Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  Harris had outdone himself with Amanda’s final dinner. He made lobster bisque, bruschetta, grilled bison steaks, his signature basil-tomato-jalapeño crab cakes, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Grady helped Harris serve, and Amanda noted that he brushed against her frequently, which she didn’t mind in the least. As Harris served the crab cakes, Grady emerged from the kitchen with a large plate that held an upside-down lobster shell filled with something that resembled macaroni and cheese.

  He set it in front of her. “Fancy,” she said. “It smells great. What is it?”

  Grady and Harris exchanged looks. Grady said, “Why it’s lobster thermidor, of course.”

  “No!” She whooped with laughter, remembering the meeting during her first days when she’d mentioned the dish. She locked eyes with a smiling Grady, unsure if her tears were from laughter or happiness.

  Dinner continued with lively conversation and peals of laughter. They had coffee and pecan pie in the sunroom while watching the video of Wave and Solstice in the horse show.

  The video ended and Grady produced two small boxes wrapped in cotton-candy pink paper and tied with hot-pink grosgrain ribbons. Wave and Solstice opened the boxes together and shrieked when they saw the silver jumping-horse earrings and necklaces like Amanda’s.

  “So you’ll always remember your first horse show,” Grady said as they tackled him in a tandem hug.

  “Let me see,” Amanda said. Solstice handed her the box. Amanda gave Grady a small, wondering smile. The man remembered everything.

  Wave and Solstice made a production of putting on their new jewelry, and then, giggling, gave Amanda presents. She got a leather halter with “Edelweiss” engraved on a brass plate, a sage-green baseball cap with “Aspen Creek” and an aspen leaf embroidered on the front and her name on the back, and two leather cat collars—blue and pink—with “Nikolai” and “Tatalina” engraved on little brass tags.

  Amanda fought tears as she hugged each girl and said, “I love these. You guys! Thank you so much!”

  Harris gave her a small birdhouse that was an exact miniature of the Aspen Creek barn. “I commissioned that from Alonso,” Harris said. “He loves making the things.”

  Grady sent Wave to bed and Amanda tucked her in. Sitting up in bed, the blonde hugged Amanda fiercely and told her she loved her. Amanda kissed her forehead. “I love you, too, sweetie.”

  When Amanda returned, the adults lasted through one glass of port each. Harris said good night and retired to his room.

  Jacqueline hugged Amanda and whispered to her, “I have something for you. I will give it to you tomorrow. Bon nuit.” And she went to bed.

  Solstice slept, curled on a chair.

  After seeing Beth to the door so she could do the night check, Amanda and Grady returned to the sunroom. He gently nudged Solstice.

  “Come on, Solsty. Time for bed.” She opened her eyes sleepily and he helped her to her feet.

  “I’m not asleep.” She grinned, crossed to Amanda, and hugged her. “Good night,” the girl said, then whispered, “Please stay, okay?”

  Amanda hugged her hard. “We’ll see. Sleep now . . . I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  Solstice pulled Grady toward the stairs, out of Amanda’s earshot.

  “Good night,” Grady said and hugged her. Then they spoke so quietly, Amanda couldn’t hear.

  “Brush your teeth. I love you. Go.” He tapped his daughter’s bottom.

  “Love you.” Solstice ran up the stairs.

  “What was that about?” Amanda asked.

  “Solstice says I should, and I quote, ‘totally marry you.’ Would you like more port?”

  Amanda felt woozy but tried to act nonchalant—as if movie stars routinely spoke of marrying her. She took a breath, then said, “I don’t know,” which came out all croaky, as though she’d just thrown back a snootful of whiskey. “I should go.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

  Oh dear. He used the voice that made her insides as warm and soft as a bran mash.

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Well then. How ’bout a small brandy? I’ll deal with the hangover.”

  Engulfed by a Snuggie—which she knew had been the girls’ doing, since Grady was hardly a Snuggie guy—Amanda settled into a cushioned couch on the patio. She sipped her brandy and sighed, watching through the brown liquid the gas fire in the stone fire pit undulate. Grady sat next to her, and because all of her nerve endings knew it was Grady, her body tensed.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “No.” She took a gulp of brandy.

  Grady laughed. “Amanda.” He slid his arm around her. “This is supposed to be fun. We have kissed before, you know.”

  “But those were . . . unplanned. Stealth attacks.”

  “You want to be surprised, is that it?”

  “No! I . . . this is more like . . . ”

  “A date?”

  “A little.”

  “Hmm.” He sipped his brandy and they listened to the crickets and the far-off, eerie howls of coyotes. “I love having you here.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I mean it. My girls have never been this happy. They adore you. And . . . I can’t say I blame them.”

  “Horses are incredible therapists.”

  He stared at her as she spoke, and she got the distinct feeling he wasn’t listening. It was his eyes, those famous eyes that looked . . . hungry. As she finished her sentence, he kissed her.

  She pulled back to look at him. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

  “Poppycock,” he whispered, then pulled her face to his.

  “Poppycock? Who says that?” she said, her lips curving against his. She resisted him for a moment on principle, but that kiss was too divine. He cradled the back of her head and silenced her with a kiss that left the previous kiss in the dust.

  “Are you having fun now?” he whispered.

  “Mm, definitely.” She felt slumberous. “Hey, how can you look so good wearing a Snuggie? You’re like a hot monk.”

  He laughed, but then his expression turned somber. “I have to tell you something.”

  A cinderblock shifted in Amanda’s stomach.

  He must’ve noticed her alarm, because he said, “It’s nothing bad.” He took her hand and kissed it, dispatching the cinderblock, then spoke.

  “I . . . desperately . . . want to make love to you. And I mean make love, not have sex. There will be strings attached, as per your directive. But we can do whatever you’d like. We can stop right now and you can sleep in your apartment or in any bedroom you want—including mine. Or we can talk and look at the stars until sunrise. Or we can make love. Or anything in between. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. This is important, and I don’t want to screw it up.”

  He looked so darned earnest, she could scream. “You’re a sweet man. Let’s finish our drinks and play it by ear.” She watched the firelight play on his face. She thought she was used to his looks, but she was kidding herself. No wonder every woman he met threw herself at him—and now he was throwing himself at her. What nation of beleaguered slaves had she freed in a previous life to deserve this kind of karmic payback?

  She sipped her brandy, then snuggled against him. He kissed the top of her head.

  “Thank you again for Edelweiss.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Damn. She was going to cry. She sniffed.

  “Hey, hey, don’t cry.” He squeezed her.

  “I never used to. Then I meet you and it’s Niagara Falls, 24-7.”

  “Oh, honey.” He wiped her tears with his thumbs and hugged her. “I was happy to get your horse and, well, I want to give you every reason to stay.”

  Amanda felt the words rise in her throat, and decided to let them out. If she was thinking about sleeping with the man, she deserved some answers. “Is that why you bought her for me? So I’d stay?”

  “No,” he said quickly, decisively. “I bough
t her because you love her. That’s all. I know it about killed you to sell her. She’s not a bribe. You belong together. I merely returned a horse to her rightful owner.”

  She was silent for long moments, partially because her throat constricted. She believed him. Yes, the man was an actor and knew how to deliver a line, but she knew him well enough to know he was telling the truth. Lovemaking would have strings. Edelweiss had none.

  She shifted so she could see his face. There was one more thing. “Tell me about Annie. Your guilt. Everything.”

  “Okay.” He blinked, then sighed softly. “We met in college and dated for a while. We liked each other, but I didn’t want to get serious. I went to LA. Then Annie and I met again at the wedding of a mutual friend and started dating again. One thing led to another and we got married. And, if I’m honest, I married her in part because my mother couldn’t stand her. Annie got pregnant right away with Solsty. I landed Brennan and Blake and like I said before, I got caught up in my career and basically left her alone to raise Solstice. Then we had Wave. Then she had the accident.”

  “You’re leaving something out.”

  He looked out at the pool and furrowed his fingers through his hair. “It wasn’t a great marriage. We were too young. She was a good person. I loved Annie, but I wasn’t in love with her—I never felt that bone-deep, all-consuming passion they talk about. I don’t mean what I felt for Priscilla—that was lust. I know that now. I mean, what I feel—” He turned his head abruptly, coughed, and looked into the fire.

  “That’s about it. I don’t miss her like I should.”

  “Who can tell you how much you should miss someone? So you had a less-than-perfect marriage, so what? No marriage is perfect. You were faithful and you were trying to be a good husband and provider. And you have those two beautiful girls. In my book, that’s pretty incredible.”

  “You’re pretty incredible.”

  It was an easy line, and she’d practically served it on a platter to him, but she knew it wasn’t a line. He meant it. He looked at her the way he looked at his onscreen lovers, then kissed her until her bones melted. Yep, she was pretty sure both femurs instantly turned to marshmallow fluff, and her tibias were softening up nicely.

  Several blistering minutes later she watched Grady extinguish the fire and let him lead her inside. She frowned as he dumped their Snuggies in a heap on the floor. She stooped to fold them, but he pulled her away. She then insisted on washing the brandy snifters because she needed to pace herself, she needed to think, and snifter washing was an excellent speed bump.

  Or so she thought. Because as she dried the goblets, he held her from behind and kissed his way down the sides of her neck. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep drying.

  “This isn’t helping with the snifters.”

  “Then don’t have such an exquisite neck.”

  Her breath caught as the tip of his tongue traced a path from her earlobe down her neck. In her head, a white flag waved. She set the glasses on the counter, turned to him, and his lips were on hers instantaneously. He kissed her as though she was his only source of oxygen.

  “Oh, Grady,” she moaned. She was pleasantly buzzed now, succumbing to him and the brandy. She was warm and slightly dizzy, and trembled in his arms. Ooh, there went his tongue again. Was she writhing, just a little? Yes, yes, she was. No one had ever made her writhe before. Mmm, she liked this writhing business. The trembling wasn’t bad, either.

  Just then a snifter crashed into the sink and she twisted to get it.

  “Let it go,” he whispered fiercely against her mouth.

  Let it go. Okay. She’d let go. She cradled his face between her warm, damp palms and looked into his eyes. Her voice husky from all that kissing, she said, “Your room.”

  He searched her face. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not because of Edelweiss?”

  “It’s because of you.”

  He kissed her palm and looked at her with joy, gratitude, and desire. Her usually reliable knees buckled. Wordlessly, he led her up the stairs to the piano on the landing outside his door.

  She stopped. “You’re the only person I know whose bedroom has a lobby.”

  He rolled his eyes, smiled, and opened the door. “C’mere, you.”

  22

  Amanda had never been in Grady’s bedroom. Grady closed the pine double doors that sported a carving of an aspen forest. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto what was a spectacular view of the Rockies in the daytime. A fireplace graced a sitting area a short distance from a wet bar. Seeing the large bed, she remembered the girls telling her the TV rose from the foot of the bed because they had broken it by trying to ride it. The walls were painted in muted earth tones, echoed in the rugs and bedclothes. A vast bathroom and room-sized closet were both along the same wall of the welcoming, peaceful space.

  He stood at the wet bar. “Water? Tea? Champagne?”

  “You have champagne?”

  “My bedroom is a happy place. Champagne’s a happy drink. Want some?”

  “Thanks, I’ve had quite enough.”

  “You riders are lightweights. I bet the horses drink. You know the old joke.”

  She furrowed her brow and shook her head slightly.

  “Horse walks into a bar. Bartender says, ‘Why the long face?’ ”

  Amanda groaned, closed her eyes, and smiled in spite of herself.

  “You have the most glorious smile, do you know that?” He moved to her and kissed her lips tenderly, his hands finding hers at her sides and linking fingers. “I want to make you smile often.” Another light kiss. And another. He took her lower lip between his teeth ever so gently. She tried to kiss him back, but he teased her and kissed her cheeks. He kissed her eyelids. Her forehead. Her eyebrows. He kissed her earlobes, then sucked them into his mouth. And he kissed the tip of her nose, which made him smile. She smiled too, and their foreheads touched. They stayed this way for a long time, connected. She could feel him, hear him breathe. She felt she’d be able to read his thoughts soon if they stayed like this. What was it about him?

  She broke the trance by kissing his mouth hard, pouring all she had into it. She began to unbutton his shirt. She fumbled with the lower buttons and he grabbed his shirttails and wrenched. Buttons clattered across the wood floor. She smoothed his shirt off of his shoulders and onto the floor.

  His body was absurd, all hard angles and flat plains. He smelled of soap and sage, carried like incense by the heat that rose from him. She cruised her hands over his lean torso and he moaned as she raked her fingers down his back. Touching him was like a drug, and she swept her hands over him as though afraid he’d disappear if she stopped.

  Grady was consumed by her. Her hands on his body were like birds flying in hot streaks, and wherever her fingers went, he felt sparks. He roamed his hands over her firm back, and now cupped the sublime curve of her jeans-clad ass. He grabbed her bottom and lifted her off her feet, and she squealed.

  “You’re very light.” He returned her to earth.

  “You just like my ass,” she said drily.

  “Well, yeah.”

  After unbuttoning her blouse, kissing as he went, he slid it off and hung it on the bedpost. He took a step back and let his eyes journey over her. Her upper body was stunning, toned from a summer of barn work, her skin taut and smooth. He slid his hand across her flat belly and feminine six-pack.

  “Wow. That’s some body you’ve got there.”

  “Says the man who’s boinked countless supermodels.”

  “I object to the term ‘boink.’ And you’d give any supermodel a run for her money. Besides, you got this body from doing something you love. That makes it better. Real. And,” he said, drawing out the word as he took in her breasts and hips, “you have curves. And muscle. Much, much better than those skeletons. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She paused, looking at him, one side of her mouth curving up. “I just thought of something. I have my very
own action hero.”

  He flashed his best bad-boy smile. “Completely at your service.” He took her mouth with his. Without breaking the kiss, he led her to the fireplace and lowered her to the thick white faux fur rug in front of it. He switched on the fire. Somewhere along the way, she lost her bra.

  Grady stopped breathing for full seconds when he saw her breasts, illuminated by firelight. He knelt, then slid his palms over them, cupped them, felt their fullness and warmth. He touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple, and she shuddered. Closing his mouth around one peak, then the other, he feasted like a starving man, eliciting shudders, moans, and shivers from her.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this turned on. He’d been ignoring his growing erection, but now it was painful within his jeans. He stood up and started to unfasten his belt.

  Amanda stood, too. “Let me.” She reached for the buckle.

  “No, I’m too close.” His jeans dropped with a thud as the buckle hit the rug.

  “I take it you’re having fun,” she said in that husky voice he liked. He kicked his jeans aside and eased her back down.

  “Shh.” He lowered his mouth to an erect, pink tip. He suckled, and Amanda arched toward him, her breath ragged. He switched to the other nipple while he pinched the other with his fingers, and she made a sound in her throat that made him feel like he’d just acquired several million new nerve endings in his groin, all of them firing.

  He kissed her mouth while he slid his hand down her strong midline and unzipped her jeans. He removed them, then took in her hips and legs, gilded by the fire. Gorgeous. Everything about her was long and lean and tempting. He wanted to bite and lick and devour until she begged for mercy.