by Loraine, Kim
She now noticed the color was a deeper brown, less freckles covered his face, and his smile was brighter, less guarded. He raised his hand and took hers from his cheek, not letting go, gently pulling her to him.
For a moment, she was falling into his gaze and as the distance between them diminished, she felt a familiar twinge of anticipation. Their connection was abruptly interrupted by the screeching of the tea kettle. She shot up off the couch and bolted for the kitchen to subdue the offending kettle and take a moment to gather her wits.
“How do you take your tea again, Jo . . . Drew?”
A wave of humiliation rolled over her as she caught herself. She cringed and waited for his answer.
“Sorry, what’s that?”
A sigh of relief escaped her as she realized the kettle had still been whistling while she was talking.
“I said, how do you take your tea?”
“Oh, white please.”
“I have no idea what that means,” she said as she brought him his steaming mug.
Drew stared into his mug and chuckled. “Obviously.” He set the cup down and she looked at the mug of hot water with no actual tea in it.
“Oh, God! I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot.”
“It’s fine. I’m plenty warm now. I guess I’ll be going. I’ll leave you to Darcy and Elizabeth.” He motioned toward the TV.
A sense of loss overtook her as Drew stood to leave.
“You don’t have to leave. I really shouldn’t finish this bottle of wine by myself.”
Drew chuckled softly and sat back down. “Well, never let it be said that Drew Tensley allowed a beautiful woman to drink alone.”
Grabbing a second glass, she handed it to him. She sat down as he poured his and refilled hers. She took a nervous gulp and slowly started to calm down. They sat in awkward silence, drinking their wine, and looking at each other in turns.
“Right, let’s just get this out of the way then,” Drew said as he downed the rest of his wine.
His large hand took her drink and placed it on the coffee table as he turned to her. Her eyes were wide as she noticed his shaking hands and the determined expression on his face.
“Drew?”
He rapidly closed the gap between them, took her face in his hands and gently pressed his lips to hers. She melted into the feel of the kiss, inhaling the scent of his skin and hair. She could taste the wine on his mouth and opened her own to invite a deeper kiss. Drew tangled his hand in her hair and breathed a sigh as she allowed his tongue access to hers. Shifting on the couch until she was underneath him, Drew began to move his hands from her hair down her body. As his fingers reached the bare skin of her waist where her shirt had ridden up, she arched her back, pressing herself closer to him.
Her skin felt feverish and she found her hands dancing over his body. She splayed her fingers across his muscular shoulders, then traced down his spine. She felt an overwhelming need to feel his skin rather than his sweater and began pulling the cloth up and out of the way.
Drew broke their kiss to remove his sweater and she thanked him by reinstating her hands along his back. His skin was smooth and warm. He shivered at her touch and if she had any uncertainty of his interest, it disappeared as he pressed against her. She raised her hips to him in response and his breath hitched in his throat.
Just as he lowered his lips for another kiss, the lights flickered once, then went completely out. The only light was the warm glow of the fireplace.
“Grace,” he whispered against her lips.
She ran her fingers through his mussed hair and looked up at him. “Drew?”
“Is this too soon?”
She chewed on her lip momentarily as she considered his question. It was too soon, she knew that. But he felt so good. His arms around her felt right and she’d been so alone for so long. “Well, I suppose it could be. I mean, we barely know each other.”
His face fell slightly.
“But, we’re both adults. We know what we’re getting into.” She paused, considering. “Do you think it’s too soon?”
“I can’t tell. I just know that my head is full of you. I think of you all the time. I can’t stop.” His eyes were steady on hers. “I’ve never been so consumed with another person. Every time someone comes into the shop I hope it’s you. I walk around town just hoping to happen upon you.” He dropped his head into the crook of her neck. “I think I’ve been waiting for you.”
The honesty of his admission should have scared her. The words too much, too soon flashed in her brain, but his proximity, his breath on her neck, and the familiar feeling of being held overtook her. She found his neck and began to pepper it with light kisses.
“Not too soon,” she whispered when she reached his ear.
“Oh, thank God,” he said as he lifted the hem of her shirt and slowly removed it. Again, his hands trembled and she felt warmth spread across her body. His gaze roamed over her torso, taking in her form, his eyes wide, reflecting the firelight. “You’re so lovely.”
He kissed a line from her lips down to her navel, slowly, almost agonizingly so. His lips were soft as they retraced the path back to hers and his hands encircled her waist to encourage her to lift herself, aiding in the removal of her bra. When he couldn’t find a clasp, he growled against her lips.
“Front,” she whispered.
“Brilliant.”
She could feel his smile on her lips as he popped the clasp and her breasts spilled free.
His hands were warm as they cupped each breast. He massaged slowly and carefully as she closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure at the feeling of such attention. She reached up to run her hands through his hair again and had a momentary flash of John. His hair had been shorter, nothing to hold on to. Her heart gave a squeeze at the thought, but she pushed it away. She brought her lips to Drew’s neck and kissed along his collarbone as her hands drifted down to his belt.
“Oh, my God!” Valerie’s exclamation broke through the romantic atmosphere with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
Grace instinctively brought her hands up to cover her bare chest as Drew grabbed a throw blanket from the back of the sofa and covered her.
“Valerie! What are you doing here?” Grace asked, not even trying to hide the annoyance in her voice.
“Um, I live here, remember?”
“You said you were staying in London tonight.”
Valerie had the good sense to look embarrassed. “Well, Mick and I had a fight, so I decided to come home.”
Valerie stumbled in the dim light to the kitchen where she found a battery-operated candle and a flashlight. “Hi, Drew. Just, um, pretend I’m not here. I’ll go to my room and listen to my music at high volume until the battery on my phone dies.” Valerie scurried off in the direction of her room, and the door closed and locked loudly.
Drew turned to Grace. “Right, I best be going then.”
She thought for a moment. “Well, we’re definitely finished with our more adventurous activities for the evening, but you don’t have to leave.”
He smiled, his whole face lighting up as he put his sweater back on and raked his fingers through his unruly hair.
“Let me put my clothes back on and I’ll get us some more wine,” Grace said. “We’ve sort of been coming at this backward. I think we need to get to know each other a little better.”
“Quite right,” he said as he handed her bra to her, dangling it on the tip of his index finger.
The fire blazed in the small fireplace, while she and Drew shared another bottle of wine and cold pizza from the fridge. Fleetingly, she considered letting Valerie know it was safe to come out and join them, then thought better of it. She wanted Drew all to herself.
She was feeling the effects of the wine as their conversation m
oved from basic likes and dislikes, him anchovies and her mushrooms, into more serious topics such as future plans.
“So, I know you’re allergic to mushrooms, always wanted to be an architect, and you have an unusual obsession with the Tudor monarchy. What about just you?” Drew asked as he filled her glass.
“Well, I was raised in Virginia. I’ve been to ten Civil War re-enactments, participated in two, and I can touch my nose with my tongue.”
“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow.
In answer, she stuck out her tongue and lightly touched it to the tip of her nose.
“Well, that’s just . . . weird, really. I was actually talking about the Civil War re-enactments.”
She blushed. “Yep. My family originally came from Georgia. We can trace our line through the Civil War and back to England in the sixteen-hundreds.”
“Is that why you’re so interested in the Tudors?”
“I guess so. That would make sense. I’ve always been fascinated by Henry VIII and his ridiculous libido.”
He burst out laughing, almost choking on his wine at her statement. It took him a few minutes to quiet his laughter and she used the opportunity to throw another log on the fire. As she stood, she stretched her arms and back, conscious of Drew’s eyes on her. The wind was blowing fiercely and every now and then a tree limb clattered onto the small patio outside.
“I wonder when this storm will let up,” she murmured conversationally as she walked to the window and peered outside.
“It can’t go on much longer. I’m sure it’ll clear by morning.”
Drew rose to meet her at the window. He put his hand on her shoulder and stroked his fingers down her arm lightly, causing goose bumps to rise along the skin. She turned to face him, swaying slightly from fatigue mixed with a little too much wine.
“Thank you for coming tonight. I’m so sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”
“Believe me, I’m the better for it. Thank you for leaving your things at my shop.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair. “God, you smell so good.”
“Still Valerie’s shampoo,” she whispered.
“Keep it.”
He wrapped his arms around her then, holding her close and tilting his face down to meet hers. Their lips connected in the semi-darkness and a blossom of happiness opened in her that she hadn’t felt in the year since John died. Drew ended the kiss too soon for her liking.
She looked up at him. “You didn’t tell me anything about you.”
“Mmm, not much to tell, really. I like football, but I’m terrible at it. I play goalie for a neighborhood team.”
“Football? Oh, you mean soccer?”
He grinned. “Right, the rest of the world calls it by the wrong name. I’d forgotten. Thanks for the reminder.” His grin widened and his eyes twinkled. “I’ve played piano since I was a child. I’m actually pretty boring, come to think of it.”
“I doubt that. So, not an adventurer then?”
“Not really, no. I like trying new things as much as the next bloke, but I also just enjoy being here.”
“That’s . . . refreshing.”
She yawned, causing him to chuckle.
“All right, you’re knackered. I’d better be off home. I will see you again, Miss McConnell,” he said as he navigated the small, dark living room.
“You will, Mr. Tensley. Are you sure you’ll be safe getting home? It’s so windy.”
“I’m always all right. Don’t worry about me.” He grabbed a flashlight out of his box of supplies and put on his coat and shoes. “Until we meet again.”
“Goodnight, Drew,” Grace whispered as she walked him to the front door and stood up on her toes to place a light kiss against his lips. “Sleep well.”
“Goodnight.”
God, she’s perfect. Drew walked through the last remnants of the stormy night, which quickly rocketed to the top of his best nights ever list.
The rain was soaking him, but he didn’t care one iota. All he could think about was Grace. He could still smell her hair, the scent of oranges lingered in his nostrils. He needed more of her. Every encounter brought on a fresh wave of desire, stronger than the last. She seemed so mysterious; skittish and fragile, yet completely self-sufficient. He needed to find a way to see her again, and soon. The storm refused to putter out completely and he fell asleep to the sound of the wind whipping at the trees outside his window.
The next morning he woke early. The light was just peeking over the hills and he jumped out of bed planning an early run. He told himself it wasn’t in hopes of bumping into her again. He was lying. He laced up his running shoes and took a moment to brush his teeth and check his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, stubble covered his jaw, and his hair was sticking up every which way.
“Gah,” he said to his own reflection.
He finished brushing his teeth and attempted to wet his hair to get it to behave. After a few go-rounds with the comb, he finally just ran his fingers through it and popped in his earbuds.
It was cold. The clearing of the storm left the sky void of clouds. This made for a beautiful morning, but a chilly one as well. He shivered as he warmed his muscles up. His head was foggy, lack of sleep and a persistent state of arousal causing serious issues with his cognitive abilities.
As he stretched and walked along the footpath, he craned his neck in search of Grace. He passed by her cottage and saw no lights on. Disappointment filled him as he realized she must be sleeping, tired from staying up so late. He set his playlist and began his run, hoping to distract himself from thoughts of the night before.
If he was going to get anything done, he needed to stop thinking of her.
Chapter 8
“Is it safe? Are you decent?” Valerie asked, her eyes scrunched tightly shut as she popped open Grace’s bedroom door the next morning.
The smell of coffee filled her room and the sound of birds chirping outside her window signaled fair weather. The night seemed like a dream. She reached out her arms and stretched all the way to her toes as she took a deep breath and smiled to herself.
The door creaked as Valerie poked her head inside, one hand holding a steaming cup of coffee.
“I’m alone.”
Valerie opened her eyes, clearly surprised. “But, I thought, Drew?”
Grace shook her head and took the offered cup. “He left around two.”
Valerie waggled her eyebrows suggestively, leaning against the door frame. “Really? I pictured him as more of an overnighter, breakfast in the morning, maybe even lunch.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. Nothing happened.”
“That’s not what it looked like when I got home.”
“Well, yeah. It sort of killed the mood knowing you were in the next room.”
Valerie had the good sense to look abashed. “Sorry.”
Grace shrugged and brought the coffee to her lips. She felt like she owed Valerie some kind of explanation. After all, she’d become more than just an assistant over the last year. After John died Valerie was the one who’d kept her focused and together. Things were different in Braley. They’d become much less like co-workers and more like good friends.
She remembered fondly the day she’d spent packing her house, readying everything for their move across the ocean. Valerie had changed, morphing into a friend almost instantly.
The doorbell had rung promptly at eight-fifteen. Impeccably punctual, she’d thought as she opened the door to see a harried-looking Valerie balancing a carrier with two coffees on top of a box of fresh bagels. In her other hand, she held a tape gun and at least five sharpies of various colors.
“What is all this?” she asked with an amused smile.
Valerie blew a stray piece of hair from her face as she handed the coffee
and bagels over. “Sustenance and supplies!”
“Yeah, but why so many sharpies?”
“Color coding.” Valerie rolled her eyes as if this was normal for everyone.
“Can’t I just label the boxes in the same color?”
Valerie looked at her with her mouth agape. “Oh, sure. Go ahead, if you want to be searching all over the place for kitchen boxes because they got put in the bathroom.”
Grace snickered under her breath and set off to the already sparse kitchen.
“I see. You know most of this is going into storage, right?”
The day had passed slowly while they packed and occasionally emailed the office. Her replacement was a competent architect in his own right and she wasn’t concerned about his ability to take care of things. It was just about lunchtime when Valerie poked her head up from a box she was working on.
“What do you want to do with this?” she said, holding up a box labeled, John’s Stuff.
Grace’s heart caught in her throat as she walked toward the still sealed box. She ran her hand lightly over the tape. The box was one the fire department had brought to her after his funeral. They’d cleaned out his locker and all of the little items he collected over the years were in this box. John was always picking things up and putting them in his coat pockets or making her save things that might need remembering later.
“Let’s open it and see what’s inside,” Grace said after a moment.
The box was medium-sized with no considerable weight to it. She wondered how much stuff might be in there. She brushed away the film of dust on top and carefully sliced the tape. There was a thick envelope at the top of the box with her name written in his simple handwriting. She carefully set it aside and continued to discover the last things connected to him.