Grosse Pointe

by Clara Grace Walker

  Nan joined them out on the concrete drive, shaking her dark waves under the glow of her front porch light. “Sorry, hon. No luck finding your keys out back.”

  Bexley groaned. Just great. Not only was her night with Vaughn being cut short, now she was looking like an idiot as well.

  “I can call a locksmith,” Vaughn offered.

  “Better call one for my house too. I had the key to my apartment on the same ring with my car key.”

  “I’ll tell you what.” Vaughn put an arm around her shoulder. “It’s been a stressful night. Why don’t I take you home to my place tonight, and we’ll deal with your keys in the morning?” He looked at Nan. “That okay with you?”

  “Yes! Of course.” Nan looked like she wanted to slap Bexley a high-five.

  “Thanks, Vaughn,” Bexley said. “I’d really appreciate that.”

  Vaughn made it to his place in the Farms after a five-minute drive from Nan’s place in the City. He’d brought women to his house before. It was no big deal. Telling himself that didn’t stop him from feeling like some godforsaken teen-ager though. Hell. There was no reason for him to feel this way…with his breath strangled in his throat, and his sweaty palms…like his world might come to an end if tonight didn’t go as planned. It was ridiculous.

  “I hope you like my house,” he said, pulling into the drive and shutting off his engine. “The only other time I’ve had an interior designer in the place, I was hiring him to make it look presentable.”

  She laughed. “Don’t worry yourself about that. I’ll try not to critique his work.”

  Vaughn rushed to get out of the car and open the door for her before she could do it for herself, watching as she took note of his landscaping, her gaze moving from the rhododendrons in front of his bay window, to the hydrangeas on either side of the generous concrete porch, then over to the boxwoods lining the stone walkway, trimmed and lit with lights underneath, making them glow like foliage from some fairy realm. “So far it’s exactly what I would have expected from you,” she said. “Tasteful and not too flashy. By the way, Nan tells me Kenwood is a good street.”

  He smiled, pleased she’d noticed. “It is. My great-grandfather helped develop this street.”

  “Really? You mean your family didn’t make their fortune in the auto business?”

  “No. In fact, my great-grandfather lost his fortune in the crash of ’29. Luckily for me, my grandfather made a second family fortune designing and manufacturing guidance systems for the bombers in World War II.”

  “That is fortunate. For the whole country, I’d say.”

  He had no idea why he was telling her all this. She didn’t need to know his family history. Still, she had him standing at his front door, struggling to fit his key into his lock. It was just sex, he told himself. And if she hadn’t kept him waiting for so long, he wouldn’t be jabbering on like some infatuated fool right now.

  Infatuation. Was that all this was? After what Ellie had put him through for the last ten years, he’d thought he might never go down that road again. And then there was Mother. She always said the only way to protect your money was to marry someone else who already had it. She’d always used that as her excuse for pushing a union between him and Eleanor. That and her long-standing friendship with Jeanne Dodson.

  Thinking about it all, about the way Bexley made him feel, about that stupid kiss Ellie had given him at the party, about his last conversation with his mother, and the confused thoughts ping-ponging in his head, had his gut tied in knots. He had no idea how he really felt right now, or what he really wanted. The only thing he knew for sure was that right now, in this moment, he wanted Bexley.

  Finally, he got his key in the lock and opened the door. Following him inside, she looked around, appraising his house the way she had his yard, sweeping her gaze from the wood paneled foyer to a grand staircase carved in oak, with harps and angels embellished into the balustrade, curving gently to a generous landing before sweeping farther up. She gave him an agreeable smile. “Your house is beautiful.”

  “Wait until you see the bedroom. It’s your typical bachelor pad mess.”

  “Will I be seeing your bedroom?”

  Finally. Some sign that all of his waiting was about to pay off. “Only if you want to.”

  “Well, I….” She blushed, her face turning a lovely shade of pink.

  “How about a drink?” he asked.

  “Thanks. That’d be great.”

  “You okay with beer?” Leading her to the kitchen and pulling a couple bottles of Guinness from the fridge, he confessed, “I’m not really a wine drinker.”

  “That’s fine. Beer is great.”

  Vaughn opened the beers, handing her one, staring at her, letting his desire smolder. “You look curious about something. Care to share?”

  She swigged some Guinness from the bottle, glancing around the room. “Mostly I’m thinking about your kitchen right now. It doesn’t really match the rest of your house. Who did it?”

  “Some guy from Bloomfield Hills. What do you think?”

  She shrugged. “It could use a little color. Maybe some flowers.”

  Vaughn laughed. He hadn’t liked all the stark white and stainless steel either. “There is one feature that’s rather nice though.”

  She lifted a brow. “And what would that be?”

  “A voice-activated television and stereo system.” She smiled, and he continued, “Home Genie, start Vaughn’s favorite playlist.”

  Within seconds the velvety voice of Smokey Robinson began singing “Cruisin’.”

  Bexley’s eyes lit up. “Why Vaughn Humphries, I do believe that’s Motown.”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled. “Something we have in common.” She looked nearly as pleased as he felt, with that sparkling smile lighting up her face. “I know. Who would’ve guessed, right?”

  “You never said anything at dinner.”

  “Sorry. I was having too much fun watching Eleanor fume. She hates Motown.”

  Bexley started to laugh, nearly spitting out her beer. “She hates Motown? Seriously? How can anyone hate Motown?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t get it either. But she does.”

  “Oh my! Her silo really is short of grain, isn’t it?”

  “That may be the best description of Eleanor I’ve ever heard.” Laughing, he pulled Bexley to her feet, pressing her against him, and swaying to the music. She felt warm beside him, her body soft in all the right ways. Already hard, he throbbed in the confines of his linen slacks. Beside him, Bexley relaxed into his arms, no longer holding herself just that little bit tense. All of his waiting was about to come to an end. That much he now felt sure of. It excited him more than anything he could ever remember feeling. There had been so many fantasies and cold showers in the last five months, even another five minutes felt like torture. But he didn’t want to rush it. If he could, he’d make this night last forever. So he stood there with her, moving cheek-to-cheek in the middle of his stainless steel and white kitchen, humming along to the music. He was going to savor every moment they were cruising together.

  The song was nearly over when she pulled away, letting out a long breath. “Oh hell, Vaughn. I just want you to kiss me.”

  He chuckled, and then laughed out loud. “Well damn, darling, I was starting to think you were never going to ask.”

  “You were waiting for me to ask?”

  “Well, you know, trying to be a gentleman and all.”

  She seemed to consider that for a minute, running her hand over his slacks until she came to rest on his erection, provoking his need for her even that much more. Holding her hand there, she said, “It’s okay if you’re not a gentleman once we get into the bedroom.”

  They stood inches apart…the small space between them heating up. Barely touching, he felt her…felt her heat. The tease of it pushed his want for her deeper. “There’s something about you, Bexley. A man could get lost in those dreamy blue eyes.”

  “Enough of that,
okay, darlin’? Let’s get to the kissing.”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his mouth to hers, meeting his lips and going straight for mating tongues without any of the chaste, getting-to-know-you kisses, working up to something more intimate. And he didn’t know if he wanted her more than any woman he’d ever met, or if she’d just kept him waiting so much longer, but tonight, he didn’t care. He felt something he’d never felt before. And he was going to have her at last, no matter the consequences.

  Pulling her taut against him, her body heat poured through his cotton shirt, her soft curves pressed into him. It was like earlier on his boat, only more intense. So much more seductive than ever before, because tonight he knew for sure…she wouldn’t leave him wanting.

  Arousal pulsated beneath his slacks. So hard he felt ready to burst. And he thought he would go mad for sure if he didn’t have her now; it would end him if he didn’t wind up inside her. “You want to go upstairs?” He broke the kiss just long enough to ask.

  She looked up at him with those big blue eyes…so expressive…so wide with wonder and full of promise, and she said, “I’d love to.”

  As Vaughn led her upstairs, he tried hard not think of what would come after…of the hard choice he’d have to make between letting her go, or walking away from his entire life and everything that was expected of him. But just for tonight, he thought, Mother be damned.

  Chapter Eleven

  Morning slipped through the narrow space between the curtains, coaxing Bexley’s eyes open. Contentment still purred inside her, but she felt ready to give again, should Vaughn ask. Last night had so been worth the wait. Vaughn was already propped up on the bed, staring down at her with a big smile on his face.

  “Morning, sunshine.”

  “Hey.” She smiled back at him. “You been awake long?”

  “No. Just long enough to determine you don’t snore.”

  “What a relief. I’ve spent my whole life worrying about that.”

  He laughed. “Feel like some coffee?”

  “Love some. ‘

  He climbed out of bed naked, walking the length of the room to grab a robe from the master bath before heading downstairs. He had a beautiful body. Just enough muscle without looking like he lived in the gym. Fine, dark hair sprinkled over his chest, and down his legs. And that part of him that had taken her so forcefully last night…just the sight of him naked turned her brain back to sex.

  Bexley yawned, stretched out in the king-sized bed, and then sat up, letting the sheet fall to her waist. It felt natural between them, without any of the awkwardness she’d been worried about before drifting off to sleep. She could imagine herself here, waking up like this every morning. Making this her normal, everyday routine.

  “Now there’s a sight I could get used to.” Vaughn returned carrying two mugs of steaming coffee.

  “That’s just what I was thinking about you.” She took the cup from him, barely getting it to her lips when her cell phone rang. She had half a mind to just let it ring, but she could see from the screen, it was Nan. So she picked up. “Hey, Nan. What’s up?”

  “What’s up is I found your keys. Can you believe it?”

  “Oh my God, that’s fantastic!” Relief worked its way with a rush into her voice. “Where’d you find them?”

  “Outside on the patio table.”

  “You’re kidding. How the heck did we all miss them?” She’d looked there twice last night. Three times even, and nada.

  “I have no idea,” Nan said. “I went outside this morning to have one last look around, and there they were…sitting right next to the Lazy Susan.”

  “That is odd, but like I said, thank God. I was worried I was going to have to reschedule my appointment with Mrs. Newberg, and start looking for a locksmith.”

  “It’s good I found them then. Mrs. Newberg is a bit of a fanatic about keeping appointments.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Anyway, are you still at Vaughn’s? And can I slap you a high-five when I get there?”

  “You can.”

  “It’s about damn time. I’ll see you in about twenty or thirty minutes.” Pausing, then asking, “Or should I make it an hour?”

  Bexley glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “No. twenty or thirty minutes will be fine. I’ll have to get moving if I’m going to get home, shower, get dressed, and make it to the office in time to meet Mrs. Newberg.”

  As she ended the call, she saw the disappointment on Vaughn’s face.

  “I was hoping we could pick up where we left off last night,” he said.

  Bexley lifted a brow. “We still have twenty minutes.”

  I could get used to this? What in the world had he been thinking? Vaughn mentally kicked himself. Phrasing like that could imply a promise of something more, and he’d always prided himself on never lying to a woman or leading her to believe there was more coming in the relationship than he intended. Not even with Eleanor.

  He’d dated Sophie Durning during one of his break-ups with Ellie. Emma Elkins during another. And he’d liked them both…would have liked to see where things went with them. Mother had objected both times, however, and after a few weeks had gone by and it was looking like they might want more from him than a good time, he’d heeded Mother’s warnings and broken things off. He’d seen the wisdom in her arguments…not the ones about money, but the ones about the kind of people they were…too reckless, too selfish, too wrapped up in themselves to make for a good life partner. Eventually, he’d want to have children. When he’d looked at things that way, he’d realized he didn’t see a forever with either one of them. And he’d ended up back with Eleanor, with Mother and Jeanne Dodson debating whether a June or a September wedding would be better, discussing flower arrangements and engagement rings, and God but it had angered him, the way they wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise.

  Vaughn punched a pillow…frustrated with Mother and Jeanne Dodson and Eleanor. Mostly though, he was mad at himself. Asking Bexley Hart out – even once – had been a mistake. He wasn’t himself when he was with her. Lost control of himself completely. He said things he never thought he’d say…did things impulsively…thought of things he’d never thought of before…like living on a farm in Texas. Worse, he couldn’t seem to keep his mind on business anymore. Entire days passed now without him stepping foot inside the dealership. His general manager was practically running the place. Before Bexley came along, he’d put in ten, twelve-hour days…poured his heart and soul into the place…built it into something he could really be proud of.

  Mother would definitely use his inattention to the dealership as a sign that Bexley wasn’t for him. Point out, for sure, that she’d loaned him the money to buy the place, never mentioning how he’d paid her back years ago…with interest. He didn’t have a good argument to his reduced work hours, and knowing that felt like torment. He would have to end things soon…definitely before the end of August, when Mother returned and the point was forced.

  He should do it now, he thought. Get it over with.

  Bexley had left his place two hours ago. By now, she’d be in her office, meeting with Mrs. Newburg. If he left a message, he wouldn’t even have to talk to her.

  He picked up his phone from the bedside table, but then set it back down.

  “Damn it! What is wrong with me?”

  The answer popped easily into his head. He didn’t call Bexley because he didn’t want to. At least not to end things. Mother wouldn’t be back for five weeks. It was stupid to think he had to end things right now. If he wanted to spend another five weeks with Bexley, then that’s what he would do. Worrying about Mother before she returned home was pointless.

  Sitting in his unmade bed though, where only hours earlier he and Bexley had made love, he knew the choice looming before him was going to kill him.

  Bexley ran into Valerie Jameson in the village — in front of the Village Palm — as Valerie was leaving the store loaded with shopping bags and
Bexley was stepping out of her office next door on her way to grab lunch.

  “Hey!” Valerie smiled wide. “Bexley, how are you?”

  “Great. Thanks. How about you?”

  “I’m fine. I saw you driving down Lakeshore this morning. I tried to wave, but I guess you didn’t see me. You were kind of bopping your head around, and it looked like you were singing.”

  “I probably was.” Bexley grinned, her mood still high from waking up in Vaughn’s bed. “I’m afraid I get a little carried away with my playlist when I’m in my car. I just love music.”

  “Well, you’re lucky it was only me who saw you,” Valerie said. “And not Carolyn or Eleanor or one of their friends. They’d be spreading jokes and gossip all over town if they saw you behaving like that.”

  “I’m sure they would.” And Bexley was equally sure she didn’t care. She had no intention of stifling who she was just to please a bunch of catty women who didn’t give two shakes about her. Valerie had clearly been doing that since she moved here, and it hadn’t gotten her squat. “Anyway…” Nodding at the bags dangling off Vivian’s arms, she said, “You’re looking really buff. Does toting around shopping bags really count as exercise? Or do you work out?”

  “Oh, I work out,” Valerie said, head nodding. “I can bench press two-hundred pounds.”

  “Can you? That’s amazing. Guess that explains how you can juggle all those bags. Looks like you’ve been busy. Out shopping?”

  Shaking her head, shifting the shopping bags from one hand to the other, a large sigh accompanied the motion. “Yeah. I’ve had to replace my entire wardrobe of crocheted vests and maxi dresses since I moved here. Fashion trends are so hard to keep up with in this town.”

  “Really? No one wears crocheted vests and maxi dresses in Grosse Pointe?”

  Valerie sighed, shaking her head. “Some people do, but not the Dodson sisters, or Peggy, or Sally.”

  Bexley couldn’t help thinking Valerie would be happier if she stopped trying to fit in with the Dodsons, and said, “You could just hang out with the women who do wear crocheted vests and maxi dresses, instead of replacing your wardrobe.”