by Desiree Holt
The office didn’t provide the distraction she needed. Reading financial projections and doing financial comparisons had suddenly lost their luster. But it was better than what she’d done that morning, moping around the house and listening to Ben rail at her on the answering machine. Unconsciously, she lifted her hand to the little boot that for some ungodly reason she’d pinned to her sweatshirt. As usual, it was warm to the touch, as if some mysterious energy radiated from it.
What was it the woman had said?
‘This pin has a long history of bringing lovers together… It will unlock the doors you hide behind.’
Well, it had certainly opened those doors, no mistake about it. Just thinking about all the things she and Ben had done together made her face heat. It also made her nipples tingle and her pussy throb. She was sure if she touched herself, she’d find a very damp crotch.
Well, good, Grace. After all these years, you’re turning into a slut.
No! her inner self shouted. Not true!
She had simply, led by the pin, she was sure, managed to indulge herself in erotic fantasies she’d previously only read about. And the pin had brought them together as lovers, just not permanently. It wasn’t supposed to. Was it?
You’re being ridiculous, Grace. Get your act together. The party’s over.
She was glad Ben was gone. Back here in her own environment, she wasn’t sure she could even look him in the face. The extent of her own eroticism frightened her, as well as the idea of a relationship with a man as sensual, as dominant as Ben Lowell. Especially one twelve years younger than her. It was so foreign to her it made her stomach cramp. She needed her boundaries. They were safe.
That was it. She needed to be safe. In a safe life. Acting her age.
Then why did she feel as if a part of her life had been chopped away?
She burrowed into the pillows on the couch, eventually dozing off with her hand resting on the pin.
* * * *
“Good morning, Grace.”
Joyce Ritter’s voice was perky as she greeted her boss, but Grace saw surprise in the woman’s hazel eyes.
“Morning.” Grace forced a smile. “You look as if you weren’t expecting me.”
“Well, you did say you didn’t intend on coming in today…” Joyce frowned.
“Change of plans.” Grace’s tone plainly said no questions.
“Good weekend? I can’t remember the last time you took a day off. I thought we might be on a roll here.”
So could Grace, but she didn’t plan to discuss it.
“It was fine, thank you.” She took the messages Joyce handed to her as she breezed past the woman’s desk. “Did you print out my calendar for today?”
“On your desk,” Joyce called. “I, um, added Curt Sanderson at noon. He insisted he wanted to take you to lunch.”
Grace’s stomach sank. Another meal with Curt? The last one had gone so badly she wondered why he even bothered to call again.
He’s safe, Grace. If you want a safe life, you need a safe man.
Swallowing back her refusal, she told Joyce, “Fine. Please call him and confirm. And tell him twelve-thirty would be better.” She was looking at her calendar. “My last two appointments this morning are liable to run late.”
“I’m on it.”
Dumping her briefcase, Grace popped a K-cup into the Keurig coffee maker, pressed a button and in seconds held a steaming cup of hot liquid in her hands. Sipping slowly, she studied her calendar again, mentally disciplining herself for the day ahead and her return to Grace Delaney mode. This is what I want, she told herself. Period.
Time to get on with life.
She had just finished with her ten o’clock client when Joyce buzzed to say her daughter was on the phone. Grace picked up the receiver, smiling as she did so.
“Bridget? What a nice surprise. I thought you and Susan were still at Padre Island.”
“No.” Grace’s twenty-one-year-old daughter laughed. “We got home yesterday. I took today off just so I could do laundry and get myself back in work mode. And see if you heard how Ryan’s doing.”
Both Bridget and her friend Susan worked for a law firm as paralegals. Bridget was still trying to decide if she wanted to stay with what she was doing or go on to law school. Her brother, twenty-year-old Ryan, was studying to be a geologist and was out in the Arizona desert on a work study program.
“I haven’t talked to him in two weeks,” Grace told her, “but he warned me then he’d be out of range for a while, so I’m not worried.”
“I can’t imagine what he likes about being out there in all that sand and rocks. You dry up during the day and freeze your ass off at night.”
Grace could almost see her daughter shudder and grinned to herself. “It’s what turns him on, I guess.”
“So,” Bridget said with a sly tone, “I hear you spent the weekend with the hottest hunk in Texas.”
Damn that Joyce and her big mouth. It had to be her. The Delaney offspring and Melanie Keyes weren’t exactly on intimate gossip-sharing terms, despite the friendship the two women shared.
Grace cleared her throat. “I had a date. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Bridget’s laughter pealed through the connection. “Mom, you haven’t had a date in so long I didn’t think you even knew how to spell the word.”
“What about the Fiesta dinner?” she asked defensively. “And twice last month I went out with Jim LaGrange. Oh, and dinner with Curt Sanderson.”
Bridget laughed again, the sound warm and affectionate. “Those were business dinners. And fundraisers. They don’t count. Anyway, I want to hear all about this tempting stud. I hear the date stretched out for more than one night.”
Grace gritted her teeth. “He’s just a man Melanie introduced me to. That’s all. He was here for the rodeo.”
“Oh.” Grace could almost see the wheels churning in her daughter’s brain. “Is he a sponsor? Or someone with the rodeo association?”
“No. He isn’t.”
“He isn’t?” Silence then Bridget squealed. “Ohmigod, he’s a competitor! Mom, you had a date with a cowboy! Ohmigod, I want to hear all about it. Can we have lunch?”
No way was she going to put herself in position for her sharp daughter to cross- examine her. She’d give too much away.
“I’m having lunch with a client,” she said. “Then I’ve got a really busy week.”
“You’re avoiding me. This must be some cowboy.”
“Whatever he is, he’s gone now, so there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Gone?” Bridget’s surprise was obvious. “Gone where?”
“To the next rodeo, my darling daughter. End of discussion. Time to hang up.”
“You can’t hide from me forever,” Bridget told her. “I’ll get you when you least expect it.”
That’s what Grace was afraid of. “Listen, Bridget…”
“Oops. Gotta go. My cell phone’s ringing. I’ll catch you this week.”
Grace hung up, feeling decidedly unsettled. Maybe it was a good thing after all that she was having lunch with Curt. He was just what she needed to get this entire past week out of her head.
* * * *
“You are certainly one surly son of a bitch,” Clay Morgan said to his friend.
They were sitting on the front porch of the ranch house with second cups of morning coffee. Clay had been a champion bronc buster until a broken leg finished him. He’d taken his substantial winnings and bought this cattle ranch outside Houston and seemed to be running a successful operation. It was what had given Ben the idea for himself.
Ben had been at the ranch for a week, resting Hotshot and putting himself back together. During that time, Clay had been doing his damndest to engage Ben in some kind of conversation without any results. He was having the same dismal luck this morning.
Usually when Ben visited, the two men spent afternoons checking the herd, riding fences with the hands, or just sitting on the porch talki
ng about life and the good old days. Evenings they’d find a good steak house or Mexican restaurant, take their time over food then hit a bar and size up the women.
But this time Ben had kept pretty much to himself, refusing all Clay’s offers of entertainment or activity. Instead, he just sat on the fence rail, watching his horse romp and play or sometimes hitting the trails by himself to find a place away from everyone. Most of Clay’s questions had received a one-word answer.
Ben knew his friend was right. He was surly. But he couldn’t seem to shake himself out of it.
“Gotta be a woman,” Clay mused. “Yup. Nothing but a woman turns a man into a grizzly bear.”
“You think you could just shut up for a while?” Ben snapped.
“Oho!” Clay grinned. “I’m right. And it must be one hell of a woman to put you in this kind of a mood. What did she do, turn you down?”
“No, she didn’t. And I said shut up.”Ben felt Clay’s eyes on him, studying him.
“So, she didn’t turn you down,” the man said finally. “That’s not the problem, is it? You did your usual walkaway, and now you can’t seem to let this one go. Try to tell me I’m wrong.”
Ben said nothing, just worked on his coffee.
Clay snapped his fingers. “Got it. She left you before you could run off and you’re pissed.” He leaned over to look at Ben. “Or maybe it’s a lot more than that. Don’t tell me you actually fell for some broad.”
Ben glared at his friend and stood up.
“You better do something about this, buddy boy,” Clay called after him. “You’ve got to compete this week and you can’t do it unless your head’s on straight. Either go and get her or wipe her out of your mind.”
Ben’s answer was to slam the door behind him as he walked into the house.
But that afternoon he drove into Houston by himself and spent hours shopping for some very particular things. He spent a long time searching for exactly what he had in mind. When he finally located what he wanted, he had them gift-wrapped then took them to a UPS store and had them packaged and shipped, with a short note tucked inside.
Now it was out of his control and Clay was right. He needed to concentrate on the upcoming rodeo.
* * * *
What the hell am I doing here? I must be losing my mind.
All week long, Grace had been closing doors again, shutting herself up in her nice, neat, well-ordered existence. She ignored Joyce’s remarks about her suddenly snippy personality and deftly avoided her daughter. Shuffling numbers and financial projections, reading spreadsheets, preparing financial statements all had her marching to the same old tune. Good, she told herself. This is who I am.
Two lunch dates with Curt Sanderson had turned into a third, for dinner. Tonight, when he’d driven her home, she’d taken a deep breath, deliberately pushed Ben Lowell out of her mind and invited Curt to come in. There was no mistaking the gleam in his eye, not then and not now. He’d been after her for a long, long time and he saw the door to paradise cracking open for him.
At least paradise as he saw it.
Grace looked at him now, lounging on her couch, holding a glass of wine. He’d removed his jacket and tie, tossing them over the arm of a chair and opening the top two buttons on his dress shirt. Grace noted the exposed skin was smooth and wondered if he was one of those men with a hairless chest. A picture of Ben’s chest flashed into her brain, with its thick dark curls layered over rock-hard abs.
Stop it!
But instead of Ben, her ‘young stud’, she was facing a man several years old than her was and she was sure on the down side of his sex drive.
Sex isn’t everything!Really?No but it would do until something better came along. Stop it! she told herself again.
Grace took a healthy swallow of her wine, deliberately banishing the teasing images from her mind. This was what she wanted. This was what her life should be. Sedate. Mature. Safe.
“You know,” he said, leaning forward, wine glass held loosely in one hand, “I’ve always thought you and I would make a good couple, Grace.”
Her stomach knotted and tension raced through her body.
Here it comes.
“Oh?” she tried to make her voice casual. “What do you mean? In what way?”
“We’re both mature people, not looking for adventure in life. Right?”
Speak for yourself. “I suppose,” she said.
“I know you’re aware that I have a tremendously stable financial situation. A beautiful home that would be graced by your presence. We could travel, do a number of things together.” He leaned even closer. “I could take care of you, Grace. You wouldn’t have to work anymore. You could be a lady of leisure after working yourself nearly to death all these years.”
“But I love my work,” she protested. Doing nothing all day held no appeal for her.
“You say that now,” he countered, “but when I show you how relaxing life could be, you’ll wonder why you waited so long.”
“Curt, I still have a son in college who’s my financial responsibility…”
“And it would be my greatest pleasure to help you with that.”
She drank the rest of her wine in two swallows, hoping it would relax her. “Let’s think about it. For a while, anyway.”
“All right. You know,” he pointed out, “this is the first time I’ve been in your home. A pleasant surprise. How about giving me the tour?”
Okay, she thought, here it comes. He wasn’t shifting gears, just trying another tack. A subtle nudge toward her bedroom so he could make his move. And what would she do when she got there?
Suck it up, Grace. Forget adventure. This is what you want, right? How bad can it be?
As she led him through each room, he maneuvered himself closer and closer to her, until by the time he reached her bedroom, he had his arm around her, almost but not quite casually. When he pressed his hand against her back, she let herself be turned toward him, knowing what was coming.
She steeled herself for the kiss, vowing not to compare it with Ben’s. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as she expected. His lips were dry and firm and when he pressed his tongue against the seam of her lips and slipped it inside, it didn’t offend her as she’d expected. Not in Ben’s class, by any means but acceptable, at least.
Stop it. Forget Ben.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he told her when he lifted his head before bending to her mouth again.
His hands were gentle on her back as he stroked them up and down her spine. With her body pressed against his, she felt the thickness of his erection and wondered if he’d taken something in preparation for his expected big night. Certainly Ben never needed anything. He was always ready. Hard and thick.
Once again, she pushed thoughts of Ben from her mind. They weren’t part of her plan to settle herself into the lifestyle she knew was best for her. Especially at her age. Had Ben ever realized how much more the age difference would matter as they grew older? That when she was in her sixties, he’d still be barely past fifty?
Curt kissed her cheeks, her nose then her lips.
“Grace, I wanted you from the moment I saw you. Such a vibrant woman, I thought. Someone who could brighten my life.” He let out a shaky breath. “I was beginning to think it was never going to happen.” He raised his head slightly to look at her. “People our age don’t usually find a second chance, you know. And you’ve been widowed far longer than I have. I thought maybe you didn’t plan to let another man into your life.”
People our age? Is he kidding? I haven’t even started living yet.
The thought kicked her in the stomach. That’s right. She hadn’t started living, at least not until Ben. And she’d run away from that as fast as she could, frightened as the walls of her carefully constructed existence began to shatter and crumble.
“Grace?”He was obviously waiting for some kind of response from her.
“I don’t know what plan you’re talking about, Cu
rt,” she said lamely. “I’ve focused on the children and the business for so long…”
“It’s all right.” His kissed her cheek again. “I’ll give you plenty of time to get used to me.” He rested his forehead on hers, idly moving his hands up and down her spine. “May I spend the night here with you? You don’t know how much I want to. I don’t think I want the evening to end just yet.”
Her stomach muscles knotted, the thought of sex with Curt making bile rise suddenly in her throat. “Um, Curt, that’s probably not such a good idea. My daughter sometimes pops in early in the morning before she goes to work.”
“It’s Friday night,” he pointed out. “I don’t think she works on Saturday.”
“That makes it even more likely she’ll stop by.” She patted his cheek. “This has been wonderful, Curt. But it’s been a full week for me. I could use a good night’s sleep.”
“So you’re saying you want me to leave,” he said in a flat tone.
“Don’t be upset.” She patted his cheek again. “There’ll be other nights.”Like hell.
“All right,” he sighed. “Never let it be said I’m not a gentleman.”Grace walked Curt to the door.He took both her hands in his, kissing the backs of them. “When can I see you again?”
His eagerness was obvious. “I want you to think about all the things I said earlier. Maybe we can discuss them again over dinner in the next day or two.”
“Let’s see how my week goes,” she waffled. She’d have to find a way to tell him this just wasn’t going to work.
Easing him onto the porch, she let him pull her into his arms one more time, determined to at least end the evening with as much grace as possible. The crash landing would come soon enough and it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t anywhere near what she wanted. She accepted another kiss from him, murmured something indistinguishable and shooed him to his car.
Scratch one client, she thought ruefully, waving as he drove away. When he finds out I have no intention of letting him into my life, he’s sure to take his business someplace else.
Tonight had certainly been one of the least successful events in her life. Why in hell had she thought this was what she wanted? Better yet, why had she thought going out with Curt would erase the memories of herself with Ben—memories so wanton she blushed when she remembered them. This was not working at all and she was about to lose a very good client because of it.