Just One More Chance: Baytown Boys Series

by Maryann Jordan

  “Just making sure everything is going well,” he lied. Standing there pondering what lingerie contraption was worn underneath Jillian’s dress since her nipples were not showing from the front, he barely heard Ginny as she spoke again, rolling her eyes.

  “Uh huh,” Ginny laughed, walking away with her plate filled. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Aiden and Brogan walked up, sampling the hors d’oeuvres as well. Brogan watched Ginny walk away, his eyes glued to the beautiful officer, her hair down for the first time he could remember.

  “Who’s the guy with Jillian?” Aiden asked.

  “He’s fuckin’ not with Jillian!” Grant growled, moving his head back so he could keep Oliver in his sights. “He’s an artist who happens to have some work here, that’s all.”

  Aiden and Brogan shared a grin. “Hmm, sure looks like he’s with her,” Aiden continued, egging his friend on.

  “Fuck you, man,” Grant said, huffing as he stuffed another bite-sized egg roll in his mouth.

  “Wait, I think he just put his hand on her waist,” Aiden commented, unable to contain his laughter when Grant almost toppled over in his attempt to see through the crowd.

  “Cut it out,” Brogan said, although his own laughter almost drowned out his words. “Grant, my boy, now that you’ve got your head outta your ass and finally made it official with Jillian, you’re getting a taste of what she’s had to put up with.”

  Hanging his head for a moment, he nodded. “I know…and that doesn’t make it any easier.” Looking over, he watched Jillian step away from Oliver, putting a small display case between them. Her gaze shifted around until it landed on Grant’s, her smile blinding as it beamed toward him. “She’s good,” he said, knowing he trusted her explicitly, “but I wish I could say the same about ol’ Oliver there.”

  Across the room, Jillian smiled at an art dealer from New York as he looked at Oliver’s pottery. “I have to say, it’s such an honor to have you here,” she said, trying to hide her giddiness.

  “I was visiting a friend in Norfolk who was coming tonight and thought I might be interested. I love the colors in Mr. Dobson’s work.”

  “They are beautiful, aren’t they?”

  “Do you sell directly, Mr. Dobson?” the man asked Oliver, who was standing next to Jillian.

  “I do, but I ship through Ms. Evans’ galleria here. I find it is easier for me not to have to deal with that aspect. She also handles the payments.”

  Smiling up at Oliver, she continued to let the two men discuss his work as she made her way over to Lance’s display.

  “Is the artist not here?” asked a rather large woman squeezed into a tight fitting cocktail dress. Her plate was balanced precariously in one hand while the other was fingering one of his perfectly balanced mobiles.

  “No, unfortunately he was unable to be here tonight,” Jillian explained smoothly. “Are you interested in his work?” Her eyes grew wide in horror as she watched the plate of food tip toward the work he had on the display stand. At the last second, the woman righted her plate, but not before Jillian’s heart nearly pounded out of her chest in fear of the sticky hors d’oeuvres landing on Lance’s delicate work.

  The woman’s husband came over, looking reproachfully at his wife, while engaging Jillian in a discussion of the art. A writer for a southern artisan magazine, he wanted to arrange a time to talk to Lance about his work as well as do an article about Jillian and the Galleria. His wife’s almost-disaster forgotten, she excitedly discussed dates and times for him to visit again.

  Several minutes later, she felt Oliver’s presence near her side, closer than she was comfortable with. She had not said anything to him about seeing someone but, then, neither had Oliver made any attempts to ask her out again. Now she was regretting not having Grant nearby as Oliver sought her attention. Offering him a quick smile, she moved through the crowd, stopping to greet visitors and checking in with her assistant keeping track of sales.

  “Didn’t think you’d be able to pull this off.”

  Turning, Jillian stared into the face of Silas Mills, the town manager. Forcing her lips to smile, she said, “Well, I’m pleased to surprise you.”

  He scanned the area, assessing the crowd. Nodding toward Jason, standing with Zac and Callan on the other side of the room, he said, “Who knew the town mechanic would even own a suit.”

  Jillian’s eyes bugged out as she whirled around, “You need to keep your opinions—”

  Interrupting, he continued, “You have another one of these, we need to see about doing it at a time when other businesses can be open as well.”

  “This is for the artists, not me,” she bit out between pinched lips, inwardly groaning as the mayor approached.

  “Got a nice little thing going here,” Corwin Banks said as he and his wife stepped into her path. Corwin, the longtime mayor, loved anything that brought class to Baytown, as long as it did not bring in what he referred to as the wrong crowd. “I didn’t want a lot of artsy-fartsy hippies around, but this is real, real nice.” He and Silas moved away, heading toward the food table to replenish their plates when Phyllis Banks, the mayor’s long-suffering wife, offered Jillian an apologetic smile.

  “I’m afraid my husband wouldn’t know art if it jumped up and bit him on the ass,” Phyllis said, stone sober, arching her brow. “But I would like to thank you for this soirée.”

  Jillian tried to stifle her grin at Phyllis’ comment about Corwin and was grateful when the woman turned away before Jillian’s giggle burst forth. Suddenly, she felt someone’s arm slide around her waist and she startled.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” the familiar voice sounded in her ear. Immediately relaxing against Grant’s strong body, she turned her face up to his.

  “Hey, yourself,” she greeted.

  His gaze left hers for only a few seconds to survey the crowd before settling back on her face. “How’s it going? Everyone seems to be having a good time and it looks like your assistant is keeping busy.”

  “Yes! It’s great,” she enthused, her face glowing as she leaned more into him, lifting one foot and wiggling it slightly.

  He looked down, tightening his grip on her waist and asked, “You okay? What’s wrong?”

  “I bought a new pair of shoes for this and haven’t broken them in and my feet are killing me,” she whispered.

  “Well, as soon as it’s all over, I’ll take you home and give you a foot massage.”

  She whispered, “Is that all you’ll give me?” Grinning up into his leering face, she laughed out loud.

  “Are you all right, Jillian?” Oliver asked, moving to stand in front of her and Grant. “Do you need a chair?”

  Grant stiffened at the insinuation that he was not taking care of her needs, and replied, “Don’t worry. I’m taking care of my girlfriend.”

  Now it was Oliver’s turn to startle as his gaze jumped between Jillian and Grant. “I…I see. Well good. Uh…I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” He turned and walked toward his display cases where several people were gathered around admiring his work.

  Jillian glared at Grant. “You didn’t have to say it that way, you know.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Keeping her voice low, she said, “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You couldn’t have been more plain if you lifted your leg and pissed on me!” She started to pull away, but found his vice grip on her waist kept her in place.

  “Babe, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice caressing her ear.

  Studying his face, she pursed her lips for a moment before accusing, “No, you’re not!”

  Sliding his hand up her back to cup the back of her head before pulling her forward, kissing her forehead, he admitted, “Okay, not really. I’m sorry I upset you, but not sorry that everyone knows we’re together now.”

  “Oliver wasn’t being a problem,” she protested.

  “And now I know he won’t be.”

  Huffing, she pulled away o
nly to be brought back for a quick kiss on her lips. Offering her a wink, he let her go so she could continue to work the room while he made his way over to Mitch and Tori.

  An hour later, Jillian had just finished discussing Lance’s sea glass work to another prospective dealer when she felt a presence at her back. Turning, she saw Oliver standing awkwardly, his eyes shooting between her and the other side of he room.

  “Hi, Oliver. Are you all right? I’ve had a lot of interest in your work,” she commented, wondering if he were concerned.

  “No, I’m fine,” he said. “I just…uh…well, I wanted to thank you for all your help. And,” he shifted his gaze around again, “I also…I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. I hope I didn’t make things awkward.”

  Smiling, she laid her hand on his arm. “Not at all. To be honest, Grant and I are newly…well, not exactly new.” Scrunching her nose, she shook her head and laughed. “I guess I’m not exactly sure how to describe us!” Seeing his look of confusion, she quickly added, “I’ve known him all my life and we had been very close at one time. But it’s just been very recently that we’ve started dating.” She hoped her explanation made sense, but even to her ears she sounded flighty.

  Before she could say anything else, he smiled and patted her hand. “It’s okay. I get it.” Glancing around again, he added, “But I have to say, he’s a very lucky man.”

  She stared at the handsome man in front of her, knowing he did not make her heart stutter the way Grant did, but glad for his friendship, nonetheless. “Thank you, Oliver. And I’m glad we’re in business together…and friends.”

  He flashed her a wide smile and nodded, before saying, “I think I’ll mingle. Who knows? One of your beautiful friends might take pity on this poor, starving artist.”

  Throwing her head back in laughter, she watched him move across the room toward several ladies near his pottery, just as she saw Grant moving back toward her.

  “Hey, babe,” Grant’s voice caressed her, while keeping his gaze on the retreating back of Oliver. “You need anything?”

  “I think it’s about to wind down,” she said. “This has been really good, honey. I hope I can do more…but not too soon. I’m exhausted and we still have to clean up afterwards!”

  “I’ll help,” he promised, his hand sliding along her back, his fingers itching to dip beneath the fabric to her bare skin. Forcing them to settle at her waist instead, he knew this was not the time or place, but his cock jumped at the thought of peeling the dress off her later.

  It was in the wee hours of the morning by the time Grant and Jillian made it home. After all the guests had left, Jillian closed her books and, with the help of Jason, Zac, and Katelyn, quickly cleaned most of the shop. She had chattered excitedly about the evening’s success and Grant’s chest swelled with pride over her accomplishments.

  Her coffee house staff would be in later to take care of the rest of the cleanup, so she finally locked the door and almost fell into Grant’s jeep. Opening her door, she squealed as he swept her into his arms.

  “Let’s get you off those tired feet,” he said, carrying her easily into her house. Refusing to set her down once inside, he bent to close and lock the front door before carrying her immediately up the stairs.

  Sitting her on the side of her bed, he knelt in front of her. Sliding his hands down her silky legs, he slipped her strappy heels off, kneading and massaging each foot.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned as he worked the kinks out. The excitement of the evening had worn off, replaced with exhaustion.

  “Not God, just me here,” he joked, “but you can call me anything you want.”

  Laughing, she flopped back on the bed, her tired body beginning to come alive under his magical hands. As he finished with each foot, she raised up on her elbows. “You got anything else you want to massage?”

  Lifting his eyebrow, he cocked his head to the side. “Sweetheart, you have got to be completely worn out.”

  “I am, but I’m never too exhausted for you.”

  His body, already primed and ready to roll, fought the urge to pounce on her as she lay, an open invitation on her lips. Her blonde hair, now out of its intricate style, flowed across the comforter. Her sexy dress that had held his attention all evening was now up around her hips, showing off a delectable pair of black, lacy panties. But then he noticed the droop of her eyes. “How about a nice hot shower instead?”

  She thought for a second then grinned a slow, sly smile. “Sure, but as tired as I am, I think you’ll need to wash me off.”

  Chuckling, he shook his head as he stood. “Girl, you don’t have to convince me to get you wet, naked, and in my arms!”

  He scooped her up again and walked into the master bathroom. Jillian’s house was not large, but it had been remodeled by the previous owners and one of their projects had been enlarging the master bath by incorporating an extra walk-in closet from the hallway. Now, the room sported not only a soaker tub, but a large, separate shower as well. Grant flipped the water on before setting her feet onto the plush floor mat.

  Stilling her hands, which had begun to slide the side zipper of her dress down, he shook his head as his eyes flared with lust. “Oh, no, babe. I’ve been itching to peel this dress off of you for the past six hours. Do not take that pleasure away from me.”

  Grinning, she held her hands out of the way, allowing him to slowly unzip the dress from underneath her arm, down along her hip. As the material parted, he viewed her black, lacy, strapless bra peeking from the side. With his hands on her shoulders, he slid the silky dress down her arms, over her waist and hips until it pooled at her feet. His gaze dropped, seeing her clad in only the silky undergarments, his breath catching in his throat. For an instant, he thought of the years wasted chasing other women in an effort to erase this woman from his mind, but he had never succeeded. Thank God! Remorse slammed into him, having felt her acceptance and forgiveness, not altogether sure he deserved it.

  Her hand lifted to caress his cheek and he startled at the touch.

  “Hey,” she said softly, stepping closer to him.

  Sucking in a cleansing breath, he replied, “Hey, yourself.”

  “Are you okay? You seemed to drift away for a moment.”

  He closed the distance between them, his finger trailing along her arm up to her neck, where he pulled her in for a kiss. Soft and sweet. “I’m fine,” he replied. “In fact, with you…I’m perfect.”

  Stripping quickly, he followed her into the shower, smoothing the shower gel suds over her curves as he massaged the evening’s stress from her muscles. Then christening the shower, they worshipped each other’s bodies, their cries of passion filling the room. An hour later, curled together in bed, Jillian fell into an exhausted, albeit sated sleep, as Grant tucked her slumbering body tightly into his.

  Chapter 15

  “Hey guys, you ready to work?” Jillian called out.

  Bobby and Junior bounded up the stairs, carefully placing their backpacks over to the side of the room. Their eyes landed on her and both grinned.

  “What are you two smiling about?” she asked, her hands on her hips as she stared at her young helpers.

  “We were trying to figure out what you’d be wearing today,” Bobby blurted before Junior nudged him.

  Looking down at her bright pink yoga pants and purple t-shirt, she said, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “Nothing,” Junior rushed to say, blushing.

  “We like your pretty colors,” Bobby announced, a wide smile on his face.

  “Whatcha need us to do?” Junior asked hurriedly as Bobby walked over to the new artwork stacked against the wall.

  “Eager for your first payday?” she laughed.

  Nodding, he made his way directly to where Jillian was kneeling by some boxes. Bobby, as always, checked out the new paintings first, carefully studying the artwork. Jillian smiled indulgently at both boys before explaining what they needed to do.

  “Mr. Dobson
has brought in some boxes that need to be shipped out and some that have pieces to be placed in his display cabinet to replace the ones sold.”

  A week had passed since the successful Galleria event and Jillian had been pleased to have the artists send in more work. Junior looked down at the five cardboard boxes on the floor and asked, “Which is which?”

  “Good question,” Jillian answered. “The ones with a mailing label already addressed on them are to be shipped out. You will need to place one of my Jillian’s Galleria return labels here,” she said, showing him where to affix the sticky label in the corner. “And then these that have no mailing label on them are for us to open and display.”

  Turning to look behind her, she smiled at Bobby, who was still staring at the pictures. “Come on, Bobby. Work first and then you can look at the new things that have come in.”

  Within a few minutes, the boys had the mailing labels on the correct boxes and were busy carefully unpacking the pieces of pottery for her to place.

  Later, as they sat doing their homework in the downstairs shop, Grant walked in, calling out his greeting. “Boys, you about ready to go?” Gaining their nods, he said, “Give me a minute and I’ll be ready.”

  “Gonna go kiss your girl?” Junior asked, grinning at Bobby.

  Turning around, Grant pretended to throw a stern look with his hand on his hips. “Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

  “Naw,” the two boys said in unison.

  “Just don’t take too long,” Junior added. “We’ve got a bedtime, you know.”

  “Everybody’s a wise guy,” Grant joked, taking the stairs two at a time. Turning the corner, he saw Jillian bent over a box, her tight pants stretched across her delicious ass, and he groaned as his dick twitched against his zipper. “Geez, babe, you’re killing me.”