Claire sprung off the bed and dashed to the door, her bare feet slapping on the hardwood as she ran. She opened it to reveal a sprightly white-haired old woman standing there, leaning on a metal claw-footed cane. Her bright blue eyes and head cocked to the side reminded him of an elderly bluebird.
"I hope I'm not interrupting." Ireland stamped itself in her strong voice. This could only be her fearsome grandmother. "I thought I'd walk down with you."
"Hello, Gram. Grayson just brought me a snack since I hadn't time for lunch."
"I do like to see a couple be considerate of each other. It's that consideration that will see you through, long after the passion is embers." Gram smiled warmly at them, her bluebird-bright eyes shrewd as she assessed Grayson. "So this is the famous Grayson. How long have you been together?"
"Six months." Claire answered just as Grayson said, "A year."
"Which is it?"
"We've known each other a year, Gram, but only been dating six months. This is my grandmother, Grayson." Claire said, smoothly, as Grayson strode forward to shake her hand.
"I'm surprised you resisted that long. But your mother assures me you're well matched and I must say that I'm relieved to know that you'll be looked after when I'm gone." Gram clutched her long strand of pearls, while Grayson wondered how long she'd been pulling the death card on her family. Though not young, Gram couldn't be much over eighty, her face lined and her hair snow white but her eyes bright and her body spry.
"I'll take good care of her." Grayson said, pulling Claire tight against his side, her warm curves pressed against him from shoulder to hip. After a fraction of a second's hesitation, she wrapped her arm around his waist and beamed at her grandmother.
"That's good. And Claire, you do the same. Now, it's time to go rehearse the wedding. I dare say we'll be doing the same for you two soon enough." Claire made a strangled sound but nodded. He brushed a kiss over her forehead, hoping he looked besotted as her grandmother clunked away down the hall.
Claire bit her lip, but made no move to shift away. Unable to resist temptation any longer, Grayson leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers, just wanting a quick taste of her. She surprised him though, by turning in his embrace, sliding her hands up his shoulders and twining her fingers in his hair, all while tugging his lower lip into her mouth. She tasted of honey and spice—addicting and alluring. Grayson groaned, passion flaring between them. Just one kiss the match that set them both aflame.
"Grayson! Do come escort me down the stairs." Gram yelled from the end of the hall. Grayson and Claire broke apart, both panting hard. Though their first kiss lasted only a few seconds, Grayson hoped it might shatter the barriers between them. When he'd started this charade, he'd only wanted to get his prickly, difficult co-worker to warm to him. Now, since he'd gotten to know her, he'd begun to hope for so much more.
After slipping into her high heels, Claire brushed her hair away from her flushed face. They strolled over to the stairs and met her grandmother. Her grandmother eyed the lovebirds and chuckled, but refrained from saying anything. Grayson offered her his arm to escort her down the stairs. They made their way slowly to the back of the inn, where the sunset lit a flagstone patio lined with chairs and shielded by an oversized white marquee tent.
A sweet looking girl in a peach dress chirped at Claire. She resembled both Claire and her mother, though her round face softened her features and her eyes were a dark, chocolate brown. Even without the wedding dress, Claire's bubbly sister Maggie radiated "new bride." Claire introduced Grayson around to most of the family, but he soon lost track among such a massive clan.
After a delicious dinner and much laughter over repeated toasts to the happy couple, the party broke up around ten. Grayson followed Claire upstairs, trying hard to stay a gentleman and focus on how her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, rather than that luscious, swaying bum in his face. They took turns in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. Claire slept in long flannel pants in a dark plaid and a soft-looking dark gray t-shirt.
Grayson grinned when he saw it, wondering if she'd deliberately chosen her least alluring sleepwear. The gray only made her mesmerizing eyes even more vivid and the soft flannel clung teasingly to her every curve… if she’d intended to make herself less alluring, she’d failed spectacularly. They crawled into bed, each carefully keeping to their own side, and Claire flipped out the light. He expected to hear her breathing soften but she shifted restlessly instead.
"If it makes you uncomfortable, O'Shaughnessy, I'll sleep in the chair."
"No need. I… trust you." Claire said, then hesitated. "Thank you for doing this, Grayson."
Grayson grinned into the dark. Though Claire'd introduced him to everyone, she'd never addressed him by name before. Maybe his ice queen was finally warming towards him.
"You're welcome...Claire." Grayson finally whispered but Claire, already fast asleep, didn't reply.
Chapter Five
Claire woke to a gray dawn, silver streaked across the horizon. She peered over her shoulder at Grayson. He lay on his side, facing her, still sleeping soundly. The milky light gave his face a pearlescent sheen, enhancing his almost otherworldly good looks. They'd kept a careful six inches of space between them in the night, though his hand lay on the colorful quilt between them, as though he reached for her in his sleep. Claire longed to twine her fingers with his and watch those amazing indigo eyes blink open. Instead, she balled up her hand to resist the temptation.
She indulged in just looking at him for a few seconds. When he'd arrived at her firm, she'd resented him so much she'd been unable to see the man for himself. Oh, she'd noticed how handsome he was. No one could declare Grayson March anything less than utterly, heart-stoppingly gorgeous. But, until this ridiculous charade, she'd been willfully blind to the fact that stunning face and sculpted body concealed a kind heart, a keen mind, and an all around sweet guy. Over the past few days, they'd become friends, largely at his initiative. In less than a week, she'd softened from loathing Grayson to this curious liking toward him.
Until that scorching, toe-curling, all-too-brief kiss yesterday.
And now, all Claire could think of was stealing another. She wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him awake, press herself against all that lean muscle and lethal charm and wrap herself around him. Claire longed to give into this attraction bubbling between them and indulge her cravings for his touch.
But they worked together. And would for the foreseeable future. Indulging in a physical dalliance would no doubt complicate their already difficult working relationship. Still, Claire thought it might just be worth some awkwardness at work to kiss Grayson March again.
Today was her baby sister's wedding. With Grayson by her side, she'd get through today and then maybe see where things might go. Who was she kidding? They'd end up back here, entwined in this very bed, if she had anything to say about it. Claire smiled at the thought. At least she had something to look forward to.
When the weak morning sun crept over the foot of the bed, Claire slid from the blankets and headed out to help pull off her sister's wedding. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, clustered along the mountaintops. Perhaps they'd pass quickly or hold off until the afternoon ceremony could be completed. She dressed in worn jeans and an old sweatshirt before dashing downstairs, only to find the kitchen in a heightened state of alert. Just more of the controlled chaos that always went on during a major event. Her sister, her dark hair already up in a complicated twist, stood in a peach silk bathrobe, arranging strawberry and raspberry tarts on a gleaming silver tray.
"Maggie, let me do this," Claire smiled at her sister. "Go rest up for your big day."
Maggie pressed a hand to her stomach. "I think it's better if I keep busy. Helps keep the nerves at bay."
Claire snagged a mimosa off a nearby table and handed it to her sister. Maggie shook her head, her eyes sparkling. "Better not."
"Afraid you'll get sick?" Claire whispered and then noticed her s
ister's hand on her lower belly. She blinked. "You're not...?"
"Shhh! Don't tell Mam! I just took the test yesterday."
Tears in her eyes, Claire hugged her little sister, struggling to reconcile this poised woman with the little pig-tailed brat who'd followed her everywhere as a child. She blinked away the tears because if she started, she'd never stop. She released Maggie and downed the drink. "All right, Mags, let's get this party started."
By noon, rain droplets spattered the patio and the white marquee flapped in the wind. Slate gray storm clouds darkened the sky, blotting out the sun. The impending storm was close to breaking. It looked like her sister wouldn't get her wished-for outdoor wedding after all. Claire stared glumly out the window, her hair and makeup already done but waiting to put on her Kelly green velvet bridesmaid's dress as long as possible. She wore a thin, pale green silk wrapper and shivered in the draft coming from the window. Behind her, her mother fussed over arranging Maggie's veil.
"How's the weather?"
"They say it's lucky if it rains on your wedding day." Claire said brightly, just as the thin metal stakes holding down the marquee tent slid free. The white canvas, now free of its moorings, rolled down the hill, coming to rest by a nearby fence. Droplets spattered the white chairs as well as the delicate roses and lilies decorating the aisle and altar. Claire dashed for the door. At least she could rescue the flowers.
"What is it, Claire?"
"Just remembered a few last minute details. Don't worry, Mags!" With that, she pounded down the back staircase, her bare feet slapping against the wood. She bolted outside, heading for the basket of flowers decorating the altar as the rain pounded even heavier, drenching her thin silk dressing gown in seconds. She grabbed two baskets full of flowers and turned to run back into the house.
Grayson stood behind her, holding two chairs, rain soaking his t-shirt and running in rivulets down his face. At the heat in his eyes when he caught sight of her, Claire shivered—goose bumps breaking out on her skin that had nothing to do with the cold. He dashed to the back porch with the chairs, Claire on his heels. He placed the chairs against the wall and turned to run down the steps.
"You don't have to do this, Grayson." Claire shouted to be heard over the roll of thunder. "It wasn't part of the deal."
"Consider it a bonus." His mouth hitched up into a lopsided grin that did funny things to her nerve endings. "Now move aside, O'Shaughnessy. I'm freezing."
Working together, Claire and Grayson managed to get all the white chairs up to the porch and as many of the flowers rescued as they could, just as her mam came outside, mumbling to herself when she saw the empty spot where the marquee once stood. It still flapped in the heavy wind, a crumpled ball of vinyl and canvas, at the edge of the flooded garden. "We'll have the ceremony in the front hall as soon as we can get it reset and all the chairs dried, I think..."
Claire smiled at her logistician of a mother. "We can help set up the chairs in the hall, Mam."
"Both of you look half drowned. Go get dried off. You and your Grayson have saved the day, Claire, my girl. Let us do the rest.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder, bestowing a slight smile on Claire. "Be back in the hall in an hour's time."
Claire led Grayson up the servant’s stairs to their bluebird garret at the top of the eaves. Her hair hung limp in its pins, water running in rivulets down her back, and she shivered in the chilly sodden silk of her dressing gown. After they entered the room, Grayson said, "You take the shower first so you can warm up, Claire."
If she'd thought the way he'd said her last name was an audible caress, the low, honeyed inflection he used on her first name arrowed through her. Somehow, he'd completely defeated her in the battle not to like him. And now, after that all-too-brief kiss yesterday, she more than liked Grayson. She wanted him. Claire pivoted slowly to face him. Rainwater darkened his hair and his soaked t-shirt and jeans molded to his perfect body. Droplets sparkled on his lashes and cheeks making him sparkle enticingly.
"You must be cold too." Claire said, fiddling with the ties on her robe. Grayson shrugged. Claire stalked closer and reached for the hem of his t-shirt, sliding the soaked fabric over his head and tossing it aside with a wet plop. She stroked her hand over the flat plane of his belly, chasing the rivulets of water cascading down his chest. She slipped her hand to the back of his neck and stood on tiptoes to whisper against his mouth. "Let's shower together."
Claire pressed against him, soft and scented of rainwater and flowers. Grayson's head swam at her nearness before she nipped at Grayson's lower lip, then sliding her tongue into his mouth. Slowly, as if in a dream, Grayson reached for her but she backed away. Drenched and with the translucent silk clinging to her curves, Claire looked like a siren. She glided towards the bathroom, fumbling with her wet hair. She pulled pins out of it and the heavy mass tumbled over her shoulders. Like a man sleepwalking, he followed her, mesmerized by this one woman like no other.
She stepped into the bathroom, turning to fiddle with the shower controls, the pale green silk of her robe stretching over her heart-shaped derriere. Grayson swallowed hard, his heart slamming against his chest as his pulse thrummed through his veins. She stepped into the shower, drew the curtain, and tossed her wet robe over the curtain rod.
"You coming?" Claire said, her voice husky, as the steam rose to curl through the bathroom.
Grayson hesitated. They were crossing a line here, from pretense into reality. If he stepped into that shower, he'd never be able to let her go after this weekend's charade ended. He'd wanted Claire from the moment he'd seen her in her crimson suit and now, if he accepted her blatant invitation, they'd never be able to go back to being just simple co-workers. Or even just friends.
They'd be lovers. And more than that, if he had his way. Did he want to take that step with Claire?
Before he'd even consciously answered his question, he fumbled with the buttons at his fly and toed off his boat shoes. He wriggled out of his wet jeans and slowly peeled the shower curtain back. She stood, her eyes closed, her head tilted into the spray. Bubbles cascaded down her front, smelling of sweet peach and magnolia. He stepped into the tub and she opened her eyes, a triumphant smile on her face. Their gazes met and held for a fraction of a second before he pressed against her, all that satin smooth, wet skin and lowered his mouth to hers.
Passion, hot and bright, zinged between them, warming them both. She arched against him as he claimed her, wrapping around him. Her warm hands slid over his chilled skin, bringing him to life. She entwined around him, the same way she'd begun to twine around his heart. She nibbled her way down his neck until he wrapped his hands in her hair, tugging her head up so he could capture her lips. He skimmed his hands down her sides, learning her curves, where she most liked to be touched, what made her sigh and moan, while she did the same to him.
She clawed at his shoulders, raking her hand through his hair as he suckled first one perfect nipple then the other. She rocked against him and he parted her folds, gratified to find her so wet and warm and welcoming for him. He wanted her, wanted to drive deep and hard, claiming her for his own. But first, he had to see her pleasure and know that he'd given it to her.
He mapped her with his fingers, learning what made her groan, kissing her deeply, and mimicking the movement of his fingers with his tongue as he kissed her. A responsive, open lover, Claire rocked against him, little whimpers of pleasure escaping her. She tore her mouth away to cry out his name, just as she spasmed around his fingers, making him weak-kneed at the desire thrumming through him. Her eyes fluttered open as she rocked against him, the last little flutters of her release pulsing around his fingers.
Claire's dreamy blue eyes focused on him as he smiled down at her, delighted he could put that expression on her face. With one hand cradling the back of his neck, she pulled his lips to hers. The other hand slid lower to wrap around him to better tease and torment him. She stroked, bold and confident, and traced clever patterns with her thumb to drive him
insane. He stepped away while he still possessed a shred of sanity, turned off the shower, and climbed out into the steamy bathroom. He took her hand, guiding her out of the tub and picked her up to seat her on the wide sink counter.
She leaned back, shamelessly opening her legs in invitation. Desperate to be inside her, Grayson groaned and reached for his kit, grabbing a foil packet out of it. She tugged it out of his hand and opened it. Slowly, she rolled the condom down his length, her fingers teasing each inch of him as she covered him. Grayson groaned from the exquisite torture of Claire readying him, his hands cupping her breasts and thumbing the sensitive peaks. She shuddered and he dropped one hand to find her most sensitive spot hidden in her slick folds.
Claire pulled him forward, her hands insistent on his hips, and pressed him against her. She shifted and he slid into her welcoming heat, both of them crying out at the intensity of finally joining together. He thrust deep, tracing his hands down her back and cupping her full bottom as she tightened her legs around him. They slammed together, finding their own unique rhythm, crazed now with need, desire, and whatever else these unnamed nascent feelings were between them.
She moaned his name, clutching his shoulders, as she pulled him impossibly deeper into her, clenching around him as she climaxed again. And pulling him over the edge into bliss with her. He dropped his head to her shoulder and just let go, letting his release wash through him in long, endless, drugging bliss.
An eternity later, he lifted his head to drink in her gaze. She chewed her bottom lip and he cupped her cheek, running his thumb over her mouth. "Regrets, O'Shaughnessy?"
"What happened to Claire?" She wiggled away and stood. He took care of the condom and followed her into the bedroom. He caught her hand and twisted her towards him. With one hand, he tilted her face up.
Cupid's Coffeeshop Set One: Boxed Set: Books 1-4 Page 13