Falling Hard

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Falling Hard Page 28

by Tina Wainscott


  Which, of course, made her smile. He leaned back against the bar, sliding her a look. “Did you come here to hook up?”

  “I haven’t gone to a bar to hook up since I was in my twenties—all right, it was more recently than that. Once. But I’m way over that sort of behavior. I came to forget my troubles.” She tilted her head, taking in his blue eyes. “But…I’m totally open to possibilities.”

  There. It was out there, something the old, old Grace would say when having sex meant feeling loved for a short time. She didn’t need to feel loved now, but she did need to feel something.

  And she did, when his eyes flared with interest. “Well, Grace, we ought to explore those possibilities. I’m staying down the road apiece. It’s a bit of a walk, but we could take a stroll there via the beach.”

  “Sounds great. I just need to run out to my car and grab a light jacket. I get chilled easy.”

  He didn’t give her a cheesy line about keeping her warm. She liked that. They settled their tabs, her refusing to let him pay hers. It felt like a cheap hookup to let the guy pay, and this wasn’t cheap.

  He slid his fingers through hers as they walked out into the dusky night to her car.

  “I parked in the hotel lot, just in case.” She didn’t want to tell him she had a room right there; she never invited men back to her room, because she wanted the option of leaving in case things went sour. Though she doubted that would happen with Artemis. No, she had a feeling things would go too well. That was even scarier.

  “You have a ’79 Thunderbird. Wow, in sweet condition, too.”

  She tried to see the old thing through his eyes. But he obviously didn’t think it was outdated. In fact, he asked her a couple of questions about the engine, only one of which she could answer.

  “I try to understand what my mechanic does,” she said. “Maybe it’s time I learned.” Hmm, lawyer-turned-mechanic? But she didn’t want to think about her career just then. “Are you a mechanic?”

  “No, but I do have an affinity for cars.”

  She slid into the jacket, and they wandered out toward the beach. The sun had set, but the sky was still bright with colors. Like a child’s painting, with big puffy clouds and streaks of pink and purple.

  “Hold on, I want to take off my shoes.” She leaned on his shoulder for balance as she pulled off the pumps and hooked the back straps over her finger.

  He waved for her to hand them over, and he did the same. “I got ’em.”

  She smiled in thanks as he slung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close while they walked. It felt so easy and natural, as though they’d done this a thousand times. She didn’t even think before leaning her head against his upper arm.

  “I love this. Being on the beach,” she amended.

  “Me, too. It feels…free here. The breeze, the miles of endless ocean like an endless possibility. If I ever settled down, I could live on the Gulf. The sugar-sand beaches, the weather…” His arm tightened ever so slightly on her.

  If I ever settled down…The words lodged in her heart the way a too-large bite of food might. It wasn’t as though she were thinking of a future with this guy. She knew nothing about him. She stole a glance at the hand draped across her shoulder. No ring, no telltale white band. That was all she needed to know. This was for tonight, nothing more. And, in case she did get any ideas, he’d just told her that he wasn’t settled down. Had no imminent intention to.

  “I’ve been tied down for a long time, and I’ve sure settled…but I don’t feel as though I’ve ever settled down.” Her gaze followed a family of three, the mother holding on to a toddler’s hand as she balanced a bucket and the various tools that were about to tip out. “I know that makes no sense.”

  He came to a stop and pulled her in front of him, his hands lightly on her waist. “So tell me, Grace.”

  The way he looked at her as though he really wanted to know, and the way he said her name, tangled up her words, leaving her with only the truth. “I just realized that my whole life has been wrapped around a lie. And…I feel so lost.” For a second, she felt like that eight-year-old girl, when the police came to arrest her father.

  Artemis’s hands came up to her face, his thumb brushing her mouth. “I’m sorry. Want to talk about it?”

  “I already told you…my husband. The bigamist, the triplets.”

  “Mm-hm. Sticking to that story, huh?”

  She nodded, unable to meet his eyes for a second. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  “How ’bout I kiss you instead?” He leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Soft, sweet, and chaste.

  Now she was lost in a whole new way, which made no sense. It was just a kiss with a stranger. A gorgeous stranger who…“Crap,” she said. “Now it’s a pity thing, isn’t it?”

  “What, the kiss?”

  “Yes. And everything that might come after. I’ve turned it into a pity thing with my stupid confession. It was either walk away or kiss me out of pity, and you kissed me. Here, let me suck that last minute from your mind.” She pressed her forehead to his and made the same sound he had, or an attempt at it, anyway. Then she stepped back and pasted a smile on her face. “I love this, being on the beach.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her deeper this time. Her mouth opened to his, and she tasted the smoky tang of whiskey on his tongue. He kissed slowly and languidly, not a means to an end. His hand slid up her spine, where he gently squeezed her neck before finishing the kiss. “That had nothing to do with pity, trust me.”

  She felt her body come alive, and not only where their pelvises pressed against each other or where his hand tangled in her hair. It was everywhere—fire in her blood, warmth in her heart. She kissed him this time, her hands sliding up and down his back, hungry to feel all of him. There was an urgency now, a hungry anticipation.

  “Where’s your hotel?” she asked. “We’ve been walking for a long time.”

  “We passed it about twenty minutes ago.”

  That made her step back. “We…passed it?”

  “Yeah. I figured we were enjoying walking on the beach. No hurry. We could go parasailing tomorrow, if you want. Rent some Jet Skis. Or stay in bed. Whatever you want, Grace.”

  She knew he was, ah, engaged. Interested. Yet he’d passed his hotel because he was enjoying simply walking down the beach with her. Suddenly she wanted to know more about this man. Everything about him. She needed to feel his body wrapped around hers, all hot muscle and slick skin, and lose herself in him. She didn’t want to just screw him; she wanted to make love, sinuously, luxuriously. The desperate craving reminded her of those early days, but felt so much deeper. Bigger. Like a huge chasm she’d fall into and never find her way out of. Way, way worse than crazy lurve.

  “I have to go,” she whispered.

  Of all the things she’d said, the outrageous lies she’d told, only this statement put a surprised expression on his face. “What? Why?”

  She snatched her shoes from his finger. You’re too perfect, too fun, a little bit silly, a whole lot sexy, and a man who’s going to break my heart. What’s left of it, anyway. Not because you’re a bad person, but because I’m a weak person.

  She didn’t answer, couldn’t find one logical argument in her attorney’s mind for rushing away from what would no doubt be the best night she’d ever had. Because she would want more. She ran up the beach toward the next hotel and never looked back, knowing she would regret it for some time to come.

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