Home by the Sea

by JoAnn Ross

  From the way she’d responded, Grace knew she’d never get away with insisting that she hadn’t wanted Lucas to kiss her. “I may have been curious,” she admitted. “But that’s all.”

  “So, has your curiosity been satisfied?”

  When the devils began dancing in those midnight dark eyes again, Grace resumed walking. “Absolutely.”

  With his long stride, Lucas had no difficulty catching up with her. “And?”

  “Are you asking for a scorecard?”

  “Sure. And please be gentle. You know what delicate egos we males possess.”

  Personally, Grace had already decided that Lucas’s ego was armor plated. “It was nice.”

  “Nice?” Damn. Cocker spaniels were nice. A hot dog at the ballpark was nice. TV weathermen were nice. “If that was the best you can say, then perhaps I ought to try again.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she said quickly. Too quickly, Lucas thought with satisfaction.

  The prudent thing to do would have been to lie. And, with the exception of her foolish marriage to Robert, she’d always thought of herself as a prudent woman. Until now.

  “Actually, I suppose, if I were to be perfectly honest, it was very nice.”

  “I can do a lot better than that.”

  “Why don’t I just take your word for that?” She’d reached the double doors to the suite and slipped the key card Robert had thrown down on the table into the slot. The light blinked green, allowing her to open the door.

  Ignoring her muffled complaint, Lucas blithely brushed by her and walked into the suite as if he owned it

  “I don’t recall inviting you in,” she said, watching in amazement as he crossed the room and opened the door to the bedroom.

  “Just checking the place out. After all, I wouldn’t want it said that any client didn’t get her money’s worth.” He opened the mirrored closet door, then crouched down and checked under the bed, which, he was pleased to see, had one of those solid wooden frames. Satisfied, he opened the adjoining bathroom door.

  “Cool tub,” he called to her. “And big enough to swim laps in.” He glanced back over his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows in a deliberately roguish way. “Or for any other indoor sports you might want to indulge in.”

  “That’s it.”

  Grace took hold of his wide shoulders, turned him toward the door and marched him back through the bedroom to the living room, which offered a dazzling view. Dusk was settling over the city, and the lights from cars on the streets far below looked like fallen stars.

  “Now that you’ve determined some crazed killer isn’t hiding beneath my bed or in the tub, it’s time for you to leave. I still have to unpack and get changed for the pageant.”

  “You’re the one calling the shots,” he said with an agreeability Grace didn’t trust for a minute. He deftly ducked from beneath her touch and checked out the bathroom off the foyer. Just in case. “So, what time do you want me to pick you up?

  “I’ll be here,” he promised after she’d named a time. “And meanwhile, if you need anything—like help washing that hard-to-reach spot in the middle of your back, or a hand zipping up your dress—just knock on the wall.”

  “The wall?” Suspicion stirred. No, she thought, the coincidence would be impossible. There were three thousand rooms in the hotel and the conference must have booked nearly two-thirds of those. “Where is your room, anyway?”

  “Didn’t I mention that?”

  “No.” Oh, he was good, Grace thought Smooth and slick, with that good-old-boy grin and Southern charm that made it difficult to get a good ire going. She folded her arms. “You didn’t.”

  “As it happens, I’m staying in the next room.” He knocked lightly on the closed door that, if unlocked, would turn the single-bedroom suite into a two-bedroom one. “Right on the other side of this door, as a matter of fact. Handy, isn’t it?”

  “How did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  Grace set her teeth when she wanted to grind them. “Get Robert kicked out of here, me moved in and you booked into the room next door.”

  “I told you, darlin’, when you hire S. J. Slade, you get the best,” he assured her. “Wait till you sample a few of my other talents.”

  Grace had a very good idea exactly what type of talents he was referring to. She was about to insist, yet again, that he stop trying to seduce her when the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room signaled with a peal of Westminster chimes the passing of precious time.

  “I can’t deny I’m grateful, for whatever you did to get Robert evicted,” she said. “But since I’m the one paying a very hefty fee for your services, I’d appreciate you sharing any of your plans with me ahead of time.”

  “I’ve been up front with you from the beginning,” he said as she pushed him the rest of the way out of the foyer. “About all my intentions, Gracie.”

  His voice had dropped into that low, sexy timbre again. “And stop talking to me like that!” She practically slammed the door behind him and turned the lock.

  “Don’t forget to latch the chain, darlin’,” he called in to her.

  Swearing beneath her breath, Grace did as instructed. But not because he’d told her so.

  Frustrated, and, dammit, fascinated by the hardheaded, hard-bodied man, she leaned back against the locked door and closed her eyes.

  Then heard Lucas chuckle as he walked away.

  CHAPTER 5

  GRACE ONLY BOTHERED to unpack those few things that needed to be hung up, then took a quick in-and-out shower, not even waiting for the water to warm up. After redoing her makeup and hair, she hurriedly dressed for the costume pageant.

  All the time she couldn’t get Lucas’s staggering kiss out of her mind. Although she’d been married, he could have been her first. The first man to ever look at her as if she was the only woman in the world, the first man to want her, the first to kiss her. That had been her sole thought as she’d watched his mouth approach hers. And then, as their lips had touched, she’d forgotten to think at all.

  Composure and control had always been important to Grace. Well, not always, she amended, thinking back to the way, as a child, she’d loved nothing more than to be aboard her father’s sloop, the two of them facing the wind, skimming along the deep blue water so fast it felt like flying.

  But then he was gone, taken by the very sea he’d loved. And her mother had moved to Kansas, as far from either ocean as she could get. She’d also made it her maternal duty to point out to Grace at every opportunity that risk inevitably ended in a loss of control. And disaster.

  When Grace heard Lucas knock on her door, she tried to remind herself that allowing herself to become involved with a rogue of a man who could warm her blood with a single look, and make her mind float with his kisses, would represent the greatest risk of her life.

  She’d have to remember that, she vowed, as she spritzed on some scent from a crystal bottle.

  She took her time, forcing him to wait out in the hall. He’d been incredibly high-handed from the moment she’d met him; it would do him good to have to cool his heels, to realize that she wasn’t going to jump when he snapped his long, callused fingers, or melt into a puddle of need every time he looked at her with those dark, strangely unfathomable eyes.

  Her eyes seemed brighter than usual, and a color that had nothing to do with the blush she’d applied with a light hand rode high on her cheekbones. She looked edgy, expectant, even high-strung, which was surprising, since she’d always considered herself a levelheaded, remarkably unemotional person compared to most other writers. If she’d been describing herself as a character tonight she might have compared herself to a Thoroughbred at the starting gate.

  “More like a Clydesdale,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes at the rounded curves that were a far cry from current fashion.

  Deciding that there was no way she could lose twenty pounds in the next minute, and knowing that Lucas was not going to go downstairs witho
ut her, she sighed, reassured herself that her nervousness was due to her public appearance and had nothing to do with Lucas Kincaid, then finally went to answer the door before the object of all her distraction broke it down. Which, oddly, since she had no proof that he could be a violent man, she feared he just might.

  “What took you so long?”

  When she hadn’t immediately responded to his knock, horrifying images had flashed through Lucas’s mind: mental photographs of Grace drowned in the bathtub, stabbed beside that antique canopied and draped bed, lying dead on the plush carpeting, blood pouring forth from a bullet wound in her breast.

  Having never lost a client, he wasn’t about to begin with her, which was why he’d been on the verge of breaking down her door and, if necessary, explaining his behavior later.

  “I was getting dressed.”

  He’d changed as well, appearing both sophisticated and dangerous in his navy suit and starched white collarless shirt. Unsurprisingly, he’d forgone a tie. Because just looking at him towering over her, made her mouth almost water, Grace forced her voice to a cooler tone than usual.

  Although she knew she was being ridiculously fanciful, she pictured him on the deck of a pirate ship, clad in a billowy white shirt unfastened to reveal a hard dark chest, his jet hair, freed from its leather thong, whipping wildly in the sea breeze. She could almost smell the salty tang of the air.

  Deciding the fantasy stemmed from the fact that she was currently plotting a pirate story, Grace reminded herself that while she wrote romance novels, she’d never had any problem separating fantasy from reality. Until now.

  Obviously, the horrid letters she’d been receiving really had pushed her to the verge of a nervous breakdown. And wouldn’t that make dandy tabloid headlines?

  As he took in the sight of her, dressed in a silk dress the color of autumn leaves that was draped to display her lush body to advantage, Lucas felt every atom in his body begin to warm.

  “You look drop-dead gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.” The intimacy in his eyes echoed the compliment, causing another perilous spike in her hormones. Grace managed, just barely, to resist wiping her suddenly damp hands on her skirt.

  “Don’t thank me. Thank whatever Valkyrie contributed to your gene pool.”

  If she’d wanted to drive him crazy all night, she couldn’t have chosen better ammunition. The neckline of the dress skimmed her collarbone in a way that enhanced the contrast between her porcelain pale skin and the bronze material. It was pinched in at the waistline, all the better to accentuate her hourglass figure, then ended abruptly midway down her thighs, revealing long wraparound legs that had him almost biting his tongue.

  Her heels were dangerously high and spindly, putting her almost at eye level with him. All the better to watch that unbidden awareness rise in those thickly lashed eyes that were rapidly turning green with desire.

  Because he knew he’d be thinking of little else all night, and telling himself that he’d need a clear head to protect her, Lucas took two steps into the room and, without taking his gaze from hers, kicked the door closed behind him.

  As he crushed his mouth against hers, Grace was instantly engulfed by titanic waves of passion that pounded against the composure she’d struggled for years to achieve. His kiss rocked her, sent her reeling, tumbling helpless beneath those perilous waves as if she’d been pulled beneath the tow of a riptide.

  She heard a low, throaty moan that she didn’t recognize as her own, was only dimly aware of his hands digging into the silk at her waist as he pulled her tighter against him, pressing her curves against his hard, rangy body.

  The feel of her arched and straining against him, the taste of her, as sweet as honey, as potent as whiskey, the desperate little moans torn from her throat—all these things tangled together, coalescing into a hunger that left Lucas blind with need.

  He wanted to drag her to the floor, to tear that silk dress from her body, to feel her naked and writhing beneath him. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, to drive her senseless, to hear her cry out his name at the moment of climax. And then he wanted to take her again. And again, until they were both limp and drained and satiated.

  And because he wanted all that with a desperation like nothing he’d ever known, Lucas managed to pull away from the brink of madness.

  “We have to stop doing this.” Her hands trembled as she touched her fingertips to her temples. “Believe it or not, I’ve never responded so recklessly to a man’s kisses before in my life.”

  “If you’re trying to bolster my ego, Grace,” he drawled, enjoying hearing her confirm what he’d already suspected, “you’re definitely going about it in the right way.”

  A sound that was half laugh, half sob escaped her ravished lips. They stood there, inches apart, the energy between them as palpable as the lightning preceding a squall.

  “I’ll be right back.” Needing a moment to garner her scattered composure, Grace returned to the bathroom to check her appearance. Unsurprisingly, Lucas was right on her heels.

  As he came up behind her, Grace was tempted to remind him that she hadn’t invited him into her bathroom, then realized that by responding to his kiss with such unbridled passion, she’d invited a great deal more.

  “I look a mess,” she moaned, touching up her lipstick.

  “On the contrary. You look like a woman who’s been thoroughly kissed.” He smiled encouragingly at her in the mirror.

  “That’s just the point.” She resecured a few tendrils of hair that had sprung loose from her French braid, jabbing pins into her scalp. “The minute we walk into that room together they’ll know exactly what we’ve been doing—”

  “And be as jealous as hell.”

  “I really do have to stop feeding your ego,” she muttered, snatching up a tube of blush. “Did it ever cross your mind that not every woman at this conference might want to sleep with you?”

  “No. I haven’t thought along those lines because I’m not interested in sleeping with every woman at this conference. The only one I want is you, Gracie.” He plucked the blush from her hand and put it back onto the dressing table beside the sink. “You don’t need that.”

  “I hadn’t realized your resumé included work as a makeup artist,” she said dryly.

  “It doesn’t. But having grown up with three sisters, I’ve picked up a few things. Besides, anytime you feel you need color in your cheeks, I’ll be happy to oblige.” He ducked his head and touched his mouth to hers in a light, unthreatening kiss.

  As their lips met and clung for a brief, but unsettling moment, Grace felt her blood warm and her head begin to swim.

  “There.” Pulling back, he skimmed his knuckles up her cheekbones. “That’s one helluva natural look you’ve got going there, darlin’.”

  Grace looked in the mirror, already knowing what she’d see. Her eyes were bright and slightly dazed, her cheeks flushed.

  “This is insane,” she muttered, embarrassed at the way he could so easily tangle her emotions.

  “Absolutely crazy,” he agreed with a cheerfulness that made her want to scream.

  She wondered if her uncharacteristically rash behavior could possibly be another symptom of a breakdown. Contract negotiations always made her nervous; factor in Robert’s lawsuit, and the threatening letters, and it would undoubtedly be surprising if she wasn’t going a little crazy.

  “You realize, of course, that your obnoxious, macho behavior is outrageously sexist. I’ll bet you wouldn’t be acting this way if I were a male writer.”

  “You’re right. I’ve never felt an urge to kiss another guy.” He skimmed his knuckles up her cheek again and enjoyed watching even more color bloom.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening,” she complained.

  “We can discuss it later tonight. After you’ve done your duty. Meanwhile, since I’m experiencing this urge to indulge in more macho, sexist behavior, I suppose we’d better get downstairs.”

  “Yo
u’re not going to kiss me again,” she warned as they left the suite.

  “Of course I am.” He grinned, enjoying the way she tried so hard to pretend to be cool and composed when he’d already discovered her secret. “And you’re going to love it.”

  Muttering a ripe curse, she picked up her pace, marching ahead of him toward the elevator.

  Lucas enjoyed the sight of the soft feminine sway of her hips beneath that short silk, and tortured himself just a little by remembering how good she’d felt in his arms.

  “Hey, Gracie,” he called out as she punched the Down button with more force than necessary.

  “What?” She refused to look at him.

  “You really do have dynamite legs.”

  Taking her choked sound to be a muffled laugh, Lucas realized that when this conference was over, and Grace was safe—and he could not allow himself to believe otherwise—he was really going to have to call Samantha and thank her for dropping the gorgeous romance writer into his lap. And his life.

  Although the two of them drew more than a few interested looks when they arrived in the Golden Gate Ballroom, Grace was relieved when none of the committee asked any questions about her tardiness. Then again, she thought, remembering her reflection in the bathroom mirror, they probably all knew exactly what she’d been doing. For some reason, that idea, which had seemed so disturbing upstairs, now actually struck her as rather appealing.

  After the way Robert had so publicly dumped her, having everyone think that such a dashing macho hunk of a man could find her sexually attractive was proving a definite morale booster.

  Which was the only reason, she assured herself, that she didn’t complain when Marianne Tyler coaxed him into replacing a missing judge—an editor who’d apparently gotten food poisoning from the Viva Italia chicken salad on the flight from New York.

  “It’s really quite easy,” Marianne assured him. “There are four categories. The first, and usually the most popular with the ladies, is the hunk contest, where you pick the man you’d most like to see on a book cover. The men are amateurs whose pictures are sent in by wives and girlfriends. And, occasionally, mothers.”