Chapter six

GRACE CHAMBERS

Sweat trickles down my chest as I move rapidly on the elliptical machine. I’m exactly forty-two minutes and twenty-three seconds into my cardio session and I want to collapse on the floor.

But this extra weight I’ve put on since moving to Holly Hill isn’t going to lose itself. I blame my desk job for the expansion of my hips. Back home at the salon, I was on my feet all day helping clients and now I’m trapped behind a desk for nine hours a day.

During my cool down, a familiar scent permeates my senses. It is masculine and clean and reminds me of Jameson.

My mouth nearly waters at the thought of him. I haven’t seen or heard from him since our meeting on Monday and I must admit I’m a little miffed.

Clearly, I’d read too far into his flirty demeanor.

Deep in thought, I step off the machine and immediately collide with what feels like a brick wall.

“Ow!” I yelp, grasping for something to maintain my balance.

Strong arms reach out to steady me.

Finding my footing, I look up and get lost in uniquely golden orbs.

“Jameson,” I gasp, thrown off balance again.

“Grace,” he smirks, his eyes quickly assess me from head to toe as if to make sure I’m okay.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

Like a trained puppy, his eyes follow the movement and rest there for a spell.

“Working out, what else would I be doing here?”

“I’ve never seen you here before.” I narrow my eyes skeptically.

“Coincidence,” he shrugs off my suspicion.

I realize I’m happier to see him than I anticipated.

He’s sweaty, virile and arrogant. My knees weaken.

“This look suits you,” he murmurs, reaching out to tug at the end of the braid I did before my workout.

I know I’m blushing from the sudden heat in my cheeks.

“Sweaty, exhausted and turned on. You are a sight for sore eyes, Grace.”

Turned on.

I can’t even deny it. The man can read me like an open book. And the strong pulse between my legs doesn’t help my case at all.

Damn, he has a way with words.

“What are you doing after this?” Jameson asks next, grabbing me by the arm to move us to an unoccupied corner.

“Going home. I’ll probably watch TV with my roommate all night.”

I cringe inwardly at how mundane my night sounds.

“Have dinner with me,” he propositions.

I can tell by the determined glint in his eye that he won’t easily take no for an answer.

Not that I really want to say no anyway.

“Say yes, Grace. One dinner. I won’t bite,” he grins, displaying those perfect teeth.

An excuse about not dating clients dies on my lips. I deserve this. It’s only one dinner and sure to be a lot more enjoyable than vegging out on the sofa.

“Okay.”

Jameson looks shocked but recovers quickly.

He asks me to give him fifteen minutes to shower and change then he will follow me home so I can change and drop off my car.

I stand near the check-in dazedly, wondering how my night will turn out.

* * *

I’m a bundle of nerves as I look through my closet, frantically searching for something to wear. Luckily, I have Jameson to use as a template.

He’d emerged from the locker room in blue chinos and a simple, white cotton T-shirt covering his frame. Brown oxfords were on his feet.

My mouth had watered at how effortlessly he pulled off even the simplest getup.

I’m staring at the two outfit options splayed across my bed when Stephania opens the door and walks in.

She’d been busy interrogating Jameson for the last fifteen minutes, but I hope she’s here to help me decide what to wear.

“He seems okay,” Stephania says grudgingly, taking a seat on the corner of my bed.

“I have no idea what to wear!” I declare, frustrated.

Stephania laughs at my frazzled state before examining the choices beside her.

“Wear the blue shorts and that black lace tank you bought last weekend.”

I move around the room hurriedly to collect the pieces.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me bailing on you tonight?” I ask, stepping into the shorts. The fit around my hips is snug so I do a little dance to get them up.

“I think I’ll manage, sweetie,” Stephania answers, amused. “You deserve a night out and since you won’t let me set you up, I guess this Jameson guy will do.”

* * *

The motorcycle ride to the restaurant passes in a blur, mostly because my eyes are shut the whole time and I’m solely focused on holding onto Jameson for dear life. It isn’t my first time on a bike, but that doesn’t make it any less frightening.

Later, as we sit across from each other at the quaint table for two, Jameson seems more focused on me than the menu in front of him.

“What’s on your mind?” I want to know.

“I don’t think I can say without you running out of here scandalized,” he volleys back with a passive expression.

Sleazy images fill my mind’s eye and I’m immediately lost as desire claims my wits.

I open my mouth to speak but close it as words fail me.

“What would you like, Grace?”

You, I want to blurt before I realize he’s asking for my order. A waitress has appeared at our table.

Training my eyes back on the menu, I pick the first thing I see and close it.

When the waitress leaves our table, I take a nervous sip from my water glass.

“So, tell me about yourself, Grace.” He stares at me intently.

I shift anxiously in my seat. I’m not too keen on talking about myself. My life before Holly Hill was none too pretty and not a pleasure to relive.

“What would you like to know?”

“Anything you want to tell me, sweetheart.”

A bottle of wine arrives at our table and I sigh, thankful for the momentary reprieve and the introduction of liquid courage into the equation.

Following my first sip, I savor the taste of the full-bodied liquid.

Jameson’s gaze hasn’t left me once and I know he’s still waiting for me to answer his question.

So, I start the condensed version of my life, skipping over the bumpy parts and leaving out most of the wretched details that led me to Holly Hill.

I don’t want to scare him off. A woman with “issues” and a rocky past don’t seem to be on Jameson’s to-do list.