CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Grace
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d take you for a stalker.” Grace smirked as she stood in front of Dorian. Her favorite restaurant was moderately full with other patrons.
He’d chosen a table up front, close to the windows. Where a few paparazzi had followed her from the office.
Dorian grinned, and pulled out her chair for her to sit.
“I wasn’t there for you,” he replied. “Closing a loose end with a former client.”
“Are you trying to fit the bad-boy image, complaints with security and run-ins with the likes of those vultures?” Grace nodded at the photographers out the window, snapping away without shame.
The waiter came by and took their drink and meal orders. Soon enough, they nibbled on sashimi and tempura.
She stole glances at his hands, how confidently he handled chopsticks, but wasn’t deterred by using his fingers every now and then.
“I made sure that photographer outside your office didn’t have any pictures of me associated with anyone but you. The goal from here on out is good publicity.”
She smiled behind a sip of sake. “Speaking of good publicity, the flowers were an embarrassing display.”
Dorian chuckled. “Did they make you smile?”
“Yes.” Grace’s cheeks burned.
“Then they served their purpose.”
“Thank you. It was…rough, today.”
“So I heard. Any word from Ruben today?”
“Yes!” It came out more excited than she intended, but it was the best part of her day, so far.
His surprise seemed genuine. “And?”
“They’ll be back in time for the check unveiling. With his wife.”
“Back? Did they go somewhere?”
Grace recapped her call with Ruben, Julie, and Pax, showing more disappointment that they wouldn’t tell her where they’d gone.
“Sounds like this new publicist of his has some decent ideas.”
She shrugged. Not that she cared for Downey, and his flippant attitude toward her. “As long as Julie’s calm, and the kids are okay, that’s all I care about.”
“So you’ve said. When do you plan on focusing on your own needs?” The glimmer in his gaze made her stop swirling her spoon in her miso soup.
“My needs?”
“Yeah. Loosening up. Having fun. Enjoying life?”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
Dorian tilted his head. “You tell me. You’re smiling more, which is good. But your shoulders are still tense, and you seem to have a permanent crease in your forehead.”
Grace scowled. “Sorry, I’m not better company.”
He laughed. “You’re perfect company. I’ve been waiting ages for this chance.”
Her heart warmed a little at his candor. How can he possibly like me? I’ve been so vicious to him. “Doesn’t help that there are even more paparazzi out there than before, snapping shots of my every bite.” She glanced out the window again, and shook her head. Do these yahoos have anything better to do with their lives? “You couldn’t have picked a table in the back?”
“You needed to be seen with someone other than Ruben. Publicly. Wouldn’t help if they couldn’t see us.”
“What about your agency’s no photos rule?”
His smile faded, and it was clear she touched a nerve. “Let me worry about that.”
With a final bite of tempura, she set down her fork and sighed. A pleasant one, with a full stomach and tipsy head from two pitchers of sake. The lights had dimmed at some point during their meal, only she just now noticed.
Dorian scintillated other areas of her imagination, more than a great meal from her favorite venue. His gray suit and lavender tie pulled the business casual appearance to perfection with form-fitting slacks. With his large arms and wide torso, she guessed the ensemble was custom tailored.
He paid the bill with a slightly more than satisfied expression, almost as if he were gloating.
“What are you thinking about?” Grace finished off her last cup of sake.
“I finally got my dream date.” He threw a wink at her.
She couldn’t help the heat flushing her cheeks. Hard to imagine she was someone’s dream date. For real, with no ulterior motive. “You’ve been quite persistent. Almost to your own detriment.”
With a final sign of the bill, he held out his hand to her. “You ready to go?”
She looked out the window for the third time, dreading facing the vultures. “Better now, than later.” Grace took his hand. Warm, rough skin soothed a touch of her nerves.
He rose, and helped her stand.
The sake went straight to her brain, and she stumbled on her heels.
He chuckled. “Easy, Ginger Rogers. Wait for the dancing at home.”
“Dinner and dancing? Are you trying to make me a spectacle for the world to capture in high-definition?”
Dorian offered his arm, and she took it. Strong and tight, against his side. And oh, so warm. “No, you’re a spectacle just as you are. The dancing is just between you and me…in private.”
“Is that a promise?” She nearly gagged on her tongue as the question came out.
I’m flirting. Holy crap! It has to be the sake.
He pulled her into his side more, and wrapped his arm around her waist.
Possessively.
“I’m a guarantee.”
They battled through the barrage of photographers the second they stepped outside. They didn’t answer any question or make comments.
She tried to smile as best she could through the invasion of her privacy, all three blocks home. But trusting in Dorian’s plans kept her moving forward. In no time at all, they walked into their condo lobby, leaving the leeches on the sidewalk.
Only when they entered the elevator did Grace manage a deep breath.
“Relax, kid.” His smile engulfed the entire little space. “I have one question for you.”
“What’s that?” Her whole body felt warm, trickling down her legs and into her pointy-heels.
“Your place, or mine?”
Dorian
Dorian kept his enthusiasm to himself as he walked into Grace’s apartment behind her. He honestly hadn’t expected her to choose her place, except if she were going to end their date early.
She invited him in with a genuine smile that kicked his heart rate up a notch.
Grace tossed her purse on the counter, and kicked off her shoes. “I’ve been in these clothes all day. I’m just going to change real quick. Make yourself at home. There’s some wine in the fridge if you want.”
“I’ll wait for you.” He put his hands in his pockets and enjoyed the view as she sauntered down the hallway. The sake had gotten to her, and he liked this more carefree side of her. A lot.
She stubbed her toe on the door into her bedroom. “Ow!” Followed by a bright laugh, that warmed her entire apartment. “Sorry. Be right out.”
Dorian chuckled, and slipped off his shoes. Followed by his jacket, which he draped over a chair in the dining room.
The kitchen was as bare as the first time he’d seen it. Pax’s photo still proudly displayed on the fridge. He glanced down the hall, and noticed another room, with the door opened. If it were his floor plan, it was the second bedroom.
He peeked inside, and frowned.
Empty. Not even drapes on the windows. Just a few boxes stacked by the door. The top box had packing paper draped over the side, as if she had started to unpack it, but had changed her mind.
Dorian pulled the paper aside. And immediately wished he hadn’t.
On top of a photo album was a newspaper clipping. The front picture was clearly her family’s car accident.
A man and a little girl’s photos smiled out from the black and white ink beside it. The girl was a tiny carbon copy of Grace. Same eyes, same cheeks and chin. The smile—the smile belonged to the man pictured next to her.
Beneath the photo album were a bunch of picture frames. None of them were even wrapped in bubble paper. Just haphazardly stacked in the box however they fit. Pictures of her daughter at school, with friends eating ice cream, her husband coaching soccer, even a wedding photo.
The man’s dark hair matched their daughter’s, though the cut was longer than Dorian expected. Almost European. What caught his eye the most was how young Grace looked. So happy, lighthearted, with the whole world ahead of her.
A whole world of heartache.
Dorian set the frames back carefully. Only four or five boxes sat in this room, untouched. Nothing more.
Was this everything left from her former life? Why hadn’t she put some of these photos out?
“A stalker, and a snooper.”
He stepped into the hallway.
Grace stood a few feet away, dressed in casual deep pink tank top and slinky black skirt skimming her kneecaps.
“Just curious.”
She shrugged and closed the door for him. The sweet lilac perfume wafted over him as she drew close, her hair skimming against his cheek as she shut him out. Then the scent faded with her down the hallway to the kitchen.
An awkward silence spread between them like frozen water forging a crevice. She poured a glass of wine for each of them. Without a smile. Breaking the awkward moment with a subject change seemed the best option.
“That’s my spare bedroom in my place. Or would you believe that’s where I keep all my sex toys and crochet materials.”
Grace smirked. “I expected a personal gym with state of the art exercise equipment. Or maybe full of military memorabilia and a bunch of fun racks, or animal heads.”
Dorian chuckled. “The heads wouldn’t fit in the elevator.”
The smirk turned into a smile. Then a sigh. “I haven’t figured out what I want to do with that room. Making it a shrine to my family felt unproductive…despite my counselor’s suggestions. How can I move on if I’m walking by that door every day? I’d sit in that room for hours, and never come out. Hardly seemed healthy to me…or useful.”
He pressed his lips together to savor the wine, and process her confession. She was so candid and honest; not what he expected from the normally closed off woman of 9C. He was grateful for it. “Being useful seems to be a top priority for you.”
She shrugged again. “Having fun seems to be yours.”
“Is that a crime?”
“No. Just an observation.”
“Since when is being useful and having fun mutually exclusive?” He took another sip.
“I just haven’t noticed you taking much of anything seriously.”
“I take you seriously.”
“Besides me.” She moved around the corner, and sat in a dining room chair. Grace used her foot to push the seat next to her back, just for him. Her cute bare feet made the whole scene more intimate, more precious.
He sat next to her, and stole her foot from the edge. The second he started rubbing her heels, she relented and stretched out.
Her eyes closed, and a deep hum came from her lips. “You’re good at that.”
“I’m good at a lot more.”
She chuckled. “One of your job requirements, I’m sure.”
He lost his smile.
“I’m sorry,” Grace added quickly. “I meant that to be a compliment.”
“You must be out of practice, then.” Dorian motioned for her other foot, which she complied with a grateful bash of her eyelashes.
The more he rubbed, the more her shoulders loosened. The more she smiled and he saw glimpses of that younger Grace from the photos.
“I’m out of practice at a lot of things,” she muttered with her eyes closed. “I’m so used to shutting myself off, and pushing people away. Kind of had to, with all the scammers knocking on my door. That’s why I moved here.”
“Scammers?”
“There’s a whole world of con-artists that somehow know when someone gets into a lot of money, and they target them. You know, like lottery winners, lawsuit settlements…or life insurance beneficiaries. Each of them claims to have your best interests at heart, or can truly make a difference. Even go so far as to invoke a romantic interest—console a grieving widow desperate for affection. A reprieve from the loneliness. Until they swindle the money out of you, and they split.”
He stopped rubbing. “They actually stole from you?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t fall for any of that. But I got tired of the attempts. One right after another, they just kept popping up. So, I moved. Changed my number, everything. Decided to downsize while I was at it. Gave away most of the furniture, kitchenware, clothes…almost like a Spartan. Or a gypsy.”
“A gypsy, with a cause.” Dorian’s thumb circled the ball of her foot, and she moaned. The sound shot straight to his groin in the most carnal way.
“So, you threw yourself into your job, and your new cause like Joan of Arc. Take no prisoners, no excuses…no distractions.”
Grace opened one eye at him, her lips curving up on one side of her cheek, and revealing an adorable dimple.
One he fought the urge to lick off.
“You figured me out, have you? I’m no longer the mysterious woman in the apartment below you. Does that mean you’ve lost interest?”
He laughed, and moved his hands up her smooth ankle to her calf. “Hardly. Quite the opposite.”
“Now that you’ve discovered I’m loaded.”
“Oh, so you’ve figured me out then, have you?” he mocked. “Freeloader? Dodging responsibility at every turn, waiting for someone else to pick up the tab?”
“Cougar chaser, is a term I’ve heard.”
Dorian threw his head back and laughed. Louder than he’d intended. He moved his hand to her knee, and circled her skin with the intensity of a leopard. “You’re not that much older than me. Enough with that.”
“How do you know my age?”
“You’ve been all over tabloids. I’ve caught your magical number.”
She chuckled. “And what about you? Twenty-four? Five? Somewhere in there?”
He tugged on her leg, gently pulling her closer. His palm wrapped around her knee, and he looked her straight in the eye. “Twenty-eight. Not that age should matter.”
Her gaze matched his, dark, focused, and almost lustful.
He didn’t dare push his luck by going higher on her leg, no matter how much his urges begged him to.
Until she licked her upper lip. Like she was savoring a sweet dessert, too delicious to push away.
Dorian slid his hand up farther, ever so slowly. Inch by inch, until he reached her thigh. And squeezed.
The whole time, their gazes locked on each other.
His pulse raced. Maybe she could hear it through his chest. The farther up he went, the more her chest rose and fell.
The haze in her eyes deepened, and her cheeks flushed.
“You have to want this, Grace.” Dorian’s voice shook as the words came out. “I’m not doing anything more, until you tell me to. Because I’m not pretending.”
Her mouth parted, and he desperately wanted to dive into her. Taste every morsel of her tongue, until he dissolved in a puddle of flesh.
He’d never wanted a woman more.
“I know you’re not pretending.” Grace’s voice came out edgy, almost raw. “Which is why I haven’t told you to stop.”
Dorian’s heart stuttered.
Did she just admit she wants me?
His groin ached to be freed. “Then, what are you waiting for?”