work so hard to get this woman’s attention, but he would get it. He would get her.
“HONEY, THE CALLA lilies are beautiful.”
“Yes, but roses are traditional. You know Mother loves tradition.”
“But this is our wedding, dear. Not your mother’s.”
Blaise glanced back and forth between the couple as they argued. This passive aggressive ‘conversation’, not to mention the groom’s need to please his mother instead of his wife-to-be, made her wonder if they were really meant to be married.
“I understand that, dear, but my family is paying. We should be more sensitive to their wishes.”
The bride, Stacy, rolled her eyes dramatically. “I told you my family would pay. Then we could pick what we wanted.”
Steve, the groom-to-be, snorted rudely with laughter. “If your parents paid, we’d be going to the justice of the peace and you wouldn’t be here looking at wedding bouquets from the best florist in the business.”
Blaise couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the compliment. Sitting here while the two of them bitched at each other back and forth made her uncomfortable. Not to mention it did nothing to help her aversion to love.
“I could create a bouquet that features roses, but also has the beautiful calla lilies as well,” Blaise offered.
Both looked at Blaise in surprise, as though they forgot she was even there.
“That sounds good,” Stacy answered, glancing at her fiancé. “Would that be acceptable to your mother?”
Oh boy. Any more sarcasm dripping off that sentence, and I’d need to get a mop, Blaise mused silently.
“Fine, whatever,” Steve sighed. “Get samples or whatever they do around here. I’ll be waiting up front.”
Blaise raised a surprised eyebrow as Steve shoved out of his seat, and stalked up front. Good luck, Mer.
“I’m so sorry,” Stacy apologized, bringing Blaise’s attention back to her.
“It’s fine,” she smiled pleasantly. “I’ve been doing this for a while, so I’ve pretty much seen it all. Planning a wedding is a stressful time.”
“Are you married?”
Blaise let out a sharp laugh, much to both of the women’s surprise. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Um, no.”
“Good for you.” Stacy peered over her shoulder to see her husband to be blatantly flirting with the very uneasy Mer. “Just remember, you marry the man, you marry his family.” She looked back at Blaise and sighed wearily. “Can you give me examples of three different bouquets? All roses, all calla lilies and the mix you mentioned?”
“Of course. I can have something for you in,” Blaise checked her calendar, “two days. Is that good for you?”
“Sounds good. Maybe that’ll give me enough time to find a bakery.”
Oh, Ellie is going to kill me. “I can give you the name of an amazing baker. She owns a diner, not a bakery, but she makes the most incredible pies and cakes…”
“Ellie’s Diner!” Stacy interrupted excitedly. “Her baked goods are to die for!” Her excitement quickly faded, and she slumped back into her chair. “I doubt the Monster-in-law will allow me to go with someone who doesn’t own an actual bakery.”
Blaise chuckled wryly, reaching into her bag to grab one of Ellie’s cards. “Well, here’s her card just in case. She’s just as good at cooking as she is baking. That’s why she doesn’t have just a bakery.”
After a bit more information, complaining and passive aggressiveness, the young couple finally left.
“Six months,” Mer stated confidently.
Blaise laughed at the prediction. “You really think they’ll make it to the altar? You must be an optimist.”
BLAISE PLOPPED DOWN in her usual booth, directly in front of the counter. “Ugh, I’m so glad today is over.”
“Tough day, Kiwi?”
Blaise smiled at Big Al, a fixture in Ellie’s diner. Every day he came in for breakfast, sitting in the same spot without fail. Every night, he came back for dinner. In the same spot. Ellie and Blaise were always trying to get him to talk about himself. They were curious about the man they knew only as Big Al, but he was as tight-lipped as they came when it was about him. Now, wa
nting to know everyone else’s business? Big Al was all about that.
“Long,” Blaise answered, which made her feel old. It was barely seven o’clock, and all she wanted to do was go home and take a nice, hot bubble bath.
“Hey, Blaise!”
“Hey, sweets! How was school today?” Blaise smiled at sixteen-year-old Jessie. She was a beauty, just like her mom, with her honey hair and hazel eyes. Her features were so similar to Ellie’s, that it left no doubt they were related. People just assumed they were sisters since Ellie looked too young to have a teen-aged daughter.
“Eh. It was school. Here’s your tea. Mom already put that gross stuff in it.” Jessie leaned closer. “She doesn’t allow me to do it.”
“Good thing! You’d probably forget the tea and have me drunk within minutes,” Blaise teased.
Jessie laughed. “Well, you are a funny drunk.”
“And, how would you know that?”
“I may have told her a few stories,” Ellie answered, coming up behind Jessie, sliding a plate full of good “home” cooking in front of Blaise.
Blaise feigned indignation. “Some best friend! What happened to what happens in Blaise’s drunken stupors, stays in Blaise’s drunken stupors?”
“You’re thinking of Vegas, sugar. What happens with drunk you is fair game.”
Ellie slung an arm around Jessie’s shoulders, and once again, Blaise was struck by how similar they looked. The most noticeable difference was the color of their eyes. While they both had incredible hazel eyes, Ellie’s held more green, while Jessie’s were more golden. Blaise often wondered if she got that from her father. That was one part of Ellie’s life that was off limits. And, that frustrated the hell out of Blaise, but she always respected Ellie’s privacy.
“Any more visits from Mr. McHottie Pants?”
Blaise groaned as Jessie giggled at Ellie’s question.
“No, thank goodness. I’m too tired to deal with him right now.”
“Wait, who are we… ohhh, you mean that totally hot guy that was in your shop this morning?”
“Excuse me, young lady?” Ellie gave her daughter a mock stern look.
“Oh, come on, mom. He was really…”
“Hot, yes. I heard. And, saw,” Ellie chuckled.
“You saw him? He was here? Man! Why do I miss all the good stuff?”
Blaise laughed at the banter between the two. Seeing them together made her wish… Wish what, Blaise? She shook the unwanted thoughts out of her head. “Changing the subject. Don’t kill me, but you might be getting a call soon.”
“I’m reserving my right on the killing until I’ve heard all of the evidence,” Ellie retorted.
“Uh-oh.” Jessie sat in the booth in front of Blaise, propping her head on the palm of her hand, ready for the showdown.
“It’s nothing bad.”
“Nothing bad as in you staining my favorite sweater in college. Or nothing bad as in what that stain was?”
“Ellie! Your daughter is here, thank you very much.”
“I know, which is why I’m being discreet. You’re welcome. Now, what did you do?”
“All I did was give your card to someone, geez.” Blaise grouched.
“If this is about a date, Blaise, I swear…”
“It’s not, I promise,” Blaise said hurriedly. “I met with a couple today planning their wedding. She mentioned looking for someone to do their cake, I recommended you.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not so bad,” Ellie conceded.
“You haven’t met them yet.”
BLAISE SIGHED DEEPLY as she sank into the fragrant bubbles in her oversized bathtub. One of the first things she did when moving into her three-bedroom apartment was do a little remodeling. Turning one room into a virtual greenhouse, and her en suite into a virtual in-home spa resort. Creature comforts, she thought happily as she inhaled the aroma of eucalyptus. It was one thing she absolutely needed in her sanctuary. And, her home was her sanctuary. Blaise rarely let anyone in her home, certainly not dates. Ellie and Jessie were her only regular guests. Solitary was important to Blaise, as she was demonstrating with gusto, luxuriating without repentance.
She laid her head back, letting her mind wander. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Greyson Steele crept in when she let her defenses down. Hell, who is she kidding? He was there no matter what she did. His excruciatingly handsome face invaded her calm, inner peace making her body respond instantly. His piercing, smoky gray eyes, that strong, angular jaw shadowed by salt and pepper stubble. The subtle gray in his five o’clock shadow had Blaise wondering how old the sexy business man was, though it only added to his innate masculine sexuality.
Her hand brushed over an erect nipple, making her gasp out loud, as much from the contact as the surprise that she was touching herself like this. Blaise was no stranger to self-gratification, but she had never done this for a man she had just met. But then Greyson wasn’t like any other man she’d ever met. Her hand ventured lower as Blaise fantasized what that six foot four frame looked like under his expensive suit. Hips bucked involuntarily as she slipped a finger inside wetness that had nothing to do with the bath water.
The sound of water gently sloshing, and moans becoming louder, and more frequent, filled the air as Blaise brought herself to orgasm.
“Greyson,” she whispered as a long groan spilled from the back of her throat, and her body convulsed. Blaise’s eyes popped open abruptly. “Shit. I’m in trouble.”
GREYSON WAS READY for a drink. A very stiff, very expensive scotch would do just fine. He was irritable, and that was an understatement. His mind was on a certain brunette who, he glanced at his watch, was probably sitting in the diner having dinner. Or perhaps she was home by now, maybe in the shower or getting undressed and ready for bed. Greyson groaned inwardly, his dick twitching at the thought. God, what he wouldn’t give to be with her, instead of here at his parents’ house enduring an impromptu dinner party with the Chapmans. Fuck his life. He stood at the window looking out into the fading light, conjuring up the face that has been tormenting him since this morning. Blaise.
“Darling? Don’t be antisocial. Mother and father came here to get to know you better.”
“Don’t call me that, Pricilla. And, what’s the point of getting to know me better?”
Pricilla exhaled sharply. “Why wouldn’t they want to know the man I’m going to marry?”
“Not going to happen, Pricilla.”
“Of course it will. Your mother, sister and I have already started planning.” The smugness in her voice made Greyson want to break the glass in front of him. And, since he would never touch a woman in anger, it would have to be a part of his body going through it.
“I need to get out of here,” he grumbled, his lips tight with fury.
“Greyson?” Nora Steele walked in the library where Greyson had been hiding out, looking as impeccable as ever. He couldn’t remember ever once seeing her in anything other than designer dresses, slacks or suits. Today was certainly no exception. She insisted the Steele family be presentable at all times, including in their own home.
“Yes, mother?”
“You’re being rude. Come out here and join your guests.”
“They’re your guests, mother,” he retaliated, noting the repressed anger in his mother’s eyes.
“Greyson, you are thirty-nine years old. It is time for you to stop acting like a child. You have obligations to fulfill for this family. You also need to start giving me grandchildren.”
“Get them from Courtney and Ethan,” Greyson retorted.
“Ethan is not a Steele. Now put your tie back on, and join us. You will be cordial to your guests.” Nora didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and walking out.
Pricilla tossed him a satisfied smile, and followed his mother, leaving him fuming. Again he wondered how his life ended up like this. Even being Delta Force wasn’t as difficult as being Preston and Nora Steele’s only son. Fuck if he would let them dictate
his life. He may have to take over the company one day, but Greyson would never marry Pricilla Chapman.
“I’M LEAVING.” GREYSON downed the rest of his scotch—thank fuck he raided his father’s stash—and stood. The Chapmans left minutes ago, and he couldn’t wait any longer to get out of there himself.
“Greyson, sit down. We need to discuss something.”
“No, Mother. I’ve endured enough of this shit…”
“Greyson! You will not speak to your mother that way,” Preston chided.
Greyson ignored his father, his eyes fixed on his mother. “As you said before, I’m thirty-nine years old. Yet, you’re treating me like a child. You want me to take over the company to keep it in the family, fine. But I draw the line at marrying someone I don’t even like.”
Nora tsked. “You don’t have to like someone to get married. Think of it as business.”
“Like you and Preston?” Greyson asked snidely.
“We’re talking about merging the Steele and Chapman families together to strengthen our place in the business world, Greyson.”
“Do you not have enough?” Greyson spread his arms to indicate the enormous house. He caught the look that passed between his parents and he narrowed his eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me? I swear if this bastard,” he flicked his hand towards Preston, “is bleeding the business dry again, I’m out. He can fix his fuck-ups himself.”
Nora raised her hand to cut Preston’s tirade off. “Greyson, please. The company is not doing as well as it could be…”
“Because Preston has no idea what he’s doing!” Greyson yelled, the stress of his ‘family obligations’ getting the best of him. “You should have figured that out when you had to bail his ass out the first time.”
“You little prick!” Preston stood abruptly, stalking towards his son. Greyson had advantages over Preston in height, strength and youth, so he held no fear. He just stood as well, and waited. “You bitch about this company and your duty to the family, but you have no problems using the money to your advantage, do you!”
Coming Home: An LA Lovers Book Page 4
