by Gina Wilkins
She’d been inside Bryan’s house only two or three times, and had never gone beyond the front rooms. She glanced covertly around as he led her down an art-lined hallway toward the back of the exquisitely decorated house. Each framed work was lit with cleverly placed spotlights, making her feel almost as if she were walking through a museum. Yet there wasn’t a cold or institutional feel to the place; she could rather easily picture herself decorating in just this way—if she had the money, of course.
He led her into a room that made her catch her breath in a wave of sheer envy. She thought of it as a combination library and gallery, with ceiling-high shelves of books interspersed with paintings and sculptures. A cursory glance at the book titles revealed an eclectic mix of titles, just as the artworks represented several artistic styles and disciplines. “This room is fabulous,” she breathed.
“Thanks. I spend a lot of time in here.”
She glanced at the deep leather chairs scattered comfortably around the room, each accompanied by a reading light. “I imagine you do.”
He crossed the room and motioned to a painting above an antique mahogany library table. “This is the painting I told you about.”
Done in the impressionistic style, the painting depicted the historic Old Mill in nearby North Little Rock, an architecturally significant site that had been shown in the opening scene of the movie Gone With the Wind. The grays and browns of the concrete used to make the mill blended into the blues and greens of the surrounding water and trees. A touch of color in the background hinted at the onset of fall, as if the scene were poised at the brink of changing seasons. The sun seemed to be setting; long shadows deepened the corners of the canvas. “This is wonderful. You said it was painted by a teenager?”
“The son of one of my employees. I was his first paying client.”
“But you won’t be his last,” Grace predicted, imagining the generous sum Bryan must have offered for the painting. “He’s very talented.”
“He’ll be even better when he finds his own voice. He’s still experimenting with styles. But I have no doubt he’ll be an important member of the art world in a few years.”
Grace found her attention turning from the painting to the man who owned it. Bryan was a study in contrasts. This room was a prime example—mysteries and thrillers spine-to-spine with works on philosophy and economics, master paintings and sculptures displayed alongside the work of an ambitious teenager. It reminded her of the many roles she had seen Bryan play—shrewd businessman, charming suitor, smooth operator on the social scene. She thought of his slick handling of the press, his cool rebuff of the obnoxious lawyer at the restaurant, the warmth of his relationships with his friends, and the dangerous look in his eyes when he had confronted the man who’d arranged Chloe’s kidnapping.
He fascinated her. Entirely too much. She pushed her hand through her hair and turned toward the doorway. “Thank you for showing me the painting. I guess I’d better be going now.”
He caught her arm. “What’s your hurry? Wouldn’t you like to stay and have a cup of coffee?”
“No, really. I need to…”
What? She was sure there was something pressing she should do, but nothing was coming to her at the moment. The closer Bryan leaned toward her, it seemed the blanker her mind became.
How did he do that to her?
“The truth is,” Bryan murmured, reaching up to touch her cheek, “I’m reluctant to see you leave. As I’ve said before, I enjoy being with you, Grace.”
She swallowed and told herself to look away from him, but his glittering blue eyes held hers captive. “Bryan—”
“Grace,” he said, and lowered his head just a couple inches more, so that his mouth rested lightly on hers.
Her lips brushed his when she tried to speak. “I really should…”
“Stay a little longer? Definitely.”
She shook her head slightly—which turned out to be a mistake since it only increased the pressure of his lips against hers. “I don’t…”
“Want to leave? Then stay.” He ran his hands down her arms, drawing her nearer.
Her mind seemed to be swirling, her thoughts getting all jumbled and confused. “This really isn’t…”
“A time to talk? I absolutely agree,” he said in satisfaction.
He pressed his mouth firmly against hers before she could stammer out any more unfinished inanities.
She could have resisted, of course. She could have pushed him away or turned her head or bolted from the room. All those possibilities, along with a few dozen more, flitted through her mind, but she didn’t act on any of them. Instead she just stood there, her eyes closed and her hands dangling uselessly at her sides.
He kissed her gently at first, his mouth warm and persuasive against hers. It occurred to her that tilting her head just a little to the right would give him better access. She discovered a moment later that she’d been right; this angle was definitely better.
He wrapped his good arm around her and increased the pressure of the kiss until her lips parted instinctively. She should have anticipated that Bryan would take immediate advantage of that slight concession. He deepened the kiss, a bit tentatively at first, and then more boldly when he met with no resistance.
Grace raised her hands to his chest, clutching his shirt. It wasn’t that she was trying to hold him there, she assured herself hazily. It was just that she needed the support; she was suddenly feeling a little dizzy.
Even as she allowed herself to linger in the embrace—even to participate in it—a distant part of her mind searched for rationalizations. She wasn’t sure she could get away with the emotional release excuse again—there hadn’t been any great crises to pump them up today. And she certainly couldn’t claim that Bryan hadn’t given her a chance to turn away; he’d certainly initiated the kiss, but he hadn’t forced it. She could have stopped it at any time, and they both knew it.
She hadn’t wanted to stop it.
As it happened, it was Bryan who finally lifted his head. He wasn’t smiling when he searched her face. He looked as though he was trying to decide what to say, which she found surprising because words always came so easily to Bryan.
She bit her lower lip, at a loss for words herself. It was getting harder to blithely ignore their kisses, harder to deny the fact that there was an attraction between them that only seemed to grow stronger as they spent more time together. What she didn’t know was whether that attraction was merely physical, at least on Bryan’s part. If so, her identical appearance to her sister was definitely a troublesome factor in the equation.
She made herself release his shirt and step back, shoving her hands into the pockets of her slacks. “I’d better go,” she said, wondering why he was suddenly being so quiet.
“It is getting late,” he agreed, which surprised her all over again because she had expected him to urge her to stay a little longer.
She told herself she wasn’t disappointed that he hadn’t—and knew that she was lying.
Bryan had already turned toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.”
Hadn’t she just observed to herself that he was a man of contradictions? She studied his back as she followed him down the long hallway, wondering why he had suddenly turned distant and unreadable. What thought had entered his mind to convince him that they should draw back before things got out of hand between them? It depressed her to wonder if he had been thinking of Chloe at the same time Grace had.
“You’ll drive carefully on your way home?” he asked at the door.
“Of course. Don’t worry about your car.”
“You know I’m not concerned about the car.”
“I’ll be careful,” she repeated.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. We need to talk soon.”
At that moment, she didn’t even want to know what he thought they should talk about. Right then, she just wanted to escape.
She needed to have a long, stern talk with herself.
&nbs
p; Something had changed. Bryan wasn’t sure when it had happened, but suddenly he found himself thinking of Grace Pennington in an all-new way. He’d already been aware of his physical attraction to her, but he had tried to convince himself it was a passing fancy.
The attraction wasn’t passing. Just the opposite, in fact.
After he and Chloe had parted ways, he had decided to reevaluate his plan to marry and start a family within the next year. He’d convinced himself that if it hadn’t worked out with Chloe—the ideal candidate, according to his list of qualifications—then it probably wasn’t meant to be at all. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be a family man. He should be content with his success in business.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have female companionship when he wanted it. He just couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life with any of the women he had dated in the past—not even the one he had proposed to before Chloe. The lovely starlet had seemed so crazy about him—until he’d pulled out the prenuptial agreement his lawyers had prepared. She’d certainly shown her true colors then, making it very clear that she had been more intent on winning his fortune than his heart.
Hadn’t he humiliated himself enough when it came to his awkward attempts at serious courtship?
When he’d first met Grace, he would have said he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with her, either. Now…
Now he needed to do a great deal of thinking about what he really wanted with Grace Pennington.
Grace drove her own car to work on Wednesday. In a funny sort of way, Bryan’s car had begun to represent the man, himself. Sexy, powerful, expensive, flashy. And addictive. It wasn’t easy going back to her ordinary, functional economy car after driving Bryan’s Corvette for a few days. And it wasn’t hard to extend that analogy to her collaboration with Bryan, himself.
She was getting much too accustomed to having him in her life. To seeing him frequently, hearing his voice on the telephone. Having him touch her. Kiss her. It wouldn’t be easy to go back to her former life without him in it. A life that had been frequently stifling and vaguely unsatisfying before. She didn’t even want to think what it would be like to return to those predictable routines now.
She had been at work for only an hour or so when her mother called. Chloe had made a bank run, so Grace left Justin in charge of the shop while she took the call in her office. “Hi, Mom.”
“Good morning, honey,” Evelyn Pennington, a native of Birmingham, Alabama, replied in her slow, soft drawl. “How’s the business going?”
“Great. We’re putting Bob on full-time starting next week, and we’re hiring another part-time clerk.”
“That sounds good. Maybe with more help, you and Chloe can have a little more free time.”
“Maybe. Chloe’s going to want to spend time with Donovan, of course, and she’ll need the freedom to travel with him when he has to go out of town. Justin and Bob and I will be able to run things when she’s gone, especially if we hire someone else for a few hours a week. We interviewed a woman yesterday who’s looking for ten to twenty hours work a week, just to give her something to do while her kids are in school. Chloe and I both liked her, so we’ll probably give her a call later today and offer her the job.”
“Be sure you manage some free time for yourself,” her mother warned. “Chloe doesn’t expect you to take on too much responsibility just because she’ll be a newlywed. You have a life of your own to live.”
Really, Mom? And what life is that? The cynical question flashed through Grace’s mind, but she kept it to herself, merely replying, “I know. I won’t overdo it.”
“See that you don’t.”
Grace smoothly changed the subject. “How’s everything there?”
Grace’s parents lived in Searcy, a medium-sized town an hour north of Little Rock. “Your daddy’s arthritis is acting up some, but everything else is fine here. Everyone’s getting ready for the big party.”
Secure in the privacy of her office, Grace made a face. Since Chloe and Donovan had decided to be married at the church Chloe attended in Little Rock, some of her mother’s long-time friends had decided to hold a prewedding party in Searcy this weekend. It would be a big event, to be held at the country club their golf-obsessed father had joined years ago. It would be much more casual than the events Bryan attended so often, but Grace wasn’t looking forward to this gala any more than she had the others.
She would know most of the people at this event, unlike the ones she had attended with Bryan, at which nearly all the other guests were strangers to her. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. People who had known her since she was in diapers showed no hesitation to comment on her personal life. She expected to field a lot of nosy questions about her relationship and her future with Bryan—who, of course, would be accompanying her.
She predicted that several would point out that her thirtieth birthday was only a few months away, and that she didn’t want to wait too long to start a family. She would hear plenty of broad hints that she and Bryan should quickly follow Chloe and Donovan’s matrimonial example.
She hadn’t minded so much deceiving the press or the other society gossips. But she was not looking forward to lying to the people she’d grown up among, talking about a future that wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t sure her acting skills were good enough to convince her old friends that she and Bryan were in love, and had been involved for some time.
Her parents knew the truth, of course. Donovan had insisted on telling them everything when he and Chloe announced their engagement. Chloe had been very closemouthed about her discussions with Bryan before she met Donovan, and her parents weren’t pleased to hear that she’d been considering a marriage that would have been little more than a convenient, businesslike arrangement.
They had reminded Chloe that they had raised her to understand the purpose and the sanctity of marriage. Just because a man and a woman liked each other and shared a mutual desire for children didn’t mean they should take marriage vows together. It was their mother who had added that a ticking biological clock was no substitute for a rapidly beating heart. Chloe had groaned in response to that overly fanciful analogy—as had Grace—but Chloe had finally convinced their parents that she had come to her senses. She and Donovan were marrying for all the right reasons.
Like Grace, their parents weren’t happy about the elaborate charade Bryan had concocted to divert gossip from his and Chloe’s former relationship, but they had understood the reasons behind the scheme. They had seen how bothered Donovan had been by rumors that he had disloyally pursued a woman who was already involved with his best friend. No one else could have known how hard Donovan had resisted his feelings for Chloe for that very reason.
Evelyn and Hank Pennington had understood that embarrassment and concern for Donovan’s feelings had dimmed some of Chloe’s sheer joy in her engagement. They had reluctantly conceded that Bryan’s plan was worthwhile if it would draw media attention away from Chloe and Donovan—and if Grace didn’t mind being the subject of public scrutiny, herself. They had known even as they spoke that Grace would do almost anything for her sister.
“Grace?” her mother prodded, reminding her that it was her turn to speak. “Are you still there?”
“Oh. Yeah, sorry, Mom. I got distracted for a minute. You said something about the party?”
“Yes. Everything seems to be on track, from what the hostesses have told. They’re really going all out. Not that it will be anything like those fancy shindigs you and Bryan have been attending, of course. I doubt this one will make the national society pages.”
“Good,” Grace said fervently.
“I hope Bryan will manage to enjoy himself. He won’t know anyone, of course, and I’m not sure he’s used to small-town society. We aren’t exactly New York City around here. Heck, we aren’t even Little Rock.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. Bryan has a good time wherever he goes. And he might have grown up rich, but he still grew up in Arkansa
s.”
“How is his arm? I’ve been so concerned about him.”
“He’s healing just fine,” Grace assured her, as she had the last two times she’d talked with her mother since Sunday.
“Did you see the new article in the state newspaper today? The interview with that woman whose children he saved? She thinks he’s practically a saint. She went on and on about what a hero he was to risk his own life to save her babies. And she said he’s called to check on them and he’s sent gifts to the children. I’m sure the national media will jump on this story.”
“They already have. And they’re probably embroidering it as we speak,” Grace said wryly. “By the time the tabloids report it, Bryan will have saved a dozen kids and suffered grievous injuries, himself.”
“You’re probably right,” Evelyn agreed with a sigh.
“But Bryan really was a hero on Sunday,” Grace added, for honesty’s sake, and because she knew her mother would like hearing it. “I’ve never personally seen a braver act in my whole life.”
“Have the reporters been calling you to ask about what happened?”
“A few called. I’ve simply told them that I’m glad the children are okay, and that I’m also relieved Bryan wasn’t seriously injured. Other than that, I have no comment—which frustrates them no end, of course.”
“I must say you’re handling all this media attention better than I expected. I was afraid you might grow impatient with the silly speculation and lose that famous temper of yours.”
“It’s been a close call a few times,” Grace admitted. “I just keep reminding myself that this is all for Chloe’s sake.”
“And you would do anything for your sister—just as she would for you.” Evelyn obviously took great satisfaction from that observation about her children’s loyalty to each other.
“I’d really better get back to work, Mom. Is there anything else you want to discuss before I go?”
