9. Grant
9
GRANT
Grant
I woke up before Elise, charmed that she snored very lightly. It didn’t keep me up, but the short couch did threaten my ability to sleep. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I was so worn out from the day before that I managed to rest through the night.
When I ran on the beach—a deviation from my typical path back home that started on the Magnificent Mile every morning—I loosened up all the kinks and knots from the lousy dips on the couch cushions. When I came back, she was already up and out of the room, likely avoiding me. Her text was short and simple.
Elise: At the gym. Back in an hour.
I had plenty of time to shower and then slip out to grab breakfast. I bet if we played tag like this well enough, we could claim gold medals in avoiding each other.
Last night was awkward after that kiss. At least it was on my part. I had no clue what today would hold. The second I saw her fresh out of the shower as she came to the resort’s restaurant that offered a generous breakfast and brunch display, I damn near choked on my coffee.
Today would host an even bigger temptation than the day before. Again, in attire I wouldn’t see in Chicago, in the office, Elise tripped me into a fast lane of lusting for her again. In a khaki skirt and white blouse, she looked ready for the beach. Her hair was a tousled mess of waves pulled up in a neat knot at the base of her head, allowing clearance for the floppy sunhat she’d bought.
Best of all, she was back to her glasses. She was normal Elise, nerdy in those glasses, but the island wear triggered something in me. Maybe it was seeing all her skin that she didn’t bare as much back in the Windy City.
Or maybe it was the way her cheeks turned pinker the moment she realized I was staring. It hardly mattered what she wore—or didn’t. I was quickly forming a pesky habit of checking her out and needing to double-take for a second study in more detail.
Was it the kiss? The fact that I saw her in a towel and she saw me almost drop mine? Or was this new depth of awareness due to the fact that she still wore a ring I gave her, even if it was a prop?
“Morning,” I said once she sat with a plate of lots of proteins and fruit. Keeping my gaze on my phone as I checked the market news, I gave her an easy out from making direct eye contact.
“Grant.”
I glanced up at her simple address.
“You…” She pointed at her mouth.
“Freaking pancakes.”
She smirked. “What, they had you foaming at the mouth?” She pointed, emphasizing I had to aim at the corner of my lips.
I dabbed and swiped, grabbing the napkin to find it. “Whipped cream.”
“What?” She laughed lightly, leaning over the table to press her finger to my lips.
The instant she touched me, I warred with the temptation to lick her digit. With great strength, determined to remain resilient, I held my breath and waited until she sat back again.
And there she went. Blushing again. “You eat pancakes with whipped cream?”
“Bananas and chocolate, too.”
She made a face. “Sounds messy.”
I exhaled through my nose, banishing the thoughts of how else I could be messy with whipped cream where she was concerned.
“Not as much as any time you get near cheesecake.”
She rolled her eyes, eating. “It’s illegal not to like cheesecake.”
“You drool.”
She shrugged. “So. At least I don’t wear half of the dish when I order spaghetti like some people.”
“You never order spaghetti.”
“Because it’s a waste. I like them big.” She paused with her fork of eggs midway to her mouth. Her cheeks rivaled the watermelon chunks on her plate. “The noodles,” she clarified. “I like noodles big and thick, and—” She dropped her fork and covered her face with her hand as she closed her eyes. “I’ll just stop. No more talking. At all.”
I almost smiled, entertained that she could be so modest about dirty nonsense. “I know what you meant. Noodles. Pasta.”
“Right. Yeah.” She shook her head and resumed eating without looking at me.
Outside, a brilliant streak of lightning struck the beach. The resounding roll of thunder vibrated up from the floor.
“So much for sightseeing on the beach,” she quipped.
“Yes, but we can check out the maritime museum.” I slid a brochure toward her, and with mild interest, she browsed the front side of it without picking it up so she could eat.
“Pirates?” she asked, arching a brow.
I shrugged. “It has to beat sitting in the room all day.”
She forced a swallow, perhaps too soon with the effort she used to get the food down without choking. “Yeah. I’d like to avoid sharing that room longer than necessary.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You know, you can’t completely avoid my company if we want to look like a couple.”
“Out here”—she gestured at the restaurant—“obviously. We need to look engaged to the Newmans. But in the privacy of that room, your room, we don’t need to look like anything but a CEO and an assistant.”
I disliked those labels. Sure, they fit, but I wished we could have something else, too. I wasn’t so foolish as to jump at the impulse of actually wanting her to be my fiancée for real, but I couldn’t stop this attraction that deepened for her, this fascination at seeing her in a different light here.
“Are you suggesting I should save my attention for when we’re not in that room?”
She pointed her fork at me. “That’s precisely what I’m saying.”
Because it intimidates you on the basis that you might not be as indifferent to me as you might want to think you are?
“Noted.” I sighed. “So, should we plan on killing time with the pirate wax figures at the maritime museum?”
“Don’t you want to schmooze and do the informal meetings with Vince?”
I nodded. “He’s the one who gave me that brochure. I think he and Ginny are sightseeing there.”
“Okie dokie, fiancé.”
I waited for her to finish eating, and then we set out to find the Newmans. Reese was busy with her bridal party, something like a spa day or bachelorette affair. But Vince and Ginny were excited to sightsee what they could.
“We’ve never actually been to the Bahamas,” Vince told Elise as we got off the tour bus at the museum. The rain had simmered to a muggy drizzle, and I watched Elise walk ahead of me under the long awning that welcomed guests inside the one-story attraction.
“We’ve got a couple of properties elsewhere,” Ginny said, smiling at me as she got off the bus next.
“I prefer the condo in Cayman,” Vince said.
“But we like to bring family to a home on St. Lucia, as well,” Ginny finished for him. They were used to talking for each other, seemingly on the same page and knowing what the other was thinking. Unlike me and Elise, nearly botching our lines last night. We hadn’t prepared for any sort of a romantic backstory, nor had we prepared for a kiss.
Now I was. I knew what kind of a jolt to the system it was to receive her affection. As I watched her walk ahead and smile politely at Vince, I wondered when it might be appropriate to pace out another such example of expected affection. She was right. Engaged couples kissed. They held hands. And I was excited to play that part with her.
Samantha held me back, though, always at my side. She’d come along with the small group, among other guests for the wedding. No matter what I did, I couldn’t lose her. She stepped up to my side. She reached for my hand. She “accidentally” leaned in close or brushed against me.
I wasn’t born yesterday. She was blatantly and unabashedly flirting with me. Right in front of Elise.
“What do you think, honey?” Samantha asked as she stood in front of a mermaid bust. The carved hunk of wood was a replica of a woman that might have braced the front of an old pirate ship. While the artwork depicted a chesty woman arching her back to thrust her overly large tits out, Samantha looked silly trying to mimic the pose.
“I’m not your fucking honey,” I hissed.
I was sick of this, of her tagging along after me. Each time, I told her no. I gave her clear looks that suggested she back off. Every time she grabbed my hand, I shook it free. She was a leach, clinging to me while the woman I was supposed to be with was smiling and chatting with Vince.
“There you are,” I said as I slipped through the crowd and took Elise’s hand.
She jumped a bit, surprised to see me. We’d gone through half of the museum already, an hour into this place, and I was only now able to catch up to her.
Vince glanced past me, noticing Ginny at a space designated for guests to take selfies in front of a background of rum barrels. “Oh, wait. Let me get a picture.”
He headed off, and I urged Elise to walk with me toward a reconstruction of the lower levels of a pirate ship. She backpedaled so quickly that she nearly tripped.
“Grant.” She held on to my arms, and I lowered my hands to her waist to prevent her from falling.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed at me for whisking her off to the side in a hurry. “We’ll get separated from the group.”
“Good,” I growled.
“Good? But?—”
“Why are you letting that woman try to be all over me like that?” I asked once we were off to the side near the wall.
“What?” Her eyes opened wide in shock.
“Samantha,” I clarified. “She’s been all over me since we got here. Or trying to be.”
She huffed. “You don’t need my permission about who you check out this museum with.”
I scowled, setting my hand on the wall to cage her in when she looked over my shoulder to check that we weren’t left behind. “I’m supposed to be here with you . You’re supposed to look like you’re with me.”
“What do you want me to do? Scare her off?”
Yes! Please!
“You’re capable of telling her to fuck off,” she quipped.
“I have been. But she keeps coming right back to me, while you walk with Vince and Ginny.”
She poked her finger at my chest. “I did it so it wouldn’t look as awkward when she tried to stay all over you!”
I squinted at her, trying to understand.
“I don’t…” She shook her head and broke eye contact for a moment. “I don’t want to overstep or interfere.”
“With what?” I demanded.
“I’m well aware that you have a past with Samantha. And if you two are interested in getting back together—which it really looks like you are—then I’ll respect that. So instead of being in the way of your romantic reunion with her, I’ve been busy politely charming Vince so he wouldn’t notice how, uh, preoccupied you are with Samantha.”
“I’m not preoccupied with her.” You have been on my mind, dammit.
“It sure looks like it.”
I lowered my head to force her to look at me. “No, Elise. She keeps coming on to me. Don’t you ever see me telling her to leave me alone or to back off?”
She licked her lips and shrugged. I loathed this dejected expression she wore.
“Hey.” I gripped her chin and tipped it up until she faced me. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, making her wavy tresses sway in her thick ponytail. “Nothing. It’s just…” She sighed. “This isn’t real, Grant. Remember? We’re not actually together.” She lowered to a whisper. “I don’t have any actual hold on you, any right to you. But she does?—”
“She did . Years ago. Samantha is in my past, nothing more.”
“Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Past tense. But your rekindling something with her holds merit over me and you pretending something that’s not possible.”
I understood her perspective, but I didn’t comprehend how she could ignore this magnetism, this chemistry that didn’t fade between us.
“We’re faking it,” she said softly. “But you wouldn’t have to with her.”
“Bullshit.”
I wished I were really with this sweet woman gazing up at me with such openness in her eyes.
Who says I have to fake it with you?
“Does this feel fake?” I moved my fingers on her chin until I cupped her face. With my fingers sinking into her soft hair, I kept her right where I wanted her as I kissed her. Hard.
She grunted a sound of surprise at impact, but I didn’t have to wait long for her reaction. Pushing up on her toes, she arched up to meet me in the middle. Her lips stayed locked on mine, brushing back over my mouth like she couldn’t bear to break this touch.
Yes. Fuck yes, Elise. Like this.
Last night at the end of dinner, she surprised me with a quick, proper kiss.
Here, in the shadows of the exhibits in the museum, she whimpered a sexy sound of need as she sealed her soft lips to mine, then parted them, encouraging me to sweep my tongue in to explore and taste her, to steal her breath.
She lifted her hands to my shoulders, then with a slow caress, she slid them toward my back. Her arms encircled me, and still, she wasn’t close enough.
I sighed into her mouth, relishing the addictive, drugging taste of her tart, hungry kisses. My lips would sting, swollen from the force of our kissing so intensely. And I was all for it. I couldn’t get enough of it, of her.
Lowering my hand to her back, I pulled her flush to my chest, but I used my other hand threaded into her hair to tip her head. Under my guidance, she followed my lead to slant for a deeper lip lock.
The instant she parted more and stroked her tongue along mine, I growled and clutched at the back of her shirt.
Walking her back to the wall, I intended to keep her pinned right here with me until we were both dizzy from the need for air.