He gazed up at me, his eyes dark with desire. Curling my body to embrace him, I took his mouth in mine, kissing my own musk on his face. Eager to please him as much as he had pleased me, I ran my nails down his spine until he shivered, then pushed him over onto his back.
I kissed the clean, masculine sweat from his body, tracing my fingers through the fine sprinkling of hair on his chest. I flicked my tongue against his nipple as I passed, gratified when his breath caught in a half-growl. His rippling abs shuddered under my lips. Tracing the V of his hips with my fingers, my greedy eyes swept over his big, satisfying hardness.
It fit perfectly in my fist as his soft, velvety boys nestled perfectly in my palm. He groaned as I lowered my lips to kiss the crystal dewdrop from the swollen head, then growled as I let it slide between my lips.
Closing my eyes, I relished the feel of him, every satin-wrapped inch of steel. When I twirled my tongue around him, he made a sound of pleasure that sent electricity rocketing through my core, stoking the fire between my hips.
“Grace,” he groaned in a strangled voice.
I let him fall from my mouth slowly and grinned up at him.
“Come here,” he commanded.
I crawled over him, tingling with anticipation. His hands wrapped around my waist and slid to my hips. As our eyes locked, he guided me down over him.
He filled me perfectly, pressing against all of my most sensitive places, making the pressure build once more between my hips. Groaning, he sat up and buried his face in my breasts as I found my rhythm.
My hands swept through his hair as his hands slid down my back, running over my skin to my hips. My sweat-slick skin slid over his as I rode, crying out with ecstasy as he pushed me to my limit and beyond. His mouth worked over my breasts, his hands clutched at my body, and in a wildfire cascade of pleasure, I came once more.
Lax and trembling against him, I let him take control. He rolled me beneath him and slid between my thighs, driving into me with a fierce need as he kissed my mouth and pinned my wrists overhead. Arching into his hips I took all of him, matching his quick breaths with my own.
Groaning with pleasure, he buried his face in my neck as his muscles tightened. He dropped kisses over my face and chest with a quick, fierce desperation. I could feel his passion building, pulsing as he drilled into me again and again.
His eyes locked with mine and he released my wrists, locking his arms behind my shoulders. His brow furrowed, and his groans became shouts. As the pressure between my hips hit its peak, he arched over me, filling me up as I came.
Trembling in the wake of it, we lay together in the hazy golden afterglow. He rolled off of me, tucked his arm under my neck, and cuddled me close.
“That was amazing,” I said on a shaky breath.
“You are amazing.”
I snuggled into him, breathing his scent as I relaxed against his body. The room was beginning to darken in the cold light of late afternoon. I struggled to keep my eyes open. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I still intended to go back to the mansion and finish out the day strong, but my body wasn’t cooperating. Rousing myself with a shake, I smiled at him.
“How about that tea?”
“Brilliant,” he said with a sleepy grin.
He rose, not bothering to dress before filling the electric kettle and turning it on. I stretched and slid out of bed, sidling up behind him to kiss his shoulder. There was a tender softness in his eyes when he turned and kissed my forehead. Happy little butterflies burst in my chest and I squeezed his waist, tucking my head into his shoulder.
The wonderful thing about holiday romances is that one can give themselves over to it entirely, without fear, knowing that it will inevitably end when they part ways again, I thought. It’s a bittersweet reality, one that I had been craving for ages. He was the perfect partner for the actualization of that desire. I kissed his chest, then stepped away as he poured the tea.
A gray twilight had settled over the city, making the lights look brighter than I would have expected. My view from the hotel room encompassed all of the places we had visited that day, and I sighed happily as I retraced our steps along the Thames in my mind.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked as he handed me my tea.
“It really is. I have to say, Shakespeare’s Globe looks like a fascinating place to actually visit. I wouldn’t mind coming back here someday when I’m not working.”
“London would welcome you back with open arms,” he said warmly.
“London itself, or you?”
He smiled at me and pulled me into an embrace. That was answer enough for me. He kissed my hair, and I closed my eyes, reveling in all of the wonderful aspects of the moment. The spicy aroma of the tea, the feel of his bare skin against mine, the buzzing of remembered pleasure in my blood. Utter perfection.
As we stood sipping our tea and looking out over the city, his hand slid down from my shoulder to my ribs, tracing the outline of my body. Desire reignited instantly when he gripped my hip. I shot a sultry look up at him and set my teacup on the windowsill.
He moved behind me, brushed my hair to one side, and kissed my neck. I could feel his arousal grow as mine did, and I arched back against him as he ran his hands over my breasts and belly. Guiding my hips with one hand and fondling my breast with the other, he slid into me with a gasp of pleasure.
I braced against the windowsill as he made powerful, steady love to me. The cold wafting off of the glass sent goosebumps trickling over my front as his heat warmed my back, creating a virtual thunderstorm in my core. The twinkling city lights were like a million stars, a million eyes watching me. The rush of exhibitionism struck my nerves like lightning, vibrating my body with wave after wave of increasing passion.
He slid a hand down between my legs, triggering a cascade of heat in my core. Crying out, I slid my hands up the cold glass as his rock-hard heat slammed into me. He braced his free hand against my shoulder, controlling my body as his other hand brought me closer and closer to a resounding climax. Beginning in my scalp and curling my toes, pleasure crashed together at my center, driving me through a screaming orgasm.
“Come here,” he said huskily as he pulled me to the bed.
He held me close, spooning me from behind. Reaching over my head, I cradled his head against me as he entered me again, caressing my body as he moved in a slow rhythm. I pressed against him, silently urging him to go a little harder, a little faster, but he stuck to his guns. Relaxing, I melted into him as he kissed and caressed me. Slow and sweet, he made love to my body, tenderly touching every inch of my skin.
My body was a golden, glowing bundle of ecstasy when his breath caught in my ear and he finally quickened his pace. Gripping my hips, one arm wrapped around my chest, he drove me toward the edge once more.
“Grace,” he whispered huskily. “Oh, Grace.”
It was all I needed. Crying out, I gripped his arm tight as I came around him, meeting his explosive orgasm pulse for pulse. Breathless in the dark, I molded to his warm, relaxed body, pleasurable aftershocks rocking me to sleep.
Chapter 11
Grace
When I awoke early the next morning, the bed was empty beside me. I hadn’t really expected him to stay the night. Dan knew as well as I did that there was an expiration date on our whirlwind romance. Still, I missed him, and it was under a cloud of mild disappointment that I showered and readied myself for the day.
“Lots to get caught up on,” I said to myself as I dressed. The gallery would have to wait now, and the paint supplier wasn’t going to be open on a Sunday. I’d figure out what paint I did have and work in whatever room it suited. The ballroom would have to wait till Monday.
I didn’t expect to see anyone when I went to the house. Even Dan must need a day off sometime. I didn’t really count the day before, though it had been filled with leisure, since he did put in a few hours with me in the morning. And a few more at night, I thought with a little grin. After a quick breakfast in th
e café downstairs, I caught a cab to the mansion.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw a car sitting in the driveway. Dan? But it wasn’t his car, not even close. It was a flashy red sports car which must have set the owner back a pretty penny, a striking contrast to Dan’s conservative black sedan. Disappointment gave way to confusion, then dread. There was only one person I could think of who had any business being here on a Sunday.
I let myself in to the house as quietly as I could. Amelia’s voice trickled through the main hall to the foyer. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she didn’t sound particularly thrilled. My heart pounded. I hoped she could understand that I had been working virtually alone since I arrived, but the hope was weak. As her voice came closer, I thought I could avoid a lot of trouble if I announced myself.
“Hello?” I called.
“What? Who’s there?” Quick footsteps clicked along the hall toward me.
“It’s Grace.”
When I met her in the hallway, Amelia’s face was a polite, expressionless mask. “Good to see you here, Grace. I just popped in to check on your progress, I see that you have, um…stripped the walls?”
“Yes, and I’ve started painting. Did you see the gallery?”
“I haven’t made it that far yet, but I believe my husband is looking at it now. You know dear, I am quite invested in that ballroom. It is imperative that it get done as quickly as possible. It will be the centerpiece of my party, and likely the room I will show to the magazines when I brag about you afterward.”
She smiled at me, and a little rush of excitement shuddered down my spine. With her connections, this job alone could keep me busy with new clients for years to come.
“Yes, of course,” I said almost too eagerly. “That room is top of the priority list for tomorrow.”
She raised a manicured brow. “Tomorrow? Why wait?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have my team here today. They have the weekend off and were kept away by the snow on Friday. I should have a full team tomorrow.”
“Hum. I see. Well, be that as it may, I would like to…oh! Here he is, finally. David. David, come meet my designer. She’s the brilliant award-winner I was telling you about.”
“Coming, dear.”
A shock of recognition rooted me in place. As he came around the corner, a wail tried to force its way through my throat. I swallowed it, and every facial expression that went with it.
David Harris strolled over to us in a perfectly tailored suit. His five-o’clock shadow had been shaved cleanly off, and his hair had been styled with some product that made it look shiny, but there was no mistaking it. The man I knew as Dan was actually Amelia’s husband.
“David, this is Grace Baker. Grace, this is David Harris, my husband.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I managed.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied with a slight bow over my hand. He gave me a look halfway between a warning and a plea, and I offered him the most natural-looking smile I could summon in response.
“Now then, dear, you said you had been painting the gallery? I do hope it isn’t cream colored, you know how I feel about blank cream walls. Tell David your plans while I check on it, will you? He should at least tell you what he wants done with that dreadful office.” She clicked away down the hall.
I glared.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” he whispered. “I can explain.”
“How?” The word slid between my teeth.
He cringed. “It’s a long story. Meet me at Tower Bridge at four o’clock and I will explain everything. Please, Grace.”
Amelia’s footsteps came clicking back up the hall, and he returned his voice to a normal volume.
“So yes, if you please, just return it to its original design and preserve as much of the history as you are able to. I prefer antiques, though reproductions are also acceptable. I find the current color scheme quite comfortable, apart from the dreadful carpet.”
“I can certainly meet your specifications,” I replied in kind, feeling like I was in some kind of twilight zone.
“I knew you would do that,” Amelia said with a small smile. “No imagination, this one. Fortunately, I don’t expect my guests to be flocking to his office. That silver on the wall, is that the final color?”
“Oh, no. I will be tracing dark green lacework over it once the wall is fully coated. Unfortunately I ran out of that color yesterday, and couldn’t get to the supplier before they closed, so I will have to run out and get it tomorrow.”
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in thought. “Very well, as long as it’s finished this week. The ballroom and the dining room as well. Sleep here if you must—you have free reign of the house. I couldn’t bear to have this place in shambles come Christmas.”
“It will be done,” I said solemnly. “I should get started as soon as possible. Did you have any other comments or questions, anything you would like me to pay special attention to?”
“Yes,” she said after a moment, “the dining room. You remember my little flat in New York?”
“Yes.”
“Please match that color palette. Many of my friends are jet-setters, and it would be quite a lot of fun for me if they were to recognize my taste from one continent to the next.”
Knowing how small the room would feel with all of those dark colors but not wanting to rock the boat—especially not now—I agreed.
“I will pick up everything I need in order to do that when I go to get the paint for the gallery,” I said, thinking out loud.
“Oh no, dear, just have it delivered. Tell them it’s for me, and they will have it to you quick as anything. I see no reason why you should be tromping through all of London when the work is here. I suppose I shall leave you to it.” She smiled at me and turned to leave. She hesitated a moment, then turned back to me. “And please, do call if you need anything.”
“Of course, thank you,” I said.
I had been ignoring Dan—David—the entire time that she had been talking, but I couldn’t avoid him any longer. He stood in front of me and held out a hand with a smile.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said cheerfully.
“And you,” I replied, feeling a tight ball of emotions rise in my throat.
“Good luck.”
“Thank you.” It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to keep the fury and mortification out of my eyes.
“David, we’re going to be late,” Amelia said exasperatedly.
“Coming, dear.”
I didn’t start shaking until the door closed behind him. Then I fell apart.
I didn’t let it stick—I couldn’t afford to. After succumbing to the one-two punch of anger and despair for several tear-soaked moments, I threw myself into my work. I had just under seven hours to burn this off, clear my head, and think logically before I had to decide whether or not to meet him at the bridge.
Chapter 12
David
If I freeze in place it’ll serve me right, I thought as I blew on my hands. She was five minutes late if she was coming at all, and I had arrived ten minutes early. After handling a few social obligations for Amelia that morning, I had gone directly to my London office. Playing hooky on Friday had its consequences, and I had worn myself to the bone in an attempt to mitigate those consequences.
To be frank, however, I wasn’t entirely certain that I had properly mitigated anything. Tense to the point of distraction, I had re-read the same forms and emails multiple times without retaining any of the pertinent information. I’d been forced to do things over repeatedly. I knew that the following day would not be any easier unless I spoke with Grace.
Just as I was giving up hope of her ever arriving, she appeared at the end of the bridge. Her eyes flashed with fury as she approached. Rightfully so.
“How could you?” she hissed when she was within earshot. “You lied to me! For two days!”
“I didn’t intend to,” I began poorly.
�
��Didn’t intend to? You told me your name was Dan! You let me think you were a decorator.”
“To be fair, you did assume—”
“Oh, please. The least you could have done was set me straight. Do you have any idea how important Amelia is to me as a client? Not to mention as a fellow woman. She’s a sweetheart, even if she is a bit out of touch. How am I supposed to look her in the eye knowing that I slept with her husband?”
I shook my head, then hesitated. Arguing about whether or not my wife was a pleasant person would be an exercise in futility at this juncture. Grace needed the context, loath as I was to give it. I started again.
“When I met you at the house, I was just popping in to fetch some clothes more appropriate for the weather. I keep many of my out-of-season clothes at the mansion rather than the apartment. Storage issues, you understand.”
“You weren’t carrying any clothes.”
“No. I had packed a bag and left it upstairs when I heard you moving around. I thought the decorators would have braved the storm, knowing that no ice could be worse than Amelia’s.”
Grace looked dubious, and I gestured helplessly.
“That was why I decided to help you. I didn’t want to put you on the spot by telling you my real name, but I knew that if the house wasn’t done by Christmas, the full weight of Amelia’s wrath would fall on you. Not the no-show decorators, not the supply houses, just you. You seemed like a lovely person. I couldn’t bear to see that happen to you through no fault of your own.”
“But why…why did you stay? If you were just chipping in to get me caught up, you managed that the first day. And why did…” She bit her lip and looked away. Unshed tears shone in her eyes.
I felt terribly guilty. Terrible in general, really. It was anything but comfortable, and I groped around inside my head frantically for solutions.
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