by Mia Kay
They climbed onto the bus to go on a date with fifty other people. Though the small groups shifted at meals and during tour stops, on the bus and the train everyone had their spots. Saul Goldstein liked to be up front so he could see the road. Sunny and Camille were halfway back, and they alternated the window seat every time they boarded. Across the aisle were the Greer cousins and their party. Ava Greer had the seat by the window and a book in her lap. Dee Armstrong sat directly behind her, flipping through the guidebook to make sure they weren’t missing something.
The seats in the back went to Grace, Ben, and the Cains. The men took the aisle seats so they weren’t folded up and uncomfortable. Tonight their dress shoes and long legs crowded the narrow space.
“It reminds me of the school bus at home,” Nora chuckled. “Just in reverse, with the younger kids in the back.”
“The kids in back always snogged in the dark,” Ben teased.
“It’s not dark,” Grace reminded him.
“Dang it,” Adam grumbled. “I always wanted to do that.”
When the bus stopped, the group filed down the steps and into a reception room. Round tables formed neat rows, reminding Grace of a Twister board made only of blue circles with bouquets of alpine flowers in the center. Several tables on one side were already crowded with what appeared to be another tour group. Wait staff in traditional dress bustled between the dining room and the kitchen.
Their group sat and the servers descended. Efficient and friendly, they chatted as they delivered family-style platters of local food. They explained every custom, each dish, answered all questions, then disappeared as the lights dimmed and the local theater group took the stage.
When the lights came up for intermission, everyone milled around to stretch their legs and visit. Professor Goldstein saw another Mets cap across the room and crossed the invisible line between tour groups. Soon, the travelers had formed one large party.
Across the table, Ben laughed at Alice Greer’s story. Dee Armstrong had jumped in to tell another tale. Camille and Mrs. Goldstein were discussing recipes, while Sunny visited with Nora about modern art. Grace was happy to listen, thrilled Ben seemed content acting on his own.
She hadn’t been sure what to expect. Ryan had hated to be left alone in unfamiliar spots. He’d gone with her to a few conventions and had sulked in the room the whole time. However, he’d also sulked in public. Until Vegas, when he’d skipped her acceptance speech at the World Fantasy Awards to spend the evening in the bar with what’s-her-name.
She didn’t see Ben as a source of worry. Instead, he was comfortable on his own, happy to visit with the group, or sit near the back of the table in the darkest part of the room.
The lie she’d told bothered her. Technically, she wasn’t being deceptive. She was the story consultant, though it was of small comfort.
“Would you mind?”
She looked up to see Adam Cain with his hand on the chair next to her. “No, please sit.”
She followed the minister’s gaze, but it wasn’t difficult to guess who he was watching. His wife always had his full attention.
“She’s really special, Adam.”
“I’m never really sure if I’m supposed to say ‘Thank you’ or ‘I know.’ I didn’t have anything to do with it, but the other sounds ungracious.”
“What was dating like?”
“She was a pain in the butt.”
“Really?”
“She’d been hurt.” When Grace nodded, he shook his head. “More than the scars. She’d been neglected and ignored. Everyone wants to give me the credit for making her softer, but the softness was there. She just needed somewhere safe so she could be honest with herself.” Adam was back at the beginning of their courtship. “She helped me, too.”
“How?”
“I lost my first wife, and I let my calling become a job. At thirty-five, I’d become a dogmatic, sour old man. Nora shook me out of it with good, old-fashioned common sense. But she worried for months. Her muses strike whenever they want. Paint, clay, charcoal, sketches on every piece of paper she finds. She worried about me living in the mess. And she’s not your normal minister’s wife.”
Laughter pealed from across the table. Blushing under the stubble of his five o’clock shadow, Ben was the center of attention as his mother told a story. Grace itched to hear the details.
“He really likes you, you know.”
She jerked her attention to Adam with a guilty grimace. His expression was equally guilty.
“It’s a hazard of the job,” he explained. “I wanted to make sure this wasn’t a one-time event for either of you.”
“You asked him that?” Grace hissed. Why couldn’t everyone stay out of her love life?
“I didn’t have to. This afternoon, every woman in the bar was giving him the eye. He didn’t see any of them.” Adam smiled. “And you probably haven’t seen anyone but him since you got off the plane.”
“Adam—”
“I’ve read your work,” he whispered. “Brilliant doesn’t really cover it. Why hide it?”
“My life is a snarl of meetings, projects, and paper. The movie is going to make it worse. I’m going to have to do publicity.” The last word caused an involuntary shudder. “What if he can’t see a place for himself in that? What if he doesn’t want to?”
The lights blinked, signaling the end of intermission. As he stood, Adam squeezed her shoulder. “He might handle it better than you think.”
After dessert and the end of the performance, the group departed to explore Mozart’s home. Ben and Grace waved their respective mothers off, the two women eager for the tour. A few more adventurous seniors ignored the bus for taxis to other destinations. Nora and Adam chose to walk.
Ben watched to see where they went and then aimed Grace in an opposite direction, down a path adjacent to the river. He avoided charging back to the hotel because he didn’t want to feel like this whole day had been an experiment in foreplay. Their day together, enjoying each other’s company, was about more than anticipation. However, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to sex—because it was sex with her.
His already racing heart now thudded and skipped. How had she come to mean this much to him in less than a week?
Grace squeezed his hand, bringing him out of his thoughts. The sunset tinted the river orange and pink, the colors splashed on every building lining the shore.
“I didn’t think it could get much prettier,” she whispered. “This is like a fairytale.”
They strolled as the breeze ruffled their hair and clothing. The trees sighed overhead as the scents coming from nearby cafes tried to tempt them back inside.
He found a bench with a view of the river but with enough shadow to be private, close enough they could smell coffee and pastries but far enough to muffle conversation. He draped his jacket over her shoulders. “Stay right here. I’m going for coffee.”
On his return, Ben refused to be distracted by the glow of the sunset on her skin or the sight of her draped in his clothing. She took her first sip and gazed at him in shock.
“You got it just the way I like it.”
Two creams, real sugar. It was a doddle. “Yeah?”
“I lived with Ryan for three years, and he always brought me black coffee.” She shrugged one shoulder free of his coat. “Here. You’ll get cold.”
Ben snuggled her against him. “I have you in one hand and coffee in the other. I’m fine, doll, but thanks for worrying. Tell me about Ryan.” The other man’s name was bitter on his tongue, giving him another reason to worry.
Her deep breath jostled both of them on the bench and ended on a sigh as she expelled the memory. “I remember when he was fun and easy to talk to. His friends will tell you he’s a nice guy. He works hard. But he was prickly
. He liked to be right. He hated it when I knew more than him, and he was surly if I was the center of attention.” Her lips formed a hard, grim line. “So he found someone who didn’t have those problems.”
“And you stayed with this arse for three years?”
“I didn’t catch him until the end. It wasn’t as if I put up with it. Before that, I thought I could love him enough to make him secure, but you can’t fix another person.”
“How was your break-up?”
“Surprisingly calm. He’d disappointed me so much already.”
“Bastard.” Ben’s coffee churned in his gut and his knuckles whitened around the disposable cup, threatening it with collapse. That someone would choose to hurt his Grace. He gulped in a convulsive attempt to block those feelings and his escalating panic at his possessive thoughts.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Her laugh was humorless. “But enough about me. What about you and Hillary?”
“She’d expected life with me would be different from what it was. She couldn’t handle the reality of it.”
“Do you miss her?”
“No. Never have.” His skin heated with the admission. “I know it sounds awful. Being with her was pleasant at first, but then it got to be trying. Then it became a chore. She wanted things I couldn’t deliver.”
“Like what?”
“She wanted a career. I have a lot of connections.”
“She wanted to use you?”
“More or less, and those sorts of things are out of my control. People either like you or they don’t. They want to work with you or they don’t. Who you’re involved with shouldn’t matter.” He stared across the river at the city. “And I’m gone a lot. She got bored.”
“She cheated?”
“No.” He wished she would have. “Her habits were more destructive.” He shrugged. “So she was using me and I knew it, but I put off the confrontation because I was gone so much, which left her to her own devices. I’d had enough. That’s it.”
“How long ago?”
“A little over a year. You?”
“Almost two. Anyone since her?”
“No,” he said as he stretched his legs in front of them. “I meet women, but they’ve all left me with the same impression, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts.”
She snuggled closer. “I’ve not dated either. I’ve been focused on work. Then there was Bill’s illness and Mom . . . after. I was glad I could be there for her.”
They sat cuddled on the bench, banishing exes to their past and talking about nothing in particular. Darkness was deepening over Salzburg when Grace looked up with a soft smile.
“Ben? Take me home.”
During the cab ride to the hotel, Grace saw the sights. At least Ben thought she did. Every time he leaned close to glimpse what she was seeing, he smelled her perfume. Then he caught himself staring at her, watching her eyes twinkle, memorizing the tilt of her lips.
In the hotel, Grace’s gentle laughter echoed as he leaned on the call button for the lift.
“What?”
She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and tugged a strand of his hair. “Relax, sweetheart.”
He took a deep breath as the lift doors opened, and caught his reflection displayed on the back wall. “I do look like I’m storming Juno Beach, don’t I?”
“A little, yeah.” She kissed him again, longer this time.
The walk down their hallway was much calmer, and the room didn’t have the same nervous energy as before.
“I’ll get a shower so you can take your time,” he offered.
She nodded as she opened the closet. “Go ahead.”
Ben closed the door, only to open it again. “I forgot my jim-jams. Could you hand them to me? They’re stacked on top of my bag.”
It was another intimacy in a long string of firsts. When she handed him the pile, her fingers trembled under his. He took the clothes and closed the door.
Alone in the bathroom, he started the shower and reached for his toothbrush. There were two of them now, and he tried to remember which was his. Her makeup bag sat next to his shaving kit, and her perfume lay on the vanity. Warmth curled through his torso, and his fingers twitched with the urge to open the bottle and smell it.
His goofy reflection stared back at him. Get in the shower before you use all the hot water, nob.
When he emerged from the bathroom, they did an awkward dance in the hallway, each trying to get out of the other’s way.
“I’ll be out in a bit,” she whispered.
He stopped her progress and ran his knuckles down her cheek. “Take your time.”
She closed the door, and he started the TV to drown out the thoughts of her naked in the next room. Falling into routine, he arranged things to make it easier to pack for the train tomorrow. When he finished, the shower was still running.
He retrieved his purchase from this afternoon and sat on the edge of the bed. After programming the alarm, he placed the box on the tabletop. Subtle. He moved it under a pillow. Visit from the condom fairy. He stashed it in the drawer. The water stopped, and the hair dryer started.
He pulled his shirt over his head and leaned back against the headboard. Sure, Ben. Greeting her starkers won’t scare her at all. He put his shirt back on, and reached for his waistband. Surprise. He left his pants on. The hair dryer was still going.
He picked up his book and his glasses. Oh, yeah. Wanna shag a pensioner? The book went back on the nightstand. The hair dryer went silent.
Tell her, the angel on his shoulder counseled. Grace, I’m kinda famous.
The bathroom door opened, and she stole his breath along with every word he’d planned to say. It looked like someone had draped her in a very short watercolor. As she moved, the fabric flowed with her.
Mesmerized by the sway of her hips under the fabric, he stilled until she stood between his knees. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Her warm hands on him helped loosen it, and her kiss finished the job. While soft, it wasn’t a touch and retreat sort of kiss. His balls tightened as she licked her way into his mouth while her fingers toyed in his hair. He reached for her, trying to discover where the silk stopped and her skin started.
Her nails nipped his shoulders through the cotton of his t-shirt. “I thought you would have gotten rid of this.” Her honeyed voice was thick against his lips.
“I didn’t want to assume.” He eased away enough to yank the shirt over his head and hurl it away. His eyes drifted closed again as her fingers skimmed across his skin and she resumed the kiss.
“How did we end up here?” she whispered.
“Dumb luck?” His slipped his thumbs under the straps at her shoulders and pushed. As the silk slithered down her body, Ben knew he’d never been so lucky in his life.
He stroked her nipples and hesitated when she whimpered, but she swayed toward him, begging for more. He answered her plea with his lips, tormenting one bud with his teeth and the other with his fingers. She melted into him.
“Ben.”
Her rough whisper tightened his lungs while making his heart swell. He explored further, the curve of her shoulders, the arch of her back, and the shape of her hips. His erection strained against his pants in an attempt to reach her.
With her head thrown back, the rest of her was on display, begging for his attention. He started with her breasts, entranced by her pale, soft skin and lush weight, contrasting them with her dusky pink, pebbled nipples. Her musky perfume surrounded him, and her sighs and groans filled his ears. Anchoring her to him, he curled her onto the bed and resumed his exploration as she tugged the tie at his waist.
“You were hell-bent on not making this easy, weren’t you?”
“Again,” he breathed into her ear, “I didn’t want
to assume.”
Her laugh dripped sex appeal. “Assume next time, sweetheart.”
“Yes, Id—”
“If you call me Idgie now, I’m going to hit you.”
He forced himself to release her in order to finish undressing. “Then I think you need something to do with your hands.”
Her lips journeyed across his skin while she explored the newly exposed territory. His moan encouraged her to continue the torment, and he resumed his as well.
His fingers brushed against her center, and the moisture there tightened all his nerves. Vowing more foreplay next time, he slid one finger inside her.
Her mouth fell open as the muscles in her legs shifted, and her heat scorched his skin. He added a second finger and groaned as she put her hand over his and guided him where she needed him to be. Her flesh softened while his stiffened.
Her hand left his, only to close around him, stroking and circling while her thumb brushed his most sensitive skin.
He devoured her lips, and as she drew him further in, their tongues mimicked the movement of their hands. He writhed, showing her where he needed to be touched, and she found erogenous zones he hadn’t realized he possessed.
Her skin was delicious, but her nipples were his favorites. More than the way they tightened on his tongue, it was her whispered pleas as she clutched him to her and the way her body arched beneath his.
Ben scraped one hand across the cool sheets and then to the unyielding nightstand. Willingly blind and increasingly desperate, he felt his way—corner, drawer, pull. It wouldn’t budge. He tugged harder. Nothing. Raising his head, he focused on the cockeyed drawer. He needed both hands.
“Shit.”
Grace’s laughter shook the bed as he balanced enough to open the drawer and attain his goal. Returning to her side, he reached for her, intending to renew their play. She plucked the condom package out of his hand, tore it open, and rolled the latex over him. The sensation decreased, and he whined with regret.