by Lori Foster
Ben gave up. “Yeah, sure, help yourself. Take as many as you want. The women all have at least two for a change.”
The cook yelled out that the orders were ready, and Grace rushed to put the uniforms with her purse on a top shelf. On her way past Ben, she paused to treat him to a fat, glowing smile. “Thanks again, Ben. This is just the best job ever.”
Ben stood there until Grace was out of sight, then scrubbed his hands over his face. The best job ever? Jesus. Working for Agatha must have been worse than he’d imagined if Grace thought being a waitress was a good job. But then, Ben would rather slave naked in a coal mine than lift a finger for his grandmother—a grandmother who wouldn’t claim him.
The kitchen phone rang, and a moment later Horace shouted, “Ben, phone’s for you!”
“Got it,” Ben called back, and lifted the extension in the break room. “Hello?”
As if he’d summoned her, Agatha Harper grumbled at his greeting, saying, “You should teach that awful man some manners. He shouted in my ear.”
Ben didn’t show his surprise, or point out Agatha’s own rudeness in not identifying herself. Not that she needed to. Ben knew that strident, heartless voice oh too well. “What do you want, Agatha?”
She sniffed at his surly tone, and Ben felt the weight of an awful foreboding. “Agatha?” he asked again, now with a dose of caution and mixed demand.
“I need your help.”
Ben took her words like a punch in the lungs. It hurt, damn it, and knocked the wind right out of him. Wheezing, more than a little incredulous, Ben rasped, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Benjamin Badwin, and I’m not saying it again.”
Ben remained speechless, though Agatha did not. “Be here tomorrow for lunch,” she commanded. “Eleven will be perfect, so don’t be late.”
Ben drew one careful breath, then another. His brain felt blank, his muscles cramped, but he heard himself say with just the right amount of contempt, “Sorry, Aggie, I have to work.”
She gasped. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”
“Yeah, I told you not to call me. Period.”
Once, long ago, Ben had looked forward to maybe getting to know his grandmother. He’d seen her as a form of assistance to his mother, a way to lessen her load in raising a child alone.
But Agatha’s insistent belief that her son had been a saint and his mother had been too free with her love, had ruined any chance at a relationship. Agatha had dealt her first insinuation against his mother minutes after they’d met, and Ben had permanently made up his mind. He loved his mother too much to tolerate any slurs against her, subtle or otherwise.
Ignoring much of his rudeness, Agatha said, “Surely you can take one afternoon off.”
The numbness receded, went away. “No, I can’t.” Ben sounded more like himself, stronger, thank God. “I know it’s tough for you to remember, Agatha, but I’m in that lower class of people who have to work for a living. I can’t afford an afternoon off.”
As if speaking through her teeth, Agatha said, “I’ll pay you to show up.”
Fury shot through him, making his heart race. “This’ll come as a shock, Aggie, but I can’t be bought.”
“Damn it, Ben, I need to see you!”
For the first time that Ben could remember, his grandmother sounded desperate. He didn’t like her, had no respect for her, but damn it, he couldn’t bear the faint hint of fear in her tone. He was used to her being an indomitable harridan, not a frail old woman.
Ben squeezed the receiver so hard, his hand hurt, but it made no difference. He wanted to refuse her, he really did.
Instead, he gave up with a sigh of disgust. “I can make it next week, maybe Sunday.”
Even through the ringing in his ears and her efforts to disguise it, Ben could hear Agatha’s relief. Her breath was shaky, broken. “Good. That’ll be fine, then. Remember, eleven o’clock.”
And she hung up.
Well, hell, was Ben’s first thought, followed by loathing at his own weakness.
He couldn’t imagine what Agatha could have possibly meant by her statement. I need your help. Ben shook his head, still muddled. Agatha Harper needed no one, least of all a grandson she didn’t claim.
With precise movements, Ben replaced the phone on the hook and turned away. He needed to call Noah, and he needed to get some paperwork done. He did not need to give his grandmother another thought. Whatever she wanted, it wouldn’t matter in the long run. Nothing could change the past. Hell no. Never.
Damn it.
Agatha stared at the phone on her desk, aware that her hands were shaking despite how tightly she clasped them together. That had been harder than she’d anticipated. Ben was always so…defensive. So difficult. Unlike Noah, she knew Ben would never meet her halfway.
She jerked around and paced across the library. The room, the whole house, seemed lonely and empty and dark without Noah or Grace around. She couldn’t think in so much quiet. She couldn’t sleep either.
It wasn’t right.
But she had plans to fix everything. Noah was only being stubborn, and once she made him see reason, Grace would return to work, too. Everything would be back to normal. She’d see to it.
For lack of anything better to do, Agatha reached for the ornate teapot arranged among delicate cups on a tray on her desk. It was empty.
Nan, her housekeeper, was off to the grocery store, so Agatha would have to wait until she returned. She’d instructed Nan to prepare a very special lunch for Ben, and that had required additional supplies.
The lunch was delayed but not canceled. Ben would show up at the end of next week. That’d be soon enough.
In order for her plans to work, Agatha needed Ben’s cooperation. She meant to give him a taste—literally—of what he could expect once he aligned himself with her, which included the very finest cuisine.
Agatha turned and started back across the eerily silent library.
Or better yet, her thoughts continued, why not take advantage of the propitious timing of this little crisis and play generous? She could at last acknowledge Ben as part of the family without denting her pride. Ben would understand that Noah’s best interests motivated her, rather than any imagined weakness.
It wasn’t as if she’d ever wanted to deny him, anyway. But Ben hadn’t been an easy child. Agatha had met him when he was fourteen, with a chip on his shoulder the size of a mountain. Even at that young age, he’d had no qualms about denigrating his father.
He’d denigrated Agatha in the bargain, telling her in no uncertain terms that his life was full, his mother a saint, and there was nothing Agatha had that he wanted.
Ben would have been an embarrassment, throwing their good name into the dirt with deliberate contempt and disrespect every chance he had. Agatha had been left with no recourse but to deny any relationship.
Noah hadn’t done the same. He was so protective of Ben, it was as if they’d been raised together, as if Noah had always filled the bill of big brother. She and Noah couldn’t discuss Ben without arguing, so they’d silently agreed not to.
Grace was a different story. She was as welcoming of Ben as Noah was. The two of them often made her feel guilty, and she didn’t like to waste her time on guilt.
She’d done the right thing, damn it. Then. Now, however, it was time to alter the situation. Now Ben would be a benefit to her.
Agatha was proud of her new plans and how she’d set them into motion, but there was little satisfaction without someone to share it. She was too old to be alone.
Soon, soon, she’d have it all set to rights.
Soon she’d have her family, including sweet Grace, back with her—where they all belonged.
Chapter Ten
Though he knew he was almost an hour earlier than they���d agreed on, Noah leaned on the doorbell. He was ridiculously anxious to see Grace.
He was also tight with growing arousal, but amazingly enough, it wasn’t just sex he wanted. Oh, he wanted that, all ri
ght. Bad. Again and again. But he also wanted to talk with her, to hear her laugh and watch her fuss and find out how her job interview had gone.
He wanted to be with her.
It was a novel feeling, one he’d never experienced before.
When Grace had called him earlier to say she’d be home at six and he could come over at seven, she’d refused to say much about the job, other than that she’d gotten it. According to Grace, she didn’t want to jinx herself. She’d sounded happy—and her happiness had felt like the sun shining down on his miserable head.
He’d spent the day separating his finances completely from his grandmother’s. He’d withdrawn his name, his power of attorney, his influence, from all her accounts and business dealings. She was on her own.
God, he needed Grace.
Noah gave up on the doorbell and banged his fist on the door. He was normally a patient man, but since first touching Grace, impatience had been riding him hard.
Two seconds later the door was jerked open. Grace, bundled beneath a light blue, thick fleece robe far too warm for the weather, gave him a mutinous look. Her hair was in a ragtag ponytail and long, twisted strands had escaped. They hung around her ears, her temples, giving her an enticingly mussed look. She blew one long strand away from her eyes and glared at him.
His heart raced at the sight of her. “Hey.”
Her rounded chin lifted. “You do seem to have a problem with knocking politely, don’t you?”
“Ringing your doorbell didn’t work, so I figured a polite knock wouldn’t either.” Noah took in the way she clutched the top of the robe to her throat, how tightly it was belted. He couldn’t wait a single second more and leaned in to kiss her full on her angrily pursed mouth. “Why the robe, Gracie? Were you in bed?”
Giving Grace no choice but to move out of his way, Noah pushed his way in. Her apartment was as tidy now as it had been earlier. But unlike his place, hers was warm and welcoming, even cozy.
Noah was beginning to think any place would feel like home when Grace was around.
She closed the door and made to move past him. “No, I wasn’t napping. I was just…I’m changing from work.”
“Grace,” Noah teased, eyeing her bare feet peeking from the bottom of the long robe, “are you naked under there?”
Using two fingers, he reached for her right lapel, meaning to take a quick peek. Grace gave a horrified squeal and darted away, rushing down the hall.
What a reaction, Noah thought with amusement. He was suspicious about what she had to hide, and feeling challenged by her retreat.
Wearing a huge grin, he went after her.
“Grace,” he called to her retreating back while watching her ponytail bounce, “you are naked, aren’t you?”
“No!” she yelled back, and picked up her pace, obviously intent on losing him. But her apartment was small, the hallway short, and his legs were far stronger than hers.
Grace almost made it into the bedroom where Noah felt certain she would have slammed the door in his face, but he managed to get inside first. Grace whirled around, flushed with guilt and something else.
Noah flattened his hand on the door and shoved it closed.
They stared at each other, Noah with anticipation, Grace with nervousness.
When he slowly smiled, she colored.
Trying to sound reasonable, Grace said, “Noah, if you’ll just wait in the other room, I’ll finish changing and be right out.”
She looked as though she actually expected him to obey that polite command. Noah shook his head.
“Sorry, Gracie, I don’t want to wait.” He touched her chin, then idly looked around her bedroom. Her furniture was all painted white, including her four-poster bed. There was a plush white comforter on the bed with numerous velvet pillows in pale green and various shades of blue scattered about. The curtains over two smallish windows were the same soft shade of green.
As he’d always assumed, Grace was a tidy woman with very little clutter anywhere. He did notice several fat candles, half burned down, sitting atop every surface, and fresh flowers on a nightstand.
He turned back to Grace. She was watching him, waiting and alert. “And I sure as hell don’t want you to put clothes on.”
Grace sputtered, clutching that ragged robe for all she was worth. Her brows pulled down in a frown. “I’m afraid I have to insist.”
Excitement unfurled in Noah’s gut, as raw and fresh and real as any he’d ever experienced. He’d forgotten how fun it was to chase, to meet a challenge, especially a sexual challenge. Primal instincts rose, demanding he gently conquer her.
Grace watched him with her big brown eyes unblinking. Her smooth cheeks went hot with some emotion, and the pulse in her throat fluttered wildly.
Deliberately keeping the inflection from his tone, Noah said, “We’re in the bedroom, Grace.”
Those beautiful eyes of hers widened. Her lips parted. “But…”
With supreme satisfaction, Noah reminded her of their deal. “You can’t insist in here, sweets. In here, in any bedroom, you do just what I want, remember?”
He reached out and brushed the knuckles of his left hand over her breast, and even through the layers of material he felt her nipple pull tight. Grace shivered, but she didn’t pull away. “Be a good little sex slave,” he murmured, “and drop the robe.”
Grace stifled a soft moan. “I’m not…little.”
Noah grinned. There wasn’t much rebellion left in her tone and that fueled him all the more. “Next to me, you’re small and female, and Grace”—he hardened his voice—“I want you to lose the robe so I can look at you.”
Her hands tightened on the material until she was nearly strangling herself. “But I’m not naked underneath.”
“No?” She didn’t say anything else, so Noah teased, “What are you wearing, Grace? More of that soft cotton underwear?”
Grace cleared her throat. “If you really want to know…”
“Oh, yeah. I insist on knowing.”
“Well…” The color in her cheeks darkened. “It’s a stupid uniform for work. I was trying some of them on, trying to find one that fits, but this one is definitely too tight.”
Heat churned in his stomach, settled in his groin. He suddenly felt very full and very ready. “Let me see.”
“You’ll laugh,” she whispered.
“No way. Not a chance.” Still she hesitated, and Noah made himself sound stern when he said, “Grace, you agreed to the bargain—”
“Oh, all right!” she nearly yelled, and her face burned. Her movements were jerky, uncertain, as Grace stripped the robe off her shoulders, balled it up and threw it at Noah. It hit his chest and dropped to his feet. Noah ignored it.
Damn, she looked hot.
The uniform, if something so short and snug could be called a uniform, looked vaguely familiar, but Noah couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. He was certain he’d never seen it look quite like that on any other woman. It was so tight, it squeezed Grace’s generous hips and ass and pulled across her thighs, her belly.
She hadn’t been able to get it buttoned over her breasts. Three buttons shy of being decent, the bodice gapped open to frame a truly magnificent cleavage. It looked as if her breasts might pop free at any moment if she dared to breathe. Noah hoped they would.
“Walk around,” he instructed, unable to take his gaze off her.
Grace slapped her arms around herself and scowled suspiciously. “Why?”
If she thought he might laugh, she was sadly mistaken. He was liable to drag her to the floor at any moment, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be laughing. “I wanna see you move in that thing.”
“Noah…”
He lifted his gaze, giving her a look, and Grace started mumbling to herself. She took a tentative step to the side of him and Noah said, “Around the bed. Go to the window and back.”
“I feel incredibly stupid,” she complained, still holding herself, still stiff.
“I
feel ready to self-combust.”
Whipping around, Grace stared at his crotch. Her look was so startled, so hot, his cock twitched and stretched another half an inch. Grace inhaled with surprise…delight. “Oh, my.”
“That’s not helping, Gracie.”
Watching over her shoulder for Noah’s reaction, Grace took two more steps. She was still a little uncertain, but her movements were more fluid.
“You have such a great ass.”
Very slowly, her lips curled. Noah watched the confidence bloom inside her. “Thank you.”
“Any time, babe. I only speak the truth.” He couldn’t stop staring. “Now walk toward me.”
She did, even adding a little sway to her hips that made him want to smile, too.
“You can’t wear this dress to work in.” Noah’s possessive nature rebelled at the idea of any other male seeing her like this. The material was drawn so tightly, he could visually trace the outline of her nipples, the cleft of her bottom, even the plump rise of her mound. The outfit didn’t conceal so much as it enhanced and decorated.
Grace started to laugh, but it was a breathless sound. “Of course not. I can’t even inhale in this dress, much less work.” She strolled closer, and then stopped in front of him.
“Trouble breathing, huh?” Noah drew one long fingertip along the line of her cleavage, up, down, up again. “Does this help?”
In a very tiny, trembling voice, she whispered, “No.”
“What about this?” He reached up with both hands and found her nipples through the stretched and clinging material. Using fingers and thumbs, he tugged.
“Noah…” Grace groaned, stumbling into him.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, and Noah wondered if she had panties on. He’d find out for himself in a moment. He rolled her nipples gently, flicked with his thumbnails. “Shhh. Stay still, Grace. Let me see just how well this dress fits.”
“I’m trying.”
He caught and held her nipples. “Is that better?” His own voice had gone husky with arousal.
Grace closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Then let’s try this.”
Her eyes snapped open to watch him warily while he unbuttoned yet another button. The material parted, straining open over her large breasts, and before he could release it the next button popped free. Noah could see the inside edges of her nipples. They were puckered tight and flushed darkly.