Chapter Ten

Stacey’s heart was going to gallop out of her chest, she was sure of it.

“Ummm…” She looked around. “What do you mean?”

She was stalling. Why was she stalling? And why couldn’t she breathe?

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He pushed away from the door and closed the distance between them, stopping a foot away. Far enough to give her space, yet close enough she could feel the heat emanating from him. “Unless you don’t want this, which is totally okay. You know that, right?”

When she didn’t answer—couldn’t answer—he stepped back and shoved a hand through his hair, momentarily disturbing the loose curls there. “Okay. How about a movie? Out here,” he quickly added. “Maybe you could bring the laptop out and we’ll set it up on the coffee table.”

“I’ll go get it.” She practically ran to her bedroom, needing a second to get her head on straight. She’d wanted this, right? He was clearly open to the possibility. What was wrong with her?

The tension between them had eased by the time she returned to the living room. “Who’s turn to pick?”

“Mine.”

“Ugh.” She placed her laptop on the coffee table and sagged on the sofa. “I’m not in the mood for an action flick.”

“And I’m not in the mood for a rom-com.” He plugged the laptop into an outlet across the room. “How about we random scroll?”

Random scroll. It’d been at least a couple of months since they’d disagreed on a movie to the point where they’d pulled up Netflix and chosen one by closing their eyes and randomly moving the cursor. Wherever it stopped, that was what they watched. “Are you sure? We could end up with something pretty bad.”

“Or pretty good.” He shrugged. “We’ve discovered a few decent movies that way.”

“Good point.” She blew out a breath. What she needed tonight was a distraction. Who really cared if it was something she could get into or not? And even if she couldn’t, they’d established this system years ago, and it’d eliminated conflict since. “Okay, you put your finger on the screen, and I’ll scroll.”

When Grant was in position, they both closed their eyes. “One, two, three,” she said slowly, then randomly flicked the computer’s mouse.

“Stop,” Grant said.

She opened her eyes. “The Big Easy.” She frowned. “It looks old. Have you seen it?”

“No.” He plopped down on the sofa next to her.

She scrolled through the description. “Great. A drama.” This just wasn’t going to be her night, was it?

“You know the rules. We have to watch at least the first half hour before we can nix it for something else.”

“Who made up that dumb rule, anyway?”

“You did.” He glanced at his phone. “We’ve got about twenty-five minutes before the pizza arrives, assuming it gets here on time. If we decide to watch something else we can do it then.”

“It better get here on time,” she grumbled.

Stacey started the movie and leaned back, realizing too late that she and Grant were practically touching.

So what? It’s not like she hadn’t ever sat with her head turned into his shoulder while watching a particularly gruesome part of a movie.

The story started out interestingly enough, if you considered a murder interesting, anyway. Subtitles played along the bottom of the screen, a necessary evil since they were just as likely to talk as to watch.

“Hey, thanks again for all the help today,” she said. “It made the time go quicker.”

“No problem. I already told you I didn’t mind.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you, that’s all.”

“I don’t feel that way. How’s it possible that Julian’s so ill?” Grant asked after a brief pause. “He doesn’t look it.”

“He says his attitude is a choice he makes every day. He figures that he’s only got so much time left, and he didn’t want to spend it hurting himself as well as the only woman he’d ever loved.” She sighed. “It’s one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard.”

“How’s that romantic?”

She twisted around to gape at him. “Are you kidding? No matter how awful he feels he’s choosing to live his life the best way he knows how. Not just for himself, but for Martha, the love of his life. That’s romantic.”

He just shrugged.

How could some guys totally get that while others, like Grant, remained clueless?

She settled back into her spot, and they watched the movie in companionable silence, as the female lead—an assistant DA—grilled the cop she was working with.

“Dennis Quaid was really hot even back then,” Stacey murmured.

“I suppose. I have a thing for the Anne character, myself.”

“Well, good. I’d be a bit worried if you had a thing for Dennis Quaid.”

Grant angled himself so he was turned in her direction, and while she couldn’t see him, she felt him, felt the weight of his stare.

“What?”

He shrugged again.

“Look, either say what’s on your brain or watch the movie, but don’t just stare. It’s unnerving.”

“Okay, tell me something. Julian and Martha have been married for sixty years. Do you really think they got along every second of that time?”

That was on his brain? Now? “I thought you didn’t believe in relationships.”

“I’m being serious.”

She sighed. “Maybe not every second, but on the whole the good times clearly outweighed the bad. There are plenty of people in great, long-lasting relationships. Not perfect or anything, but seems to me that the love they share with their partner makes it easier to deal with the tough times. Maybe that’s what adds to the bliss.”

He went quiet and it took everything Stacey had not to look at him.

“Well,” he finally said. “That sounds like something a girl would think up.”

In other words, he still didn’t believe it was possible. At least not for him.

“Hey, you asked for my opinion, and that’s what you got.” She kept her eyes on the screen and her voice as normal as possible. “Why? Are you thinking you might be open to a relationship one of these days?”

She was pretty sure he couldn’t hear her pounding heart, but she didn’t dare look at him. Probably safer to watch the movie, where the main characters were at some restaurant.

“Me?” He shook his head. “Hell, no. I was just wondering if there’s a new angle we can take at the brewery. You know, something to draw in the older crowd. Celebrations and such.”

“Liar.”

“Why would you say that?”

She laughed. “I’ve known you forever. You only ask questions like that when you’re curious enough to entertain an idea.”

“I ask questions to gather information,” he grumbled. “Then I get to reserve judgment on my thoughts about a topic.”

“Which in this case is about relationships.”

He stared. She could feel it.

Stacey grinned. “So, you have to at least admit you’re curious if relationships have staying power.”

“I’m just saying, how much sense does it make to plan for a future that might never come? There are no guarantees.”

Groaning, Stacey tucked her foot under her knee and faced him. “Because there aren’t guarantees about anything. Life should be balanced. Does it make sense to spend all your energy on the now without thinking about the future? Nothing about now is guaranteed, either, you know.”

He grinned at her.

“What’s so funny?”

He raised his arms above his head in a stretch that left very little to the imagination when his shirt crept above the top of his jeans and showed off the trail that wandered down to Happy Land.

Oh, wow. She swallowed.

“Do you have this kind of discussion with all the guys you date?”

It was a deflection, but a good one. “Do you?”

“I don’t date guys,” he answered smoothly. “But you really ought to know that this type of conversation is too heavy for most guys to wrap their heads around. You’re probably scaring them off.”

Never mind that he started it. She sighed. “I need a guy who can keep up with me. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Do you want a guy or a racehorse?”

“How about a guy who’s hung like a horse? Who’s got more than a few brain cells and knows how to laugh, too?”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“You have no idea.” She shifted back and tried to follow the movie instead of the line of thinking that would lead her straight into imagining just how well-endowed Grant would be. Gulp. “Are we watching this or what?”

They settled back in, but she could barely concentrate, could barely follow along given her proximity to Grant, to the fact that the only reason they were sitting on the couch was because they couldn’t set foot in her bedroom without things getting…intimate.

“You cold?” Grant leaned over and brushed strands of hair from where they’d fallen across her face, then bumped his shoulder against hers. “I could grab a blanket if you like.”

And he would, too. That was the way he’d been for years, that’s what made him so comfortable to be around, that’s what made him such a good, reliable friend. Only, tonight he didn’t feel like just a friend. He felt like more. So much more.

“I’m fine.” She smiled up at him. “I was just thinking that it feels good to have you here.” Yeah, it did. It felt good. It felt right. But she could think of something that’d feel even better.

“Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

“You were?”

“Yeah.” He reached for her hand and locked their fingers, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand in an absentminded fashion.

Still, there was something about the way he did it, with his gaze glued to her laptop like he was completely fascinated by the story playing out on it, even though a part of her suspected he wasn’t seeing a thing. Was she wrong about all this?

On the screen the main characters argued…and then Remy, the Dennis Quaid character, planted himself in front of Anne, effectively trapping her to the chair she sat in. Tension crackled in the air around them, and he leaned forward, his face inches from hers.

Desire and passion registered, and Stacey held her breath, the scene so sensual she couldn’t help herself. Remy closed the remaining few inches between them, capturing Anne in a kiss so intense that Stacey shivered, because the characters weren’t just kissing, but kissing.

“Did I miss something?” Grant asked beside her. “I thought this was a pseudo-thriller movie.”

“It is.” It just apparently had some very hot, very sexy bits in it, too. Bonus.

Remy and Anne were now in bed, and Stacey’s fuck-me meter shot up, every cell in her body on hyperalert. They knelt and kissed and touched, skin against skin, mouths meeting, then pulling away as Remy made his way down Anne’s neck to her shoulder, probably not caring that her clothes were in the way, from the looks of things.

Beside her Grant remained silent, but the pressure on her hand increased, the circles he drew with his thumb were more intense, the feeling erotic and sending traces of awareness skipping up her arm. It probably helped that she sat so close to him—she was practically in his lap. She fought the need to squirm, to assuage that perfect spot between her legs that throbbed with need.

She looked away from the screen and bit down on her lower lip. Damn, damn, damn. She was tired of waiting for the perfect guy to show up. Grant was here, and he would willingly give her what she wanted tonight. Why was she fighting it so hard? Maybe he was right after all. Would it be so bad to focus on now, without thought of what a future might look like?

She couldn’t stand it. His hand stroking hers, the warmth of his body pressed next to her, the thump of her heart like it wanted to gallop out of her chest. What was so wrong with taking what she wanted, damn it?

Not a thing. Not. A. Damn. Thing.

Without a word she shifted, untangling their hands, hoping he understood her silent intent. She leaned toward Grant, acutely aware that something very interesting was happening on the screen. Didn’t matter, she had more pressing matters in front of her.

She traced a hand over his chest, felt the rock-hard muscles underneath, and sighed. Sure, she’d seen him with his shirt off before, but chances were good that they weren’t half as appealing then as they would be now that she’d let her mind go down that path.

Stacey pulled back just far enough to capture his gaze. His breathing was shallow, his eyes trained on her like he had no intention of breaking their connection. “You know what we should do, Grant?”

“What?”

She smiled at the breathlessly spoken word. He was definitely as turned on as she was. What would he think if she suggested they mimic the scene playing out on the screen? “I think we should—”

Ding-dong!

…

Grant blinked as the sound of the doorbell registered and Stacey scrambled off the sofa. Holy motherfucking God.

A few seconds earlier and he’d have already hauled her to her bedroom, missing the doorbell completely. Grant wouldn’t have stopped. Screw the pizza.

“Get the door,” she directed, fumbling for her purse. Her hands were shaking, and she looked as flustered as she sounded.

Easy for her to say. She didn’t have a woody that made walking hard. Somehow, he managed to make it to the door, but not before the doorbell rang again. He threw open the door and glared at the guy standing there, totally unaware that he’d just cock-blocked Grant.

“I’ve got a Bear Lakes pizza,” the guy said, holding out the box.

Grant grabbed it while Stacey shoved some bills out. “Here. Keep the change.”

With the door firmly closed behind them, she led the way to the kitchen. “Wow. Smells good. I hope they remembered to leave off the mushrooms. I never did like those on my pizza. I don’t think most places know how to cook them right. Either that or they use canned mushrooms. I don’t like canned mushrooms.”

She was babbling, stringing words together, filling the silence with anything that would distract herself from facing what was in front of her. He’d seen it all before.

“Go ahead and set that down, and I’ll get the plates.”

To hell with this.

She opened a cabinet, and he quickly slammed it shut and held it in place. The face she turned to him held a mixture of confusion and something else, something unidentifiable, yet sparked an answering response inside him. She was sweetness and passion and desire all melded together into one amazing woman.

He was acting on instinct, he knew, and he also knew that he could be wrong. But, damn it, they’d been dancing around this “thing” between them long enough.

“Grant?”

Her confusion was his advantage. He pulled Stacey close, saw the moment her confusion morphed into desire.

“If you don’t want this, tell me now.” His voice was gruff, demanding, driven by a need so intense he wasn’t sure he could contain it.

A soft smile curved her lips, the perfect contrast to the hard edge of his control. Stacey pulled his head down to hers and rose onto her toes.

Finally…

He relished her soft sighs and moans, and nibbled his way down the side of her neck. Her moans grew louder when he reached a particularly sensitive spot. Hmm. He needed to catalog the location for future reference.

He wasn’t sure when it happened or how it happened, but at some point, it registered that he had her pinned up against the refrigerator, her kisses now deeper, more insistent, more demanding. And, God help him, he was more than happy to give in to her wishes, her desires.

Because tonight would be all about her.