Chapter Ten

Somewhere in the back of his brain, Grant knew that this was not the best way to have sex with someone. When they’d likely had too much wine and were upset over important life events.

But his relief on learning she was okay was palpable. And seeing her upset was killing him. In fact, it had unleashed a fierce urge to calm her, make her laugh. Make love to her.

Maybe a gentleman would have backed down. Realized the folly.

But he was no gentleman.

It certainly hadn’t hurt that she’d wrapped herself around him like a pretzel and hadn’t hesitated to stick her tongue in his mouth and kiss him like neither of them would live past the next hour.

He yanked off his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and unzipped his pants, tossing everything to the floor, leaving on only his boxers. He was breathing hard, his pulse pounding at his temples, knocking on the door of his brain like it was his last chance to get some sense.

He forced himself to pause. “Liz. I…don’t want to take advantage.” For some reason, it was important to him that she wanted him for him, not simply to dull her pain.

She leveled him a glance. A wary, jaded one. “You don’t want me?” she asked.

Oh hell. More than anything. “Of course I want you,” he growled. “I’ve wanted you from the first second I saw you. I’ve never stopped wanting you, from that last night in Africa.”

He joined her on the bed. Gathered her to him, kissed her knuckles one by one.

She didn’t say anything, but he knew from the devastated look in her eyes what she was thinking. This whole baby thing was important to her in ways he couldn’t even fathom. All he knew was he hated seeing her like this. “I’m sorry it didn’t work, but you don’t give up easily. And neither do I. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

She nodded and swept his hair off his forehead. Her fingers brushed his temple, a small, tender gesture that gutted him.

“Know something else,” he said. “Whether or not you can have children has no bearing on your worth as a woman. Maybe your ex made you feel like it did, but that’s his problem.” He flipped the collar of her robe aside and kissed her neck gently. “You’re unbelievably gorgeous,” he said. “Stunning, in fact.” He trailed light kisses down her neck, gingerly opening half her robe, and sweet Jesus, there was nothing under that robe but her sweet, beautiful body. He continued telling her exactly what he thought of her in a low, soft voice. Telling her she was beautiful, how much he wanted her. Seducing her, yes. But more—comforting her, wanting her to smile and let go of the pain. “Everything’s going to turn out all right,” he said. “You’ll see.”

At last, he feasted his eyes on her, half uncovered before him: a long, toned leg, the curve of her hip, her breast. “Spectacular,” he said, then tossed the other side of her robe aside. What he saw made his breath hitch. She was perfect. Miles of creamy skin and gorgeous curves. But so much more than that, too, things he couldn’t—or didn’t dare—put into words. “Dear God,” he managed.

She reached for him, nodding softly as if to say yes. Now. Please. Her soft hands traveled to his shoulders, pulling him closer, then along his back, running up and down the planes of his muscle. She tugged on the waistband of his briefs, resting her hot hands on his ass, and all of it felt so damn good. In one swoop, he slid off the briefs and rolled on top of her.

He kissed her, and everything, all his thoughts and worries, faded away. Her lips were soft and seeking, and suddenly hungry, their kisses urgent and deep. He dipped into the sweet taste of her over and over, unable to get enough.

He needed her over and above any comfort he could give her, wanted her with a primal need that surpassed anything he’d ever felt before.

He touched her beautiful breast, cupping it in his hand. Fingering her nipple, rubbing it until it grew taut. Lowering his lips and taking it in his mouth, he laved it over and over with his tongue until she arched against him. He loved the way she responded to him, running her hands all over him, dragging her fingers through his hair, murmuring with soft noises of pleasure.

“I want you,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding hoarse and throaty. “God, I want you so badly.”

“I want you, too,” she said, grabbing his cock, wrapping her fingers around him and rubbing up and down his length.

He burned for her. There’d been no one else since her, and now he understood why. He burned for no one else like this. Ever. Not even close.

“Condom. In my wallet. Other room,” he said, and moved to go, but she tightened her grip on his arm.

“There’s no need,” she said. “If you’re okay with that.”

He looked at her oddly.

“I mean, my chances of getting pregnant are practically nonexistent. And we’ve both been tested for everything—”

He nodded his okay. He understood the odds were closing in on her, that at this point, a pregnancy was highly unlikely without another insemination procedure or in vitro.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

…

Liz stilled as Grant splayed his big hand over her stomach, slid it down onto her lower abdomen. Past her curls, invading her wet throbbing flesh, pushing her legs apart until she was vulnerable and exposed. She forced herself to meet his gaze and what she saw there brought hot tears to her eyes, for she saw an exposed tenderness there she’d never seen before.

His glance said trust me, and in the midst of her feverish desperation, she did. He slipped his fingers inside her, making her cry out, and continued his sensual torment, as hot waves of pleasure spiraled out and spread everywhere. They tore through her belly, her limbs, turning her limp and weightless even as her body arched and writhed under his touch, traitorously begging for more.

He stroked her with his thumb and put his mouth on her breast, working his magic with his tongue. She lay there spread out before him, vulnerable, exposed. Feverishly, she moved her head from side to side as he moved above her, playing and tormenting. She was aware of his honed, hard body, perfectly muscled, his cock proud and large. A beautiful, beautiful man. Who’d come back for her at her lowest moment. Who hadn’t abandoned her. And God help her, in that moment she needed him like air.

He whispered endearments in her ear, kissed her mouth, stroked her until she could bear it no longer, taking in her cries as she let go, shaking and trembling and crying out his name.

He kissed away her cries as she guided him into her body, taking in his length as he pushed inside her, stretching her, invading her, filling her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Better,” she said, smiling. “Now that you’re here.” She tried not to think beyond now. Or read into the way he was looking at her. Like he knew what was going on deep within her, from the inside out. As if down to her bones, down to her deepest, darkest feelings, he understood her.

She wrapped her hands around the powerful muscles of his arms, so smooth and yet so hard, as he possessed her completely.

“Make love to me, Grant,” she said, lifting her hips and wrapping her legs around him. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

He smiled broadly, looking every bit the handsome devil he was, possessing her completely, setting a familiar rhythm that began building until every muscle tightened, every nerve was on the verge of splitting.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you, Elizabeth,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and urgent. He drove into her deeply, until they both shattered and came apart together.

They held on to each other a long time afterward, the only sound the soft humming of the air conditioner as it clicked on and off. As Liz inhaled the clean male scent of him, felt the heat of his body surround her, she had no words to describe the feelings that washed over her, replacing her pain and disappointment. She refused to think words like connection, trust, contentment. She simply took what he gave her, until a minute later she fell fast asleep in his arms.

…

It didn’t surprise Liz when Grant showed up at her office at exactly five p.m. two weeks later on a Friday in late June in a black convertible BMW with the top down. What did surprise her was that she was standing there—on time—waiting for him.

“Not a second tardy,” he said, as she stepped into the car and tossed her briefcase in the back. He was wearing aviators and smiling a broad, white, movie-star smile. Hot guy, hot car. Lucky her. “How’d that happen?”

“I wouldn’t miss our first official date for anything,” she said, buckling in for the ride. “And I made sure no one scheduled me after four thirty.” Actually, Paula had asked her to see one of her patients, but she’d held strong.

She leaned over and kissed him, which he seemed to like a lot, judging by the way he kept sneaking more kisses. “I can tell you’ve missed me,” he said, smiling a slightly cocky grin that made her heart flip.

“Mm-hmm,” she said. “It’s been a while,” Like, nine hours. For the past two weeks, they’d spent nearly every night together making love, talking, or just cuddling. And every morning before work. Who knew that Grant Wilbanks, big, strong, burly man-of-the-world, was a cuddler?

He’d warned her that he was taking her somewhere this weekend and to be prepared. She’d been on call last weekend but now was completely free, and she didn’t want to waste a second more of time.

“You know, we could go back to my place,” she said. They’d been staying there, since Dottie’s kitchen was being repainted after the ceiling repairs from the leaky roof. Grant had hired out the work, spending much of his time finishing up his documentary.

“Oh no,” he said. “This is a very important date. We’re actually leaving town.” He’d even dropped Gizmo off with her sister for the weekend, so she knew that whatever he had planned, it was something special.

A car horn honked from behind them, so he finally released her and started driving. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see,” he said. “Did you have lunch?”

“Actually, I worked through lunch so I could get done early.”

“I figured as much.” He reached below the seat and pulled out an insulated lunch bag. “I packed you a snack.”

“You…what?” He was a man of surprising contrasts. Powerful and impenetrable on the outside, with muscles made of rock and a penchant for danger, but on the inside, a heart made of molten lava cake. Comfortable on the world stage, yet just as at home sitting at Dottie’s old kitchen table, pouring over the world news, coffee in his hand. Shirtless, of course. And he was surprisingly domestic. A man like that would make a good father.

Oh God, had she just thought that?

He’d told her yet again how he wasn’t cut out for domestic life, as though he were warning her to not get attached. Yet together they worked in the garden, sipped wine on the porch, visited with the neighbors and townspeople. One night they’d even lit a fire in the old fireplace and made love in front of it. It was a little warm for June but so romantic, like so many things about him. Yet no matter how wonderful he was, how hot and gorgeous and kind, he was not the type of man to hang around Buckleberry Bend for long. And she’d better remember that or she’d be headed for heartache.

Too late, a voice whispered. Way too late.

She opened the container and pulled out grapes, some kind of fancy cheese, cut up in cubes, gourmet crackers, and…a juice box of all things. As she popped a grape in her mouth, she snuck a glance at him, inexorably touched. Then she held a grape up to his lips and watched as he wrapped his lips around it. Was eating a grape sexy? Absolutely, when he did it.

“Thank you,” she said, digging into the cheese “That was sweet.” She paused. “Does our date involve fooling around time?”

“Would you like it to involve fooling around time?” He was smiling broadly now, causing her panties to practically melt in place. Oh, that smile. Along with a sculpted, toned body she loved to touch. Everywhere.

“Isn’t that the whole purpose of a date?” she asked, looking perplexed.

“Elizabeth, darling, we’ve been fooling around constantly for the past two weeks. May I remind you that sometimes dates do have another purpose.”

She pretended to yawn. “Boring,” she said, smiling, and offered him another grape.

They pulled up an hour later in front of a large aluminum warehouse. Grant got out of the car, opened her door, and together they walked up to a battered-looking door, where he hit the buzzer.

“This is creeping me out a little,” she said, looking around. The warehouse looked like a massive army bunker, curved on top, and there wasn’t much else around for what seemed like miles.

“Hello, Mr. Wilbanks, sir.” A tall, thin middle-aged man with bright-red hair wearing an expensive suit and an exotic designer tie greeted them and ushered them in to a massive collection of furniture that stretched for infinity on all sides.

Liz couldn’t help but notice the sir. Apparently, this was no ordinary furniture store, if that was what this was. Would he actually bring her furniture shopping instead of fooling around? What was the deal here?

Grant ignored her frown and pulled a piece of graph paper out of a file folder. “Liz, this is Eric, who is awesome. Eric decorated a few of my friends’ places in DC but his main warehouse is here in North Carolina.”

“Where a lot of great American furniture is made,” Eric said with a smile. “How can I help you?”

Grant handed the paper to Eric. “The room is drawn to scale, with the windows and fireplace included. I’d say she needs two couches, two comfortable chairs, a coffee table, and some end tables,” he said. “And some paintings for the walls, but that’s just my guess. Also, she’s using a mattress on the floor for her bed.” He turned to Liz. “Get a bedroom set, too, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. Who was this man? This ruggedly handsome world-class reporter, as much a man’s man as Hemingway, who cooked, fixed roofs, planted gardens, fixed stuff…and decorated? Some of the many hidden talents in the amazing Grant Wilbanks package. Which, she had to admit, she liked way too much. Except maybe now, when he was being a little bit bossy.

“What’s your style?” Eric said.

“I like modern,” she said before Grant could say anything. Like that she had no style. She preferred to think of it more as unexpressed.

“Modern, eh?” Grant asked, a brow raised.

“Well, I think so. My parents’ home is very traditional. I’d like something different.”

“Consistent with your trailblazer personality,” Grant said, his mouth quirking up in a smile.

Liz poked him in the ribs. But she couldn’t help smiling. “I’m not a trailblazer.”

“Yes, you are,” he said quietly. “When you want something, you go after it.”

“That makes me sound pushy,” she said.

He was staring at her, his eyes such a pure, perfect blue. Like cornflowers blooming in bunches by the side of the country roads in July. “Not pushy. Admirable. You don’t hide what you want. No pretense, all honesty.”

The compliment made her blush. She’d never been able to hide her feelings for him, that was for sure. She knew that kind of thinking might end her up in big trouble. But as much as she tried to tell herself to hold back, she could not.

“Come with me,” Eric said.

She learned two things over the course of the next hour. One, Eric was indeed awesome and did know his furniture. Unfortunately, she also learned that Grant had the attention span of a flea. Either that or he was bored out of his mind. Probably both, because the more sofas and chairs they looked at, the more he began to wander, lying on couches, playing with recliners, watching TVs.

At least she was making a serious effort to learn about what furniture would fit in her house. But Grant seemed determined to sabotage her concentration, grabbing her ass on the way to the bedroom displays when Eric wasn’t looking.

Liz speared Grant with a look.

He rolled his eyes. “Please, darling, don’t deny me. That’s the most fun I’ve had all day.”

“You brought me here,” she said, covering her backside in case he tried to do it again. “So behave.”

After looking at what seemed like the millionth couch, she caught his attention. “What about this one?” she asked, pointing to a blue and yellow plaid country-style couch with ruffles. “This is cute.”

“Certainly modern,” Grant said. “For 1984.”

She frowned. “Don’t tell me you like this one,” she said, looking at a bright-orange contemporary piece with metal legs that was shaped sort of like a peanut.

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

Eric found a velvety gray couch that looked pretty normal and felt like sitting on a cloud. He was explaining something about the anti-stain qualities and the durability when Grant began nuzzling her neck. “Let’s check out the mattresses,” he whispered, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shhh,” she said, stepping away from him so she could give Eric her attention.

“Grant, come sit on this couch,” she called, patting the seat of a leather sofa she was trying out. He was off looking at an abstract sculpture that looked like the inside of a lava lamp.

“I like it,” he said, walking over. “No ruffles, no big prints, just simple.”

“I’ll take one of these,” she told Eric.

“Two,” Grant said. She’ll take two.”

“My goodness, you are bossy,” she said.

“You’ll be glad when you can fit your entire family in your living room at one time.” He looked at Eric. “Am I right?”

“He’s right,” Eric said. “You can’t go wrong with two couches in that space.”

“Fine. Two. I’ll take two.”

“Hurry up and finish. I’m eager for the next part of our date.” He massaged her neck lightly from behind as they walked into the easy chair section.

“That better be the fooling around part,” she said darkly. She’d never seen him like this—playful, joking around, and best of all, as eager as she was to be together.

That made her heart squeeze a little painfully. It seemed from the way he shot her those hot bedroom looks and kept touching her and all his playful joking that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. While that made her practically tremble with joy, it also scared the shit out of her.

Liz picked out two new easy chairs and a coffee table Grant liked because it reminded him of the craftsman style of the woodwork in her house. And because Eric said it matched the other stuff. She let him talk her into two paintings by a local North Carolina artist. Then at last they were done.

While Eric started the paperwork, Liz found Grant sitting at a very modern, sleekly curved glass desk.

“You probably don’t have much need of that in your profession, do you?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you sit down for more than a minute since I met you.”

“Actually, I’ve always wanted a desk like this.” He ran his hand over the cut surface of the glass. “L-shaped, plenty of room, and I can stand or sit as I wish.”

She sat down across from him. He was sort of caressing it. “You really like this.”

“I always fancied myself a writer,” he said. “Until a professor I had in college told me not to bother.”

“That sounds cruel.”

He swiveled the chair around. “He also told me I’d never amount to much. I’ve spent the past ten years attempting to prove him wrong.”

“Well, I’d say you certainly did. So maybe now it’s time to prove his other comment wrong?”

“You mean about me becoming a writer?” He laughed. “I do think of it often. I’ve considered writing something political based on what I’ve seen in the field. A book would be an excellent platform for some of the injustices I’ve seen, and it would reach more people than a news story.”

“Grant,” she said, half sitting on the desk and leaning over until she was quite close. She rubbed circles on the surface the polished glass. “This desk is calling your name.”

“Except I haven’t a home to put it in, sweetheart. Perhaps another time.”

That made her a little sad. She almost offered to bring the desk to her house. She’d be happy to make use of it in the little library and let him use it when he returned from trips. Except she caught herself before she said anything. Already she’d fallen so easily into acting like they were in a real relationship. Offering to do something a normal couple might do, but she feared saying it out loud would almost certainly frighten him off.

Liz had already decided to live one day at a time with him. He was a wonderful, loving, kind, hot and sexy man…but she understood he was damaged, too. Unable or unwilling to commit for reasons he’d never offered to discuss, but that she understood stemmed from what had happened to him as a boy. Plus, he was right: he had no permanent home.

“You could keep it at my place,” she said. Oh hell. She shouldn’t have said that. Restraint had never really been part of her repertoire.

He looked up. For a flash, she saw something in his eyes—vulnerability, maybe? Or some hurt, some old wound. What was so deep he couldn’t even discuss?

“Thanks for the offer,” he said a little stiffly. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

Just then, Eric came back with her paperwork. “Where do I sign?” she asked.

Eric glanced uncomfortably from Grant to Liz. “Sign here for delivery but the rest—it’s been taken care of,” he said.

“What he means is I took care of it,” Grant said. He winked at Eric. “Don’t want you to lose your head on my account, mate.” Then he turned to Liz. “Please sign for your delivery, and I promise we can argue about this as soon as we’re outside of Eric’s hearing range.”

Liz signed, but only for Eric’s sake. As soon as they got in the parking lot, she turned to Grant. “That’s not acceptable,” Liz said. “You know it’s not.”

“Why can’t I simply want to do something for you? I have enough money to buy the whole damn furniture store.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Anderson Cooper, but it’s not the money. It’s—” How could she explain it? It was bad enough she’d spent an hour and a half picking out furniture with a man she wasn’t even sure she could call her boyfriend. Every piece would remind her of him forever, whether he remained in her life or not. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that, either.

They were in the middle of the parking lot, a few feet away from his car. “Do you know why I have no furniture?” she asked.

“Because you don’t have any time to pick some out?”

“Yes, that’s true, but the real reason is I didn’t keep anything from my marriage. I wanted a fresh start.”

“I’d say you’re getting a very nice fresh start, then. All brand-new things.”

“It’s not about brand new things, Grant. I didn’t keep anything from my marriage because I caught my husband in bed with his girlfriend. In our bed. When I left, I left everything. The house, the furniture, the wedding gifts. And all the little things I’d bought to make our house a home.”

He strode over and pulled her with one tug against his big body, wrapped his arms around her. That swift, brief act made her emotions well up in a way that talking about her past didn’t at all.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his hands massaging her back. “My only intention in bringing you here was to do something nice for you. I hate to see you live like that, in a place that doesn’t even resemble a home.”

“I love that you took me shopping. What you did for me was really sweet, but don’t you see? If you pay for this, it becomes our furniture. And I don’t even know if there is an us. I need to pay for my own stuff.” Sooner or later, they had to talk about this. It wasn’t in her nature to sidestep elephants in the room.

“Fine, Elizabeth, pay for it,” he said, holding up his hands. “There, problem solved.”

“You’re angry,” she said.

He shrugged. “You don’t ever let people do anything for you, do you? I just want you to trust me enough to let me give you something. Let me do this for you.”

That melted her down to the marrow in ways she could not even dare to say. She’d sworn to be independent, to never depend on anyone, especially not a man. He was asking a lot of her. He was asking for her trust. After all they’d been through, it would take a leap to give him that.

He caught up to her and pinned her against the car door, leaning over her, his hands on either side of her head. Okay, she had to admit he knew how to convince a girl. “Will you trust me, Elizabeth?”

He was so near she could see the intensity he always carried in those blue, blue eyes. It felt as though he could see through her, into all her flaws and hopes and dreams, stripping her naked with one glance. “Okay,” she finally said, her voice coming out in a tangled whisper.

“Finally,” he said, his mouth quirking up in a smile. He reached over and kissed her, deeply and thoroughly, until she felt she might slide down the side of the car and dissolve into a boneless heap in the middle of this parking lot in the middle of nowhere, never to be found again.

“One more thing,” he said. “I am your boyfriend, dammit.” She felt him smile against her neck as he planted kisses there. “And when I’m through with you, you won’t have any doubts.”