by Lisa Plumley
“Thank you, Griffin. I’m sorry to disturb you, but this is an emergency.” She shuddered. “I loathe those creatures!”
Like a soldier marching to war, Olivia wielded her broom. She headed for the door with it, doubtless intent on vanquishing the intruder who’d invaded her attic rooms.
Griffin doubted she’d even registered his state of informal dress, much less her own tantalizing lack of proper clothing.
Without her usual bustle, he couldn’t help noticing, Olivia’s own naturally curvaceous derriere looked especially enticing. Without the support of her corsetry, her pert breasts moved beneath her sheer chemise and silky wrap in a way that unfailingly drew his attention. He loved the way she looked, the way she smelled...the way she still radiated accomplishment and bravery and audacious zeal after her plucky efforts during the baseball game today.
He loved...her, Griffin thought again, and knew he should probably tell her sometime soon. But in the meantime...
He snapped himself to alertness. “I’ll deal with your bat.”
“What?” She paused with her nose adorably crinkled. Then she realized what he’d said. She waved. “No, thank you. It’s fine. I’m a country girl, you know.” Olivia gave a spirited grin. “Here in the Arizona Territory, a person can’t rely too heavily on attacks of the vapors when critters come calling. If I came over all swoony every time a common vesper bat lost its way and sailed into my room at night, I’d spend most of my time wielding smelling salts. Instead of baseball bats.”
Even her bare feet were cute, Griffin noticed. So was her zest. Delivering him a second spunky grin, Olivia wheeled around. This time, though, he was there to stop her. “I insist.”
She made a mock rueful face. “On the other hand, far be it for me to refuse a gentleman’s assistance.” Olivia gave a silly curtsy—during which she seemed to notice, for the first time, Griffin’s state of partial undress. Her eyes widened. Her gaze traveled up his underdrawers-and-dressing-gown-covered legs, up his casually clad chest and shoulders, then up to his face. Her voice took on a slightly less assured quality. She gripped her broom harder. “After I shoo that bat out the window, you can wrench down the sash. The window sticks something awful.”
“I’ll do more than that. I’ll get rid of the bat.”
“Not if I get there first!” Olivia sprinted down the hall.
Left dazed and surprised in the wake of her pounding footsteps, Griffin realized for the first time that it might be a little inconvenient to love a woman like Olivia. She was independent, single-minded and unafraid to speak her mind. She was unusual and impassioned. She was sweet, but spicy. After a brief and confusing spate of boringly reserved behavior, the original Olivia he’d met in his hotel suite, all those days ago, was back...and she was ready to wreak havoc with a broom again.
Listening to the first thwack of her broom against the wall, sounding its way down the hall along with a “Drat it!” from Olivia, Griffin grinned. He wouldn’t have had her any other way.
He also wouldn’t let her go into battle alone. That wasn’t what a man did. It wasn’t what he did, with his newfound sense of goodness and honor. Straightening his spine, Griffin listened to another thwack echo down the hall. Then he rolled up his sleeves, assembled the protectiveness and caring he’d always tried to deny...and let his longtime sense of shame fall away.
He wasn’t The Boston Beast anymore.
Now, he could go to Olivia’s room to help her—even with both of them dressed so informally—and not budge a fraction in his gentlemanly resolve. He could shut the stuck window sash for her. He could comfort her, congratulate her and remind her again how splendid she’d been today. He could do all that, Griffin pledged, and not be beastly for an instant.
So, ready to show Olivia his new integrity, Griffin left his suite. He shut his door and tramped down the hall to her rooms. There, her door stood open, letting him glimpse the wonderful softness and alluring femininity of Olivia’s private living space, with its pastel upholstery, lace trims and glowing lamplight. He’d been there before, Griffin recalled, when he’d brought her the invention prototypes. But that visit had been different. It had been brief and almost businesslike, full of apprehensiveness from both of them, on account of their earlier encounter at the Morrow Creek handicrafts show.
This time, Griffin knew, his visit would be different.
For one thing, they were both wearing nightclothes. For another, the atmosphere in The Lorndorff was snugly hushed, now that it was long past sunset and most people were asleep. Not to mention, Griffin realized as he cleared the threshold and stepped inside, Olivia had enjoyed a recent bath of her own. Her zinc-lined wooden tub still stood filled with soapy water.
Instantly, his mind conjured up a provocative image of Olivia in that tub, naked and bubbly and utterly relaxed. He could almost smell the rose-scented lather she’d used...could almost feel the slick glide of the foamy water across her smooth, pale skin. He loved her skin, so different from his...
Then Griffin heard another vigorous whack of the broom against the wall, heard Olivia exclaim loudly, and made himself quit thinking altogether. Bathing beauty or not, Olivia needed him. He could not fail her now.
Even if he did, all of a sudden, have several cogent misgivings about his own ability to be near her...and be the morally incorruptible man she believed him to be, both at the same time.
* * *
With her broom in hand and her hair falling in bothersome tendrils around her face, Olivia chased her bat invader to the other side of her rooms. They were composed of a sleeping area, where her bed was, and a sitting area, where her settee and reading table and lit lamp were. Spotting the bat flapping madly in the shadows there, she delivered a mighty wallop.
Argh. The varmint had the gall to flap away, unharmed.
She knew she had the wherewithal to shoo away the tiny thing. Hadn’t she managed several base hits during the baseball game today? Hadn’t she earned cheers from Griffin? She had.
Reminded anew of her bravery and skill, Olivia swung her broom in a wild arc. This time, she successfully frightened away the bat. It flew past her head, then zoomed straight out the window. Its mad flurry of wings almost made her shriek aloud.
Success! Unfortunately, it came at a price. Olivia ended her swing of the broom...and landed it in the bathtub. Again.
Thwack. The bristles sent water splashing everywhere.
Unlike the other occasions tonight when she’d done that, splattering herself with leftover soapy water, this time she showered Griffin. He’d arrived in her room, broad shouldered and brave, only to be doused with the remnants of her bathwater.
Olivia didn’t realize it at first. She turned in a celebratory circle, holding her broom aloft in victory, then saw something big, dark and sodden standing there. Griffin.
“Oh! Griffin!” She dropped her broom with a clatter. “I’m so sorry.” She hurried to him. Then, “I vanquished the bat!”
She couldn’t help saying so. She felt reasonably proud.
“I’ll close the window.” Heedless of his damp dressing gown—attire that left very little to the imagination, given its free-fitting design—Griffin strode to the window. With a single strong shove, he closed the sash. He brushed his hands together. He eyed the cozy pitched underside of the eaves with an inexplicable sense of accomplishment, then nodded at the door. He must have closed it to trap the bat. A moment ago, that had been a fine idea. Now...
“There,” he announced. “All better.”
He did not quite meet her eyes, however, and Olivia thought she knew why. He was just too kind to object to being soaked.
“It’s not all better!” Grabbing a towel, she rushed to Griffin’s new position. She ignored the dappled water spots on the floorboards and rug—signs of her skirmish, along with the fallen book near her toes—then stopped in front
of Griffin. “I truly am sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I get carried away.”
“I never get carried away.” He seemed oddly proud of that. “You can count on me, Olivia, not to get carried away.”
She felt dubious about that claim. Also, confused. Of all the qualities she prized in Griffin, levelheadedness was not among them. She indicated her towel. “Just let me dry you off.”
Vigorously, Olivia pushed the towel at his chest.
Trying to dry him, she discovered quickly, felt like dabbing a mountainside with a handkerchief. Beneath her towel, Griffin’s chest felt firm and unexpectedly...interesting.
That probably meant that she should do a more diligent job of drying him, Olivia reasoned. After all, she owed him that much. She couldn’t very well invade Griffin’s suite, steal his broom—even though it was the hotel’s property, left behind during one of her cleaning excursions—and then simply skedaddle when the going got rough and the gentleman got waterlogged.
Not that Griffin appeared particularly gentlemanly. Not at the moment. With his unbound hair, big bare feet and informal attire, he seemed... Well, available to her, was what most came to mind when Olivia looked at him. She’d never been in such intimate circumstances with him before. As she went on dabbing him earnestly with the towel, she learned, too late, that this situation piqued her natural sense of curiosity.
In fact, it dangerously inflamed her natural sense of curiosity.
Olivia was dying to know more about Griffin. Suddenly, she wanted to rub him down all over. She wanted to feel his muscles bunching beneath her seeking hands, wanted to hear him whisper her name in the wonderfully husky way he had, wanted to explore all the stimulatingly masculine contours that lay beneath his dressing gown. As bedtime attire went, his citified version was practically indecent. It was maybe even—possibly—defective.
Even now, Olivia observed, Griffin’s fancy dressing gown shifted back and forth with her vigorous attempts to dry him off. Unlike a normal men’s cotton nightshirt, it couldn’t even keep him decently covered. A flash of hair-sprinkled chest was revealed here. A glimmer of muscular torso was revealed there. A wedge of naked shoulder, a glimpse of bare, sinewy upper arm...
Belatedly, the full reality of her situation occurred to her. Save for his underdrawers, of course—which shocked her in themselves—Griffin was entirely naked under his dressing gown!
And she was practically undressing him with her towel.
Startled, Olivia leaped back a pace. Granted, she wasn’t employing her bare hands alone for the scandalous job she’d undertaken. She was using a towel. It formed a partial modesty barrier between them. But that didn’t change the facts. She, Olivia Mouton, had a man in her rooms...and she wanted him there.
Given the way Griffin had been obediently standing there, allowing her to verifiably manhandle him, he wanted to be there.
As she looked up at him, he swallowed hard. “I should go.”
“Don’t go!” Olivia dabbed his head. “You’re still wet.”
Her industriousness didn’t impress him as much as she’d have liked. It didn’t work to the degree that he allowed her to continue drying him. Instead, Griffin stopped her towel-holding hand. “Your bat’s defeated,” he said. “Your window’s closed.”
“So is my door,” she pointed out. “No one will know if you stay awhile.” Hastily, she added, “It’s only sociable. After all, we’ve been alone together many times before. I feel so comfortable with you, Griffin,” Olivia urged. “I trust you.”
He seemed simultaneously pleased and pained by her admission. Why that should be, Olivia didn’t know.
All she knew was that she couldn’t help wondering exactly what Griffin looked like under his dressing gown and underdrawers. The glimpses she’d had only served to fire up her imagination. Was his whole chest sprinkled with fine dark hair, like the triangular bit revealed by his dressing gown? Were his legs as muscular as his forearms? Would his belly feel as firm to touch as his chest did? How tightly had he tied the sash of his dressing gown? Would it come loose with a gentle tug, or would more force be required? Exactly how much gusseting was necessary in his underdrawers...and why? Full of those questions and countless more, Olivia gazed inquisitively at him.
Griffin saw her looking...and groaned aloud.
“When you look at me that way, I can’t think straight.”
“I’ll do the thinking for both of us.” She took the towel from him and tossed it down with a definitive motion. “Stay. Please. Everyone knows I’ve been to your suite. They know we’ve been alone together already! This time should be no different.”
It felt different, though. It felt...vaguely tingly and warm.
Griffin shook his head. “Everyone in the hotel has been looking the other way because they want you to save their jobs. They want you to return The Lorndorff to the way it used to be.”
Instead of allowing it to be turned into my private residence, Olivia imagined him adding, the way Palmer Grant must have revealed it might be. She was surprised to hear Griffin mention her attempts to have the hotel reverted to her family’s control—to ensure her friends kept their jobs. But she wasn’t the least bit interested in discussing those topics tonight.
She lowered her gaze to his chest. “I missed a spot.”
Another groan. “You’re going to have your way, aren’t you?”
“Why should tonight be any different from usual?”
“It shouldn’t.” Squaring his shoulders, Griffin gave her a determined smile. “You’re right. This is only sociable.”
“See?” Olivia felt satisfied to have convinced him.
“Only...” His rumbling tone drew her attention. So did the way Griffin’s gaze dipped to her collarbone. “You’re wet, too.”
Carefully, he lowered his finger to a water spot on her silk wrap. He stroked it, as though trying to make it vanish.
Instead, at his touch, that tiny spot seemed to penetrate her skin even further. Heat flared where his finger touched, then spread in a widening circle. Olivia thought she might swoon with excitement—or at least fall into his arms to be held by him. Perhaps inviting Griffin into her rooms hadn’t been wise....
“You were impressive today, Olivia.” His dark gaze lifted to meet hers. “I’ve never known anyone as special as you.”
At that, her heart turned over. Impulsively, Olivia grabbed Griffin’s hand. She clasped it in both of hers, cradling it to her chest. “I care for you so much, Griffin. I can hardly say—”
“Words fail me, too.” His gaze dropped to their joined hands. Something wicked and intent flared in his expression. “You feel so...” Another helpless groan escaped him. Visibly tongue-tied, Griffin used his free hand to pull her nearer. “All I can do is show you.” He shook his head. “I’m no poet,” he confessed. “But I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Never?” She could scarcely breathe. Her heart pounded.
Silently, Griffin shook his head. The lamplight danced across his masculine features, making them look shadowy and notoriously rugged...but no less appealing to her, all the same. Olivia loved looking at him. She loved looking at him because she loved him. Soon, she’d have to tell him so. But first...
“I haven’t, either,” she admitted. She tipped up her face and found herself almost nose to nose with Griffin. They inhaled the same air, shared the same space...even their heartbeats felt united. Olivia fancied they were meant for this, together. “I’ve been proposed to,” she said, “but I’ve never felt this way. Not for anyone.” Daringly, she released his hand. She stroked his face, loving the newly smooth feel of his jaw. “You shaved!”
As romantic announcements went, hers was decidedly lacking.
But Griffin only offered her a winningly roguish smile.
“I imagined I might kiss you good-night. I wanted to b
e ready.” His smile broadened. “I probably shouldn’t admit it, but I do that every night. I think of you, and I think of how rough my beard is, and I prepare for something that can’t ever be.”
She’d thought she was the only one who imagined the two of them together—the only one who wanted a future. A family. A life to share and adventures to have and kisses for days and days.
On the verge of confessing as much, Olivia hesitated. She didn’t want to reveal too much. What if Griffin really didn’t want to marry her? What if he had found her lacking?
But then she realized...Griffin had seen all of her. The nice and the irksome and the baseball-playing included. Contrary to her fears, Griffin believed she was more than Miss Milky White.
When she was in his arms, Olivia believed that, too.
“A beauty like you should have more than a beast like me,” Griffin told her, gazing into her eyes now. “But if you’ll have me, Olivia, I promise to try to protect you. I promise—”
Olivia lunged upward. She cut him off with a kiss.
“I promise to give you all the love you’ve never had,” she vowed fervently. “I promise to give you...everything.”
With unfathomable emotion, Griffin gazed at her. He swallowed, tried to speak and failed. He squeezed her close, then exhaled a shuddering breath. “You’re priceless, Olivia.”
“You’re mine,” she replied, knowing exactly how battered and bruised he’d been...how unfairly treated and cruelly ignored. She knew she could change that. She wanted to change that. For him. For her. “I swear, Griffin. I can make up for it all—”
This time, he stopped her with a kiss.
“I keep telling you.” His smile flashed, brief and brilliant. “You don’t have to do anything except be you.”
Then he lowered his mouth to hers, brought their bathwater-dappled bodies together and gave her everything that was in his heart to give. What Griffin had to give, Olivia learned as he kissed her then, was considerable. It was love. It was him.
