by Sami Lee
“We did. But it was just one night,” she protested.
Who was she trying to convince though? Her one night with Grant had emotionally linked her to him in a way she’d never been able to equal with another man.
It had taken her years to accept that fact. Her stomach clenched and she gripped the phone tighter.
“Well, maybe one night simply wasn’t enough for him.”
Lanie snorted, more than prepared to shoot down Phoebe’s ridiculous theory. “Or maybe he knows I stole the coin.”
“Maybe,” Phoebe agreed mildly, though she didn’t sound convinced. “But the only way you’ll find out is if you stay.”
Lanie sighed, shaking her head. “That’s a pretty big risk.”
“Okay, well forget about the whole we screwed bit. Think about the shelter. I mean, he’s offering to donate a pretty big sum to the shelter annually. That’s huge. Way more than we ever could have hoped for.”
Guilt knotted in her gut. Jesus, she was a selfish witch. She closed her eyes and shoved her bangs away from her eyes. This wasn’t about her. This was about Second Chances and what Grant was offering could go so far for the shelter and the women there.
“Delanie?”
Realizing she’d been quiet for too long, she cleared her throat. “I’m here. You’re right, Phoebe. You’re always right. Of course I’ll stay. Forget I even called. I overreacted. You know me.”
“Yeah, I do. And you’re not the overreacting type. You’re the overanalyzing type. Which is why I’m not really surprised to be having this conversation.”
Delanie gave a soft laugh. “You’re too good to me.”
“Ditto. Oh, and by the way, Franklin called the office looking for you. Said you weren’t answering your cell.”
“Right,” Delanie’s lips twitched and some of the tension eased from her body. “Reception is terrible out here.”
“I’m sure.” Phoebe giggled. “That’s why you’re calling me right now with no trouble.”
Earlier she’d turned off her phone to avoid his calls. It was another reason she’d been eager to take this trip.
She suspected he wanted their relationship to be quite a bit more serious than she did. The part she couldn’t figure out was whether or not Franklin just thought she was the perfect arm candy for a senator.
As Phoebe had pointed out more than once, she was an attractive young woman from a respected family, who worked tirelessly for a battered women’s shelter.
“All right. I need to unpack and get settled.” She tightened her grip on the phone. “And thanks again, Phoebe.”
“For?”
“For talking me down from the ledge.”
“You’d do the same for me. Have a good night and keep me posted on everything. And I do mean everything.”
“Will do. Say hi to Gabby for me.”
“I will. She’s been asking about you. Should I tell her you’re miserable?” Phoebe teased.
“No. Tell her all is bliss. Why weigh her down with my drama.” Delanie laughed. “Good night, hon.”
She shut her phone and set it on the bed then leaned back against the pillow and let her head sink into the feathery softness.
She closed her eyes, hoping it would erase the image of Grant from her mind. If anything, it only heightened it.
Her fingers brushed over the faded coin around her neck. And just like every other time she touched it, the vision of that one night with Grant flickered through her mind.
A cold night, it had been snowing outside. While two hot, naked bodies joined in passion and moved together on flannel sheets.
It was a night that should never have happened.
The plan had seemed so simple. Stage an accidental meeting with Grant at the bar and get him to bring her back to his place. Then she’d steal the coin and sneak out.
“But being an overachiever, I just had to go for extra credit,” she muttered to herself with a bittersweet smile. “I just had to go ahead and sleep with him too.”
Delanie sat up on the bed and glanced outside her room to where the wind had picked up. The water beyond the resort was whipping into a frenzy of whitecaps and swells.
She lifted the coin closer to her face to stare at it. Even six years later she couldn’t explain why she’d kept it for herself. That certainly hadn’t been part of the plan. But when she’d untied the leather cord on the pouch and dumped the coin into her hand, the plan had gotten ditched.
The first thing she’d noticed about the coin was that it seemed old—many centuries at least. The second thing that had caught her attention was the owl on it. A weird twist of fate, since she’d just gotten an owl tattoo on her shoulder blade the week before. And maybe that’s why she’d made the decision she had.
Her choices had been simple. Throw it into a lake as she’d promised the person she’d stolen it for, or keep it for herself.
The decision had been a no brainer. Not only had she kept it, but she’d had it turned into a necklace. Though she’d made sure the tiny prongs that held the coin ensured no damage would come to it.
You should’ve just thrown it into the lake.
She let go of the coin, the cool weight of it between her breasts calming her. No. That was another decision she wouldn’t regret, no matter how much it came back to bite her in the butt.
Sliding off the bed, she reached behind her to untie the back of her halter dress. Looking over her shoulder, she caught sight of the small tattoo on her shoulder blade.
Grant’s words flitted through her head again. The last time I saw it I was taking you from behind.
Heat spread through her body and she closed her eyes. More images assailed her. She on her hands and knees, his strong hands biting into her hips as he took her.
She swallowed hard and shimmied out of the dress, letting it pool at her feet.
She glanced at the clock. Grant said he’d come for her at six. Two hours.
That meant she had two hours to make herself look good. Not good—great. When she pulled out all the stops with her appearance, she felt confident, ready to take on the world. She could hold her own in any situation.
Which seemed all too appropriate for the dinner she was going to attend tonight. Uneasy now, she headed to the bathroom to shower.
Chapter 2
Grant stood in his office and swirled the glass of melting ice left over from his gin and tonic.
With his gaze narrowed on the choppy waters off the island, he tilted the glass, emptying the rest of the ice into his mouth. Half made it into his mouth, the rest of it spilled down the front of his freshly pressed shirt.
He sighed and set down the glass. Of course he’d dumped half the contents on himself.
He brushed the ice off his shirt and glanced back out the window.
Thank God she was here. It had been surprisingly easy to lure Delanie Williams to Lopez Island. She hadn’t even seen it coming. But then, why would she have?
She’d walked out of his life on that snowy morning six years ago and probably didn’t have a clue of the chaos she’d left in her wake.
B.D.—before Delanie, he liked to call it—life had been good. The girls had loved him and he’d had no problem with his life as a serial dater. A.D.—after Delanie—he’d been lucky to make it past two dates with a woman without getting bored.
Every woman he dated, went to bed with, inevitably got compared to the one woman he’d spent less than twenty-four hours with.
It was annoying as hell, and he hated himself for doing it. Couldn’t understand why he did it. He barely knew Delanie, so why should every other woman on the planet have to measure up to her?
And it wasn’t just his love life that had gone kaput after that night. Things had just started to fall apart in general. His cat died, his truck got stolen, and he’d lost his job.
And those had just been the first handful of things that had gone wrong. Six years of bad luck had ensued after the coin disappeared.
He’d kept that
coin in the same place day in and day out. There was no way in hell it had been misplaced. It had been taken, plain and simple. Possibly by his roommate—who’d denied ever taking it—and Grant leaned towards believing the guy. Which left only one other likely person. Delanie.
He shook his head. The idea still seemed far-fetched that she was the one who took it. What could possibly have been her motive?
The only way to find out would be to ask her face-to-face. He’d always prided himself on being able to read a person’s first reaction. And tonight he’d read Delanie’s.
That coin had accompanied him everywhere, it was his lucky charm. It’d been a part of him—a part of the Thompson family—for centuries.
He rubbed the back of his neck, and closed his eyes.
“This is about more than the coin,” he muttered to himself. “And you’d better stop trying to convince yourself otherwise.”
Seeing Delanie again was like fitting that last piece of the puzzle where it had been missing for so long.
The image of how he’d first seen her today flashed behind his closed eyes. She’d been facing away from him. Her back and shoulders bared around the thin straps of her sundress. The small tattoo of a white owl had drawn his gaze like a beacon. Then, when she’d finally turned around…
His chest tightened and he drew in an unsteady breath.
Delanie had been a pretty sorority girl, slender, with short brown hair, and brown eyes full of mischief.
But six years later she was stunning. Her slender body had softened with the curves of a woman. Her breasts were fuller, her hips more rounded, but it was her hair that had undergone the biggest transformation.
It had used to be short, but she wore it long now. And it was lighter, almost blonde.
And he still wanted her. As much today as he had that night they’d tumbled into his bed.
Grant drew in a deep breath and winced. The smell of gin now lingered on his shirt. It was probably time for that shower.
He unfastened the buttons on his shirt and headed to the bathroom to get ready for his dinner with Delanie.
An hour later he left his room. Clean, changed, and cologned. He walked to her room, drawing in a slow breath before he lifted his hand and knocked.
His mouth twitched as he waited for her to open the door. She probably had no idea he’d had her placed in the room right next door to his.
Half a minute passed and he frowned then knocked again. Maybe she hadn’t been thrilled by the idea of dinner with him, but would she deliberately avoid him? Not answer the door?
The tension eased from his shoulders when footsteps sounded inside the room. A few seconds later, the door swung open.
Grant drew in a sharp breath, letting his gaze move over her as the blood stirred in his cock.
If this was how she dressed when she didn’t want to go to dinner, he’d love to see what she looked like when she did. Sweet Jesus, she looked sexy.
The black dress cut low on her breasts, showing plenty of cleavage before falling all the way down to her red-painted toenails.
He jerked his gaze back up to her face and his hand gripped the doorframe as he made a serious mental effort not to get a hard-on.
Her brown eyes appeared brighter, her expression tentative. “Sorry, I was drying my hair.”
“No problem.” He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry?”
She gave a quick nod, her hands twisting together in front of her. “A little. The last thing I ate was some God-awful crackers on the plane.”
“God-awful crackers make for a terrible meal.” He gave her a slight smile, hoping to put her more at ease.
She was nervous. Then again, he wasn’t exactly Mr. Composure either after seeing her again. No matter that he’d mentally geared up for their reunion, it was still a shock.
“Ready?” He released the doorframe and stepped back, giving her room to step out.
She ran her hands over the waist of her dress and then gave a quick nod. “Yes. I’m ready.” She stepped past him and closed the door behind her.
When she took those few steps past him, his gaze immediately moved over her back. The dress was cut low on the backside as well, the slinky fabric clinging to the curve of her ass.
He balled his fists against his sides and ground his teeth together. This isn’t about getting laid, buddy. Though it would be a nice bonus.
“So, where are we going?” she called over her shoulder, not looking back as she strode down the hallway.
“I’ve arranged dinner in a private room on the second floor of the main house. Here.”
This time she did glance sharply behind her.
“It has a great view. You’ll love it,” he promised and increased his stride so they walked beside each other.
He led her up the spiral staircase to the second floor. A small table had already been laid out with plates, wine glasses, and a candle burning in the middle.
Christ. He’d asked for a quiet dinner to be set up, not something you’d find on an episode of The Bachelor. But then, that was Roberta. The older cook was a die-hard romantic.
Delanie gasped and hurried over to the large windows that overlooked the San Juan Islands. “Look at that view!”
He smiled, thrusting his hands into his pockets. It was the reason he’d requested the dinner be held up here. The room was generally off limits. This view was rarely seen by anyone, outside himself and the occasional employee.
She seemed to hesitate before moving toward the chair he pulled out for her. She sat down, her back rigid and her hands folded in her lap as she eyed the table warily.
“Can I get you some wine?” he offered as he sat.
“I’d rather you tell me how I ended up at your resort.”
*
Delanie bit her tongue the moment the words were out. Her stomach flipped as he lifted an eyebrow and gave a low, sexy laugh.
She hadn’t planned on going straight for the attack, but seeing the tender scene he’d set up had rattled her nerves.
“Perhaps some wine first?”
He went to work filling both glasses and her gaze dropped to his hands, which were wrapped around the wine bottle.
Those hands had given her more orgasms in one night than her last two boyfriends combined.
“Here you are.”
She took the glass he held out to her, annoyed to find her own hand trembling. Perhaps a little wine first would be good.
She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip of the sweet chardonnay.
“Was I just a one-night stand to you?”
His sudden question made her choke on the wine. Jeez. How the heck did she answer that question? She set the glass back down, and cleared her throat.
“How could it be anything but? Technically, we did only have sex that one night.”
She lifted her gaze, not sure what she’d see. His expression was both curious and strangely intense, which unsettled her.
“That could have been remedied had you stuck around in the morning.” He sighed and took a drink of his own wine.
“Look.” She drew in a deep breath before plunging on. “If you brought me out here to get me into bed again, it’s not going to happen.”
“I didn’t.”
“Because I’m—you didn’t?” She blinked, her stomach sinking with a disappointment she didn’t want to acknowledge. You’re being an idiot, Delanie.
He shook his head and then winced. “Well, it wasn’t my initial plan. Although I admit after seeing you again…”
Something occurred to her, something she hadn’t even considered. “Oh my God. Was it all a ruse? The job offer? Getting me out here with the offer to make donations to our shelter?”
“No.” His mouth thinned. “Of course not, Delanie. I’m not a complete asshole.”
Her smile twisted. “But you do admit to being a partial one? I won’t take it you know.”
“The job?”
She nodded.
“We’ll see.”
>
Irritation flared at his cockiness.
A woman carrying two plates walked into the room and set them down in front of them.
“Here you are, kids. Enjoy.”
Kids? Delanie’s mouth twitched as she watched the older lady hurry back out of the room.
She looked down at the food before her and her mouth watered. A salmon filet rested on a bed of rice, next to it a skewer of shrimp and steamed broccoli.
“This looks amazing.” She picked up her fork and speared a chunk of salmon, lifting it to her mouth. “Mmm.” She chewed the bite and swallowed. “Wow. That is so much better than crackers.”
He wasn’t eating. When she lifted her gaze, she found him watching her, a pensive look on his face.
“What did I do to you?” he asked softly, shaking his head. “To make you get up in the morning, walk out of my house, and then basically disappear off the face of the planet?”
Her hunger diminished with the sudden question, and she set her fork down, considering her response.
“Besides call me Janie?” she asked, with the only defense she had. And it was rather paltry.
“We met in a bar. It was loud when you introduced yourself to me. So I got the first letter wrong.” He reached across the table and pulled her hand into his. The contact radiated warmth up her arm and throughout her body.
“I know it must have made you feel terrible. But I have a hard time believing you would throw away that night we had together over my small fuck-up.”
It had hurt. And fortunately that hurt had been the spark to ignite her into action. Meeting him that night in the bar all those years ago had never been an accidental occasion. It had been the first step in a hastily laid plan.
She’d been on a mission that night. A mission spontaneously suggested by her sorority sister. What was her name…Bridget?
Liking him was an inconvenience she couldn’t have predicted. God knows what would have happened if he hadn’t called her the wrong name. She might have stayed in bed all day and confessed her real reason for being there.
“Delanie.” His thumb traced circles over her palm, and her breath hitched. “Did that night really mean so little to you?”