by Kit Tunstall
She shook her head, feeling not even a twinge of regret that she had broken up with her longtime boyfriend just weeks ago. Before this minute, she had wished they had managed to make it past the wedding, so she’d have a plus-one for the event, not because she missed anything about her boring, stuffy ex-boyfriend. Now, she was relieved not to have a plus-one, though common sense dictated Kingston was only being polite, or perhaps indulging in a bit of lighthearted flirtation that would probably go nowhere.
Grace was pretty, and she knew it. With thick brown hair that curled riotously around her head without careful maintenance, honey-bronzed skin that was her natural complexion without foundation, and brown eyes, she got her fair share of second (and third) looks.
She was also curvy. Excessively curvy, by many standards. It didn’t bother her that her clothes came from the plus-size department, because she loved her hourglass figure. A lot of guys appreciated it too, but in her experience, not the type like Kingston Meade.
He was a powerful businessman, the CEO of his company, and far more likely to date the typical standard of beauty, like a supermodel or an actress. She would have been a superstar during the Renaissance, but she was very much outside the conventional norms of beauty for today.
Of course, she might be wrong, she conceded, as she glanced at him from the side of her eye and caught his gaze resting blatantly on the swell of her curvy breasts, pressing against the cashmere fabric. The dress had been an expensive indulgence, one that had taken a good part of her monthly salary as a records clerk at Calgary Registry Services, but she couldn’t regret having splurged on it with the way his eyes couldn’t seem to tear away from her curves. It was the exact reaction she had been looking for when she had tried on the dress and plunked down her credit card with a small gulp.
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend to worry about monopolizing my time. I assume your wife or girlfriend must be feeling somewhat resentful your responsibilities to the wedding, coupled with your merger?”
He took a moment to finish chewing the bite of Caesar salad, clearly relishing the anchovy melting in his mouth. “I don’t have a wife or girlfriend.”
“Boyfriend, perhaps?” she asked, carefully probing for information.
He shook his head. “Not one of those either, and I’m not in the market. To be honest, finding a mate was last thing on my mind…until recently.”
Mate seemed like an odd word, but she supposed it fit. It always made her think of animals, like wolves or bears, mating for life. In some ways, it was a deeper-sounding commitment than marriage, which could end on a whim. Deciding she rather liked the term, she asked, “What changed your mind?”
“Love is in the air,” he said with a hint of sarcasm alleviated by his playful wink. His gaze darted to Rafe and Breanna, who were busy feeding each other bites off their plates, though they had the same meals, and seemed oblivious to the people around them.
“No kidding. They’re almost sickening, aren’t they?” She didn’t really mean that, of course. In fact, Grace was envious of their happiness. She certainly didn’t begrudge Breanna having found someone she wanted to marry and spend her life with, but it underscored Grace’s own loneliness.
Peter had been a fine substitute for a real relationship, and at times, he had been preferable to being alone, but she’d always known she wouldn’t end up with him. There wasn’t enough of a spark between them, and he was also kind of an asshole.
He had hidden that in the beginning, but it became more obvious as time progressed. She was happier alone now than she had been with him, but that didn’t mean she wanted to embrace a life of solitude, and certainly not celibacy. “It must be nice,” she said with a soft sigh.
“And kind of scary, to want someone so much, to need that person to the extent that your own happiness is all twined up with theirs. If something happens to them, you know you’ll be miserable for the rest of your life. Sounds kind of frightening to want someone that much.”
She arched a brow. “When you put it like that, I guess there is a strong component of fear, but that doesn’t make me want it any less.”
“Me either,” he said, his voice rich with a hint of envy of his own.
The conversation changed to more lighthearted topics, and they became better acquainted as the meal progressed. By the time strawberry shortcake dishes, left in various states of completion, were whisked from the table, she was pleasantly relaxed, both from the food and his company.
There was a strong hint of awareness as well, so she couldn’t completely relax. It was as though they were attuned to each other, and her body buzzed just being near him. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have him actually touch her, but she wanted to know badly.
A few moments later, the band started playing a waltz, and he held out his hand. “Shall we?”
“Don’t be silly,” said a sharp voice from behind them. “It’s kind of you to invite her to dance, Kingston, but I imagine a big girl like her would feel awkward on the dance floor.”
Grace flinched at the words, uttered from such a bitchy mouth. Turning her head, she identified the source as a tall, slinky woman, who probably wore a negative dress size. There was something feline about her, perhaps in the way she moved, or maybe it was the way she purred Kingston’s name. She seemed like a cat about to pounce on a disabled mouse.
Grace had never even spoken to the woman, and she had no idea who she was, but she wasn’t a mouse. Whatever the reason for the woman’s rude comment, she wasn’t going to let it stand. Without speaking to the other woman, she turned her attention back to Kingston and extended her hand. “I’d love to.” She couldn’t deny a surge of satisfaction at the other woman’s disgruntled expression when they walked past her, still hand-in-hand, and moved to the dance floor.
Held securely in his arms, closer than propriety dictated, she wasn’t going to complain.
“I apologize for Ashley. She can be quite caustic at times. She’s an old family friend, so I’m kind of stuck with her.”
She followed his lead easily, thankful her mother had insisted on four years of ballroom dancing when Grace would have preferred jazz and tap. She was confident in her moves, easily matching his rhythm, as her body curled into his. Her soft curves nestled against the firm planes of his body, and her nipples hardened further. New wetness flooded her sodden panties as they pressed together, moving through the waltz with ease. “That’s okay. Unless you raised her, I doubt you’re to blame for her lack of manners.”
He shuddered. “That would be a thankless task. I sort of pity her parents, but they overindulged her. She was an only child.”
“So is Breanna, but her parents certainly didn’t overindulge her.”
Kingston nodded, his expression bordering on sad. “She told me a little bit about growing up in the Dawson household. Sounds like it was rough.”
“Yes, it does.” When she had first met Breanna, she had envied the other woman’s wealth and seeming ease of acquiring anything she needed in life.
It hadn’t taken long to get better acquainted with her shy roommate and realize that while her parents had everything money could buy, they were stingy with doling it out to their daughter unless she lived up to their unreasonable expectations. They were even more miserly with love and affection. Once or twice, Grace had tried to gently suggest that Breanna not worry so much about what her parents thought, but it had seemed to upset her roommate, so she’d avoided the subject.
Things had certainly changed since meeting Rafe. There had been a couple of years when the women hadn’t had contact, so maybe something had changed before then, but whatever it was, her best friend was now a confident woman, held firmly in her soon-to-be husband’s embrace.
Kingston was holding her just as firmly, she realized, and each deep breath she took pressed her breasts against his chest and further sensitized her nipples. She had the mad urge to tear open his dress shirt, rip off his tie, and press her sweater-covered breasts against his
bare chest. Thankfully, it was a passing fancy, and she had it under control before she could even so much as reach for the first button on his pearl-gray shirt.
When the music ended, she started to step back, but his arms tightened again, pulling her even closer. It was an unsubtle hint that he wasn’t done with her, but that was fine, because she wasn’t done with him either.
It had been a long time, if ever, that she had spent the night dancing in her lover’s arms. Kingston wasn’t her lover, but she didn’t think she was completely crazy to entertain the idea that he would be at some point. Her best friend’s wedding was the perfect opportunity to indulge in a harmless fling, though Grace wasn’t really the fling type.
She’d never been able to sleep with someone she had just met, even if there was an intense attraction. Admittedly, she’d never been so attracted to someone so instantly before in her life. It went completely against her nature, but she couldn’t guarantee she would turn him down if he bent her over the dessert table right now and feasted on her feminine essence. The thought made her whimper lightly, and her thigh muscles tightened involuntarily in reaction to the dart of arousal shooting through her core.
Kingston growled softly, an honest-to-goodness growl that was more animalistic than human. It was a sexy sound, albeit strange. She looked up at him, noticing again how tall he was compared to her. She was already on the short side, but he seemed like he had to be extremely tall, at least six-four.
“Are you all right?” It was an inane question, and it wasn’t what she really wanted to ask. Somehow, she bit back the urge to ask him if he wanted to slip away to the coat closet. Since it was April, there would probably still be some coats in there to hide their activities. Reminding herself she wasn’t the exhibitionist type, any more than she was the type to hop into bed with a stranger, she bit back the urge.
“No,” he said in a half-growl. That intense look was back again, the one that made her feel hunted, but not fearful of being caught. The idea of him chasing her down and taking her sent a thrill of dark pleasure through her rather than one of fear. “Is there something I can do to help?”
His body thrummed with energy, and he seemed to be on the verge of saying something deliciously wicked, but a cool splash down her back and side made her gasp and distracted her. Grace pulled away from him to find the source of discomfort, shocked to see red wine bleeding through the soft cashmere cream dress.
Stricken, she looked up to meet the cold eyes of Ashley, holding an empty wine glass. Her smirk of satisfaction fooled no one when she said, “Oh dear, how clumsy of me. Well, you must run along and clean up.” Without glancing at Grace again, she turned to Kingston, neatly sliding her body into the space between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her slender body to his. “It looks like you need a dance partner.”
Grace had to resist the urge to grab a handful of the strange white hair of the woman who had just doused her very expensive dress with a very expensive Burgundy wine. From a distance, she had thought Ashley was another platinum-blonde, but up close, she could see her hair was actually white. It was strangely beautiful, and the woman herself was beautiful everywhere except her attitude.
With a small sigh of surrender, knowing she needed to get the dress off and tend to the stains as quickly as possible if she had any hope of saving the expensive garment, she turned away from them and rushed from the ballroom of the hotel hosting the reception dinner. The nearest ladies’ room was right across the hall, and she ducked inside.
It wasn’t ideal, but she would have to dab at the dress she wore before running up to her room. She would send it immediately down to be laundered, but she wasn’t hopeful that the hotel could save it either. She had just gotten a handful of wet paper towels when the door opened, and her best friend slipped inside.
Breanna wore an expression of concern, and she crossed the bathroom quickly on high heels that tapped with every move. Her straight posture and confident pose was a stark contrast to the shy and timid woman she’d been before Rafe. “What happened?”
Grace shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I mean, I know what happened, but I don’t know why.” She quickly recounted for Breanna the story of how her dress became stained, along with the catty remark Ashley had made to her earlier before she started dancing with Kingston.
“She’s jealous,” said Breanna firmly. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in her voice.
Grace laughed softly as she dabbed at the wine spots. Little specks of paper towel stuck to the white fabric, and she knew she was fighting a losing battle. “What? Why would she be jealous of me? Have you seen her? I mean she’s a little strange-looking, with her pale skin and that white hair, but she’s beautiful.”
“She’s leucistic. Kind of like a form of albinism,” said Breanna.
Grace nodded. “I didn’t know the term, but I thought it might be something like that. I wasn’t sure though, since she doesn’t have pink eyes like most albino animals.”
“They should be bright green instead of that pale blue, because the girl is green with envy. It’s no secret she wants Kingston, and she’s always bugging him. There’s the answer for you. She was jealous of the time he’s spending with you. Clearly, she realizes he wants you, and she wants to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Grace wanted to believe her friend, but she was assailed by an unexpected dart of self-doubt. It was the same one that had come to her earlier, reminding her men like him dated supermodels, not super-curvy girls. “I still don’t think she has anything to worry about.”
Breanna cocked her head slightly, sending caramel-brown waves fluttering down her shoulder. “Really? You’re really going to stand there and pretend like we didn’t need to have the fire department on standby with you two heating up the floor like that?”
Her cheeks flamed. “You’re one to talk. You and Rafe were practically humping on the floor.”
Breanna laughed, clearly not going to deny it. “The difference is, we’re already mated—I mean engaged, and about to be married, so there’s no reason to deny our attraction. The question is, my dear, why are you denying his for you and yours for him?”
“I’m not denying I’m attracted to him, but I just find it hard to believe I might be his type. I am a sexy piece, but I have a feeling guys like him go for girls like Ashley, not me.”
Breanna snorted. “If that were the case, he could’ve gone for her night after night. The chick is not subtle. Don’t worry about her, because he’s clearly not interested in Ashley Toth. He’s interested in Grace DiPlaski.” With a firm nod, she glanced at the doorway. “I have to get back to the party. Are you all right?”
Grace nodded. “I will be. I’m going to slip up to my room and try to send this down to the laundry to see if they can salvage it.” Thinking of the amount on her credit card, waiting to be paid off, she could have cried at the waste. Either that, or plucked every white hair out of Ashley’s head.
“If you won’t feel offended though, I’ll probably just stay in for the rest of the night. I don’t have another fancy outfit with me, aside from my dress for the wedding and what I’m wearing to the bachelorette party tomorrow night, and I’m just kind of drained after the whole Ashley Toth experience.”
Breanna gave her a quick hug, careful to avoid the side splashed with red wine so as not to stain her own pale gold dress. “Of course, Grace. Just unwind and forget all about Ashley, but don’t discount Kingston. I don’t know him as well as I know Rafe, of course, but I think I know him well enough to tell when he’s attracted to someone. He wants you.”
“Well, let’s see if he takes me.” She winked at her friend as Breanna departed before spending another five futile minutes trying to wipe away the stains. With a sigh, she conceded defeat and tossed the paper towels into the trash can. After washing her hands and drying them with another round of paper towels, she walked to the door. When she opened it, her heart leapt in her chest, and she pressed a hand to it as though to h
old it in. “You startled me.”
Kingston leaned against the doorway, a white robe held out to her. “Sorry. I was just waiting for you to come out. I had the hotel concierge secure this for you. I thought you might want to put it on and get out of that wet dress.” His eyes moved to her breasts, where the splotch of wine had spread across her left side, making her bra and beaded nipple visible on that side.
“Thank you.” She reached for the robe and started to slide it on over the dress, moved by his thoughtfulness almost as much as the lust she saw shining in his eyes. Breanna was right. He wanted her, and she wanted him.
It was an untenable position, simply because she wasn’t certain about indulging in a temporary relationship. What else could it be, with him living in Seattle and her in Calgary? She’d be the first to admit her job as a records clerk wasn’t exactly career material, and she wouldn’t be opposed to relocating to Seattle for the right man, but she still didn’t think the relationship would go anywhere besides the bedroom.
“Take off the dress first.” That growl was back in his voice, and his eyes had darkened again.
She shivered under the gaze, surprised to find her hands moving to the hem of her dress. She wasn’t really going to take off the garment standing in the open doorway of the ladies’ bathroom, was she? She hesitated with her fingers at the hemline, staring at him uncertainly.
“Please, take it off. I want to see you.”
Forgetting all about anyone who might come by, and already knowing she had the ladies’ room to herself, at least for the moment, Grace obeyed his commands. She wasn’t really the submissive type, but he was just so commanding, and that intense edge surrounding him made her want to do whatever he said. She pulled off the soggy dress and extended it to him to trade for the robe he had taken back. He held it carefully as he handed her the robe, his gaze not wavering from her body as she slipped on the terrycloth. She hadn’t tied the tie yet when he spoke again.
“Take off your bra.”