Just One Week

by Alice Gaines

  “Sarah.” This time, Vivian’s dismissive noise sounded very much like a snort. “I don’t know what she did to him, but I can imagine.”

  “I can’t.” Alex Stafford owned the world—handsome, rich, popular with everyone. Sure, everyone had a sore spot, but what could make Alex vulnerable enough that he wouldn’t try to have a meaningful relationship?

  “It’s the dyslexia,” Vivian said. “Makes him think he’s slow.”

  Michelle’s jaw dropped. “The what?”

  “He’s as smart as any of the rest of them, if only he’d believe it,” Vivian said.

  “Alex is dyslexic?” Michelle said.

  Vivian’s eyes widened in alarm. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  This time Vivian used a really foul word. “I assumed you and your brother knew.”

  She searched her brain for any clue that Kyle knew about Alex’s dyslexia and came up with nothing. Her brother was a pretty easy to read guy, and he and Alex had never acted as if they kept any secrets from her. Kyle might not have, but Alex certainly had.

  “Don’t say anything to anyone about this,” Vivian said. “I don’t want Alex hurt any more than he has been.”

  “I won’t.” Some things made sense now. Although Alex was obviously smart, he’d never been in advanced placement classes in high school and had gone to a university more known for its sports than academics. She’d never seen him read a book. And God forbid anyone suggest they go to a movie with subtitles.

  Alex had trouble reading, and he’d never told her. She could have helped him, but he’d never trusted her enough to turn to her. He’d rejected her in more ways than she’d imagined.

  “Well, you probably needed to know if the two of you are going to become an item,” Vivian said.

  “That’s not going to happen, Mrs. Stafford,” Michelle said. “I’m just an old friend.”

  That last statement earned her a definite humph of skepticism and disapproval.

  “We drove over here with Jim and Emma,” Michelle said. “That’s all.”

  “I know my grandson, young lady, and I know when he cares about someone.”

  At a loss for words, Michelle stared at the bocce courts, watching the player’s precise placement of the game. How could he care about her if he wouldn’t tell her something as important as his difficulty with reading?

  “He wouldn’t bring just any woman to a family gathering,” Vivian continued. “I’ve never met any of the frou-frou types he dates.”

  “They’re all in New York.”

  “And you’re from where…Boston?” Vivian said.

  “I came here because Emma and Jim wanted me to.” Why couldn’t she make Vivian see that? She had a full life on the East Coast and hadn’t needed a trip back to open old wounds. Or create a new one with the knowledge the Alex had been hiding something important from her.

  “Have it your way.” Vivian grabbed her cane. “But I’ll warn you, young lady. I don’t take kindly to anyone hurting someone I love. Especially Alex.”

  “I’m not going to hurt him.” Michelle made an aimless gesture with her hands. “I’m only here for a few days…as a friend.”

  “Fine.” Vivian rose. “Then you won’t get close enough to him to hurt him when you leave.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then, Miss Dennis…Doctor Dennis…you’re a fool.” With that, Mrs. Stafford walked down the steps with a stiff spine and as much dignity as a cane allowed.

  Well, this conversation had given her a lot to process. For one thing, Alex’s grandmother had made it clear that she’d give Michelle hell if she hurt Alex. But then, how could she hurt him if he wouldn’t let her close? Lord knew she hadn’t planned on that, she just wanted to enjoy his body for a casual fling and then go back to her real life. Still, she wouldn’t stay away again. Once she had things settled so she didn’t need to dread seeing Alex, she could visit as much as her busy schedule allowed. If she got the job at Cardmouth, that wouldn’t happen often, but holidays would be free. Exactly when Vivian might be around.

  On the other hand, if she meant no more to him than the women he usually dated, she couldn’t hurt him. So why even worry about that?

  Should she ditch the entire plan to seduce Alex and spend the rest of her time here enjoying the festivities and nothing else? Easier said than done. If Alex offered more kisses, she wouldn’t have the strength to turn them down. Kisses would lead to more and more. If they didn’t connect emotionally, where was the harm?

  Obviously, they weren’t as close as she’d thought. All the times she’d tagged after him and Kyle, all the times he’d comforted her after a snub from her father, all the little things he’d done for her, like the lupines—none of them mattered enough to him to reveal who he truly was. Even the way he’d berated her in the cottage that day could have been an aberration, but he’d kept a secret from her the entire time she’d known him…from her childhood right up until today. None of that added up to an emotional relationship.

  So Operation Seduce Alex Stafford would continue, even if her heart ached a bit more than it had yesterday.

  …

  When it became clear Alex’s mother had taken everyone else back from the vineyard tour and left him and Michelle behind, he could be pretty sure this was one of her attempts at throwing them together. Actually, that was fine by him. The distance was perfect for the two of them to have a nice, long talk. But Michelle wouldn’t see things that way.

  She emerged from between the rows of grapevines looking every bit as luscious as when they’d climbed into the Land Rover to head for the winery that morning. By now, they’d spent several hours in the warm spring sun—minus the time his grandmother had taken her aside for the third degree. She’d put on a sun visor but might very well get a few freckles on her nose, anyway. He could spend hours trying to count them if he wasn’t careful. But damn it, all caution seemed to evaporate when he got around her.

  She looked up one side of the main road between the rows of vines and down the other. “Did they leave without us?”

  “Looks like.”

  She put her hands on her hips, and clearly, the wheels turned in her mind. After his earlier conversation with his mother, he had no trouble at all realizing what had happened—another of Mom’s attempts at matchmaking. And who knew what kind of nonsense his beloved Grandma had poured into Michelle’s head?

  He got his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call Mom.”

  His mother didn’t answer. No big surprise there. He’d have to make at least one more try to convince Michelle he’d done what he could to get them a ride. Then they could walk back. The trip should take a good twenty minutes. Plenty of time for the conversation she’d been avoiding since SFO. He tried Chase next.

  “Hey, big guy, what’s up?” his brother said. Darn it. Why had he answered?

  “Mom left Michelle and me out here without a ride.”

  “Did she?” A definite snicker came from the other end of the line.

  “Can you send someone to pick us up?” Alex said.

  “Bit of a problem,” Chase said. “I’m helping Kyle with the barbecue. We’re pretty busy.”

  “Can’t someone else do it?” There. He’d done his duty.

  “Sorry. Guess you’ll have to get back on your own,” Chase said and broke the connection. Alex gave Michelle a smile and shrugged, as in whatcha-gonna-do?

  Michelle had eyed him the entire time. “I don’t mind walking back. I’m wearing comfortable shoes.”

  Her shoes might be comfortable, but the rest of her outfit was most definitely not, at least not for him. Though not tight, her shorts showed every curve of her butt, and her top revealed the swell of her breasts. Perfectly normal clothes, and no one would notice them other than the man who’d kissed her the night before and had had to take a cold shower hours later.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with this,” he said. “Honest.”

  “I didn’t say you
did.” She tucked her arm around his and smiled.

  Her expression didn’t seem entirely trustworthy but more like a come-hither. His Mickey had never flirted, but this new Michelle might have learned a few tricks. But what was he going to do? Pull back and demand she tell him what was going on in her head? He might be better off not knowing. So, he walked with her between the rows of grapevines.

  The sun warmed his shoulders as they went, but the true heat came from her nearness to him. This felt entirely too natural—as if she’d been designed to fit against him. He’d walked this way with more than a few women—many times down the streets of Manhattan and into posh clubs and swank hotels. On those occasions, he’d never experienced such a sense of rightness as he did now. The northern California wine country was really his home, and here he was, surrounded by his people. Mickey had been one once. Would Michelle now fit into that category?

  “Since we’re here, it’s time we talked,” he said.

  “About what?”

  “The topic you’ve been avoiding.”

  That stopped her. “Don’t, Alex. Please.”

  “I have to. That day in the cottage. You never gave me a chance to explain.”

  “What’s to explain?” She threw her hands out to her sides. “I was in the middle of doing something stupid, and you stopped me. Thank you. Now, are we done?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, good Lord.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “Should I call Kyle and have him come get us?”

  “Not a good idea.” For obvious reasons. Kyle was busy with the barbecue. Besides, he didn’t have to know Alex was entertaining his little sister alone among the vines.

  “Then drop the subject, okay?” she said.

  He blew out a breath. “Sure. Let’s talk about something else.”

  She took his arm again, snuggling even closer to him. He ought to put her away from him, but if he did that, she’d take it as a rejection, no matter how gently he attempted it. She’d told him she loved him that day. With the tears still streaming down her face and her eyes red and puffy, she’d stood up to the bully—him—and spoke a truth between them he hadn’t dared face. She’d always had a crush on him—something he’d tried to discourage all the while basking in her hero-worship. Then, when he’d hurt her, she’d confronted him with her feelings, and he’d squashed them flat.

  No, with a history between them like that, he wouldn’t make the mistake of doing anything to hurt her again. Only, what was he supposed to do with the feelings and baser instincts she aroused in him? He could try fighting them, but he was only human.

  “What are you thinking?” she said.

  “Never ask a man that. You won’t get a straight answer.”

  She chuckled. “I thought you might be different.”

  “Not a chance.” He sure as hell wasn’t going to repeat the fantasies about her that had given him an insistent hard-on the night before.

  A huge, old live oak stood off to one side, interrupting the row upon row of vines. She pointed toward it. “Reminds me of the one the three of us used to climb together.”

  He studied the tree. “The other one’s branches were closer to the ground.”

  “I’m not suggesting we climb it.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced down at her. “What are you suggesting?”

  She cocked her head and gave him a coy smile. “Let’s sit under it for a minute.”

  “Don’t you want to get back to the others?”

  She rested her hand on his arm and gazed up at him from under her lashes. “Humor me.”

  “They must be serving barbecue by now.”

  “There’ll be plenty when we get back.” She took his hand and led him to the base of the tree where they sat, finally out of the bright sun. Filtered light got to them from between the leaves overhead, and she removed her sun visor.

  “Okay, talk,” he said.

  “Why did you go into athletics?”

  Off all the questions reporters and regular people had asked him over the years, no one had ever popped up with that one. “I was big for my age, so the coach grabbed me to play defense. Turned out I was good at it.”

  “Didn’t you ever consider another field of interest? Say, science or literature.”

  “Literature? Me?” All that reading. He had trouble enough trying to follow what she’d been doing in her research, but at least no ordinary person was expected to understand that stuff. He mostly stuck to the conclusions of the papers and got from them what he could.

  “It’s your family business,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, Chase will take care of that.”

  “You’re not going to play football forever.” She plucked a blade of grass and rolled it between her fingers. “Have you thought about what you’ll do with the rest of your life?”

  “That’s kind of a deep topic.”

  She tortured the grass some more. “You’re not a shallow person, Alex.”

  Where had this line of questioning come from? He’d hoped to work on her psyche, not the other way around. “I could coach, I guess. I’ll still keep working with my kids.”

  She stared directly into his face. “How about kids of your own?”

  “Sure…maybe…what about you?”

  “Unlikely.” She tossed the grass away. “I’m not planning on getting married for a very long time, if ever.”

  “Why? You’re sweet. You’re brilliant.”

  “Yeah, I’m brilliant. So you’ve said and everyone else, too. It doesn’t make me any good in the dating department.”

  “Really?” Maybe the second bit of good news since the RSVP had come back with her party equaling one, not two. If he were a truly good guy, he’d want her to have a full life in Massachusetts, but the image of her with anyone else didn’t sit much better than her with Phil Cavanaugh. After all this time, and his own failed attempts at creating a relationship with someone else, he shouldn’t be surprised she hadn’t done any better than he had.

  “I’m busy with my work and don’t have time for someone in my life,” she said. “Things’ll be even crazier if I get the job at Cardmouth.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He rested back against the oak’s trunk.

  “Football players get married,” she said.

  “So do scientists.”

  “Not this scientist.” She still didn’t make eye contact as she said it.

  “That’s crazy.”

  She let out a little huff. “I’ve never been any good at dating and relationships, and I don’t seem to be getting better at it.”

  “I don’t see why not. You’re brill—” He stopped himself before he finished the word “brilliant.” She didn’t seem to appreciate it for some reason. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Alex,” she said.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “I own a mirror. I know what I look like.”

  “You don’t seem convinced.” She’d obviously never lost her old insecurities, even after all her accomplishments. Her father had done lasting damage to her self-esteem, and though she appeared poised and in control, she was still that same hurting little girl inside.

  Oh man, he needed to get a grip before he turned into a shrink. Mickey could still get to him after all this time. And unfortunately, his reactions to her were no longer innocent or in her best interest. Once upon a time, he could comfort her without wanting so much more. Now touching her was like striking a match near a gas burner. Whoom. Up in flames. Right now, his palms itched to do exactly that—to massage her shoulders until the muscles became pliant in his hands. Really bad idea. He clenched his hands into fists by his sides to keep himself from reaching for her.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m very happy the way I am,” she said.

  That didn’t convince him. It didn’t even sound as if she’d convinced herself. He had a loving family all around him. Even if he never found a woman who understood him, he’d have a support sy
stem. She’d just have her work. That sounded so bleak.

  She stared ahead of her, pulling at more blades of grass. Contemplating a life alone? That was wrong on so many levels. For a moment, they were kids again with Mickey unhappy and Alex not able to do anything but put his arms around her. So, he did it again. Stupid move but necessary.

  She felt so right against him. Like coming home at the end of a long day. He stroked her hair, burrowing his fingertips into the warm silk. She smelled like sunshine, and he leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

  When she looked up at him out of her deep brown eyes, her gaze reached inside him and tugged at his heart. She was still the same vulnerable kid he’d taken under his wing. Then he’d watched her go from gangly teenager to lovely young woman. Now her beauty took his breath away, and he was holding her. He couldn’t make himself release her any more than he could remove his gaze from her face.

  Then her lips parted, and he was lost. He bent his head toward hers and pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle kiss. Instead of doing the sensible thing—push him away and demand to know what the hell he was doing—she sighed and leaned farther into him. Suddenly, he wasn’t just kissing her. He was drowning in desire so complete it stole any sense of right or wrong. Only Michelle mattered. Only the taste of her lips and the press of her curves against him. As he continued drinking in her sweetness, he turned them both and lowered her to the ground.

  She let him do it, even holding him to guide him down with her. For a moment, he held her face in his palms and stared at her mouth. Already puffy from his kisses, it tempted him beyond any resistance. He captured her lips with his again, and now he let his hand go roaming. Over her shoulder and down her side. When he reached the hem of her sweater, he slid his fingers underneath and then upward to cup her breast. Soft and full. Lovelier than he’d imagined. He found the front closure of her bra and snapped it open. Her soft flesh filled his hand and he grazed the nipple with his thumb.

  She pulled her mouth from his and let out a cry. Desire, so rich and strong. Intoxicating like whiskey drunk too quickly. It coursed through his veins, and in a moment it would drug him so completely he’d do something supremely reckless. Before that happened, he released her and sat up, turning away so she could straighten her clothing without him staring at her.