More of the crowd joined in, but he kept his eyes on Gracie. Her luscious, cherry-colored lips were open, her eyes wide as she watched him. She inched closer, sticking with the group, but as more people moved to the music she gained confidence. Enveloped and concealed by the throng, she came back to him, but resisted dancing.
“The dance floor is a great place to meet guys,” he said, leaning forward to speak directly into her ear. “Guys who can dance are better in bed.”
Hot pink color flooded her cheeks and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. Gracie Greene getting turned on was about the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen—she seemed suddenly shyer, a little more tentative, a little more vulnerable.
“Ok, maybe I can sway a little.” She looked at him shyly, her small body venturing the most subtle of dance moves.
“You’re breaking your own rules,” he teased.
“I’m not dancing, I’m swaying.” Her hand found his and she stepped into his space. “It’s more like standing than dancing.”
As the density of people increased, they were forced together. Her body pressed against his, her movements causing her breasts to rub against him. He wanted to groan, but he had to hold himself together. He was on the verge of letting go, of bending down and scooping her into his arms. If he didn’t find some space soon, a groan wouldn’t be the only thing to alert her to how turned on he was.
He looped a hand around her waist and pulled her tight against him. Screw it, if he only ever got this one night with Gracie he wanted to enjoy it, even if it was under the stupid pretense of finding her another date.
Her hips swayed and he hardened.
This is not going to end well.
“Aren’t you going to check out any of the prospects?” he asked, motioning with one hand to the other men in the crowd.
“I have been.” Her cheeks flushed and he knew for a fact her eyes hadn’t been anywhere but on him.
He slipped his hand under her coat and ran it down the length of her back. The silk of her dress was heaven beneath his fingertips. Like everything else about her it was soft and sensual. It made his head spin.
“This is dangerous, Des.” He could barely hear her voice over the jazz music and laughter around him. “I’m almost breaking a rule.”
“Dancing?” He bent so his cheek rested against her hair, her lips brushed his jaw.
“Wanting more.” In a rush, her palms were against his chest and the cool air came between them like a flood. “I need a drink.”
His body raged, the absence of her touch felt like losing a limb. The chemistry zinging between them broke him down. It made him believe that they had something more in store than a single night borne of her wanting to forget her date’s rejection.
They wove through the crowd to find a stall with gourmet hot chocolate and coffee. Beside him, she stood rigid and tense. It was hard to ignore the crackle of energy that gathered whenever they were near one another, but she accepted her caramel hot chocolate and avoided his eyes.
“If nothing else, I can say that I got you to dance,” he said, blowing on a cup of rich, black coffee.
“If nothing else?”
“Yeah, if I don’t find you a date.” He sipped his coffee. “Or if I don’t get you to break any more rules.”
“You’ve already set the record.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners.
“At one broken rule?” He shook his head. “That is a sad state of affairs, Gracie Greene.”
“I feel that I need to even the score.” She watched the curling steam that wound up from her cup. “What are your rules?”
He shrugged. “I’m not a rules kind of guy.”
They walked to the edge of the market, the noise and people thinning out. It was black outside; the night sky was littered with stars and the spring air was cool on his face. He wanted to ask her back to his place for a nightcap and dessert, but something held him back.
Maybe because it’s the most terrible idea in the history of idiocy? You’re supposed to be helping her and instead you’re putting on the moves!
“Why am I not surprised?” She rolled her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed pink, the two spots of rose giving her a mischievous look. “Surely you have one rule that I can break.”
Des Chapman had made himself vulnerable for the first time since his fiancée had thrown her ring at him five years ago.
Rule already broken.
…
Gracie had left the dance area at exactly the right time. With Des close to her it had been all she could do not to reach out and touch him. He moved with the confidence of a man who knew his body, knew the power and strength it possessed.
Those kinds of men scared Gracie, yet Des pulled her in with an unrelenting invisible force. Even now, with space between them and a hot drink to keep her hands occupied, she wanted to lose herself in the thick waves of his dark hair. A shiver ran through her. Temptation was not a notion to be entertained.
Have you completely forgotten why you came out tonight? It’s nothing to do with Des.
Was it obvious to him how she’d ignored every other guy who’d glanced her way? She was so far off track, she’d taken a detour straight into the valley of stupid.
“Like I said, I’m not a rules kind of guy.” His frame loomed over hers. “If I was, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re dangerous, Gracie.” He reached out, his fingertip tracing the outline of her jaw. “A man could fall hard for you.”
“I’m dangerous?” She let out a shaky laugh, her body alight with awareness. “You’re the ‘no rules’ guy. That sounds pretty dangerous to me. What would happen if we didn’t set ourselves boundaries, guidelines?”
“Those are other words for rules.”
Her cheeks heated beneath his stare, but it wasn’t the telltale signs she was worried about. It was the slow unfurling of excitement in her gut, the trickle of heat down to her center that had her head begging her to retreat. “I’m too straitlaced for you.”
It was a feeble protest at best.
“I can help you undo those laces. I can help you loosen up.” His voice was dark, the edges blurred with something heady and lustful. Seductive.
“I like being this way.”
He shook his head, his free hand finding her hair. His fingers threaded through her curls to find the curve at the back of her head. He was close, the scent of coffee dancing between them. “I think you’ve had those ideals forced on you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Call it an educated guess.”
“You don’t know me, Des.” She shook her head, panic spread through her like wildfire. Her restraint crumbled like the broken edge of a cliff-face. She was going to fall and it was going to hurt.
“I know enough.” He sighed. “I’ve seen enough of those safe, boring men you bring to my restaurant. I’ve seen the disappointment in your face every goddamn time.”
“I just haven’t found the right guy yet.” A smile wobbled on her lips. “That’s why we’re here tonight.”
Her statement hung between them. Something flickered within the depths of Des’s eyes. They were darker than night. Like two pieces of polished onyx they reflected her and concealed him. “Is it?”
He couldn’t be right for her. He was far from what she wanted, from what would fit into her life, from what her mother would accept. Yet her body acted as though he were the Holy Grail of men.
“We’re wrong for each other.” She tossed her empty cup into a bin beside them and he did the same with his.
But neither of them backed away. If anything, getting their attraction out in the open had raised the stakes. They were on the same wavelength, heading for disaster, and yet something stuck them both to the ground as if none of it mattered.
But their differences did matter…didn’t they?
“What are we doing, Des?” It wasn’t something he could answer, but she had to fill the void of silence before it su
cked her in. Before it consumed her right there on the spot.
“I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m going out on a limb.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I’m breaking my rule.”
“I thought you didn’t have any.” A smile quirked on her mouth.
“I have one…had one.” He grabbed her hand and closed the last of the space between them. Her fingers were knotted with his; heat raced through her veins.
As his mouth met hers, her mind went blank. There was nothing but the insistent press of his lips as he opened her, tasted her. She should have resisted. For a split second she wanted to resist, but his hands moved to her back, crushing her to him. She was powerless.
He kissed like he meant it, like he wanted to savor every second of it. His tongue delved gently into her, teasing, taunting, coaxing. But it wasn’t until he moved his hips against her, the evidence of his arousal jutting into her belly, that she sagged into his chest and let him in.
“Gracie,” he moaned into her mouth. His hands slid down her back, cupping her ass and lifting her slightly. Each subtle movement of his hips shot flames through her. She was unravelling. Fast.
“Des, I think—”
“Don’t think.” It was a command, without room for negotiation.
His lips were at her cheek, her temple, her hairline. She slid her hands into his hair, tugging him so his lips came back to hers. A tremor ran through him, a tremor she’d caused.
Excitement danced like fairy lights behind her eyelids. Her world was tilting; solid ground shifted beneath her feet.
“Come home with me.” The words were whispered like a secret in her ear, an invitation to undo her laces and break down her boundaries.
“I can’t…” If she did then she would never be the same. Des would ruin her for other men. After experiencing him, her world would be gray. It was too risky. “We’re not right for each other.”
“We’re right for now.”
It was enough to push reason to the forefront of Gracie’s mind. She didn’t do “now”, she did “long term” and Des Chapman was not a long-term choice.
“I’m sorry, Des. I’m not anyone’s one-night stand.” She straightened her shoulders and took a step back. “Not even yours.”
Chapter Four
It had been two weeks since her world had been flipped around. Two weeks since she’d kissed Des and thought of nothing else. It was true, she didn’t do one-night stands, but the possibility that Des might stick around longer than an evening of pleasure tugged at the frayed edges of her mind.
What if?
It was useless, but she couldn’t shake the sense of loss that followed after she’d abandoned him at the market. Gracie wasn’t interested in seeing anyone else…not anymore. She’d turned down a guy from her work—who was gorgeous, smart, and an executive—simply because there wasn’t the same fizz of attraction that Des ignited within her. She’d ignored messages on her online dating profile and even declined an invitation to drinks by a hunky acquaintance.
Des had ruined her, as she’d predicted, and that was before she got anything more than a kiss.
“Gracelyn, what on earth is wrong with you?” Her mother’s voice snapped Gracie’s attention to the present. “You’re so vague, it’s positively off-putting.”
“Sorry, Mother,” she murmured, spearing another piece of roast beef with her fork. Her appetite had been a non-existent concept of late, to the point that her work pants hung from her hips a little too loosely.
Why would she eat when the color had been sucked from her life?
“Just as well. To anyone else it might seem that you would rather be elsewhere than spending time with your family.”
Her mother’s formidable tone was perfected to strike fear into the hearts of either Greene daughter. She spoke with an edge sharp enough to carve ice and it was the subtext that mattered most; Gracie was on the verge of causing her mother to go on a tirade…and no one wanted that.
Under the table, she received a swift kick to the ankle. Gracie looked up to the meet a not-so-subtle stare from Emmaline.
“This roast is fantastic, Cecilia.” Conrad reached out and patted his mother-in-law’s hand. “Really top notch.”
Pass me a bucket.
“Thank you, Conrad. It’s nice that someone appreciates family meals.” Cecilia surveyed the table, set in the finest of cream linens and porcelain crockery, her eyes narrowing at each of her daughters in turn.
Conrad puffed out his chest and Gracie rolled her eyes. He was like a puppy doing anything he could to get a pat on the head. His saccharine smile grated on her nerves. But she kept her mouth shut. After all, Conrad was Emmaline’s husband and Gracie loved her sister more than anything…despite her poor taste in men.
She’d chosen a perfectly bland optometrist with a perfectly bland mansion in Toorak. Together, they lived in beige-colored society bliss, much to Cecilia’s satisfaction.
“Now, Gracelyn, you remember Mrs. Richardson, don’t you? She’s informed me that her son is back from a stint in Hong Kong. I’ve passed on your mobile number so she can set up a time for you two to meet.”
She remembered Mrs. Richardson all right. The woman had a mean disposition and a Chihuahua trained to attack anyone who got within a foot of its owner. Unsurprisingly, the only person the Chihuahua didn’t attack was Gracie’s mother, most likely because they were kindred spirits. She also remembered Mrs. Richardson’s son and she’d pick the Chihuahua as preferred company any day.
“Mother, as much as I’m grateful for your…help… I don’t think Mrs. Richardson’s son is right for me.” She chewed on her beef pretending to give the idea some serious consideration. “I would hate to waste their time.”
“Why are you so insistent on being single, Gracelyn? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
“I’m not insistent on being single, but I don’t want to date someone when I know it’s not going to work out.”
Wasn’t that the exact reason she was avoiding Des?
There was no way she could put him through the torture of the weekly Greene Family Luncheon. There was no way she could force him to endure a lifetime of her mother’s judgement. And her mother would judge him. He didn’t deserve that.
Gracie also didn’t deserve to be dumped because of it…again.
“How do you know it’s not going to work out? He’s an investment banker, you know. He has a good job.”
“So?”
Another kick under the table from Emmaline. Arguing with her mother was a fruitless endeavor, but Gracie was too miserable and too frustrated to put up with the constant attacks. She was sick of playing nice and doing what her mother wanted.
“Henry Richardson is a bore,” Gracie continued. “I’m not interested in dating him.”
Silence descended over the Greene family. Knives and forks hovered mid-air, breaths were held in. Cecilia lowered her cutlery slowly and patted her cement-like coiffed ice-blond hair. Gracie bit back a smile. It was the smallest of rebellions but she needed it. It made her feel like she wasn’t her family’s doormat.
“You can’t spend your whole life flitting about without responsibility. By the time you’re ready to settle down no man will be interested in you.” Cecilia tilted her chin, daring Gracie to argue otherwise.
“This is ridiculous. I pay my bills and my mortgage, I contribute to society. I am not flitting about.” She sighed, forcing down the anger bubbling in her stomach like toxic lava. “We’re not living in the dark ages anymore. I’m not going to date someone because you think he’s a suitable option.”
“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” Cecilia muttered, reaching for her wine. “She’s far more sensible.”
“Mother, that’s not fair—” Emmaline protested.
“Don’t get involved, Em.” Conrad cut her off, placing a hand on her shoulder as if to silence her. His cold stare unsettled Gracie. She never could understand how h
er sister had married such an asshole. “Let Gracelyn dig her own hole.”
Gracie closed her eyes and willed the thumping in her head to go away. Her family was seriously dysfunctional, and without her father to balance out her mother’s controlling ways, Gracie was more disconnected from them than ever.
She missed him so much. Shutting her eyes, Gracie willed the tears away. Her promise to her father swirled in her mind, warring with her feelings for Des.
“Gracie, why don’t you give me a hand with the dessert?” Emmaline pushed up from her seat and gathered the empty plates closest to her, motioning for Gracie to follow. In the kitchen, Emmaline put the dishes by the sink and placed her hands on Gracie’s shoulders. “Deep breath, honey. She doesn’t mean to be cruel.”
“But she is,” Gracie said, staring up into her sister’s face. Emmaline had the same coloring as their mother—platinum blond hair and baby blue eyes—but she exuded a warmth and calm that was all their father’s.
“She’s lonely. That’s why she insists on these weekly lunches. I think she believes that you’ll come around more if you were married, though I don’t know why. I swear I am busier now than when I was single.”
“I’d come around more if she didn’t treat me like I was a failure.”
“You’re not a failure.” Emmaline wrapped her long, slender arms around Gracie and drew her into a hug. “Though, if we don’t get you married off soon, Mother’s likely to take it into her own hands. Who knows what would happen then.”
Her tone was joking but there was truth behind the words. Gracie rolled her eyes. She’d only turned twenty-seven a few months ago and Cecilia Greene was acting like Gracie was going past her use-by date.
She fought back the emotions. It was pointless letting her mother affect her in such a way, but she didn’t have the strength to fight it. She hugged her sister back. Emmaline was the only one who had the ability to instantly take Gracie’s anger down a notch with one simple gesture.
The Rules According to Gracie Page 4