About That Night (31 page)

“I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”

“No need for the snooty tone, kiddo. I have eyes. And yours follow him whenever you’re in the same room.”

“It’s purely physical,” Gracie said, her face red. “He’s very good-looking, so of course I look. But I don’t want to...to date him or anything.”

“Why not?” Ivy had worked with Luke quite a few times this summer. The teen was smart, polite and reliable. Gracie could do much worse. And Luke would be lucky to be with a girl like her.

Gracie rubbed her thumbnail along the edge of the counter. “I’m just...not interested in him that way. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Ivy said, drawing the word out. Not for the first time, she thought something was off about Gracie. There had been for the past few weeks or so, but every time Ivy broached the subject, the teen clammed up. “Did something happen between you and Luke?”

“No.”

And that had been said too quickly, too loudly for Ivy to believe it. “Are you sure? Because when he first started working here, it seemed as if you two were friends. Now you barely speak to him.”

“Nothing happened,” Gracie snapped, which was so unlike her that Ivy could only stare. “Could you please just tell Fay I’m leaving?”

“Sure. But I doubt she’ll care. She’s gone already.” Fay and the boys were spending a week in the Caribbean with her parents, her older brother, Neil Pettit, his fiancée, Maddie Montesano, and their thirteen-year-old daughter, Bree. Neil, a professional hockey player and Bradford House’s owner, was footing the entire bill.

Ivy might consider being envious that Fay had a relative ready, willing and able to provide luxurious vacations if she weren’t in a relationship with a man wealthy enough to buy his own island.

She frowned. No. She and Clinton weren’t in a relationship. They were seeing where things went between them. Taking things one day at a time. That was all. No labels. No promises.

From either of them.

“They left already?” Gracie asked. “I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.”

“Fay was a bit frazzled trying to get the boys to cooperate and pack for all three of them. I’m sure she meant to see you before she left but just ran out of time.”

Gracie gave an irritable shrug. “Whatever.”

Ivy did a double take. “Did you just
whatever
me?”

“Of course not.” Gracie frowned thoughtfully. “Did I?”

“I’m afraid so.” She wished Gracie would open up to her, but maybe that wasn’t her place. “Look, whatever’s bothering you—”

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

“Whatever it is,” Ivy repeated, crossing to take Gracie’s hands, “I just want to let you know that if you ever want someone to talk to, I’m here for you. You just... You haven’t been yourself lately,” she continued quietly. “I’m worried about you.”

Gracie’s lower lip trembled and she swallowed visibly. “I’m sorry.”

Ivy hugged her. “Don’t be sorry. I want to help.”

“I appreciate that,” Gracie said with a sniff, hugging Ivy back. “I do. But I think I need to figure this out on my own.”

Ivy leaned back. “Are you sure?”

Gracie nodded, her eyes bright with tears. “I am. But thanks. And thanks for being such a good friend.”

Ivy smiled. Tugged playfully on one of Gracie’s curls. “Thank you for giving me a chance to be one.”

Gracie had been the first person to do so. But Ivy was honest enough to realize she shouldered part of the blame for that. She’d put up barriers to keep herself from ever getting hurt. And now, thanks to Gracie and Fay and especially Clinton, those barriers were starting to crumble.

Ivy just hoped they didn’t crush her as they fell.

* * *

Y
OU HAVEN’T BEEN YOURSELF.

Gracie’s hands tightened on the steering wheel of her dad’s truck as she drove down Brookline Drive. As much as she had wanted to ignore Ivy’s concerns and her words, she hadn’t been able to. On the contrary, she’d thought of little else over the past two days.

She’d always prided herself on being true to who she was, no matter what other people thought. Had, at times, taken too much satisfaction in being different. Had felt so superior to other girls her age because she hadn’t fallen prey to teenage stereotypes. No moodiness or jealousy. No cattiness or angst.

She snorted. So much for that.

Flicking on her indicator, she turned right onto Orchard Park Place, then pulled into Luke’s driveway, relieved to see him shooting hoops there. At least she didn’t have to worry about knocking on the door and having his mother answer.

He tucked the ball under his arm and watched as she turned off the ignition and slowly got out.

Gracie’s heart raced. Her palms were damp, but she forced her feet to keep moving, to take her closer and closer to him. She wished Bradford House wasn’t closed for a week while Fay was away. This would be so much easier to do on neutral territory. And while she could wait until both she and Luke returned to work, she didn’t want to.

It was past time she got back to herself.

“Hi,” she said, when it was obvious he wasn’t going to speak first.

“Hey.”

She cleared her throat. A cloud drifted in front of the bright late-afternoon sun. “Can I...can I talk to you a minute?”

“Sure.” He bounced the ball.
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.
“Everything okay?”

Some of her nervousness eased at his concern. “No. Yes. I mean...I’m fine, I just... I wanted to apologize.” She swallowed, but it felt as if there was a peach pit lodged in her throat. “For not being fair to you. For getting so angry about what happened with Kennedy at the coffee shop. And for...for lying to you.”

He caught the ball. Tossed it onto the grass. “You lied to me?”

“Well, it wasn’t a lie exactly. More like I...I wasn’t honest with you about...about my feelings,” she said in a rush. “About why I didn’t want to be your friend.”

His eyes narrowed. “You said we were too different. That you didn’t want to deal with my drama.”

She winced. Hearing him repeat her excuses made them sound even worse. And they’d been pretty horrible to begin with. “I just said those things because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That you’d get back with Kennedy. And that was wrong of me,” she said quickly. “Even though I think it would be a mistake, I have no right to judge you. Especially when the main reason I hate the thought of you and Kennedy being together is that I...I like you.” The last part came out so soft, she doubted he heard her. So she inhaled deeply and forced herself to hold his gaze and tell him the truth. “I like you.”

Saying it should have been hard. Should have made her uneasy. Scared. But it wasn’t. Somehow, standing there in his driveway, looking into his eyes, telling him how she felt about him was the easiest thing in the world.

“I like you,” she repeated because he looked sort of stunned and very confused. “As more than a friend. And I didn’t want to put myself in the position of having feelings for someone who was never going to feel the same way.”

Been there. Done that.

“Gracie, I...” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. I like you, too. A lot. It’s just that Kennedy and I have been talking and...I’m not saying we’re getting back together or anything. But we do have a history and...damn it!” He exhaled heavily. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“It’s okay,” she told him gently. Though it hurt to know he might get back together with Kennedy, Gracie wasn’t going to let that stop her from being true to herself. Nothing would stop her from doing that ever again.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for not returning my feelings,” she continued. “I don’t want you to feel bad about anything. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for not being honest with you. I’m not going to suggest we try to be friends again. At least, not right away. You’re obviously confused and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, shifting as if he was about to take a step toward her, only to rock back on his heels. “I never could be.”

“Thanks for saying that. I just think it’s too soon for that. For both of us.”

“You’re probably right.” But he scowled. Sounded disappointed. “I guess I’ll see you at school.”

She smiled. “And at work.”

He blushed. Looked so adorable, her chest ached. “Right.”

“Goodbye, Luke.”

He nodded and she turned, walked away from yet another boy she’d fallen too hard, too fast for.

And couldn’t help feeling as if she was walking back to the girl she used to be.

* * *

I
T WAS LATE
by the time C.J. pulled to a stop in front of Bradford House Friday night, later than he’d expected thanks to a delay at the Houston airport due to thunderstorms. When he’d landed in Pittsburgh, though, the sky had been bright and clear. Now it was dark, but the porch light was on as were others inside. He grabbed his bag from the backseat and locked the rental car behind him.

He was beat. He’d been flying to and from Shady Grove for the past month, coming back to town every weekend. He wished he could stay—or convince Ivy to go to Houston with him—but she was still skittish, and he didn’t want to push her away. Still, things between them were going well enough that he had high hopes he could talk her into it before the baby was born.

He stepped inside, frowning at how quiet it was. Usually there were guests in the library, having wine and cheese or coming and going, but tonight it was empty. Silent. Where was Ivy? She’d told him she’d wait for him here. Was he too late? Had she gotten tired of waiting and gone back to her apartment?

He’d pulled out his cell phone when he noticed a piece of paper on the banister with his name on it. He unfolded it to find a key and a note telling him his room was ready. He went upstairs, the second floor eerily empty as he made his way to the Back Suite, and opened the door to find the room lit by the glow from dozens of candles.

And Ivy reclining on his bed, the covers pulled back, the pillows stacked behind her. His breath caught. His heart jumped.

She smiled, like an angel. Or like the devil, tempting him. “Hello, cowboy,” she said, her voice a purr. “Glad you could make it.”

He stepped inside, shut the door behind him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t find words because she was so beautiful. Her hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders, and she wore a sheer white nightgown that cupped her breasts, hugged her protruding stomach. Her legs were long, toned and tanned.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he asked, his voice gruff, his hands trembling with the need to touch her. To take her. To make her his.

She laughed, the sound incredibly sexy. “Not yet.” She slid to her feet, all graceful lines and curves. Walked to him in a sensuous sway that not even pregnancy could diminish. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss that had his heart thumping, his body thrumming with desire. “But soon,” she whispered against his mouth. “Very, very soon.”

His bags fell from his hands with a loud thump and he threaded his fingers into her hair, held her face for his kiss. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

Her smile gave him her answer before she even spoke. “I didn’t go to all this trouble for nothing.”

She had gone to trouble for him. The candles, the nightgown and—he noticed now that his head had stopped ringing—soft, smoky jazz playing on the stereo.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly. He’d had people do things for him before. Countless people trying to get on his good side, trying to earn his favor. But Ivy had done this for no other reason than to make this moment, this night, special.

He was humbled. Grateful. To show her, he kissed her deeply, gently, letting the hunger between them build again, a slow burn that grew hotter and hotter.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back. Slid his hands down the sides of her body, the silk cool beneath his palms. Lifting the hem, he pulled it up, exposing her upper thighs, her stomach and breasts, before pulling it over her head.

His fingers flexed on the nightgown still in his hand. He felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. “You are so damned beautiful.”

Her skin was golden, her breasts were fuller than before, the pink tips jutting out as if begging him to taste. Dropping the nightgown to the ground, he fell to his knees and laid his palms on either side of her stomach. It was so hard, the skin stretched taut. He kissed her, just above her belly button. Felt his child move beneath his hands.

Smiling, C.J. straightened. Led Ivy to the bed. He cherished her with his hands and his mouth. His only thought was to bring her pleasure. To finally make her his. He reveled in each and every sigh, his excitement building with each moan. And when she climaxed, he watched her, knowing he’d never see anything as beautiful.

He hurriedly undressed and when he joined her again, she reached for him, her breathing ragged, her skin flushed. He made love to her slowly. Carefully. Every movement, every kiss, meant to show her how much she meant to him. She tightened around him with a soft cry and he emptied himself in her. Gave her everything he had.

Gave her his heart and soul.

* * *

I
VY PURRED AND
rolled over, her hands seeking Clinton’s skin. They’d made love—twice—and he had, indeed, kept his promise all those months ago to worship her. Her body was lax and loose and very, very satisfied.

In between their lovemaking, Ivy had explained they had the entire B and B to themselves. Taking advantage of their seclusion, they’d gone down to the kitchen—Clinton in just his pants, her in her nightgown—where she’d made them French toast with fresh berries and whipped cream. It had been fun, cooking for him, feeling his heated gaze on her bare legs while he sipped the chilled champagne she’d put in the fridge.

By the time they’d finished eating, their hunger for each other had returned. She smiled, remembering how he’d made her come in front of the kitchen sink.

She grinned. She was never going to be able to do dishes there again without thinking about it.