by Marie Force
Grant looked around his mother to Stephanie. She nodded to let him know she was willing if he was.
“Okay,” Grant said cautiously. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion, my suspicious son. Just dinner.”
Grant rolled his eyes. “Dinner with an ulterior motive for dessert.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Linda said with a breezy wave on her way to the big garage doors that opened the restaurant to the pier. “I’ll see you both after work.”
“Bye, Mom.”
“Bye, Linda,” Stephanie said. “And thank you.”
Grant got up and stretched. As he came toward her with a predatory look in his eye, Stephanie planted her feet and lifted her chin, letting him know she couldn’t be intimidated.
“Why are you thanking my mother?” He put his arms around her and squeezed her ass. That was all it took to make her want to crawl all over him. She settled for resting her hands on his muscular chest.
“Because she invited me to dinner. Why else would I be thanking her?”
“Maybe because she butted in and took your side against me? She likes doing that kind of stuff.”
Stephanie would’ve giggled at his laser-sharp insight, but his lips had found the spot on her neck that drove her mad. It had taken him no time at all to figure out just how and where to touch her to ensure maximum results. She should probably be worried about how easy she was where he was concerned, but with his lips working their magic on her neck and his hands gripping her ass, she couldn’t be bothered with worrying about much of anything.
“Is it later yet?” he asked gruffly.
Stephanie took his hand and led him back a few feet so she could reach up to untie the drop-down board that would render the takeout counter closed.
His eyes lit up with unrestrained lust. “Are we closing early?”
“Looks that way.”
“Let me grab your computer from the table.” He darted out to the dining room and was back in two seconds flat, putting the computer on the counter. “Now, you were saying?”
She smiled at his childlike glee and stepped into his outstretched arms, holding on to him and the hopeful feelings he inspired in her. Maybe… Just maybe…Wanting to show him how much he’d come to mean to her, she tugged at the button to his shorts and pushed them and his boxers down, freeing his erection.
Using both hands, she stroked him and ran her thumbs through the pearly fluid that suddenly appeared at the tip.
He tightened his grip on her ass. “Steph…” His eyes were closed, his lips parted and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
She loved rendering him helpless with desire. “Sit up here,” she said, patting the countertop.
His eyes popped open. “Seriously?”
Nudging him, she encouraged him to do as she asked. After he reluctantly raised himself onto the counter, she bent her head to take him into her mouth.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, his fingers tightening into a fist in her hair as he sucked in a sharp deep breath. “God.”
Stephanie opened her throat to accommodate him and lashed at his shaft with her pierced tongue, knowing he loved the combination. The second time, she squeezed his balls, too.
He held out for a long time before he finally bucked his hips, moaned and flooded her mouth. “Holy shit,” he said through gasping breaths.
She stood up straight and was pulled into a deep, possessive kiss. “You’re amazing, and you blow my mind.”
“That’s not all I blow.”
Grant laughed and cupped her face, looking at her with a curiously intense expression on his handsome face.
“What?” she asked, unnerved all of a sudden.
“Just looking.”
She took the opportunity to look her fill, too. Would she ever get enough of his superbly beautiful face, the dark hair, the gorgeous blue eyes? Probably not. As they drank each other in, Stephanie felt a subtle shift take place between them. What had begun as a casual fling during a tropical storm had turned into something much more significant. When she could no longer stand the intensity that arced between them like a live wire, she diverted her gaze and rested her head on his chest.
“You okay?” he asked, stroking a hand over her head and neck before kneading her shoulders.
She nodded, unable to speak over the riot of emotions storming around inside her. With her hands propped on his hipbones, she breathed in his scent, committing every detail to memory for the inevitable day when they’d go their separate ways.
“I’ll never look at this counter the same way again,” he said drolly.
Of course she laughed at that, which relieved some of her tension. She wondered if that’s why he’d said it.
All at once, he hopped off the counter, pulled up his shorts and reached for her, lifting her and curling legs around his hips. “We’ve got time for a nap before dinner at my parents’ house.”
“Do we?” she asked with a smile, crossing her hands behind his neck.
Nodding, he said, “Plenty of time to even the score.”
“What score is that?”
“The orgasm score. I owe you one.”
Laughing as he walked them into her room, Stephanie knew she’d never love anyone the way she loved Grant McCarthy. This was the all-consuming, last-forever deal his parents seemed to have, and the greedy little girl who lived inside her wanted the same thing with him that they had. For now, though, she’d take what she could get and file away the memories to sustain her when it was over.
Chapter 21
Forgetting all about Bobby Chester, Ned flew around the counter but wasn’t quick enough to keep Francine’s head from cracking against a shelf on the way down. Adrenaline coursed through him as he cradled her head in his lap, patted her cheeks and prayed for her to come to.
“Francine, honey, wake up. It’s okay. Whatever’s going on, we’ll handle it together. Just wake up.”
A crowd gathered around them. “Should I call the rescue?” Mrs. Gold asked.
“Give ’er a minute. She’s had a shock.” Ned wanted to shoot himself for dropping the news about Bobby on her without a warning. Any suspicion he’d had that Francine invited her ex-husband to the island was gone after seeing her reaction to the news that Bobby was here.
It seemed like a lifetime passed before her eyes finally fluttered and opened. “Wh-what happened? What’re you doing here?”
Ned realized how badly he’d bungled this. “I, uh, I came to tell ya—”
“Oh, God,” she said, her eyes closing again. “Bobby.”
“Yep.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“I was kinda hopin’ ya might know.”
She looked up at him, her eyes full of genuine concern. “I didn’t ask him to come, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Pardon me,” Mrs. Gold said in her nasally New York accent. “Could we maybe take this soap opera elsewhere?”
Ned scowled up at her. To Francine, he said, “Do you think you can get up?”
“Of course I can.” She pushed his helping hands away and pulled herself up. When she swayed, his hands on her shoulders steadied her.
“Take it easy, doll.”
“Yes, Francine, take it easy,” Mrs. Gold said. “Go on home. I’ll cover the rest of your shift.”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gold,” Francine said. “I’ll be in on time tomorrow.”
Ned fumed as he watched her grovel to the cranky woman she worked for. If she married him, she wouldn’t have to work another day in her life.
“Take tomorrow off and work out whatever you’ve got going on,” Mrs. Gold said. “I’ll see you Friday.” Despite the kind gesture made in front of several concerned customers, Ned had no doubt Mrs. Gold would make Francine pay for the scene she’d caused.
“Thank you,” Francine said with meekness that was so out of character he wanted to rant and rave.
Ned extended an arm to her, and she rel
uctantly tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Take it slow, doll.”
They made their way to his cab in silence. He held the passenger door for her and settled her inside. On the way around to the driver’s side, he chastised himself for being a stupid fool. “Ya better take it easy on this one,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t be a fool and lose her now.”
He slid into the car and rested his hands on the wheel. “Where do ya want to go?”
“Home, I guess. If you don’t mind.”
“Course I don’t mind. Is yer head okay?”
“It will be.”
“Should we stop and get some ice, or do ya have some at home?”
“I did not invite him here,” she said a second time, more emphatically this time.
Ned didn’t bother to mention that he’d been talking about ice, not Bobby. “It’s just kinda interesting to me that ya tell me ya got ‘stuff to take care of,’ and then suddenly yer ex-husband shows up on the island. Interesting, doncha think?”
She folded her arms and set her chin mulishly.
“Aintcha gonna say anything?”
“What does it matter what I have to say? You won’t believe it anyway.”
“Try me.”
She held her silence until they arrived at her place. The passenger door flew open, and she was halfway up the stairs before he could fumble his own door open.
“Now wait just a minute, Francine Chester,” he said, going after her. He’d be damned if he’d leave before he got some answers.
When they were inside the apartment, she spun around and jammed a finger into his chest. “You wait a minute, Ned Saunders. You’re not my husband, and you can’t tell me what to do.”
“Why am I not yer husband, Francine? Answer me that one, will ya?”
She stared at him with green eyes filled with fire, and all he wanted was to kiss her until she forgot all about why she was mad with him, mad with life and about to see the ex-husband who’d left her alone with two babies decades ago.
“First of all,” she said, “you’ve never asked me to marry you, and second of all, I can’t marry you because—”
A knock on the door startled them, and Francine moved to answer it.
Ned wanted to stop her and scream at her to finish what she was going to say.
“Hi there, Francine.”
When Ned heard Bobby’s smooth voice and saw Francine’s knees start to buckle, he rushed over to her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“What’re you doing here, Bobby?” Francine asked, the quiver in her voice betraying her emotions.
“Marion said you were looking for me. She said I’ve got some grandkids these days, so I thought I’d come over and see what’s what. Hey,” he said, noticing Ned standing behind her. “You’re the guy from the ferry dock. You said you didn’t know her.”
“Ya,” Ned grumbled. “I lied.”
Francine stood up straighter and shook Ned’s hands off her shoulders. “You thought you’d come over to see what’s what? Let me tell you what’s what, you miserable excuse for a human being. The daughters you left when they were babies are now in their thirties. They have lives and families of their own. They’ve had everything they needed because I saw to it with no help from the father who left them and never looked back. So whatever sweet family reunion you see happening here isn’t going to happen. You got me?”
“They’re old enough to speak for themselves,” Bobby said sullenly.
“They will never be old enough to deal with you after you’ve disregarded them their entire lives.”
“Then why’d you want me to call you?”
“Because, you son of a bitch. As far as I know, we’re still married, and I have someone else I want to marry—someone decent and kind and two hundred million times the man you’ll ever be. I can’t marry him as long as I’m still shackled to you.”
Ned felt like he’d been hit by a stun gun. She wanted to marry him? She was still married to Bobby? Well, if that didn’t beat all. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to dance a jig or shake her until her teeth rattled for not sharing her dilemma with him.
“Mom?” Tiffany asked from the landing outside the door. “Is everything all right?”
Oh, God. Ned wanted to rush outside and protect Tiffany from the body blow she was about to withstand. Apparently, Francine had the same urge. She pushed past Bobby and went to her daughter.
“Honey, let’s go down to your place.” With her arm around Tiffany’s shoulders, she tried to direct her daughter toward the stairs. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Casting a glance over her shoulder, Tiffany said, “Who’s that man, Mom?”
Tiffany wouldn’t be redirected, and Ned suspected she already knew the answer to her own question.
Bobby stepped forward with his hand extended. “Tiffany?”
With a hesitant glance at her mother, Tiffany nodded.
“It’s me. Your daddy.”
Holding her daughter close to her, Francine erupted. “You have no right to refer to yourself that way! No right at all!”
Tiffany stared at Bobby, her face devoid of color, shock reverberating through her. “Wh-what, what’re you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you and your sister, my grandchildren and your mother.”
“You can’t just… You can’t—” When the words wouldn’t come, Tiffany went back to staring at him.
“Don’t worry, honey, I already told him the same thing. I want a divorce, Bobby, and I want it now. The very least you can do is handle the details. I don’t want anything from you, and God knows I haven’t got a thing for you to try to steal from me.”
“I want to see Maddie.”
“Not now,” Tiffany said for her sister. “She just had a baby, and this is not the time.”
“I’ll be at the Beachcomber for a few days. Let her know I’m here, and I want to see her. Once I see do, I’ll give you your divorce, Francine. Not one minute before. You all have a nice day now.” On his way past Tiffany, he squeezed her arm. “It’s good to see you. You grew up to be a beautiful woman.”
After he went down the stairs, the three of them stood there a long time, like shocked survivors following a major disaster. Tears spilled down Tiffany’s cheeks, and sobs racked her petite frame.
Francine put her arms around her daughter and held on tight. “I’m so sorry you were blindsided, baby. I had no idea he was coming here.”
Tiffany was crying so hard she couldn’t speak.
Ned went to them and led them inside to the sofa. Once they were settled, he made a beeline to the cabinet over Francine’s refrigerator where she kept her secret stash of whiskey. He poured them each a shot and took it to them.
“Here,” he said. “Take a drink.” He stood over them until they’d both downed the whiskey. He crouched in front of Tiffany. “Now, honey, I know ya’ve had a big shock, but he can’t take anything from ya unless ya let him. And if ya want to see him and get to know him, that’s yer call, too.”
“Wait a minute—” Francine said.
“No, Francine. He’s the girl’s father. If she wants to see him, ya can’t get in the middle of that.”
“I don’t know what I want,” Tiffany said. “I’ve spent my whole life wondering about him, and then one day out of the blue, here he is.”
“And it’s only natural that ya’d be curious,” Ned said with a pointed look for Francine. “Yer mama will understand if ya feel the need to see him.”
“Oh, I will, will I?” Francine asked, her brow arched.
Ned met her steely stare. “Yes, ya will.”
“Mom?” Tiffany looked at her mother expectantly.
After a long pause, Francine said, “Of course I’ll understand.” She rested her hand on top of Tiffany’s. “Whatever you want is what I want.”
“I need to think about it,” Tiffany said. “What’ll we do about Maddie?”
“Let me worry about that,” Francine s
aid.
The two women embraced, and the knot in Ned’s belly finally loosened. He stood and stepped back to give them some space.
“I have to pick up Ashleigh from Jim.” Brushing the tears off her face, Tiffany stood and shocked the hell out of Ned by hugging him. “Thanks,” she said.
Ned brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Any time, honey.”
After she left, Ned kept his hands on his hips as he studied Francine. “Why didn’t ya just tell me, doll?”
“Because,” she said, playing with her glass, “it’s humiliating. All these years he’s been gone, and I’m still married to him? How was I supposed to tell you that?”
“The way ya just did. Ya think there’s anything ya can tell me that’ll change the way I feel aboutcha?” He sat next to her, put his hands on her face and compelled her to look at him. When he had her attention, he said, “I love ya, Francine. I always have. From the first day I ever saw ya. I never stopped wanting ya, even when ya were married to him.”
She blinked back tears and sniffled. “You’d have to be crazy to want to be dragged into all this madness.”
“Then call me crazy,” he said, kissing her. “Yer craziness is my craziness. Did ya hear what I said, Francine? I love ya. If it’s what ya want, I’ll marry ya the second yer free from him. Ya got me?”
“Ned.” She rested her forehead against his. “You’re just saying that because I told Bobby I want to marry you.”
“Are ya tryin’ to make me mad?”
Shaking her head, she smiled at him. “I love you, too.
“I know ya do, doll.” He pressed his lips to hers, hoping she’d welcome his advance.
Her arms came around his neck, and before he knew it, he was stretched out on top of her on the sofa. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to—”
Resting a finger over his lips, she flashed the seductive smile he remembered from a lifetime ago when she’d had him firmly wrapped around her little finger. “You wanna make out?”
His mouth fell open in surprise, and then he was laughing as hard as he ever had in his life. “Yes, Francine. I wanna make out with ya.”
Chapter 22
His ringing cell phone woke Grant from the best nap he’d had in ages.