Troy swung his attention back over to me. “That would be Barking Mad, including their newly appointed copy chief, Grace Taylor-Scott.”
I stared at him. “I’m sorry. How could you…?”
“I read Advertising Age.” His gaze swept over me in a way that made me uncomfortable. “Like I said, I have an interest. I follow stock reports, mostly. Darcy Wexler Dean is a prime candidate for a merger, especially if you guys land the Unilever business.”
“Shop talk,” Ann grumbled. “I so love it. Last call for drinks before dinner.” She led the way out of the den. Numbly, I trailed behind the group making their way up the back stairs. My knees trembled when I thought back ten years to a different Gracie. I was stronger now, much stronger. But seeing Troy had been gut wrenching and I felt completely unnerved.
Bradley held me back. “Are you all right?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“What can I do?”
My knees knocked, and I was about to pee in my pants. “I need to visit the bathroom.”
Bradley walked me down the corridor and pointed me toward the powder room. “I’m going to get us another drink. I’ll be right back.”
Father had warned me that Troy Lambert was in Manhattan working in investments. My Dad, the ever-vigilant detective, had continued to work the cold case. In a city of over eight million people, I just never dreamed Troy and I would run into each other. We moved in very different circles. Apparently, he was part of a legal team that managed Bradley’s mother’s estate.
Good God… I inhaled a breath and exhaled slowly. Fuck, this was more than awkward, this was a waking nightmare. I stepped inside the powder room and back out again. I thought about the private bath in Bradley’s room, the perfect hidden retreat.
I ran upstairs and locked myself in his bathroom. A glance in the mirror surprised me. A pretty young woman stared back at me, and she didn’t look weak or wobbly. A bit wide-eyed, perhaps, but otherwise normal. I tried smiling and detected a bit of tightness around the mouth.
I ran a hand towel under cold water and lowered the toilet seat cover. Holding the cold compress to my temples, I sat down and took long slow breaths.
To ease the mounting anxiety, I entertained myself with flight fantasies. I could slip down the servant stairs and catch a cab. My escape plan cheered some, even felt liberating.
The soft tap on the door had to be Bradley. “Gracie? Are you in there?”
The sound of his voice gave me strength.
“I’m not feeling so well.”
“Gracie, let me in.”
Finally, I reached over and turned the lock. Immediately the door opened and he was kneeling beside me.
“Tell me what’s going on.” He waited patiently for an answer. “This has something to do with Troy Lambert.”
Fuck, I was trembling again, almost uncontrollably. Bradley reached for me.
“Talk it out, baby—trust me.”
I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I fell into his chest. “We had one date, our freshman year.” My raspy soft voice whispered. “Troy was pledging a fraternity. He invited me to a party. I didn’t drink much back then. He used to tease me about it. I passed out from one drink—later we found out it was laced with Rohypnol.”
“He raped you.”
Bradley pushed away, and his gaze frightened me. I had seen the look before, when Derek had insulted me, only this was much worse. I thought about nodding a yes, but that wouldn’t be the truth. Eventually, the whole dirty story would come out. If I was serious about Bradley, I needed to trust in myself and in him.
“He left me in a room alone, and four of his fraternity brothers raped me.”
The only time I had seen an expression even close to the one on Bradley was my father’s face when I awoke in the hospital bed at UCLA Medical Center. Fighting back tears, trying so hard to not to show their pain. Bradley blinked, several times. A shudder moved through his body and into mine, as he gathered me in his arms and hugged me tight.
Dad had pursued every last one of the rapists—threatened the university—gone above and beyond. Up until that time, I had never seen my father in such a state and I had no idea how much he loved me. We had bonded over the terrible experience, and both my parents actually acted like parents for several months after the incident.
Bradley’s expression had turned murderous. Sweeping me up, he carried me into the bedroom. He held me on his lap for the longest time, through a deluge of tears and hiccups.
“I’m so sorry, Gracie.” He brushed a kiss over my cheek and lips. “What do you want to do? We can leave the way we came in. I’ll call Laurent and have him forward our apologies.” He reached for the box of Kleenex on the nightstand.
“Your mother will be so disappointed if we leave.” I sniffed.
“She’ll get over it. Blow.”
I pictured his mother making excuses to her guests, the look of relief on Troy’s face. I leaned into the tissue and blew. The very idea made me angry. And anger felt so much better than whimpering victim.
I grabbed Bradley’s arm. “No, we’re staying. I’ll be damned if he’s going to continue to ruin my life.”
“You don’t have to do anything, Gracie. You don’t have to be any braver than you’ve already been. You have nothing to prove to me, or yourself and certainly not to him.” Bradley held my hand so tightly both our knuckles turned white.
“Ouch—you’re right,” I whispered.
“Sorry.” He released my hand, kissing those same knuckles. “If you really want to stay, I’ll kick his ass down Park Avenue to Harlem River. Just say the word.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Do not lay a finger on him. His father is an attorney and a powerful Washington lobbyist—they could hurt you, Bradley.”
His jaw clenched. “Friends in high places.”
“The highest.” I sighed. “Even though Troy was implicated in the gang rape, he received a plea bargain. He went to Princeton, not prison.” I held his face in my hands. “Promise me, Bradley.”
He took his time answering. “You got it, baby doll.”
I repaired raccoon eyes while Bradley made the call.
“Laurent, could you let Mother know that Gracie and I will be leaving? Gracie isn’t feeling well…yes…best get her home.” Bradley lowered the phone.“ He wants to drive us. You okay with that?”
The ride back was quiet. Bradley held me against him, my head on his shoulder. Absently, I ran through the game apps on his phone.
“Resident Evil 4, Call of Duty, Need for Speed. You like car racing games.”
“Racing and first-person shooter. There’s something about blowing the heads off zombies that’s incredibly therapeutic.” His grin had a bit of bad boy in it. “When I was in primary school I wanted to be an SAS man. Royal Marine Commandos.”
“Like a Navy SEAL?” I asked.
He dipped his head, and warm lips crushed mine. Hungry. Raw. Possessive. His kiss served as a reminder of the sexual chemistry between us. And there was something territorial about the way he moved those firm, pliable lips over mine. He let up just enough to whisper, “It was toss-up. Navy SEAL or Organizational Dynamics.”
His gentle humor lifted more than my spirits. I opened wider, luring his tongue into my mouth. He was a world-class kisser, and he tasted of good whiskey and a hint of tobacco—a sexy mix of masculine appetites. Bradley could also be fiercely protective. Perhaps more than he should be.
When was I going to learn to fight my own battles? Or make peace, if that’s what it took to move on. I exhaled a soft sigh. “Let’s shoot zombies.”
He squeezed me closer and used both hands to teach me the controls. His chin stubble brushed against my cheek and the friction generated heat that warmed my whole body.
When Laurent turned onto Irving Place, Bradley gave him a new address.
“Take us for a ride around the park, and pullover near Two Gramercy West.”
He grinned broad enough to reveal that won
derful dimple. “I made an offer on a flat.”
I admit I was curious. Bradley’s apartment would be less than a block away from mine. Laurent pulled up in front of a red brick building, with tall French windows on each floor.
“I got the keys from Audrey. I told her I wanted to take another look.”
Once inside, he flipped a few light switches while I looked around. A small foyer opened onto a living area with chocolate-stained wood floors. Roomy, but still comfortable.
“Does it come with a key to the park?”
“It does.” He grinned. “Not a personal key, mind, but a building key we can check out when we wish to take a stroll.”
I loved all the “we” words he used. “Liv will have her own secret garden.”
I joined him at a set of French doors. He held me from behind and kissed the curve of my ear. “I’m sorry about this evening, dredging up those painful memories.”
I leaned back against his chest. “I don’t remember much of it. A strange blessing I suppose. Paramedics found me passed out in a bedroom, cold as ice. The hospital said I had an adverse reaction to the cocktail. I’d been given a large dose.”
“You could have died.” He exhaled softly against my ear. “We would have never met.”
We gazed out over the park and the surrounding cityscape. The view would be fabulous by day as well.
“Troy freaks me out more than anyone. I never even saw the faces of the frat boys who raped me, they were identified by DNA. Two of them confessed, eventually they all pled to a lesser charge.” I turned around in his arms. “Do you mind if we stop talking about it? Just for awhile.”
“Sorry, tell me as much as you feel comfortable.”
“You know you push all my insecure, intimacy phobic buttons don’t you?”
“And why do you think that is, Gracie? Could it be you actually like me, just a little?”
“Damn you, Bradley, you’re a good man.”
“Have you any idea how special you are to me? We’ve already had such great moments together.”
I smiled. “We do have our moments.”
He brushed his chin stubble on my cheek. “Let’s see, there was the limousine ride—first orgasms.”
“The dressing room at Clichy,” I offered.
“We almost forgot the blackout in the lift.”
I nodded. “Definitely a moment.”
He took hold of my hand and brought it to his lips. “Shall we explore further?”
Three bedrooms, two and half baths, a lovely kitchen with dark green soapstone countertops and a built-in nook. He opened pocket doors off the hallway, which revealed a small study lined with bookshelves.
I turned to him, impressed. “It has charm and style.”
He smiled. “It does, doesn’t it?”
The apartment was bare, and yet aching to be lived in. The insecure Gracie wanted to keep him with me at my place. But another, stronger Gracie had begun to emerge. One who wanted us to come together out of love and not need.
“It’s between this and a great loft in Tribeca, but…” He shook his head.
I nodded. “I love the look of lofts, but living in one, I don’t know. Derek seems happy with his, as happy as Derek gets anyway.”
Moving closer, I nuzzled his cheek. “Feels strange, you getting your own place.” I rested my head on his shoulder and stared out the window to the park below.
He wrapped both arms around me. “A part of me would like nothing more than to move in with you and Hannah. I’ve asked for a one-year lease, with an option to purchase. We’ll know by then.”
“Whether it’s lust or love?” I asked.
“I’m hoping for both.” He kissed the tingly place behind my earlobe.
TWENTY-FOUR
“DO YOU THINK we have a sex addiction problem?” I asked, laughing.
Bradley rose from between my legs and crawled over me, a sleek muscled predator on all fours. “Maybe a little.” He settled alongside and massaged my thighs, still trembling from orgasm aftershocks.
After completing his new flat inspection, we’d returned to my apartment and tucked our naked bodies into the antique sleigh bed.
“I believe I will Shibari rope-tie your penis to your balls.”
He blew a warm breeze across my breasts. “Love for you to try.”
“Seriously, do you think there is something wrong with us?
He leaned back on an elbow. “No, do you?”
I quickly reviewed the wonderful pleasures we’d given each other these past weeks, and all I could think about was how lucky I was to have stepped into that elevator with him. “No.”
Bradley sprawled across the bedcovers next to me. “I get a little boom-boom when I’m around you.” We’d taken turns being as gentle as possible as both of us were still sensitive from waxing.
“Boom-boom, as in…?”
“You know, my heart goes boom-boom.” The man could smile with his eyes.
Not exactly I love you, but close enough to hint at love.
Bradley had pulled off something amazing this evening. He had gently nudged me out of an abyss of painful memories using that erotically patient tongue of his.
“How is it, that I can’t stop doing this?” His lips brushed the lobe of my ear.
“Same reason I keep doing this.” I cupped his stubbly jaw with both hands and kissed him. The proof of my orgasm still glistened on his face and I experienced a latent flutter.
Safe in his arms, drifting at the edge of sleep, my heart went boom-boom.
At 2:41 in the morning, Mitch’s ringtone forced an eye open. “Jeezus…” I lifted the phone. “Not another gunshot wound to head, I hope.”
“Spinal injury from a fall,” Mitch answered. “Hannah and I are downstairs. Let us in, it’s about to rain out here.”
Bradley shifted, as I sat up in bed.
I padded across the floor and buzzed them in.
I pulled on a sweatshirt and underwear before the knock on the door came. A slightly out of breath Mitch stood in the hallway holding my niece in his arms.
“I’ll take her.” A drowsy-eyed Greek statue wearing a pair of comfortable old sweats emerged from my bedroom.
Her arms went around his neck with a muffled, “Hello, Bradley.”
Mitch rolled in the Barbie suitcase and I grabbed the handle. “Thanks for doing this.” He nodded down the hallway after them. “I didn’t want to wake you up twice—once to ask, then again, when we got here.”
“Thoughtful of you.” I yawned.
Bradley joined us in the entry and stuck his hand out. “Bradley Craig, we haven’t actually met.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Mitch Hoffman, Bradley Craig.”
“Nice to finally put a face to a name.” Mitch pumped Bradley’s hand. “Hannah has talked about you. Liv is your daughter, right? They’re already like BFFs.”
Bradley ran fingers through thick, unkempt hair. “Liv can’t wait for the holidays. She and Hannah are making plans.”
“Let’s all go out sometime soon. First round’s on me.” Mitch backed away. He looked exhausted. The on-call hours and emergency surgeries were taking a toll.
I hung on the doorknob. “You could use some fun. I worry about you, Mitch.”
He shook his head. “Just a hard week. I lost a patient.”
“Take care of yourself—eat something.” I leaned back against the closed door. “He looks thin. He works such hideous hours.”
Bradley reached for my hand. “Come to bed, baby doll.”
We undressed and spooned into each other. Amazingly, I drifted off to sleep until a loud crack of thunder woke me up. I squinted at the clock. Just past four in the morning. Fuck. It was going to be one of those nights.
“Aunt Gracie?” Hannah stood in my bedroom, wide-eyed.
I propped myself up on an elbow. “Did the storm wake you?”
She nodded.
Bradley stirred behind me.
A silent flash of lightning sent H
annah running to my side of the bed, and we both waited for the thunder to rumble overhead.
“Can I sleep with you?” She used her theatrical whisper voice.
I leaned over the side of the bed to grab my underwear, but found nothing. It occurred to me that Bradley was also naked. Holding the sheet over me, I sat up. “Hannah, could you get me a glass of water, please?”
Wide eyes darted about. She was obviously apprehensive about the errand. “Turn the light on—that’s a girl.”
The moment Hannah left the room, Bradley sat up. “Grab my sweats would you?”
I whipped them off the floor and traded him for my boy shorts. “Is my top over there?”
He leaned over his side of the bed. “Let me get this.” He pulled on sweats and stood up.
Little feet padded back into the room. “Here’s your water.” Hannah held the glass out.
Bradley took a sip. “Hits the spot. He pushed back the bed covers. “Climb in, Hannah.”
I angled up on elbows and blinked at him. “Where are you sleeping?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Come to bed.” I lifted the sheet and found my top. Hannah quietly observed me pull on the soft, well-worn sweatshirt,
“Does Bradley like to look at them?” She crawled into bed. “They’re very pretty.”
“Hannah.” I exhaled softly. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them before.”
Bradley exhaled a soft snort and turned the lights off.
I tucked the sheet between Hannah and I and turned her around, so we could spoon. “Go to sleep, now.”
“Do you think that mine will be that big and pretty?” Hannah yawned. “Darby Rosencrantz says a girl can always buy bigger ones.”
“Sleep!”
After a fitful night, morning came too soon.
Bradley and I dropped Hannah off at Asher Levy, PS 19. I waited in the taxi while he walked her inside and closed her ladybug umbrella. She reached up and he kissed her on the cheek.
Little more than an hour ago, I discovered a sleeping munchkin in my bed. Slipping out from under the covers, I’d gone looking for Bradley.
The Do It List (The Do It List #1) Page 21