“I should’ve figured.”
“Should’ve figured what?” I ask to the door at which I’m currently staring, the one thing that is separating me from seeing Grayson. It’s been a long week since the last time we saw each other. A long week since his lips were on mine and the heat of his body was in my bed. And on top of me.
I’ve seen four other very sexy men up close and personal during my travels to the other finalists’ photo shoots over the past week. I’ve seen chiseled chests and flawless smiles and have been charmed to death by one after another. I’ve been taken to dinner, been wined by their wives, and dined with their children, and yet, the one man I can’t wait to see is standing behind the door in front of me.
Needless to say, I’m kind of anxious about it. Even if it’s in this setting: at his station with his crew sitting around and waiting for a call, all of them anxious to harass the hell out of him.
I’ll take him any way I can get him at this point.
“I should’ve figured that you’d finagle a way to see me.” His laugh is muffled.
“Finagle? Who me?”
“Says the queen of manipulation. Tell me, did you plant any stories in the Gazette telling people we’re getting engagement photos done today or something?”
I stare at the door with wide eyes, trying to say no and that it was all Rissa before, but before I can get the words formed and out of my mouth, the door opens, and I lose any and all ability to speak.
I may have seen other perfect men this week, but none of them stole my breath like Grayson does in this moment.
There is a teasing grin on that cocksure face of his and humor in his stunning blue eyes. Those two things together I may have been able to handle, but he’s in his flight suit, which makes it all too much. He’s just too damn sexy.
I allow myself a quick moment to appreciate the sight of every inch of him.
Just lust.
It’s even better knowing exactly what he looks like beneath it, too.
Just sex.
I feared he was too good to be true. That I’d relived the sex we had over and over in my mind—I mean, c’mon, that’s a normal thing to do—and worried that I made it better than it was. That I made him better than he was.
That’s all, I remind myself.
Now that we’re face to face, now that every part of me sighs at the sight of him, I know I didn’t make a damn thing up.
And I know I’m so very screwed.
“I did not finagle you. Not then. Not now.” I stand my ground, despite the smile playing at the corners of my lips. “Even if we are engaged.”
Our eyes meet. Hold. His smile turns salacious, and just as I hear voices down the hall, Grayson yanks me into the room where he was changing. Before I can even yelp in surprise, his mouth is on mine in a mind-numbing, lip-bruising, thigh-clenching type of kiss that I never want to end but know needs to if I don’t want to be ruined for any other guy.
When he finally tears his lips from mine, he steps back, leaving me out of breath and a little overwhelmed. The grin he flashes is one of pure arrogance.
“If we’re engaged, the least I get to do is reap the rewards for putting that imaginary ring on your finger.”
I look down at my ringless ring finger, raise my eyebrows, and then look back up to him. “Look who’s doing the manipulating now.”
He shakes his head and chuckles quietly before putting his hand on the back of my neck and pulling me in for one more mesmerizing kiss.
Thankfully, we don’t get caught as we are sneaking out of the room like a pair of hormonal teenagers. In fact, we never even meet each other’s eyes as the photographer and I speak about staging and various ideas while Grayson gets teased by his crew about the photo shoot in general.
But I hear the taunting comments. I see the raising of eyebrows and lifting of chins in my direction, and I know the engagement photo rumor is in full swing and will most likely be perpetuated by these guys.
Knowing that my every move is being watched makes me heed caution every time I look Grayson’s way. Don’t stare too long. Don’t smile shyly at him. Don’t act like I’m familiar with him. Don’t drool at how sexy he looks.
I’m more than aware that one questionable cell phone shot snapped and sent to the Gazette would piss my dad off and jeopardize everything I’ve been working for.
But it’s extremely hard to watch Grayson in all his uniformed glory without giving any tells. With his hand on the door of the chopper and a serious look on his face. With his flight suit unzipped to his abdomen with a sneak peak of his delicious abs. With him sitting in the cockpit and a grin on his lips. Every picture is an aphrodisiac until the next one is clicked.
“What is it with these Malone boys? I mean . . . whew,” Marcy, the photographer says with a low hum of a whistle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I look over to her. She’s tall and lean and has her auburn hair piled on top of her head.
“I photographed his brother a while back. They both have the same good looks, but his brother Grady was cockier with his smolder, while this one here is more intense. But damn, I’d let him smolder on me,” she says and lifts her chin to where Grayson stands and waits for her assistant to shift the reflector and check the lighting.
“Don’t I know it?” My laugh is soft, and for the first time, I allow my eyes to remain glued to Grayson.
“You’re the one responsible for him being in the contest?”
“I’m the one who set up the contest, but his brothers are the ones who entered him. If you listen to the Sunnyville rumor mill, he and I are sleeping together, engaged, and maybe already have three children.”
This time, she laughs, drawing Grayson’s attention. He meets my eyes and smiles that smile I know will get me in trouble. Grady really isn’t the only one who can smolder. Damn. “I wouldn’t be complaining if I were you, but I’d definitely check my rearview mirror for angry women mad you took a great catch.”
“Let’s not be so loud. We don’t want his ego to get big,” I tease as Grayson angles his head to the side and tries to figure out what we’re talking about.
“I doubt he has one. Isn’t he rumored to have saved those people in the High Sierras but won’t let anyone credit him with doing it?”
“So they say,” I murmur as I watch him. It’s beyond me that a man so hell-bent on protecting his son would be so willing to risk his own life to save others, yet, Grayson does it all the time.
Just another mystery that makes me want to get to know him that much more.
“When I was setting up, one of the crew was telling me he had been grounded for disobeying orders. Something about flying in a thunderstorm when command tried to ground him, and then flying to a different hospital or something despite the dangerous weather. Pretty damn noble.” She looks through her lens at him for a beat and then looks at me with a laugh. “He can save me, any day.”
“No doubt.”
“So, Sidney, since you’ve seen what photos the other contestants have submitted, is there anything else you want me to shoot? Any special poses you want me to take that I haven’t already taken?”
“Let me talk to Grayson for a second to see what he’s comfortable with. The flight suit hanging around the waist is always a good look, but I’m not sure it’s one he’ll be willing to do.”
“Convince him,” she says as she looks down at her camera’s digital screen. “The camera loves him . . . and it would be a shame to hide that perfection underneath clothing.”
I walk toward him and the massive helicopter behind him. It’s white with red graphics, and I’m taken aback by its sheer size, maybe because it isn’t every day I get up close and personal with a helicopter.
Or, maybe it’s because of the man in front of it. Sexy. Endearing. He makes every part of me come to life in the few short feet I hold his eyes.
“Quit looking at me like that, Princess, or else someone is going to figure out we’ve slept together.” His eyes light up when he smiles.
“You’re in a flight suit looking sexy, but I’m not looking at you in any way,” I feign innocence when I’m anything but.
“But I’m looking at you that way.” He lowers his voice as his eyes track my movement until I stop right in front of him.
“You are, are you?”
His gaze follows my hands as I reach out and unzip his flight suit, wondering just how low he’ll let me go with it.
“Mm-hmm. I’m wondering what you taste like. I’m picturing that heart-shaped birthmark on the inside of your thigh. I’m thinking about the sounds you’ll make the next time I get to make you come.”
“Oh.” My hands falter. My thoughts liquefy into a heat between my thighs. But I don’t look at him. Can’t. Because if I meet his eyes, I’m going to want to kiss that sweet mouth of his that is saying such wicked things.
“You wore those heels and that skirt.”
“I wear them every day. So?” My voice breaks.
“And I wear a flight suit most days.”
I know that, if I don’t look up at him, the people standing around and his crew inside will read between the lines and there will be no denying that there is more going on here than just magazine editor and contestant.
So, in a bid to keep our secret, I look at him. There’s so much suggestion mixed with amusement in his eyes that my breath catches.
“Turnabout’s fair play, Sidney.”
“No one said anything about playing fair.”
He lowers his voice. “I’ll remember that the next time I have you.”
I glance over toward the building where I’m sure his crew is watching us from behind the tinted windows. “Aren’t there beds in this place?”
His laugh echoes off the concrete around us as he zips his suit up. “Beds. Plural. As in all in one room.” His smile is crooked when he shakes his head. “We won’t be using any beds here. I don’t like to share.”
I open my mouth to speak and then close it. “Who knew you were so dominant?” I tease.
“You know what they say . . .” he says as he takes a few steps back from me.
“No, what?”
“It’s always the quiet ones you have to worry about.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I take a few steps toward Marcy, who quickly averts her eyes to pretend as if she hadn’t been watching us, and then I turn back to Grayson. “Hey, Malone?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep the suit unzipped. Let the sleeves hang.”
“You’re undressing me in public now?” he asks, and laughs ring out around us. “What will I get in return?”
“Votes.”