His dad shot him a disgruntled look. “I’m not one of your clients.”
“No, but if you want to talk man to man, I’m way too old to tattle tale on you.”
Jim gave him the eye. “Women and sex. When the chemistry is right between two people, the sex can be amazing.”
Stone thought of Stephanie and the chemistry that flared between them, then thought of all the women before her where it hadn’t been just so, and gave a shrug. Which would explain why he’d been unable to get her out of his mind.
Yeah, that was it.
Chemistry. Spectacular sex. It had nothing to do with feelings.
He refocused on his dad. “Is there someone else?”
For a split second, Jim looked startled. “No, no, of course not.”
“Then stop beating around the bush. What’s going on?”
His dad hesitated, then sighed and spilled. “What happens when the chemistry isn’t right, but the sex is so hot, you can’t stay away?” He gave a groan and turned away. “It’s this fucking retirement gig. It’s making me nutty.”
Before he could say another word, the bathroom door swung open and Stephanie stopped in the opening to turn off the light. For a moment, Stone just took in the essence of her—clean scrubbed face, shoulder length hair pulled into a ponytail, sleek sexy body. She reminded him of a girl fresh out of college, even though he knew she was closer to his age.
That first night together, after Morty and Elvira’s wedding, she’d known the score. No attachment. Just a good time to be had by both parties.
But now they had the baby to consider and it changed things for them both.
He pushed away from the counter and headed toward her, meeting her halfway. When they both stopped, the distance of one foot separating them, the other man’s presence a damp cloud in the room, it felt like a chasm to Stone. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better.” She leaned in closer, and he could smell lavender soap on her skin and the hint of toothpaste. Her gaze darted past his shoulder to his dad. “Hello, Mr. Kincaid.”
His dad moved forward. “Sounds like you have a nasty flu.”
“I do.” Her gaze flitted to the front door. “I should leave.”
“Don’t leave on my account,” Jim inserted. He backed toward the door. “We can finish our discussion another time, son.”
“Goodnight, Dad,” Stone said taking his gaze from the woman in front of him. As soon as the door clicked shut, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her against him. “Sorry about that. You get me so insane with lust, I can’t even remember to lock the door.”
She gave him a wry grin and waggled her eyebrows at him. “So should we hurry up and get back to it?”
Except she looked so cute trying to squelch a yawn, the words popped out before he could stop himself. “I like to be with you for more than the sex, Steph.”
She eyed him, suspicious-like. “When did this happen?”
With a self-conscious grin, he shrugged and finally admitted the truth. “I believe it happened the first day you had your head over the toilet.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet that was attractive.” She stared at him, silent and considering. Then she walked her fingers up his shirt. “You’re pretty smooth, I’ll give you that. So do you think flattery will get that engagement ring back on my finger?”
Another knock sounded on the door. He stared down at her, determined to ignore whoever was out there, because this woman—these feelings—were more important than anything else in his world. “I’m serious, sweetheart. You, me, and our baby. Doesn’t that tempt you to explore the possibilities?”
The knock sounded again, and as a tired smile blossomed across her mouth, she shifted back. “I’m toddling off to bed before my mom does a bed check and not finding me there, starts poking and prying into everyone’s affairs. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
She skirted around him and pulled open the door. Roger stood there, his hand raised to knock again.
The other man stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not. I was about to leave anyway.” She sent Stone a glance over her shoulder and one of her heart-stopping grins. “Be gentle with him. He’s had a full day already.”
With a wave, she moved past the musician and disappeared down the path toward her cottage.
Roger whistled low. “That’s one hot babe.”
“Cool it, kid, you’re already taken.”
The musician grinned and stepped inside. “Sorry if I interrupted something.”
Stone regarded his future brother-in-law. “What are you doing here instead of being at the party?”
“Liz wasn’t feeling well, so she excused herself. I figured if she could leave, so could I.” Roger glanced around the room. “Your family has some nice digs.”
Stone headed to the fridge. “Want a beer?”
“Sure.”
As he pulled out a couple of beers, cracked them open, then passed one over to the other man, he wondered where his sister really was, and if she was alone.
Roger took a deep drink of the beer, then regarded him. “So you and the wedding planner? Is it serious between you?”
“Maybe,” Stone hedged. He regarded the other man. “How did you know Liz was the one for you?”
“Because she totally gets me. She knows when I wander off in the middle of a conversation that I’m not being rude. But when inspiration strikes, I gotta go, man. I gotta record those lyrics or they’re gone forever.”
“Roger—” He clamped his mouth shut.
“Yeah?”
He remembered his promise to Liz, that he wouldn’t tell Roger about her almost mis-step.
He raised his beer and tapped it against the bottle in Roger’s hand. “Nothing. Just wanted to congratulate you and wish you a long and happy marriage.”
“Thanks, man.” Roger chugged the last of his beer, then pushed to his feet. “Well, I should go find your sister and drag her back to the party before Grace-the-Menace notices we’re gone.”
Stone followed his future brother-in-law onto the front deck, then sat down in the quiet of the night and watched the other man cross the compound, heading for Liz’s cottage.
And despite his original aversion to this marriage, he couldn’t help but think that maybe Liz had made the right choice after all.
Now, all he had to do was convince his sister to grow up, avoid Kevin, and go through with her original plans.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jim headed back to the party. An hour later, he glanced out the ballroom windows for what seemed like the thousandth time. He was impatient to get back out to the lush greens and quiet and solitude.
He pushed aside the sleeve of his tux to check the time.
Eight o’clock.
Barely enough time to get one last game in before the sun disappeared below the horizon. Now, if he could just figure out a way to get out of here.
Gisele’s nasally voice interrupted his thoughts. “Isn’t that cute, if you’re into puppy dog eyes, that is. Liz and Roger are dancing the first dance, just like they will at their wedding.”
The woman clung to his other arm as though she were a five-thousand-dollar-an-hour call girl. He forced the tension from his body and turned his attention back to the young couple at the center of the room.
Somewhere along the years, while he’d been too caught up in himself and his career, his youngest daughter had grown into a beautiful young woman. Out of all of his children, Liz took after her mother the most.
His chest puffed out with pride. “I don’t think I’ve ever missed a single one of her newscasts.”
Gisele arched one fine eyebrow at him, a disappointed pout on her glossy lips. “How do you manage to do that? I thought you spent all of your time on the golf course.”
“Satellite. Portable device. Amazing what you can do with technology today.”
“Jim. How can you even concentrate?”
He heard th
e censure in her voice and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, wishing more than ever that he was on the course, the breeze rustling through his hair, the sunshine warming his back, a golf club in his hand, a golf ball poised on the tee. Alone and peaceful. And most important of all, no stress.
What had the doc said? Don’t get excited? Which was getting exceedingly more impossible, what with all of the people currently in his life. “Don’t you start in on me, Gisele.”
“No wonder your concentration is off,” she said, as though he hadn’t said a word. “No more TV on the course.”
Jim gritted his teeth and tried not to care. “No problem. I can tape the show and watch it later.”
“I mean it, Jim. No more thinking about your family or what’s for dinner or anything but what exists on that course. First thing tomorrow, we’re going to start work on your mental attitude…”
Jim tuned her out and turned his attention to the young couple on the dance floor.
Even though he’d had his doubts about Roger from the beginning, it was obvious that the young man was so totally over the moon for Lizzie that Jim had at first found it almost embarrassing. But one thing for sure, Roger would always take care of his bride.
Had Jim ever been that crazy about Grace? God, it was so long ago, they’d drifted so far apart, led two separate lives for so long, that he couldn’t even remember liking her.
“And now for the second dance of the evening, can I have the parents of the bride join the happy couple on the dance floor?”
“Fuck.”
Gisele crossed her arms over her chest and tapped the toe of her spiky heeled shoes on the floor. “And that mouth. We’ve definitely got to find something else to do with that mouth.”
The side of his mouth quirked up and he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Are you propositioning me, Gisele?”
She grinned back. “Will it improve your golf game if I do?”
He hadn’t had sex for…ever. And he wouldn’t risk it till he got the doctor’s okay. Still, a little teasing couldn’t hurt. Maybe it would even get her to keep her distance.
He let his gaze rake over her model thin figure. “Maybe.”
“Hmmm, in that case, I might have to up my fee.”
Jim noticed the music change. He glanced over at the dance floor. Liz and Roger were both staring at him, and his daughter was motioning him onto the floor.
As father of the bride, he’d known this was inevitable. He glanced around the room for his wife and the minute he spotted her, he knew that she was ready to explode.
“Excuse me,” he mumbled to Gisele. Then he headed across the ballroom, stopped in front of Grace, and silently held out his hand in invitation.
She was just as silent when she took his hand and moved onto the dance floor with him. As the music swelled around them, she glided into his arms, soft and warm in all the right places. The memory of their accidental meeting in the bedroom came back to him as he smoothly performed the steps of the dance and led Grace around the dance floor.
He remembered the brief glance over his shoulder, and the surprise of seeing her in only her bra and panties as she informed him that she was laying down for a nap. He’d taken that as a “get out of my room, get lost” order, but had it been an invitation? He’d been wrapped up in the unsteady beat of his heart and the constant pinch of concern that the simple act of sexual release might put him six feet under.
Although that might not be a bad way to go.
He’d been thinking with his head, but now his dick was in full control.
Through the barrier of clothes, he felt the imprint of her body against his, the unintentional—he was pretty sure it was unintentional—bumping of their body parts together. Jim felt himself swell within his pants as the memory of her half naked invitation collided with the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made love to his wife.
God, she used to turn him on with a crook of one eyebrow. She had the sort of body that he loved. Full and lush and curvy.
Over Grace's shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Gisele and knew that she was much too skinny for him to ever be attracted to. Not that he wouldn’t be flattered if she was attracted to him, but the feeling wasn’t mutual.
As the song finished and the last strains of music drifted through the ballroom, Grace jerked out of his arms. Jim let his arms drop to his sides and for a moment they just stood there, staring at one another, and he saw storm clouds gather in her beautiful blue eyes.
“Next time you get a woody for your plaything,” she gritted through her teeth. “Don’t you dare even think about touching me or I’ll pull a Bobbit.”
Bobbit?
Her words sent fear racing through his body, and his erection shriveled in a millisecond. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman he’d been living with for the last thirty-five years was capable of just about anything.
From that point on, he stayed away from his golf instructor. The first chance he got, he escaped to the golf course, where the first whack to the ball sent it rolling fifteen feet down the fairway. “Fu—”
“There is no swearing in the game of golf,” Gisele stated from behind, which made him jump and whirl around.
He gripped the club in his hand. “What the fuck difference does it make whether I fucking swear or don’t? Who’s here to notice?”
She slammed the palm of her hand against his chest and nose to nose, said, “The difference is, Jim, you stop swearing or I walk.”
He turned his back on her, dropped another ball on the ground, wound up and swung. The ball spiked through the underbrush and rolled onto the next fairway. “Fuck.”
“That’s it. You’re hopeless. You’re never going to improve your game.” She turned away, then turned back. “And you know what else? Before you ever make peace with your golf game, you’re going to have to make peace with your wife. She’s got your head so screwed up that you can’t think.”
She stomped off the course.
“Eat shit,” Jim grumbled as he wondered how he could of ever thought this drill sergeant of a golf pro was a blessing.
His stopped pretending that he was concentrating on golf and glanced toward the house.
He could see them—Grace, Leta, Sandy, and Nancy—all clustered together around the outdoor table as the buff young man Grace had hired as her new assistant swaggered onto the patio and handed them each a drink.
What the hell did Grace think she was doing? Did she think he cared whether or not she kept some young stud on the side to satisfy her sexual needs? Did she think he’d give up his dream of playing like a pro for a relationship that had been dead for longer than either of them would admit?
Jim slammed the five iron into the bag and headed for the next fairway to retrieve his ball. On his way through the bushes, he stubbed his toe on a tree root.
“Fuck,” he yelled, then sat down to nurse his wound and stare back at the house.
Where the hell had he gone wrong?
And what the hell was he going to do to make it right?
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Thursday morning, in preparation for her tests, Grace threw a pair of silk pajamas into her overnight bag along with a matching robe and slippers. The entire ensemble made her eyes bluer, her skin fresher, her whole self feel younger and more playful.
Her shoulders slumped and tears burned at the back of her eyes.
Liz wouldn’t care if she didn’t show up at the wedding. No one would.
She felt ancient, put out to pasture like some old cow who’d outlived her purpose and appeal. She’d thought her and Jim were past that stage, where she needed to dress in something sexy to make him pay attention to her. Apparently, she’d been all wrong.
What scared her the most was that she might not be able to hold his attention ever again. If the tests came back positive, if the doctors recommended a mastectomy, she feared the man she loved—yes, loved—would never look at her with desire again.
Please, dea
r God, don’t let it be cancer.
But pity wouldn’t get her anywhere except back into bed, the covers pulled up over her head, where she would willingly hide for the rest of her days if it meant she didn’t have to deal with life.
It seemed that everything in her life had fallen into a state of disarray. Her marriage, her relationship with her children, even the flowerbeds.
If she was going to die, then she had to straighten out a few things first.
She picked up the phone and dialed her youngest daughter’s cell.
“Liz? The wedding is off. I am not allowing you to marry that man. You’ll be stuck at home, barefoot and pregnant, while he traipses around the world doing God knows what with God knows who.”
“And a good morning to you too, Mother.”
“You listen to me, young lady. You’re too young and inexperienced to understand that men like Roger Gordon were put on this earth for one thing and one thing only. Sex, that’s it. I’m telling you again. Have sex with him if you want—for God’s sake, Liz, I’m doing you a favor—don’t marry him or you’ll regret it every day for the rest of your life.”
The phone clicked in her ear.
Liz had disconnected the call.
Well, fine, she’d take care of canceling everything herself.
She started punching in numbers, making one call after the other until she’d cancelled everything…the floral arrangements, the food…everything.
When she was done, she sat there slumped in the chair, exhausted and depressed, and praying that Liz would one day forgive her.
What about her relationship with Jim?
If she could only get him to pay attention to her for a few minutes. If she could get him to make sweet love to her, like he used to do. If she could just get him to forget about that silly golf game and focus on her instead.
Would she be happy then?
The cancer wasn’t something she could keep to herself. Jim deserved to know. She glanced over her shoulder toward the golf course and saw him talking to his golf bimbo.
Caught Between an Oops and a Hard Body (Caught Between series Book 2) Page 19