Hoping for Love (McCarthys of Gansett Island, Book 5)

by Marie Force

  How could he know that walking through Gansett’s main thoroughfare with his hand wrapped snugly around hers was one of the single most exciting things to ever happen to her? Second only to what had happened earlier in her hotel room.

  After a lifetime of self-doubt and yearning to look and feel like other young women, Grace had finally arrived and wanted to enjoy every second of her new life. Almost as if the gods were smiling down on her, the night air was soft and fragrant and exactly the right temperature. Not too warm, not too chilly, but absolutely perfect.

  The horn of the last ferry of the day leaving the island echoed through downtown. A few last-minute stragglers rushed past them, sprinting for the ferry landing.

  Evan laughed at the melee of people scrambling to make the last boat. “Some things never change around here.”

  “I can’t imagine growing up on an island. It must’ve been fun.”

  “Sometimes it was, but it was also horribly confining. Of course, you always want what you don’t have. After living away for most of the last decade, I appreciate it more than I used to.”

  “It’s such a beautiful place. I think it would be cool to live here.” She sure hoped so.

  “You say that now. Wait until the island is buried under two feet of snow or the boats don’t run for a week because of rough seas and you have somewhere else you need to be. That’s when it starts to lose its charm.”

  His words struck a note of fear in her as she pondered an isolated winter sealed off from the mainland. She immediately dismissed the thought, refusing to ruin this magical evening with worries or fears.

  “Tropical Storm Hailey had us marooned for days,” Evan continued. “No ferries, no planes, no nothing. My sister and her new husband couldn’t leave on their honeymoon when they were supposed to. We started to run out of gas and food and cash and all sorts of stuff we rely on the ferries to bring over from the mainland.”

  “That sounds like an adventure to me. I love the idea that once that boat leaves,” she said, nodding to the departing ferry, “we’re all in it together until tomorrow morning. Anything can happen.”

  He crooked a rakish eyebrow her way, causing Grace’s breath to catch. “And that sounds like fun to you? I knew you had a twisted sense of humor…”

  She elbowed him playfully. “You have to admit there’s a bit of adventure to island life.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.”

  “We’ve seen a lot of people come and go around here. They come during the summer thinking it’ll be so fabulous to live on an island. After one winter, they go screaming for their lives back to the mainland.”

  Grace swallowed hard. That wouldn’t happen to her. No way. She was committed to the pharmacy and her new life plan.

  At the Lobster House restaurant, Evan held the door and ushered her inside with a proprietary hand on the small of her back, which set off a flutter of tingles along her spine. Once again, Evan turned every female head in the place as they followed the maître d’ to their table. Evan held the chair for her and made sure she was settled before he sat across from her.

  The dining room had large windows that looked out over Gansett Sound. With the pinks and purples of sunset lighting the sky, the view was breathtaking.

  “What’re you in the mood for?” he asked as he perused the menu.

  Speaking of breathtaking… Grace forced her gaze off him to focus on the menu. “I’m not sure.” Since this was the first time she’d been out to a fancy dinner with a man (Trey’s pizza dates hardly counted), her stomach was in knots as she tried to figure out what to have. Restaurant portions were notoriously huge, and Grace hated to waste food. But since her surgery, she could consume only small portions.

  “They have great scallops, and the fish is really good, too. Most likely caught today in Gansett Sound.”

  “I’m not that hungry,” she said truthfully. “I might just do chowder and a salad.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “You’re not one of those women who feels she has to eat like a bird in front of men, are you?”

  Grace nearly laughed out loud at the irony of that statement. “Hardly. I just have a very small appetite.” That was the line she’d learned from a support group she’d attended after her surgery. There she’d learned how to navigate her new reality without feeling like she had to tell everyone she met about why she ate such small portions. If she overdid it, food would get stuck halfway down, which was a most uncomfortable situation she went out of her way to avoid.

  That was the last thing she wanted to contend with during her perfect night with the perfect man.

  The waiter appeared at their table and asked if they’d like to hear the specials.

  “Sure,” Evan said, winking at Grace.

  As the waiter launched into a startlingly detailed description of the specials, complete with balsamic reductions and pretentious French terms that he positively murdered, Grace felt the telltale signs of laughter gurgling in her chest.

  When the waiter finally finished his spiel, Grace released a sigh of relief that she had made it through without laughing in his face.

  “Grace, did you hear anything that interests you?”

  She shook her head and cleared the laughter from her throat. “I’m going to stick with a cup of chowder and a house salad with balsamic,” she said, trying not to sputter as the word crossed her lips.

  The waiter frowned at her choice. There went his tip. “And for you, sir?”

  “I’ll do the baked scrod,” Evan said.

  “And how would you like the fish presented on the plate?”

  Stunned by the question, Evan glanced at Grace with wide eyes and then up at the waiter, whose pen was poised on the pad, breathlessly awaiting Evan’s decision. “Um, dead would be good.”

  That did it. Grace erupted into laughter that infuriated their waiter. He grabbed the menus and stalked off.

  Amused by her laughter, Evan smiled broadly at her. “What the hell kind of question was that?”

  Grace was laughing too hard to respond. As usual during one of her fits of inappropriate laughter, people around her began to take notice. That was the point at which whatever had made her laugh usually ceased to be funny, but this time, she couldn’t seem to stop.

  She reached for her glass of ice water, forced a sip down her throat and took two deep, cleansing breaths.

  “Are you done?” he asked, still smiling.

  His smile was a relief and another point in his favor—as if he needed more points. He didn’t seem at all embarrassed by her outburst.

  “I might be. Just don’t use the words fish, balsamic reduction or dead on the plate in any combination.”

  “I promise to try not to.” This was said in an impression of the waiter’s murderous French accent that set Grace off again.

  “Stop it, please,” she begged. “I hurt from laughing.”

  “Don’t hold back. You have a lovely and infectious laugh.”

  Ridiculously pleased by the unexpected compliment, Grace tried to hide her surprise. “That’s nice of you to say. Most people are embarrassed by my propensity to cut loose without warning.”

  “It’s part of your charm. You shouldn’t apologize for it.”

  As Grace was processing yet another stupendous compliment, the waiter returned with the wine Evan had ordered and made a big show out of uncorking it and presenting a taste to Evan. His eyes met hers over the rim of the glass, daring her to let go again.

  Grace bit her lip in an effort to hold it back as Evan nodded his approval of the wine.

  By the time the waiter stormed off yet again, she was in silent hysterics.

  This time Evan joined in. “He is just a tad over the top, huh?”

  With the napkin pressed to her face to muffle the laughter, Grace nodded. “I can’t take it.” Hoping she hadn’t totally ruined the makeup Stephanie had carefully applied, Grace dabbed gently at her eyes. “Do I have mascara all over my face?”


  “Not at all. You look beautiful.”

  Speechless, Grace stared at him.

  “Too much?” he asked with that dimpled grin that made her want to swoon.

  “It’s all thanks to Stephanie and Laura. They worked their magic.”

  “You didn’t need makeup or magic to be beautiful, Grace.” He reached for her hand across the table.

  As she took his hand, she felt like she was in a movie watching someone else be charmed and romanced by the incredibly handsome man sitting across from her. This couldn’t possibly be happening to her, could it?

  He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, sending sensation to erogenous zones she didn’t even know she had. Her nipples hardened, and heat pooled between her legs. Unused to such reactions, Grace struggled to process each new discovery as it occurred. How could the touch of one man’s hand accomplish so much? That thought led to another, more disturbing, question. What if he was the only man in the whole world who could set her body on fire with a mere touch? Wouldn’t it be just her luck to find that one guy and have him be a commitment-phobe?

  Fixated on their joined hands and the riot of emotions storming around inside her, Grace didn’t realize he’d spoken until he squeezed her hand.

  “Earth to Grace.”

  Startled, she looked up to find him studying her with arresting blue eyes that made her want to sigh every time he looked her way.

  “Where did you take off to?”

  “Nowhere. I’m right here.”

  “I asked where you went to college.”

  How did she totally miss that? “I went to URI’s school of pharmacy.”

  “I looked at URI. Beautiful campus.”

  Nodding, she said, “Where did you go?”

  “It would be easier to tell you where I didn’t go. I started out at Rhode Island College, moved to UMass for a year, took a year off that turned into six when I decided college wasn’t for me. I finally got a business degree from the University of Tennessee a couple of years ago.”

  “That’s quite a résumé.”

  “Well, just so you don’t think I’m a total dolt, I never would’ve gone to college at all if it hadn’t been so important to my parents. I didn’t want to be the one to spoil their perfect record where college was concerned. They were four for five, and I was the lone holdout. I always knew exactly what I wanted to do—play music, write songs, record, tour. I can’t ever see myself doing anything else.”

  “So you write, too? I thought Grant was the writer in the family.”

  “He’s the more successful writer, but I’ve sold a few of my songs.”

  “Any I might’ve heard?”

  “Well, you heard one of them that night at the Tiki Bar.”

  “You wrote that? It was amazing. I had no idea.”

  Seeming pleased by her praise, he said, “Do you listen to country music at all?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Then you probably haven’t heard the others, but I could play them for you sometime.”

  The thought of getting a private show from Evan McCarthy sent a new shower of tingles down her spine. “I’d love to hear them. How did you get into country?”

  “I’m not into country, per se. I’m more of what they call a crossover artist. I got into a band while I was at UT, and one thing led to another. Next thing I knew, I was playing country and blue grass and all kinds of stuff I’d never been exposed to before. That’s when I started writing my own songs, and apparently they appeal to country artists. I think of myself as a musical mongrel. I do it all.”

  “And you love it.”

  “I really do. This last year has been a dream come true. I was signed by a small label, recorded a CD that’s due out before Christmas, followed by a tour opening for Buddy Longstreet and Taylor Jones. They’re—”

  “The king and queen of country. Even I’ve heard of them.”

  Evan smiled. “You should’ve seen my reaction when they asked me to open for them on their tour next summer.” He grimaced, which only made him more insanely handsome. How was that possible? “I was rather undignified.”

  “That I’d like to see,” Grace said, sharing a laugh with him.

  The moment was so charged with desire and awareness that Grace wondered if the whole restaurant could tell they were dying to rip each other’s clothes off. Since she’d never had the urge to strip a man naked while in public, she had no idea how one was supposed to behave while having such an urge. The direction of her thoughts threatened to send her into a new fit of giggles, so she took a small sip of wine.

  Their waiter returned with their salads, and Grace managed to get through the encounter with nary a snicker.

  “He’s totally terrified of you,” Evan said.

  “I feel awful. It’s so rude to laugh at someone when they’re just trying to do their job.”

  “You do not feel bad, and he was way overdoing his job with the balsamic reductions and the bastardized French.”

  “You aren’t supposed to say those words,” Grace reminded him as she cut her salad into tiny bites.

  “What words? Balsamic reduction?”

  “Stop! I’ve already made enough of a scene.”

  “What are some of your other trigger words?”

  “Do you honestly think I’m going to give you that kind of ammunition?”

  “Please? I promise not to use them against you in church.”

  Grace rolled her eyes at him. “As if you ever step foot in church.”

  “I’ve been known to step foot in church.”

  “Only when Linda holds a gun to your head.”

  “That may be true, but I might be persuaded to go to church with you just to see if I can make you laugh.”

  “Trust me, you could. It doesn’t take much at all.”

  “I may have to take that dare.”

  His tone was so dirty-sounding that Grace wondered if they were still talking about church.

  When their food arrived, he insisted on sharing some of his fish with her. She was careful not to overdo and refused dessert when he offered. He paid the bill and suggested a stroll on the beach in front of the restaurant.

  Grace, who would’ve followed him into traffic at that moment, willingly agreed.

  After they kicked off their shoes, Evan slipped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her in snug against him. With the sand coarse against her feet, the breeze light against her face, the moon rising in the sky and his scent surrounding her, Grace knew she’d never forget this. No matter what happened between them, this night would go down in history as the benchmark against which all other dates would be measured.

  “What’s your favorite color?” he asked, clearly taking her comment about not knowing each other very well seriously.

  Amused, she said, “Purple. Yours?”

  “Depends on my mood. Some days I’m a red guy, and other days I favor blue. Siblings?”

  “Two brothers, both younger. One is in high school and the other in college.”

  “Are you close?”

  “Not really. Not like you are with yours. I was like a second mother to them when they were little.”

  “My brothers are my best friends, and my sister, who was a royal pain when we were growing up, turned out okay. It didn’t hurt that she married a guy we all love.”

  “That was good of her.”

  “We thought so, too.”

  Evan stopped walking all of a sudden and turned to her. Keeping one hand on her shoulder, he brought his other hand to her face.

  As she waited to see what he would do, Grace couldn’t seem to get air to her lungs.

  And then he leaned in and kissed her so softly, so sweetly that she barely had time to react before it was over.

  “I couldn’t wait another minute to do that,” he said, running his thumb over her bottom lip.

  “Is there more where that came from?” Grace shocked herself with her own audacity. It was hardly like her to ask for what she wanted, espe
cially from a man.

  His eyes heated with desire that she still couldn’t believe was directed at her. “Plenty more. Do we know each other better now than we did earlier?”

  Grace wanted him desperately. “Much better.”

  As he took a step closer to her, his hands moved from her shoulders to her hips, bringing her in tight against him.

  She finally ran her fingers through his dark hair and found it to be as silky and soft as it looked.

  That seemed to make him a little crazy, and he leaned in to take her mouth in a devouring kiss that required her full attention just to keep up with him. His tongue coaxed its way past her lips, exploring and enticing her into cooperating, not that she required much enticing.

  Years of reading romance novels and dreaming about this very moment had Grace well prepared to hide her inexperience. Like the heroines in her books, she brazenly sucked on his tongue, which drew a groan from deep inside him. Pleased with her efforts, she did it again.

  He tore his lips free and turned his attention to her neck. “God, Grace, you’re making me so hot.” He cupped her ass and pressed his substantial erection against her belly. Remembering the width and length of him from her earlier explorations, she was suddenly desperate to see and feel him without clothes in the way.

  “Can we go back to the hotel now?” Old Grace would’ve worried about that question making her sound cheap or easy. New Grace didn’t care how it made her sound. She wanted him. While she was under no illusions about what might happen between them tomorrow, she was determined to end this perfect night perfectly.

  “Are you sure, Grace?” His lips were warm and soft against her ear, sending goose bumps and tingles down her spine.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Chapter 13

  Taking her hand, Evan led Grace from the beach through a pathway she never would’ve found on her own that brought them out to the main drag. When she started to put her shoes back on, he told her not to bother.

  Knowing he was in a rush only made her more anxious to reach their destination.