Chapter One
Niki Hamilton’s head pounded with a fierce intensity. Her eyes felt glued shut. Oh, but from her neck down, she felt wonderful. Her muscles throbbed in such a delicious way that she could almost overlook the headache.
Great sex was great sex, and what she and the best man at her sister’s wedding had done went beyond that. Like off-the-charts amazing.
She stretched languorously and rolled onto her side, prying her eyes open. And there he was, lying on his side, all six-foot-plus of the hottest best man she’d ever seen. The tangle of hotel sheets covered him from just below his waist down to his shins, leaving the rest of his incredibly hot form bare for her to feast her eyes upon. And feast she did.
Her appetizer was his handsome face—strong jaw line and cheekbones, and a cleft in his chin. She didn’t usually go for that scruffy look, but the light dusting of whiskers only added to his appeal.
The main course had to be those linebacker shoulders, muscled chest, and six-pack abs. Dessert was under the sheets, but damn, it had satisfied her sweet tooth.
Too bad the one night with him was all she’d ever have, but that was definitely for the best.
Grant Powers—recently-divorced-and-probably-still-messed-up-from-it Grant—was a hundred percent wrong for her. She’d say it again: the man was divorced, for heaven’s sake. She shuddered. No way, José. Her ideal man would have no baggage in the form of an ex-wife.
Not that she had any regrets about tapping that for a night.
Mere minutes before the wedding, her self-absorbed boyfriend had sent her a break-up text, magically transforming him into her self-absorbed ex-boyfriend. Despite the fact that he’d agreed to be her plus-one, and she had shelled out the extra money for an ocean-view suite in anticipation of a romantic weekend away. Which meant she was officially on the rebound.
Then along had come Grant. Gorgeous, in that outdoorsy Patagonia model kind of way. Sweet to a fault. And in the right place at the right time. Sure, she’d seen him hanging around her brother-in-law, Dex, before, but she’d either been so busy finishing up grad school or job hunting, she’d barely paid attention except to briefly admire the view. Last night…she’d done more than admire. When they’d both realized neither one of them wanted anything but one no-strings night, they’d jumped at the chance—and at each other.
She’d been a bridesmaid in plenty of weddings, and her wedding party partners had generally fallen somewhere between wholly unavailable and single-king-of-the-troll-people. But Grant had been…the perfect Mr. Right Now.
After carefully easing out of the bed, she looked around and found her dress neatly hung over a chair, rather than in a wad on the floor where she’d left it.
Thoughtful guy.
A memory from the night before—another way he was thoughtful—put a smile on her face. Yeah, that had to qualify as the best sex she’d ever had. At least she’d always have the memory.
She quickly dressed in the bathroom. Hopefully none of the other wedding party members would be out and about in the hotel yet, and she could take her walk of shame undetected. With one last glance at Grant, she tiptoed to the door and let herself out. Free and clear.
She hurried toward the elevator and turned on her cell. A reminder alarm dinged. She glanced at it as she stepped inside the elevator. Oh God. How could she have forgotten? The wedding breakfast was in fifteen minutes.
Oh, yeah. She’d been too busy telling Grant exactly how to find the back zipper of her taffeta monstrosity of a bridesmaid dress.
The entire wedding party would be at the breakfast, which meant she’d have to see Grant. Unless he didn’t show. Maybe he’d sleep through it. Surely he would spare them both a morning-after encounter and skip it. He’d probably just check out of the hotel and head straight back to Miami.
Her headache all but faded, thanks to the adrenaline rush of waking up late and shirking her maid-of-honor duties, she hurried to her room and took the world’s fastest shower. Twenty minutes later, she walked into the Palm Beach Room and scanned the room.
No Grant. Thank God. She drew a relieved breath.
The bride and groom—her sister Lucy and Lucy’s spiffy new husband Dex-the-accountant—sat at one end of the long table, completely oblivious to anything except each other. As it should be the morning after their wedding. Dex twirled a strand of Lucy’s hot-pink hair around his finger and said something to her that made her laugh out loud.
Niki spotted Aunt Bev and bent to give her a hug, breathing in her aunt’s signature rose perfume mixed with eau de mothballs. “Good morning.”
“Sit here with me.” Her aunt patted the empty chair between herself and Niki’s mother, and Niki took it.
“Good news, everyone.” Lucy wore a smile so big that Niki wondered what her sister was going to say. “I accepted an offer on my condo this morning.”
Dex kissed her. “In a few days, we’ll only own one home.”
“Um, days?” Niki hoped to God Dex had misspoken. “Don’t you usually get a month or two between accepting the offer and closing?”
Lucy’s nose crinkled as she winced. “Niki, I’m sorry. I know this is going to inconvenience you, but a developer is buying the whole building and planning to turn it into office space. They said they’d pay anyone who can clear out in two weeks a ridiculous bonus. We had to accept. We’re putting off our honeymoon so we can take care of the move. ”
Two weeks? The thought nearly sent Niki searching for a paper bag to breathe into. She’d been staying rent-free in Lucy’s condo since graduation, mainly marking time until Lucy’s wedding, after which she’d planned to put all of her efforts into finding a job in Europe—a longtime dream of hers.
How the hell was she supposed to find somewhere to live on such short notice? Plus, after years of being a college student, with part-time jobs that barely covered books, tuition, and her on-campus apartment, she had almost no savings for things like security deposits. And how could she sign a lease when, if all went as she hoped with her new job, she’d be transferred to London in a few months?
Lucy came over and crouched down beside her. She was the only woman in the world who could wear a black lace camisole and leather miniskirt to a morning reception and still look appropriately dressed. “I know you’re worried about your living situation, but please don’t be. Dex and I have discussed it, and you’re welcome to stay at our house for as long as you like.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Niki gave her sister a hug but was already trying to think up other options. Living with newlyweds—invading their privacy—was the last thing she wanted after everything Lucy had done for her, like helping to pay for tuition when their mother had lost her job a few years ago.
Her mom’s place was so far from work, and its spare room was the size of a closet. Niki’s clothes wouldn’t even fit in there. Moving in with Aunt Bev was out of the question, since she had a one-bedroom apartment in a retirement community.
“Did you hear the good news?” Dex asked.
Niki turned around to see who her brother-in-law was talking to and found Grant standing in the doorway. His brilliant green eyes locked with hers with the force of a freight train, and she looked away, blushing furiously at the thoughts that flooded her mind at the mere sight of him.
Damn her traitorous libido for sparking to life at the sight of the man. But could she blame it? He was pure perfection. Impossibly broad shoulders, glossy sun-streaked brown hair, and a crooked grin to die for. Even his one imperfection—a small chip on one of his front teeth—was adorably sexy.
“We sold the condo,” Dex told him.
In her space. Her one-night stand was in her space, and she had no idea how to handle herself, given that one-night stands really weren’t a thing she did on a regular basis. She’d tell herself to act natural, but that would practically be a guarantee that she’d spaz out and dump a pitcher of juice on herself, or something equally elegant and timeless.
When she ventured another glance at Grant, she noticed that his gaze kept shifting between her and Dex. Almost as if he, too, were a tad bit uncomfortable.
“That’s great. Congratulations,” he finally responded, the low timbre of his voice rumbling through her very bones.
Act. Natural.
Niki willed the images of her and Grant naked together, rolling around in the sheets, from her mind. Too late, though. All that liquid heat had already taken hold. She spun back around in her seat and used her spoon to transfer the ice from her water glass into her coffee cup. And then she reminded herself of their discussion about how neither one of them had wanted more than one night.
That, of course, had been before she knew he could do that thing with his tongue—
“Are you all right, dear?” Bev asked her.
Lifting her cup, she nodded. “I prefer it cold.”
Grant, Dex, and Lucy moved to a corner and spoke quietly, as if they were exchanging some top secret information. Suddenly, Dex slapped his friend on the back, glanced over at Niki, and chuckled.
Dex, the buttoned-up accountant, never chuckled. This couldn’t be good.
Niki couldn’t stand not knowing what they were talking about. Grant wouldn’t tell them about his tryst with her, would he?
Alarm bucked through her. She set her coffee aside and casually made her way toward them, pretending she was checking out the items on the buffet. When she was close enough, she pretended to be obsessed with centering the little paper doilies under the tea cups and tuned everything else out so she could hear their conversation.
“You’ve got to do me a solid here,” Dex said. “My family comes over all the time. We spend every weekend with Lucy’s.”
“My house is for sale,” Grant replied. “Not that I’ve had the luck Lucy obviously has, but I could get an offer at any time.”
“The usual protocol on a sale takes a month or two. She’ll be settled into her new job, and finding an apartment she can afford won’t be a problem by then.”
Oh God, they were speaking about her. But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out exactly what kind of “solid” Grant was supposed to be doing for Dex or what that had to do with her impending homelessness, which was what they were obviously discussing.
Spazzing out and dumping a pitcher of juice on herself no longer sounded like such a bad idea. At least it would give her an excuse to leave the room.
Aunt Bev approached her and handed her a plate and bowl. “Would you mind holding these for me while I go through the line, Niki?”
She wiped her sweaty palms on her shirt. “Um, sure.” With a backward glance at the threesome on whom she’d been eavesdropping, she frowned. She tried to hear what was being said, but with her aunt pointing to this and that food item and making comments on everything from the draperies in the room to the difficulty she’d had putting on her pantyhose yesterday, it was impossible to catch a single word of their conversation.
With a sigh, Niki gave in to Aunt Bev’s tidal wave of chatter and helped her to her seat.
As Bev waxed on about the virtues of “lacy thigh highs” over control-top pantyhose—the former providing an interesting and somehow empowering visual, given her aunt’s age—Niki wondered if Grant liked lacy thigh highs. She pictured his big hands sliding leisurely up her legs. A thrill rushed through her.
Stop it. Stopitstopitstopitstopit.
She gritted her teeth but couldn’t stop herself from involuntarily glancing his way again. Lucy was grinning at him, obviously excited about something, but he didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. He shook his head, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Finally, he nodded, then suddenly darted his gaze to hone in on Niki.
She’d been staring.
He threw her a halfhearted smile.
Niki had a sudden urge to slide under the table and wrap herself around one of the legs like she used to when she was a kid. Back then, half the time no one noticed when she’d disappear because usually, all eyes were on her sister, the star of the family.
But since the floor refused to open up, all she could do was wait as Lucy took Grant’s arm and marched him in Niki’s direction, smiling her I’m-the-big-sister-and-I’m-going-to-fix-it smile. Which had never, in all of her twenty-three years, led to anything good.
“Guess what?” Lucy chirped as she approached.
Niki shifted her gaze to Grant, but he merely stared over her head as if confronting a firing squad, his expression giving her no clue as to what was going on. “What?”
“This is so perfect,” Lucy said. “Grant’s house is for sale, so this would be short term, of course. You know Dex’s office is being remodeled, and we need a place to store some files, only for the next three months.”
“Okay.” Niki wondered what this had to do with her.
“So instead of renting a storage unit, Dex will store the cabinets at Grant’s, and pay him rent.”
“And?” Why had Lucy emphasized the pay him rent?
“Grant has two extra bedrooms, but Dex only needs one for his stuff. So, you can live in the other one for a couple months rent-free.”
Gulping, Niki shook her head. “That’s very generous, but—”
Lucy stopped her with a hand on Niki’s wrist. “Wait, listen. He lives two blocks from your new job.” She looked so excited to have found a place for Niki.
Of course. Why would Lucy want her living with them? One look at Dex standing at the bar, watching them with an accomplished grin on his face, his chest all puffed out like the proverbial proud rooster, confirmed that he felt the same way. When he noticed Niki staring at him, he pretended to be looking at something behind her.
They weren’t making this easy for her. Free and within walking distance to her job—and owned by the commitment-phobic divorced guy she’d just had a one-night stand with.
“You’re welcome to come take a look at the place,” Grant said. “Decide then.”
Bless him for giving her an out. “Yes, I’ll do that,” she said offhandedly to his elbow, unwilling to make eye contact again when he was so close.
“When?” Lucy asked almost before Niki had her last word out of her mouth. “So I can tell my real estate agent when you’ll be out for a couple of hours for the buyers to do their home inspection.”
“I’ll be home this evening if you want to come by.” Grant folded his arms over his chest, and a memory of skimming her fingers over those bulging biceps the night before materialized in her mind. Liquid heat pooled between her legs.
Her sister practically squealed her delight. “Fantastic!”
Niki used her napkin to wipe away the sweat on the back of her neck. “I guess I can do that.” Fine. She’d go through the motions, jump through their hoops, then say no.
“It’s like kismet.” Lucy set a hand on her chest. “Grant was saying a couple days ago that he’d love to find a short-term roommate because his neighbor—who was looking in on his cat when he works overnight shifts at the firehouse—moved out last week. Isn’t that right?”
The perfectly masculine Cupid’s bow of his lips flattened into a thin line. “I suppose it is.”
A firefighter. Her commitment-phobic, divorced one-night stand who was tied to the city she was hell-bent on leaving was a firefighter. Because he obviously needed to add “heroic profession” to his list of attributes so he could be even hotter. Pun intended.
God, she could so not live with this guy. She had goals. She was on the rebound. She needed to make good choices.
“Niki could walk to work and save for her own place. It’s perfect all the way around. Like it was meant to be.” Lucy rubbed her hands together, looking so delighted with herself that Niki couldn’t bear to disappoint her. Especially not on her first day of wedded bliss.
“Right,” Niki said, offering what she knew had to be a hideously limp smile. “Perfect.” She raised her eyebrows at Grant. “Guess I’ll come by tonight.”
So much for the guy she’d planned to never see again.
…
Niki parked in front of Grant’s house that evening, wishing she were the kind of person who could blithely horn in on a pair of newlyweds without guilt. She could have called Grant to cancel, moved into Lucy and Dex’s place, and just gone about her life until her new boss came through with the transfer to London that he’d dangled as a possibility during her interview. But she couldn’t. Being the third wheel to their new wedded bliss would just be cruel to them—and horribly uncomfortable for her.
She got out of the car and looked around the sweet little neighborhood made up of mostly older brick and earth-toned stucco homes with varying degrees of exploding flora and fauna in the front, dotted by the occasional newly constructed single-story. Lucy hadn’t exaggerated the short distance to Niki’s new job. Not that it mattered. No way could she live with her one-night stand. You couldn’t just be friends with a one-night stand. The awkwardness of having had sex with him would always be there. And she certainly didn’t plan to ever sleep with him again to overcome it. What if his sheer physical perfection, coupled by that swoony firefighter vibe he had going on, was too much temptation and she actually fell for him? He had an ex-wife and enough baggage left over from that ex-wife that he’d made it very clear to her that he did not want a relationship.
And truly, neither did Niki. She was hopefully going to London, and she was not interested in heading to Europe with a long-distance ball-and-chain tying her down.
Then there was the fact that he looked about as thrilled at the thought of Niki moving into his place as if Lucy and Dex had offered to send a suitcase full of bedbugs with her.
As she strode past the For Sale sign on the lawn, she couldn’t help but notice the manicured yard and window boxes overflowing with colorful blooms. Grant had a flawlessly renovated older brick home—at least from the outside. The front porch with its bright-red storm door reminded her of model homes she’d seen in magazines. Red doors supposedly blocked bad chi, according to the feng shui book she’d read just before she’d moved into Lucy’s condo.
Funny how she felt like bad chi in a pair of rose-colored slide heels right now. She raised her hand to ring the doorbell, and her fingers brushed against a scratchy firespike flower bush.
The rough sensation caused her to flash back to that stubble on his face. Which had felt so incredible as he’d trailed kisses down her back. The erotic memory raised goose bumps on her skin. She shook herself out of it and rang the bell.
Why had she agreed to this? Wasn’t as if she’d actually take him up on his offer to move in with him. There had to be another not-so-awkward answer to her housing dilemma.
Was it footsteps she heard or merely her heart thundering in dread? When he didn’t answer the door, she wondered if she’d gotten the address wrong, so she checked the text message he’d sent.
Hmm. Right house number, and she was only a few minutes late. She knocked, gave it a few minutes, but still got no response.
Well, darn. The least he could have done was be there to tell her no or have the decency to call her and cancel. Had he seriously bailed on her? So much for Grant being a stand-up hero kind of guy. The firefighters she’d known wouldn’t leave a woman abandoned on their doorsteps.
Maybe it was her. Maybe the thought of living with her was so awful it overcame his natural firefighter good-guyness and had caused him to lose his manners entirely. She fished in her purse for a scrap of paper and a pen, and then started writing.
Grant,
I came by, but you weren’t here. Sorry it didn’t work out.
Without bothering to sign it, she shoved it under the storm door, which opened into a glassed-in sunroom—obviously converted from what had once been a run-of-the-mill porch. Through the windows on the side, she could see into what looked like a cozy space, with plush indoor/outdoor chairs upholstered in gray and dotted with colorful throw pillows in her direct line of sight. Several potted palms obscured the rest of her view inside.
As soon as she got behind the wheel of her car, though, she had second thoughts. Why let him know she’d even come by? He’d obviously assumed she wasn’t desperate enough to actually stop in, or else he’d have been there.
And she was only temporarily desperate. As soon as she got her first paycheck from the new job, she’d be free and clear to find a sublet. She was good at budgeting—she could live on a shoestring until she shored up her savings. But being without a home for a full month before her first check arrived, per company policy? Okay, she was a little desperate. Not that he needed to know that.
Yeah, she had to take that note back. Better to let him think she’d never be insane enough to consider such a plan. She had her pride to consider. So she returned to the entryway, glanced around the neighborhood and, seeing no one looking her way, tried the handle. Locked. Saying a quick prayer that he didn’t have any nosy neighbors with itchy 911-dialing fingers, she kneeled down and peered under the door. The paper was only an inch or two away. If she could stick something long and thin through the space, she could pull it out.
Rifling in her purse, she found a nail file. Perfect. On the first attempt, she missed by a fraction of an inch. She held her breath, ready to give it another try.
Out of nowhere, an orange furry paw landed on the note. Before she could grab the paper, a triumphant meow let her know that Grant’s cat had moved it out of her reach.
“Son of a—” Sweat ran down her face. She wiped it away and got even lower, hoping to get a better visual. “Here kitty, kitty.”
The damn cat was nowhere in sight. Nor was her note. “Aw, seriously.”
“Looking for something down there?”
Oh God. She knew that honey-smooth, deep voice. Squeezing her eyes shut, she imagined what she must look like, on all fours, butt up in the air, peeking under his door. The very picture of elegance. “I can explain,” she said to the ground.
“Please do. This ought to be interesting.”
Sitting back on her knees, she found Grant standing beside a wheelbarrow, wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts and a navy-colored Mets baseball cap. Every tanned and toned inch of him glistened with sweat, his dark hair damp with it and a few strands falling in his eyes. A streak of dirt ran down the center of his belly, just above the waistband of his shorts, as if it was directing her gaze to the bulge between his legs. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
“Well?”
She startled at his demanding tone. With a sigh, she pushed herself upright and stood. He was really ridiculously good-looking. He probably thought she was here to stalk him, all of her talk of not wanting to get involved be damned. She did her best to move her face into something resembling bored nonchalance. “Your cat stole my…a piece of paper.”
Narrowing those brilliant green eyes at her, he set his hands on his hips. A smile played at the corners of his perfect lips, and she wanted to smack herself at the relief coursing through her that he wasn’t annoyed by her mere presence. “The cat that’s behind that door somehow managed to take what is apparently a very important paper from you?”
She gulped. This was just digging her in deeper. “If you’d open the door and let me get it, I promise I’ll leave and never bother you again. We can tell my family I was here, it didn’t work, end of story.”
He bit his bottom lip and smiled, a full-on, crinkle-the-stupidly-pretty-green-eyes smile, and she could feel the fake bored nonchalance literally melt off her face. Amusement shone in his eyes, making him look even sexier than usual. “Door’s open. Help yourself.” He reached around her to take the handle, turned, and gave it a shove. “Sticks a little, though.”
Open? Seriously? She mentally smacked herself.
Grabbing a towel from the handle of the wheelbarrow, he wiped those strong arms, that muscular chest, and handsome face.
She couldn’t look away. Since when was she incapable of controlling her own eyes? Ick. She really had to get a grip on her suddenly raging sex hormones.
“Sorry I wasn’t in front when you got here,” he said. “I got caught up in some gardening and lost track of time. I was weeding my neighbor’s flower bed.”
He’d been busy doing a good deed, and she’d assumed the worst. “It’s no problem. I shouldn’t have been so impatient.”
Unless… Yeah, he’d probably been helping some hot young coed. She drank in the sight of his perfectly toned, half-naked body. Had he been working on his neighbor’s flowerbed or the bed inside her house? Of course, he wouldn’t have a wheelbarrow and a bunch of yard implements with him if he’d been in some woman’s bed. And she couldn’t imagine what they would have done there to get so dirty. Or maybe she could…
“’S’okay. If you want to go before you even see the place, go ahead. Tell your family whatever you like. I’ll corroborate.” He strode past her to the door. “Just so you know, I thought about it, and we probably could have done this roommate thing. Would have been a win-win. I’m not home much, and I do need someone to look after Sarge when I’m at the station. He’s the paper-stealing cat, by the way.”
She had to smile at that.
“From what Dex tells me, you could have used a month or two of rent-free living, but I get that you might find it awkward.”
“You wouldn’t, after we—?”
“Want to go inside to have this conversation?” He waved to a couple walking past with a dog.
That would at least provide her the opportunity to grab the sadsack note from his cat. Not that it was that big of a deal now that he obviously knew she’d shown up. “Um, sure.”
Opening the door, he ushered her inside, through a foyer to a great room with a high, vaulted ceiling and parquet floors. To the right was an open–floor plan kitchen with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. This had to be the cleanest guy’s home she’d ever seen. It even smelled good.
The thieving orange cat strode past, tail straight up in the air like a periscope. Unfortunately, her note was nowhere to be seen.
She feigned a dry cough, put her hand at her throat, and did it again.
“Can I get you a drink?”
When she nodded, Grant headed to the kitchen. She took the opportunity to look around for her note in earnest. It wasn’t on the floor anywhere that she could see, or on any of the furniture in the room, so she darted back to the porch and searched it, then returned to peer behind some potted palms and under the leather and industrial chic furniture pieces that dotted the great room and kitchen breakfast nook. Darn it. Where had the kleptomaniac cat stashed it?
Grant came back a few moments later, holding two water bottles. He twisted the cap off of one and handed it to her then drank the other one until it was gone. Since when did she find the sight of a man guzzling water so incredibly sexy?
After taking a few sips of hers, she turned away from him and concentrated on the house instead. “You have a lovely home, but under the circumstances, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to move in.”
“That was my initial thought, too. Since I’ll be leaving Miami as soon as the house sells, why bother taking in a renter?”
Was that all she was to him? A renter? Not that it should bother her. They’d only known each other for a day, yet she knew things about him—intimate things. Like the taste of his kiss, the scent of his skin, and his throaty groan as his pleasure peaked.
She stuck her suddenly sweaty hands into her pockets.
“But the more I thought about it, I realized it could work,” he continued. “Like I said, I sleep at the station a couple nights a week. Sarge is fifteen, and he needs someone to be here with him. The lady who used to look in on him while I was working…well, she’s gone.” His eyelids drooped for a moment. After clearing his throat, he continued. “Anyway, if you’re concerned about you and me being here together, you shouldn’t be. Last night won’t happen again—”
Really? Against her better judgment, she felt herself bristle. Like her performance had been so forgettable he could just brush it off and live with her without their proximity affecting him at all?
She started when she realized he was staring at her, a worried expression on his face, waiting for her to respond. And she was scowling.
“—as we talked about?”
She relaxed her forehead, trying mightily to ignore how much his reference to last night sent her into meltdown mode. “Oh. Great. That’s great. I’m sure we’d be great friends. That’d be great.” Oh God. Could she be any more ridiculous?
But he was nodding vigorously, like she’d just made an actual intelligent and coherent point. “You’re leaving town; I’m leaving town. You just had a breakup. I don’t do relationships. So you have nothing to worry about there.”
Good to know, she supposed. “So what happened? You broke up with a girlfriend who used to take care of the cat?”
His lips flattened. “It was an elderly woman, my other neighbor. They moved her to assisted living recently.”
Oops. “I’m sorry. Although my great aunt is in assisted living, and she loves it. Free bingo every day.”
He smiled. “Listen, why don’t you take a look around? Your room would be the master at the end of the hall. I’ve got softball practice in an hour, and I need a shower, which’ll only take me five minutes. Think about it. We can talk after I shower, okay?”
He wiped a hand over his chest, and all that tanned skin and rippling muscle and hot-as-all-get-out flashbacks made her forget for a moment that they were wrong for each other. “Yeah, sure. But why don’t you use the master bedroom?”
Tiny muscles around his jaw ticked. “After my wife left…I didn’t want to be there. Then I got used to one of the other bedrooms.”
A lump formed in the back of her throat. That’s right, before the wedding Lucy had told her that he’d married young, his wife had cheated, and they’d divorced. She didn’t have the heart to say anything negative now, so she just nodded. “I’ll look around.”
A minute later, she heard water running. Her mind drifted to Grant and formed a mental picture of him in the shower—water and soap suds sluicing over every sinewy inch of him.
She set a hand over her racing heart and forced the image away as she checked out the master bedroom, which was huge with an enormous attached bathroom and two walk-in closets. All for free. But she couldn’t. It would be uncomfortable. Being around Grant would be too tempting.
So on top of the fact that she was planning a move across the ocean, and he’d made it clear he didn’t want a relationship, there was the fact that he’d been so broken up about his marriage ending that he couldn’t even sleep in his beautiful master bedroom. Which meant his next girlfriend would be Rebound Girl. She had no desire whatsoever to be Rebound Girl. Been there, done that.
Much as she hated taking backward steps in her life, she had no other alternative. She had to stop picking the wrong guy and start making the right choices for herself. She pulled out her cell and phoned her mom, keeping her voice low. “Hey, do you think I could stay in your guest room for a while? It would only be until I get established at my new job. A couple of months tops.” Maybe she could rent a storage unit for her clothes.
Her mother hesitated. “Uh, I’m sorry, hon. Jack’s son beat you to it. Eric’s moving in next week.”
“Eric? He doesn’t even live in Florida.” A headache started behind her eyes. She liked her stepfather Jack a lot, but she couldn’t help but feel a childish twinge that his son was occupying the space in her mother’s home that she needed.
“Apparently he and his mother aren’t getting along, so he’s decided to spend the summer here and possibly do his senior year of high school in Miami. Jack’s excited, since he hasn’t spent much time with him recently.”
Great. Just great. Now what was she supposed to do?
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“I understand.” She talked to her mom for a bit longer before disconnecting. Pacing the hall, she racked her brain. There had to be someone she could stay with for a few months. Too bad her best friend Amy lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Niki had no desire to try Amy’s patience by making her trip over her every day after work. And on weekends.
Grant exited his room, dressed in a purple jersey and shorts, smelling like a pine forest, looking even better than he had a few minutes earlier. She dragged her stare away and pretended to inspect the framed Harley Davidson poster in the hallway.
“Sarge brought me a present.” He handed her the note she’d slipped under his door, then folded his arms over his chest. How was she supposed to think with a set of biceps like his staring her in the face? And those pecs. Holy cow.
She licked her lips then realized he was watching her ogle his muscles. Damn it. What had he been saying? Memories from the night before filled her head. The best sex of her life. “I appreciate your offer to let me stay here, but after last night…”
Amusement shone in his eyes. “I had a good time last night.”
So did I. She swallowed and stared at her feet. “It was…nice.”
“Just nice?”
Her pulse leaped as she met his stare. “Better than that.”
One corner of his mouth slowly lifted to form a lopsided grin. “We’re cool. Not a problem if you don’t want to live here.” He turned and started toward the front door.
Could be that this was her best option after all. Or her only option. “Well, I mean, I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything. You have a gorgeous home. Maybe I’ll think about it.”
In the foyer, he grabbed a catcher’s mitt from a hook on the wall. “Don’t worry about it. Hell, for what your brother-in-law’s paying me to store his files here, I can have my house to myself and hire a cat sitter a few days a week, right?”
She managed a chuckle. “I guess so.”
He opened the door, she walked through, and then he said good-bye and closed it gently, leaving her on his glassed-in porch. And she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She slumped down onto one of the patio loveseats, grabbing a bright yellow throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. Sarge the sneaky, paper-stealing cat hopped up next to her, and she absentmindedly scratched his orange kitty head while she thought over her situation.
She still had options, or did she? Lucy had said it was no problem for Niki to stay with her and Dex.
A memory popped into her head from long ago, grade-school days. Some girls on the bus were teasing Niki about her out-of-style clothes, her second-hand backpack, and her cheap sneakers. They said things like, “Niki don’t have a nickel.” She remembered wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her. Until Lucy got on the bus. Her sister had feared nothing and no one. She’d marched over and told off every one of those girls.
No, Niki couldn’t infringe upon this time in Lucy’s marriage. The right thing was to give her sister and Dex the privacy they deserved.
Oh boy. What had she just lost out on? She could have handled seeing Grant a few times a week and taking care of his thieving but pretty adorable cat. She had willpower.
Standing there dumbfounded, she fought back tears. Now what? Live at the Y?
…
Grant leaned against the door and shut his eyes. Why was Niki still out there on the porch? He thought he heard her sniffle, so he teased back the blinds and glimpsed her sitting on the loveseat with Sarge, looking kind of lost and miserable. His stomach clenched.
The only woman he’d ever shared quarters with had been his ex-wife, Carrie, and that hadn’t ended well, to say the least. Of course, this was completely different. This would be platonic, a straightforward roommate situation. Except for the glaring elephant in the room—the fact that he and Niki had shared one night of fantastic sex. And the little glitch that he still found her incredibly attractive.
They’d gotten through the awkwardness of the morning after okay—she hadn’t slapped him or cried, so he’d consider that a win. But what if temptation proved too strong—and mother of God, she was temptation personified—and they did it again? Didn’t living with someone and having sex more than once constitute some sort of relationship? He did not. Do. Relationships. At least not since the damn divorce. But where would she go if he didn’t let her stay with him? As newlyweds, Dex and Lucy needed their privacy. According to Dex, Niki didn’t have the money to rent her own place yet. And in truth, his friend was helping him out by paying Grant to store his accounting firm’s files in Grant’s spare room while Dex’s office was being renovated.
If Niki had any other options, she wouldn’t still be on his porch, all upset. He couldn’t just leave her homeless, especially when he had a perfectly good place for her to stay. Wasn’t as if there was anyone occupying his master bedroom anyway.
Oh, hell. Why did he have this stupid compulsion to save the day? She looked like a capable woman. He was sure she could save herself.
He inhaled the floral scent of her perfume she’d left in her wake. If he let her move in, he’d have to smell it all the time. Somehow he’d have to ignore those dazzling cornflower blue eyes of hers, the full lips, and perfectly turned-up nose.
And that wouldn’t be the only reminder of their night together. Each time he saw her in short shorts or a skimpy outfit, would his mind play images of their greatest hits? The silky feel of her dark hair sliding over his skin, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, the way her back arched as she’d climaxed.
He shook off the memories. And that just left him watching her looking like a homeless waif on his porch furniture, her manicured nails digging into her gloriously thick hair as stress obviously got to her. Even though she was in profile, he could see the tension on her face, between her shoulders.
She’d had the rug pulled out from under her when Dex and Lucy unloaded their condo in a rapid sale to that developer. Now she was practically rocking back and forth on his wicker chaise, looking about two breaths away from a panic attack. And he had the power to make her life a little bit easier—if only he could tell his libido to stand down.
Then again, she’d said she wasn’t interested in strings, either. Maybe it would be okay.
Pulling open the door, he feigned surprise. “So that’s where Sarge went.”
“He followed me.” Niki’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Niki, it’s going to be okay,” he said. A small trace of hope flickered in her eyes, and Grant knew he was doomed. Bracing himself, he made his decision and stepped aside. “Come on in. The mosquitoes will eat you alive this time of night.”
Pursing her lips, she nodded. “I’ve thought about it. I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“I figured. Welcome.” As she brushed past him, he drew a deep breath and prayed that he wasn’t making a huge mistake.