“I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir,”said Alice,“Because I’m not myself, you see.”
“I don’t see,” said the caterpillar.
— Lewis Carroll
“You’re not doing the two-step on my windshield,” Grady said. “Does this mean you didn’t have a good time?”
“Nope,” she said. “It just means I’ve already done it, and so I don’t have to do it again. I had a wonderful time tonight. You’re quite the dancer yourself, you know.”
“But modest with it all,” Grady said, wickedly grinning at her. “I’m most proud of how modest a man I am. I tell everyone.”
“Nut!” Annie felt mellow. Relaxed. And yet with an undercurrent of excitement coursing through her. She was sitting next to Grady, on her way back to Peevers Mansion, and when they got there?
Ah, when they got there...
“Sleepy?” Grady asked a few miles later, reaching over to tap her on the arm, as she had her head back, her eyes closed. It was probably too dark in the car for him to see the smile on her face.
“No, not really,” she said, keeping her eyes closed, still holding Maisie’s goldfish in her lap. “Did you really have fun tonight?”
Grady put on the ticker and got over into the right lane—slowing down so that he could pull in behind the car in front of them. “I think you know I did.”
“Yes, I do. It was probably when you joined in on that line dance with Father Ricky that I stopped worrying that maybe a church fair wasn’t your favorite Saturday nightspot. Wasn’t he cute?”
“Who?” Grady asked, turning onto the narrow, winding road that led to Peevers Mansion.
“Father Ricky, of course. We used to call priests like that Father Gorgeous. I had such a mad crush on Father Tom when I was in seventh grade. We all did. He coached the church league basketball team, so naturally I had to be a cheerleader. Just to be near him. Poor guy. I think we all made his life a living hell.”
“Father Gorgeous, huh? So you went to parochial school?” Grady asked, keeping his eyes on the road that was marked with deer crossing signs.
“Oh, no you don’t. I won the bet, remember? I don’t have to tell you a single thing about myself. I’m a lady of mystery, and I like it.”
“A lady of mystery and pom-poms. Were you a good cheerleader?”
“I was loud,” Annie said, grimacing. “Loud was about as much as they could hope for in seventh grade. But then I moved again, and retired my megaphone. I couldn’t do a split, you understand. Not that I could figure out why anyone would want to do a split.”
Grady parked the car in the drive in front of the mansion. “Did you move around a lot as a child? I get the impression you did. Whoops, sorry. No questions, right?”
Annie waited until he came around the car, to open the door for her. It was silly, she could open the door for herself, she’d been opening doors for herself all of her life, but she rather liked letting him do it for her. “Actually, I think that’s pretty much no questions I don’t want to answer. I’ll answer that one. Yes, I moved around a lot while I was growing up.”
“Because of your dad’s job?”
“Sorry, that one I won’t answer,” Annie said, as they walked past Dickens, who had opened the front door for them. “I’ll give you hints, Grady, but no clues. I’m still trying to get used to the idea that Maisie can tap her painted nails on a keyboard and find out so much about people. Hello, Dickens. How’s Archie? Sleeping? Teaching himself tae kwon do now that Grady here took away his gun?”
“Mr. Peevers is asleep behind his locked door,” Dickens answered stiffly. “He always sleeps soundly.”
“I’ll just bet he does,” Grady said as he motioned for Annie to climb the steps in front of him. “What sort of knockout drops did you give him?”
“I only follow Dr. Sandborn’s orders, sir,” Dickens said, then turned on his heels and departed the foyer in what looked pretty much like a huff.
“Now you’ve gone and hurt his feelings,” Annie said. “Shame on you.”
“Archie’s got his own branch store of the local pharmacy, and shame on me? How about the doctor? Take the M.D. from behind his name and he’s nothing more than a pusher. Not to mention a user himself.”
“He is not!” Annie responded hotly, then took a deep breath, calmed herself. “Sorry. I guess I’m not much into sweeping statements about people. You know, like con artist, and fake, and gold-digging impostor? I mean, there’s a reason for everything, isn’t there?”
“The word you’re looking for is excuse, Annie, and I don’t think there is one for what Dr. Sandborn is doing. Besides, we’re talking about the good doctor, not you. Once this is over, when my month is up, I’m going to have a little talk with the man about the benefits to be found in retirement and maybe a condo in Florida.”
“Or you’ll report him?” Annie asked, still walking ahead of Grady as they walked down the hallway toward her room. She put her hand on the doorknob, then turned to face him. “Why? You know about Dickens, and you’re not telling Archie on him. Why Dr. Sandborn?”
Grady put his hand on hers, forcing her to turn the knob and open the door. “Come on, Annie. There’s a difference here, a big one. Sandborn is treating patients.”
“No, he’s not,” Annie told him, walking into her room and putting the fishbowl down on the nightstand beside the bed. She should shut her big mouth, but she just couldn’t. “Dickens told me. The man’s retired. Archie is Dr. Sandborn’s only patient.”
“Really? How’d you get Dickens to tell you that?” Grady busied himself checking inside the closet and bathroom, as if he expected someone to jump out and yell, “Boo!”
“Aren’t you going to peek under the bed?” Annie asked meanly. “And why you’re checking out my room instead of baby-sitting Archie I still can’t figure out.”
“Would you feel better if I told you I trust Dickens implicitly? The man stands to lose his lucrative little business if anything happens to Archie, remember? The old guy couldn’t have a more devoted bodyguard. Besides, also in case you haven’t noticed, you’re not the most popular person around here.”
Annie lifted her chin defiantly. “They all love me,” she said. “They can’t help themselves. Everybody loves me.”
“Nice try,” Grady told her, walking back to stand in front of her, at which point she decided she was standing way too close to the bed. “They hate your guts, and you know it.” He touched his fingers to her cheek. “Although I’m pretty fond of you.”
“Really?” she said, avoiding his eyes, doing a really good impression of someone intensely interested in the weave of the carpet at their feet. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, his tone low, and seductive, and she knew he was smiling even though she still refused to look at him. “Annie?”
“Hmmm?” she responded nervously, trying to fight down the sudden tension in the room. He was so close, and they were so alone together. And the bed was so big.
“We’ve got this problem, don’t we?”
Now she did look at him. “Problem? What problem? I don’t have any problems.”
“Yes, Annie, you do. Because I want to make love to you, and you know I want to make love to you. So maybe it’s not really a problem. Maybe it’s more of a decision. Your decision. Do I stay, Annie, or do I leave? And you’d better soon make up your mind, because if I don’t leave soon I don’t think I’ll be able to go. Annie?”
Her breath hitched in her throat, which really upset her, because she had wanted to play this so cool, like it was just another man, just another Saturday night. But she couldn’t play it cool. She didn’t know how to play it cool. She didn’t know how to play, period.
“Annie?” he asked again, placing his hands on her shoulders as he inched nearer. She could feel his breath on her cheek, and when she turned her head away he pressed his lips against the side of her throat.
“You don’t play fair,” she complained as she felt the tip of his tongue tracing her skin, sending her pulse rate into overdrive.
“Not if I can help it.” He laughed quietly, moving his hands, pulling her closer, until she could feel the heat of his arousal against her thigh. She closed her eyes, tried to think, tried to remember why she thought she had to think.
His hands went lower on her back, then skimmed around her sides, sending shivers down her spine, before he cupped her breasts in his hand, began rubbing his thumbs over each nipple.
“Annie?”
She stopped breathing. The sensations racing through her body took all her concentration. All she could do was to stand there, her arms still at her sides, and feel.
He nuzzled her neck. His hands branded her. The pressure of his body against her thigh grew, as did the tension between her own legs.
“Annie?” he asked yet again.
“What?” she nearly exploded, wishing he’d just shut up and do whatever it was he was going to do, just as long as he took her with him.
Grady slid his hands to her waist, raised his head, and pushed her slightly away, so that he could look at her. “Nothing,” he said. “But I was just wondering. Have you done this before?”
Okay, now she looked at him. Bug-eyed, she looked at him. “Of course I have! I’m twenty-five years old. Of course, I’ve... done this before!”
“Really?” he said, and if he didn’t soon stop smiling at her that way, she was going to have to punch him.
“Yes, really. Plenty of times.”
He took her hand, pulled her down beside him on the edge of the bed. “How many times, Annie?”
She pulled her hand free and popped up again, to glare at him. “Why? You want references, Sullivan?” She turned her back to him, stabbed a hand through her hair. “Oh, just go away, Grady, okay? Just go away.”
She heard the mattress springs squeak as he stood up, and soon felt his hands on her shoulders. Was powerless to fight him as he turned her around to face him.
She looked up at him, ready to brain him one if he was grinning. But he wasn’t smiling. He was being serious, more serious than she’d ever seen him.
“I’m nervous, too, Annie,” he said after a moment. “Because this isn’t casual, is it? I sure don’t feel casual about it. I feel like this might be something special. That you might be someone special.”
“I know,” she admitted, daring to reach up and push back the hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “But what if we’re wrong? What happens then? What happens when we both leave here and get on with our lives? What happens when we’re not stuck here together, constantly in each other’s company? Will we still feel the same way? Will we even want to?”
“I don’t have the answers to any of those questions, Annie,” he told her, and she believed him. “But I’m willing to take a chance, if you are.”
She pushed him away again, and began to pace. “You know this is silly, don’t you? I mean, here we are. New millennium and all of that, and I’m acting like it’s the eighteenth century or something. People who like each other, are attracted to each other, go to bed with each other these days. It’s natural. It’s what happens. I read books. I go to movies. I know this.”
Grady sat down on the bed once more, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched her pace. “True enough.”
“There’s safe sex and all of that,” Annie went on, knowing she was babbling. “I mean, that’s a given, right?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of not protecting you, Annie, in every way.”
“So, okay. So, all right. So enough talking. Let’s do it.” She kicked off her shoes, then grabbed the fishbowl and carried it over to the bathroom, sticking it on the floor inside. “He shouldn’t see this, he’s too young,” she said as she came back into the room.
“He’s going to be Maisie’s fish, Annie,” Grady reminded her, standing up to turn down the bed. “I don’t even want to think about what that poor guy is going to be seeing. Six months with her, and he’ll probably be able to sell his story to the tabloids.”
“Good point,” Annie said, watching as he pushed the button that activated the bedside radio, which had been turned to an easy-listening station. He certainly seemed to know all the right moves, now that she’d said yes. All that was missing now was black-satin sheets. She didn’t think the Peevers linen closet ran to black-satin sheets. Although she could ask Daisy and Junior. They probably had them.
Oh, she was going crazy! Her mind was jumping from place to place, her stomach felt more queasy than was probably good. Wouldn’t that be great? He’d touch her, and she’d throw up all over him. Talk about romantic!
“Are we being too clinical?” she asked, wishing her voice didn’t suddenly have this stupid little squeak in it. “Because I’m feeling sort of clinical now.”
Grady turned to her, slid his gaze over her, turning her limbs to water without saying a word. “Now who’s asking for references?” he said, crossing the room to turn off the light, plunging the room into near darkness, with only the moonlight coming through the window allowing her to see his outline as he approached her.
It was now or never, not that he probably wouldn’t figure it out soon enough.
“Once,” she said suddenly, holding out both hands to keep him at arms-length. “I did it once, okay? I was twenty-two, and it seemed like time, everybody else was doing it, so I did it. So just don’t expect much, all right?”
She could see the look on his face even in the dark. He was stunned. Utterly stunned. He couldn’t look more stunned if she had pulled a mackerel from her back pocket and slapped him across the face with it.
But when he blinked, and then a slow smile started on his face, and he opened his mouth, it wasn’t to say anything she might have expected him to say. “Thank you, Annie.”
“Thank—thank me? Why?”
He took her hand, led her over to the bed. “Why? Because, Annie, you don’t give yourself lightly. Because I want to be the one who teaches you that once is most definitely not enough, not if it’s done right. Because I want to be the one to see the wonder in your eyes, to feel your body as it realizes why it was made. Because, somewhere inside me, I feel like this just might be the first time for both of us.”
She melted against him. Just melted. “Oh, you’re good,” she said, barely aware that he was unbuttoning her jeans. “You’re really good. Tom Cruise couldn’t have done it better.”
She felt his chuckle before he suddenly scooped her up and laid her down on the bed, following after her as he stepped out of his shoes, his slacks.
She closed her eyes. She kept them closed as she could hear the rustle of fabric, knowing he had taken off his shirt, feeling as well as knowing as he helped her out of her sweater, slid her jeans down until she could kick them off.
He made no move to unhook her bra, strip her of her panties, and she silently thanked him for that. Loved him for that.
Instead, he used his fingertips to turn her head toward him. Kissed her eyes, her nose, the tip of her chin, the pulse beating madly at the base of her throat.
“Open your eyes, Annie,” he said from above her, so close to her, his length pressed against her side. “Just open your eyes. Look at me.”
Biting her bottom lip between her teeth, she screwed up her courage and looked. The bed was awash in moonlight. She saw the expanse of his bare chest, the ripple of the muscles in his arms. She saw his wonderfully shaggy hair falling down over his sinfully handsome face. She saw the warm glitter of his eyes. She saw everything she had ever wanted, everything she had ever feared.
“I won’t hurt you,” Grady said, his voice low and soothing. “I would never, never hurt you.”
“I know,” she said, raising a hand to hold on to his arm, knowing it was true. He’d never hurt her. Not intentionally.
He kissed her then, slowly and gently at first, then more deeply, and with growing passion she found easy to return.
She was clumsy, and she knew it, but she was so very willing to learn.
There were moments. Moments she’d never forget.
Their shared laughter as she got her arm caught in her bra strap and it took the two of them to release her.
The hot stab of pleasure when his mouth first closed over her nipple.
The thrill of pleasure that radiated through her as she first dared to touch his chest, when some imp of mischief guided her hand to the waistband of his briefs as she wordlessly urged him to remove them.
The hot. The wet. The tension.
The mind-shattering pleasure as he lifted himself over her, as she opened herself to him, as she took him inside, welcomed him inside, gave herself over to his keeping.
The explosion.
The aftermath.
The words whispered in the night, the kisses that thrilled as much as the passion—maybe more.
Drifting off to sleep in Grady’s arms... and, for the first time in her life, feeling like she had come home...