Love Me Sweet (A Bell Harbor Novel)

by Brogan, Tracy

  Tina’s voice cut in. “She can’t talk to you right now. She’s too distraught. She just keeps saying ‘tell him I still have it.’ ”

  Breath was a sharp stab in his chest. “She still has it? All of it? Every penny?”

  He could hear his mother’s muffled voice in the background. It tugged at his heart for about a tenth of a second before he remembered that she’d stolen forty thousand dollars from Elaine, and his mother was not the victim here.

  “Donna,” Tina said, “he wants to know if you have all of it.” There was some more blubbering, then Tina was back. “She said she has nearly all of it. What is going on here, Grant? What does she have?”

  “Where are you guys?” he asked instead. “Have you gotten home to Memphis yet?”

  “No, we’re in Effingham. The roads were bad so we decided to stop at a hotel for a few days. We’ve been having a lovely time too. Then this morning at breakfast your mother finally decided to turn on her phone and the next thing I knew she was having a nervous breakdown at the Bob Evans. Now we’re sitting in the parking lot and she won’t tell me what’s going on. So you tell me. What’s going on?”

  Grant put his head down, a fist against his forehead. Naturally his mother would make a scene inside a restaurant instead of falling apart someplace discreet. She’d probably stolen all the mints from next to the cash register on the way out too.

  “I really need to talk to her, Tina. Tell her . . .” he took a deep breath. “Tell her I’m not mad, I just need to ask her some questions.” That was a big Effingham lie. He was as furious as hell, but if his mother was sincere, if she really did still have nearly all of Elaine’s money, he didn’t want to make the situation worse by adding to her panic. Although, when his mother said nearly all, she could mean next to none. There was just no hope of getting the honest truth from her until they were physically together and he had that bag in his hand. Right now he was mainly a hostage negotiator.

  He waited, clenching his jaw. He wanted to look over at Elaine, to reassure her that everything would be fine, but he didn’t dare because he didn’t want her seeing the doubt on his face. He stared down at the piano keys instead while she sat next to him, motionless. He could hear his aunt trying to cajole his mother to take the phone—his dear, batshit crazy mother, the catalyst of all this.

  Lord knew she never should have taken that money, but then again, if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t be with Elaine right now. Shit. If Donna had never rented out his house in the first place, he and Elaine might never have met at all. Crazy how the world worked sometimes.

  His dad had always said, “Son, things happen for a reason,” but then his dad had gone and gotten himself killed in Iraq. There was sure no good reason for that, so Grant had decided his father was wrong. Now here he was left wondering again, about fate and destiny and coincidence while he waited for his batshit crazy mother to come to the goddamn phone.

  He had every right to be mad at her, but if there was a grander scheme to life, then maybe, just maybe, his mother had done him a favor.

  Elaine reached over and squeezed his wrist. “Grant, there’s something I need to tell—”

  “Grant?” His mother’s voice cut in, her voice warbling like her throat was full of marbles.

  He sighed. “Hi, Mom.”

  Donna started crying all over again, and he finally looked over at Elaine. She looked positively stricken. She needed that money. The fear was plain on her face. He’d get it back to her. If he had to sell his house or call up Blake fucking Rockstone and get his old job back, he’d get Elaine her money.

  “What did you do, Mom? How much did you spend?”

  His mother snuffled in a big gulp of air. “About four hundred dollars.”

  The Mack truck that had parked on his chest backed up. “Four hundred dollars?” That was nothing! Sure, it didn’t take care of the six grand they owed Elaine for rent, but they could certainly work that out. He held the phone away from his mouth and turned to Elaine. “Four hundred dollars. That’s all she spent,” he whispered.

  Elaine didn’t look that relieved. Her smile was of the I-just-swallowed-bad-medicine-but-I-know-it’s-good-for-me variety. Maybe she thought his mother was lying. That was certainly within the realm of possibility. The sooner they could see Donna in person, the better off he’d feel, and the more he could assure Elaine this would all work out.

  He brought the phone back to his ear. “You know you did a terrible thing, right, Mom? Elaine did you a huge favor by not calling the police.”

  Elaine shook her head at him, frowning.

  Donna warbled again. “I know. I just . . . I saw that backpack and I really liked it, and Tina and I were going on a girl’s trip and I thought how nice that bag would go with my brown coat. Then I saw the money inside and I just couldn’t stop myself. Please tell Elaine that I’m sorry and I will give it all back.”

  His mother was reckless, and impulsive, and she had more than a splash of kleptomania, but he couldn’t fix it over the phone. This was something he’d have to deal with once they were all back in Bell Harbor. “You will give it back, and we’re going to get you some help so that you don’t do this kind of thing anymore. In the meantime, we need to figure out where we can meet because you’ve also got Elaine’s phone and some other stuff that she needs inside that bag. Tina says you’re in Effingham. How far is that from Memphis? That’s where we are.”

  “You’re in Memphis?” His mother’s voice squeaked. “You and who?”

  “Me and Elaine. We’re here waiting for you and we need that bag back.”

  “They’re in Memphis,” he heard Donna say, undoubtedly talking to his aunt. The phone was clumsily passed once more and Tina’s voice came through.

  “Grant? We should be in Memphis tonight, but not until late. It’s about a five-hour drive but we’ll have to stop for gas and to eat again. If the roads are still bad, it may take a bit longer. Can you come to my place in the morning?”

  “Yes. Sure. Of course, but meanwhile, Tina, lock that bag in the trunk, OK? Don’t let my mother anywhere near it.”

  Delaney Masterson had received a stay of execution. Or more accurately, Elaine Masters had. She could hear both sides of the conversation from her spot next to Grant on the piano seat. His mother was loud, loud and clearly distraught. Delaney should probably be furious with her for causing a shitload of misery and worry! But mostly, at the moment, all Delaney felt was relieved. She’d be getting her money and phone and wallet back tomorrow morning. But even better than that, Donna had referred to her as Elaine. She hadn’t mentioned the name Delaney at all. Was it possible she’d never found the wallet? True, it was stuffed down near the bottom of the bag, underneath the money, but Donna wasn’t a very good thief if she hadn’t even searched through her loot. But then again, Donna Beckett didn’t strike Delaney as very bright.

  Then again, again, who was she to accuse someone of being not bright?

  Who was the one hiding in plain sight under an alias?

  Who was the one running from a sex-video scandal?

  Who was the one falling in love with a man who didn’t even know her real name?

  That would be Delaney.

  If anyone was stupid in this whole mess, it was her. And she needed to fix it. Her euphoria swung back in the other direction, toward anxiety. She just didn’t know how to feel. Maybe it was this weather, this bi-polar vortex.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Grant said, smiling wide. “We’ll get all your stuff back tomorrow morning.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “That’s good news, right?”

  She nodded. “Right.”

  “OK, then why don’t you seem happy about it?”

  She looked at him, feeling very much like the world was crumbling in all around them because there was one more issue neither one of them had really addressed. “Well, for one thing, once I hav
e my stuff back, I have to go home.”

  He touched her cheek and smiled. “Just for a little while, though, right? This isn’t it. We’ll figure something out.”

  Her heart swelled with hope, but Grant had no idea what he was talking about. How could he? He was talking to a girl who didn’t exist, so she needed to tell him. Right now.

  “Grant—”

  “Y’all want to go on over to Graceland with us?” Sissy’s voice cut through Delaney’s thoughts like a scythe. “The boys don’t have to start playing for another couple of hours, so if you two can keep your hands off each other for a spell, we can go see where the King slept, then go get some ribs at Marlowe’s before tonight’s show. Interested?”

  Delaney could not hold back a smile. Another reprieve. She couldn’t possibly tell him at Graceland. And she couldn’t tell him at a restaurant either. She’d just have to tell him later tonight. Or . . . tomorrow. Tomorrow would work.

  Chapter 20

  THE PARADISE BROTHERS WERE A hit with the Heartbreak Hotel crowd, and Grant had to hand it to Reggie. The guy might be as obnoxious as hell, but he could sing, and he was a natural entertainer. They all were, Finch and Humphrey too, joking with each other onstage as effortlessly as they had on the bus. Playing guitars and bass, keyboards and drums. They were masters, offering up a mix of Elvis classics, old country western, and some original honky-tonk songs with lyrics so raunchy the audience cheered and Elaine blushed.

  Still so innocent, even after last night.

  God. Last night. His body went hot at the memory. It was the best night he’d ever had, and the fact that they had the room completely to themselves for this evening? Damn. That had been on his mind since the moment he’d heard. Unfortunately that also left him touring the entire Graceland mansion this afternoon with a semierection, but certainly he wasn’t the first one. Everybody loved Elvis.

  “Let’s slow it down for the lovers in the crowd tonight,” Reggie said into the microphone, and Grant wondered if that was just for them or for lovers in general. Either way, Grant pulled Elaine to the center of the dance floor and then into his arms. The song was something sad, an old story of woe about love gone wrong, but nothing about this felt wrong.

  Everything about this was just right.

  The truth was, he’d never felt this way before. He’d been with plenty of women, some who he’d been fond of, a few he thought he might have even loved, although he never told them so. But this was different. He and Elaine were in sync, every rhythm, every breath. He wasn’t naive, of course. He understood she was shiny and bright, and everything about this had that new car smell. Sure there would be bumps in the road, and yes, he still had more to learn about her, but if Elaine could put up with the amount of stress they’d encountered over the last few days with such grace and patience and good humor, well, he couldn’t imagine ever growing tired of her. He’d definitely never grow tired of her lips, because they tasted like caramel and set his skin on fire. He wouldn’t grow tired of her laugh and the way it burst like a firecracker. He’d certainly never get tired of the way her body moved like water under his palm either. Nope. Never getting tired of that.

  Grant pulled her closer, breathing in the sweet, fresh scent of her. That curve where her shoulder glided into her neck. He could spend the rest of his life there, breathing in the scent of that curve. He’d always trusted his instincts. They’d rarely steered him wrong, and if he followed them right now, he’d end up strolling down the aisle right toward a preacher. Who the hell would have thought his idiot brother was right? When you knew, you just knew. And right now, he knew Elaine Masters was the one for him.

  He was punch-drunk with it, the idea, the surreal quality of all that had gone on since he’d met her. He’d never been one of those fanciful dolts who believed in fate, or love at first sight, but whatever elements of destiny had brought this woman into his life, be it coincidence or the actions of his batshit-crazy mother, well, he was thankful because Elaine was beauty and heartbreak and everything in between. Learning all about her would be like having an endless gift to unwrap.

  His hand slid up her back and threaded into her hair. He had to kiss her. Right now. In the center of a crowded dance floor in the middle of the Jungle Room Lounge, he had to kiss her. So he did. She kissed him back, and he knew this night would be even better than the one before. It needed to start right now.

  As soon as the last strains of the song floated out over the crowd, Grant pulled her from the dance floor and around the corner. He pressed her up against the wall next to the elevator and the big Elvis ’69 poster and kissed her again.

  She chuckled, low and sultry, as he reached around blindly for the elevator button. When the door opened, they practically fell inside.

  “Want to go upstairs?” he asked, as the elevator started to rise.

  She laughed again. “I think we’re halfway there.”

  “God, I’m halfway there.”

  The door opened with a soft glide and then they were almost sprinting down the hall. His hands shook as he stuffed the key into the slot at the suite door. Maybe that hand tremble wasn’t manly, but he didn’t care because they were still in the hallway and Elaine was already pushing the edge of his shirt up from behind.

  He slammed down the handle and shoved open the door, pulling her inside. He wondered, briefly, if there was a security deposit on this room, because there was a good chance they were going to break something.

  They rushed past the burgundy walls and into the bedroom, falling to the bed with a bounce and a bit of laughter. His shirt came off first, then he caught the hem of hers, pulling it up, fast, urgent. What he lacked in style he’d make up for in pure enthusiasm. This wasn’t the time for finesse, it was the time for raw need. He didn’t want to slow down, he just wanted to be buried deep inside her. He kissed her neck, and bit. She arched up against him and he caught her around the waist, turning them on the bed so that their heads were near the pillows. Her soft gasp of encouragement would have buckled his knees if he hadn’t already been lying down.

  She knocked the pillows aside so she was lying flat on the mattress. He gazed down at her, marveling once more at his good fortune that this woman had stumbled her way into his life. Maybe some things really did happen for a reason.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered and dipped his head for another kiss. She reached down between them and tugged at the waistband of his jeans, popping the button. She may as well have been pulling the pin from a grenade because there was no stopping him now. He growled down deep, the sound scraping in his throat. She pulled at the zipper but his pants were uncooperative, given that they were stretched to capacity by his extremely optimistic cock. He reached down and moved the zipper on his own. She reached inside his boxers and set him free, running her hand along the length of him. Everything inside him turned to chaos and want.

  “God,” he ground out again, and pressed another kiss along the slim expanse of her neck. “I need to lose these pants before I lose my mind.”

  She offered up a sweet huff of annoyance when he rolled away to take off his jeans, but he was back before the sound ended. He moved lower, his face nuzzling her belly. Her laughter was breathy and she tried to turn but he held her steady.

  “That tickles,” she gasped, and pulled at his hair.

  He might have kept at it, just to hear her laugh again, but he had more serious matters on his mind. He reached down and unzipped her jeans. She sighed with relief as he caught the waistband with his hands and inched them slowly off. They got caught up at her ankles and he had to stand up to get them all the way off, but that was OK. He dropped them on the floor as a wickedly delicious idea took hold. Yes, he was in a hurry, but he still had time for one small and luscious detour.

  Delaney was so happy to be naked. Grant’s hands and lips and tongue seemed to be everywhere, leaving her mindless and blissful. Everything else faded
away. It was just them, and this bed. An oasis of pleasure. She heard her jeans land on the floor and then Grant was kissing her ankle, and then her calf. His tongue traced a path upward, sending tendrils of desire right to the center of her. Delicious. Hot and delicious.

  He kissed the inside of her knee, his fingers gripping her hips tightly. A confusion of sensations competed for her attention, some rough, some gentle. The sweeping glide of his fingers, then the scrape of his whiskered cheek brushing against her skin before he dipped his head and kissed her. There. Right there.

  She bit her lip, but the moan escaped her anyway and she pulled at his hair again. This tickled in a completely different way. He was good at this. Really, really good at this, and she let herself be swept away on that tide, the roll and the swell, until her body crashed and broke apart and all her muscles turned to water. It felt like the only thing holding her together was his embrace.

  Then he was beside her, inside her, riding his own wave, and she wondered if he had any idea that she was falling in love with him.

  They lay together under the blankets a little while later, facing one another as he curled and uncurled a strand of her hair around his finger.

  “Do you want to hear something kind of funny?” he asked, staring at that strand.

  “Sure.” She was feeling sleepy, and thoroughly satisfied, and would’ve said sure to just about anything he’d asked her at that point.

  “When I came home for my brother’s wedding, I was going to tell him he was an idiot for getting married.”

  Some of her blissful euphoria waned. That wasn’t funny. It was mildly distressing.

  “Why is that funny?”

  He twined the hair back in the other direction. “It’s funny ironic . . . because I thought he was crazy for marrying someone he’d only known for six months. But I think I’m starting to see the appeal. Now that I’ve met you, I think I finally understand.”