So this was what a midlife crisis felt like. Colin rubbed a hand across his forehead. It sure wasn't any fun. At forty-nine, he thought he'd be enjoying financial security, less time at the office and more time travelling with his wife. Instead, there was nothing for him but a goddamned fork in the road.
He stared out the limousine window and watched the world go by. People busy with their own lives, impervious to his turmoil. He and Adam were on their way to get Grace, and he was determined that his low spirits wouldn't dampen the trip. To hell with Maureen and Henry and the book. He needed this rendezvous and the faster they got there the better.
When Grace finally climbed into the back seat with him, he pushed the drama of his life aside and focused only on her. The smile that spread across his face came naturally. It felt good just to be in the same space with her. But Eve had been right: Grace was troubled. Or maybe weary was the better word.
She slid across the seat and settled next to him. He kissed her forehead and wrapped an arm around her shoulder and that's how they stayed. Comforting one another in silence.
They were on their way to Southampton and before long pulled up to an elegant lakeside estate. A shingled home sprawled across a lawn too green to be real. Inside, they strolled hand-in-hand through one breathtaking room after another. In all they counted nine bedrooms, each with its own ensuite. There were living, dining and garden rooms plus a library all with ornate wood fireplaces. In a final display of wealth, there were two swimming pools; one outside and one inside.
"Quite something, isn't it?" asked Grace.
Colin nodded. "It's ok."
"Only ok?"
He silently chastised himself for not being more enthusiastic. "It's lovely — Eve has done it again. I mean, it looks like something from a magazine. But can you imagine living here?"
"I could get used to it."
"Doesn't it feel, I dunno, empty?"
"Not with you here," she said.
They were standing on the balcony off the master bedroom. The view was nothing short of picturesque. From the back of the house, it looked out over immaculately trimmed trees and shrubs to an azure lake beyond.
He leaned on the railing. "Imagine the upkeep — and the cleaning."
"I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to be thinking about housework." She gave him a playful nudge with her hip. "Besides, anyone who can afford this place, can afford a maid."
"True."
Grace rubbed a hand over his back. "Is everything alright?"
Damn. His mood was showing through. "I'm sorry," he said. "I think I need to go for a run. Come with me?"
"Shucks," she snapped her fingers in mock disappointment. "I forgot my sneakers."
"Actually . . ." he said, the hint of a smile on his face.
"You didn't."
"I did."
A pained look came over her face.
"Just a short one," he pleaded. "Eve has provided everything you need."
"Oh, goody."
"Please?"
Grace traced her finger along his jaw and over his lips. "A short one," she agreed.
A half hour later they'd changed, stretched and were trotting through the streets of Southampton, past one ostentatious estate after another. With each step, Colin felt his mood improving. Sloughing off the negative vibes of the city in favour of the lightness and calmness that came from spending time with Grace. She was a pretty good runner — better than he'd anticipated given her reticence to join him. Her form and pace were excellent, but he noticed that after fifteen minutes, she'd stopped talking. And after twenty minutes, when he suggested they make their way back, she didn't object.
He suspected running wasn't something she'd have done voluntarily, at least not on that evening. But she'd gone for him because it was something he'd wanted. And that touched him.
By the time they returned to their own home-away-from-home, Grace's face was red. Her hair was wet with sweat and tendrils stuck to her face and neck. She made a beeline for the outdoor pool and a bank of cedar coolers they'd noticed earlier. Upon yanking open one of the lids, her face brightened. It was filled with bottles of water on ice. She cracked one open and downed the entire thing before taking out two more and handing one to Colin.
"Thirsty?" he asked. He leaned over to give her a kiss, but she stopped him.
"Let me shower first."
"You look terrific. Hot even." He twisted off the bottle cap and took a sip.
"Yes, I am. Hot and sweaty."
"And sexy."
Grace rolled her eyes.
"Mr. Darcy would agree with me."
"Are you stoned or something?"
Colin burst out laughing. God, it felt good. No matter how heavy life got, this woman could lift his spirits — even when she was overheated and cranky. "He would! What's that line he has . . . something about Elizabeth's eyes being brightened by exercise."
"Well, then, you're both weird." Grace kicked off her sneakers and peeled off her socks. "I stink. That's not sexy." She padded over to the pool and jumped in. When she resurfaced, she lay on her back, floating and smiling.
"Better?"
"Much."
Tempted though he was to join her, he had other things planned for the evening, starting with a meal of cedar-planked barbecue salmon with maple dill sauce, grilled vegetables and jasmine rice. "I'm going to shower," he called and in response, she gave him a thumbs up.
Twenty minutes later he returned carrying a frozen strawberry daiquiri in one hand and a plate of watermelon wedges in the other. A bottle of beer was tucked under his arm.
"Come and get it," he called and eased down into one of the cushioned wicker deck chairs. Grace swam to the edge of the pool and as she pushed herself out, the famous scene from the movie 10 flashed through his mind. But Bo Derek had nothing on her. If Bo was a ten, Grace was an eleven.
"My, that's quite a grin." She picked up a towel and squeezed the excess water from her hair.
Colin dropped his legs to either side of the chair and made room for her to sit down. "Wet t-shirts suit you."
Although she grimaced, she nonetheless seemed pleased with the compliment. "This is a very civilized way to spend an evening, don't you think?"
"Absolutely." The sun was starting to drop toward the horizon. There were floating candles deck side, and he made a mental note to light them later.
Grace shifted in her seat. He could see the wheels turning over in her mind. Whatever it was she wanted to say, wasn't easy. "We should maybe talk about it . . ."
It.
Such a simple word, and yet it encompassed so much. The broken rules. The game. Her unknown identity and circumstances. His marriage. And God only knew what else.
It.
Colin ran a hand through his hair. Christ, what a tangle. She was right though; they should talk about it. That would be the mature, responsible thing to do.
Except he didn't want to be mature and responsible. Not tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. Or next week. Or next month. But not tonight.
He twisted the cap off his beer and tossed it on the side table next to the watermelon. "We should," he agreed.
"Did you mean what you said?" She set her watermelon rind back on the plate and dusted her fingers together. "About us having broken all the rules."
"I did."
She flushed and squeezed his hand. "What are we going to do?"
The sun cast a golden light on her hair and skin. "I have no idea," he said. "But we have four months to figure it out."
Grace leaned in and kissed him. She tasted like sugar. "Fair enough," she said. "So, for now we just enjoy tonight?"
Colin leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "For now, we enjoy tonight."
He could feel her shifting on the chair and soon she was hovering over him, kissing him. Her skin was still chilled from the pool and it felt rather nice. Soothing. She kissed his neck — tiny little pecks from his ear to his clavicle — and then his chest. It was utterly and completely relaxing, and his breathing deepened and slowed. When she started to unbutton his pants, he smiled and slid forward in the chair.
She traced a finger under the band of his boxers and he sighed. God, it felt good. He responded to every touch of her lips, fingers and tongue. Over his stomach and hips she went, then lower, stroking him until he groaned.
Colin wanted to scoop her up and carry her to the king-sized bed upstairs. He wanted to make love to her until dawn. But at this moment, he was paralyzed. Grace was in control.
Crouching between his legs, she looked up at him through her lashes and smiled. He expected her to crawl upward so that he could hold her in his arms. Instead, she sank lower and slipped her lips around him.
Everything else in life evaporated and only this moment, this act, remained. The pressure inside was building too quickly.
"Stop," he panted.
"What's wrong?" Her voice had taken on that husky tone he loved so much.
"I can't . . ." His thoughts were choppy. Staccato. "I'm gonna . . ."
"That's the point," she said, and took him again.