He’d seen those sex toys of hers.
How could he miss them? One was two-pronged and purple and one was as aggressively pink as that thong she’d dangled at him from her finger. One even looked like a microphone.
At least she’d put them away in the bureau without making a show of them. Her sudden attack of discretion had surprised him. After all, she’d asked him about his preference in panties, hadn’t she? He’d figured she wouldn’t pass up the chance to taunt him with her, er, sensual devices.
But even without all the sexy underthings and the battery-powered pleasure enhancers, the woman would still be driving him insane. He wanted to touch her, pull her close, kiss those beautiful, bubblegum-pink lips of hers. He wanted to spend a couple of hours sitting out on the deck in the light of the moon with her. He wanted to whisper with her about nothing in particular, to listen to her laugh and bask in her bright, gorgeous smiles.
It all sounded so damn romantic.
And it wasn’t going to happen.
He’d really messed up. He’d had too much tequila and then given in to the urge to have sex with someone he considered a friend, someone he cared about who he didn’t want to lose. Now he wanted his friend back, at the same time as he was never going to forget the way she looked naked.
And that moment with the panties? She had been tormenting him on purpose. He knew that she had.
She was young and free-spirited. So different from him on so many levels. That she had no shame about provoking him with her sexy underwear was just more proof of all the ways the two of them were not any kind of a match—not that he was even looking for a match in the first place.
He’d meant what he told her last night. His life worked just fine as it was and trying for something meaningful with a woman was more likely to screw everything up than to make things better.
They were friends, damn it. He shouldn’t have slept with her, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret that he had. It had been nothing short of perfect, spending the night with Gracie. The sex was mind-blowing and yet, she was still Gracie, with her smart mouth and her bubbly laugh. Gracie, who, as it turned out, felt just right in his arms.
But that was last night and last night was over.
All he wanted now was to still be her friend and put last night behind them.
And he would. Over time.
Because, come on. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d had her in his bed. The powerful desire to do it again was bound to fade as the days went by. He’d gotten her settled in at the cabin. Now all he had to do was steer clear of her for a while, give his mind and his body some distance. Let that distance solve the problem for him.
It was all going to work out just fine.
* * *
Since he’d made detective, Dante mostly worked day shifts, and then was on call at night for major crimes, of which there were few in Valentine Bay. However, when he didn’t have his daughters with him, he tried to be flexible, help the other guys out so they would have his back scheduling-wise when Nat and Nic were home.
As a result, he’d taken C Watch for the next five days, 10:00 p.m. to 6:30 in the morning. In Valentine Bay, night watch was about fighting boredom more than anything else. Now and then you got a rough domestic to sort out or a burglary to solve or drunks acting up, but it was hardly like some big-city departments where you took your life in your hands every night on the street.
Working all night had a side benefit this time around. For five days straight, he got home at 9:00 a.m., after an hour at the gym and then breakfast. He would sleep until late afternoon. That meant he’d have little opportunity to see Gracie. She worked either early afternoon to ten at night, or six to closing. They were on completely different schedules. All he had to do was not stop in at the Sea Breeze and he would never see her.
Out of sight, out of mind. Right?
Except he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Plus, well, she was right there in front of him most afternoons, planting rhododendrons outside the cabin in a tiny little top that showed off her flat stomach and those battered jean shorts that ought to be illegal. Or heading down to the beach in a swimsuit made of what looked like three tiny handkerchiefs and a few pieces of string.
Apparently, she had the closing shift at the bar that week, leaving all afternoon and most of the evening for him to spot her outside. And really, he knew way more than he should about her schedule, didn’t he? Plus, he found himself looking out the damn windows constantly now. Never in his life had he felt like a creeper.
Until now.
Also, there was Owen. The damn dog was in love with her and had grown nothing short of crafty about slipping out any door Dante opened and heading for the cabin. If she was home, Gracie would bring him back, which was nice of her. He would order the dog inside, thank her and shut the door on her, knowing that he was being borderline rude to her.
But it was hard enough on his equilibrium staring at her out a window when he shouldn’t be, trying not to think of what she looked like naked. Up close, it was even harder—hard being the operative word.
Saturday afternoon, she called him to tell him she had a leaky pipe under the bathroom sink. “I stuck a pot under it, but it’s not looking good. I need either a bigger pot, to stop using the sink or to hire a plumber,” she said. “I’m happy to handle it. Word on the street is that Santangelo Plumbing is the best around. I’ll just call them if that’s okay?”
“Word on the street is right for once.” His dad had inherited the plumbing business from his father before him. “But I’ll take care of it.” He’d worked alongside his father in the summers back in high school and to bring in extra cash when he and Marjorie first got married.
“How ’bout soon?” she asked hopefully.
“How ’bout now?”
“Works for me.”
When he got there, she was wearing a short kimono-type robe and just possibly nothing under it. She knelt to pet Owen, and Dante tried not to look down at her sleek bare legs and the way the top of the robe kind of gaped where it wrapped between her breasts.
“I was about to take a shower when I saw the water on the floor.” And that had him picturing her naked in the shower—really, there were so many ways he could picture her naked. The possibilities were endless. And he needed to cease and desist on that front.
She rose. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He tried really hard not to stare at the rounded perfection of her ass beneath the revealing silk of her robe as he followed her into the bathroom, where the door to the small cabinet under the sink was wide open.
He flipped on the water and then knelt to watch the water drip into the pot. The seals had failed in at least two places. Reaching in there, he turned the valves at the back wall that shut off the water to the faucet.
“If I patch the joints, it will probably just start leaking again, so I’m going to replace the whole assembly,” he said as he stood. “I’ll need to run to the hardware store to get parts.”
She stood by the door, barefooted in her short kimono, her arms wrapped around her middle. “Can I go ahead and shower while you’re gone? I’ll make it quick.” Owen, seated at her side, his floppy tongue hanging out, panted and gazed up at her adoringly. Really, how could Dante blame the damn dog for panting over her. She was too tempting by half.
“Dante?” She asked again. “Is it okay if I have a shower?”
He gave himself a mental shake. “Uh, sure. I’ve turned the water off under the sink, so you can’t use that faucet, but the shower’s a go.”
“You have to work tonight?”
“Ten to six thirty.”
She chewed on the corner of her full lower lip. “And there goes the rest of your afternoon and evening. Sorry.”
As though he had anything all that important to do. He didn’t—and that was another thing havi
ng her around made him all too acutely aware of: life was short and he was spending way too much of it just kind of going through the motions.
Okay, yeah. He was set in his ways and not likely to change. But having Gracie around sure made life a lot more interesting.
Was she trying to drive him a little bit crazy with her Daisy Dukes and that short kimono that gaped in the front when she bent down and showed off her spectacular behind every time she turned around? With her teasing smiles and come-and-get-it glances—not to mention her sexy underwear and personal pleasure devices?
Probably.
Right at the moment, though, he kind of hoped she never stopped.
Which made him only too happy to spend his afternoon fixing the drainpipe under the sink for her. He liked doing things for her. On top of the whole burning-lust thing he had going on for her, he also wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her—of what, exactly, he had no idea. Whatever she needed, he wanted to make sure she got it.
At the same time, he’d made it his mission not to give in to his consuming need to grab her close and peel off whatever skimpy piece of nothing she happened to be wearing at any given moment.
“Not your fault,” he said. “Pipes leak now and then. It’s a fact of life.”
The trip to the hardware store took almost an hour. When he got back, the cabin smelled like tropical flowers, probably from her shower gel. She was dressed in dark-wash jeans and a Sea Breeze T-shirt, all ready for work.
“I need to get going,” she said. “It’s summer and it’s Saturday. We’re packed from four or so straight through till closing. Ingrid needs all hands on deck.”
And he felt let down, though he’d been avoiding her all week. “No problem. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”
“Thanks—oh, and one other thing.” She grabbed an envelope off the counter. It was addressed and had a stamp on it. “My check for that ticket you gave me. Can I just drop it in the slot of that group mailbox near the end of your driveway?”
“That’ll work.”
“Great.” She knelt to give Owen a quick cuddle. A moment later, she was at the door. Turning back to him, she asked, “You doing all right, Dante?”
“Of course,” he said too quickly and then made it worse by adding, “Fine. Why?”
She gave him this sweet little smile, kind of tender and knowing. “When’s your next night off?”
“Tuesday.”
“Perfect. I’m off Tuesday, too. Let me cook you dinner. Show my appreciation. For the cabin and the, er...”
“Do not make a dirty joke about your plumbing,” he warned.
She stifled a giggle and then tried to look innocent. “Never, ever would I do such a thing. So, Tuesday? Dinner?”
He shouldn’t encourage her—except there was nothing in the world he would rather do than spend his night off with her. “I would like that.”
“Terrific. You’re on.”
* * *
Sunday, Grace went to dinner with the family at the Bravo house. Her brother Connor and his wife, Aly, Dante’s only sister, came, too. They brought their month-old daughter, Emelia.
The baby was the center of attention. Everyone wanted to hold her, including Grace. After dinner, she finally got a chance to have that baby in her arms.
“She is gorgeous.” Grace held Emelia’s tiny hand and kissed her perfect miniature nose.
Aly said, “She’s a handful, but in the best way possible—I heard you moved into that little cabin at my brother’s place.”
“Yeah. I love it. It’s gorgeous there and the cabin is nice. I feel right at home.”
“He treating you right?”
What, exactly, did Aly mean by that? Grace answered cautiously. “He’s a good friend—and he would have let me have the cabin for free. I had to twist his arm to get him to take what I would’ve paid for a room in someone’s house.”
“A good friend, huh?”
Grace smoothed the blanket around the baby’s adorable, squinty little face and looked up to meet Aly’s eyes directly. “Okay, whatever you’re getting at, just go ahead and say it.”
It was only the three of them—the baby, Grace and Aly—on one end of the big sofa in the family room. Everyone else was still hanging out at the table in the dining room or in the backyard or grouped around the island in Keely’s big kitchen.
Aly said quietly, “Connor and I saw you together.”
“Me and Dante?” Except for a few hours last Tuesday night, they’d never been “together” anywhere that she could remember. At least not “together” the way Aly seemed to imply. “When?”
“Last summer, at the Sea Breeze. You looked—I don’t know. It was just a moment. You were behind the bar and he was getting a pitcher or something. You were both laughing. There was this energy, you know, a certain chemistry between you. It was pretty obvious. I thought so and Connor did, too. He was really pissed off.”
“Why?”
Aly shrugged. “Can I just say it’s a guy thing and leave it at that?”
“Sure. I suppose...”
“You’ll be happy to know I got all up in Connor’s face about it and he ended up agreeing that it was your business—yours and Dante’s—and he would stay out of it.” Now Aly grinned. “I don’t know what it is with guys sometimes, but I make it my mission to call them on their stupid crap whenever necessary.”
“The women of the world are grateful—me included. But you said this happened last summer? Wow.” That seemed forever ago. Absolutely nothing romantic had been going on between Grace and Dante back then. And there was nothing going on between them now, either. Because Dante considered himself too old for her, and because he didn’t do relationships. Grace slowly shook her head. “We really are just friends.”
Aly laughed. She leaned in close and whispered, “I so do not believe that. If Dante hasn’t made a move on you, he’s a fool.”
“You don’t think I’m too young for him?”
“No way. You’re just what he needs. A little joy and sunshine in his life for a change. And that’s nothing against his ex, either. Marjorie’s a good person. It was just...not really happening with the two of them, you know? They’d broken up. It was over. She’d moved back to Portland. But then it turned out she was pregnant with the twins, so they got married at the county clerk’s office and tried to make it work.”
“I didn’t know.”
Aly forked her hands back through her thick dark hair. “Dante will be giving me hell when he finds out I told you that.”
“I won’t say anything to him.”
“No worries.” Aly waved a hand. “Honesty is the way to go, I believe that. Tell him what I said. Dante and me, we’re always getting into it. I can handle my brother. He gives me grief, I give it right back to him. He’s a good man and he means well. But he thinks he knows how things should be and at least half the time, he’s wrong.”
* * *
On Tuesday, Dante got up at three in the afternoon. Outside, the sun was shining and he had a really strong sense of...what?
Promise, maybe.
Anticipation.
He reminded himself not to be an idiot. It was just dinner and nothing was going to happen between him and Gracie tonight—or ever again. He wouldn’t let it.
But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other’s company now and then, did it?
They were friends and friends spent time together.
He made coffee and wandered around the house in old sweats and a Portland State T-shirt, thinking he probably ought to get dressed and drive over to his mom’s house for a quick visit, see how she and his eight-and-a-half-month-old brother, Mac, were doing. But the coffee tasted really good and he was enjoying being lazy on his day off.
He ended up standing at the sink, looking out the kitchen window, staring at the trees and t
he gravel driveway leading to the cabin. As he watched, Gracie emerged. She wore busted-out jeans and one of those silky cami tops. It was printed with big tropical flowers and she had no damn bra under it. All that silver-blond hair was loose on her shoulders.
She looked like a fairy princess in some Disney movie—only better. Hotter, too.
She came straight for him, hips and breasts gently swaying. He clutched his second cup of coffee like a lifeline and told himself to turn away.
Didn’t happen. She disappeared from sight as she mounted the short stairs to the deck. Behind him, Owen let out a happy little whine and padded straight for the slider.
Dante followed, reaching the glass door at the same time as Gracie did. For a moment they just stood there, staring at each other through the glass. Owen dropped to his haunches and whined up at Dante to open the door and let in the object of the mutt’s complete adoration.
Very slowly, Gracie smiled. She lifted her right hand and pantomimed knocking without actually touching the glass.
“Stay,” he commanded the dog.
Owen might be in love with Gracie Bravo, but he was a good dog and always obeyed a direct command. He stayed right where he was when Dante shoved the slider wide.
“Want some coffee?” At his feet, Owen quivered with eagerness, but he kept his butt to the floor.
“No, thanks. I just came to tell you dinner’s at seven and you should be over at six—and yeah, I could have texted you. But what fun is that?”
“I’ll be there.” He stared straight into those fine blue eyes. It was a pleasure to do so and it also kept him from looking at her unconfined breasts.
“I’m roasting a chicken. Nothing fancy.”
“Sounds good. I’ll bring a bottle of white.”
* * *
Owen was already over there when Dante arrived at six on the nose. Gracie was still wearing that silky, distracting cami.
But really, since last Tuesday night, everything about her distracted him. She could wear a burka and he would still spend every moment near her obsessing over what was under it.
Their Secret Summer Family (The Bravos 0f Valentine Bay Book 7) Page 5