Crash and Burn (11 page)

He tried to comfort her by explaining about his trailer and where she’d stay and not be seen. Of course, the cameras could find her almost everywhere with telephoto lenses. She wasn’t happy with that bit of knowledge, but she refused to let him know that.

Stone pulled the car into an alley and turned off the engine. “Special parking,” he said, smiling.

The restaurant was small, no more than a hole in the wall. It was attached to one of the many prevalent vineyards on the island.

“Giovanni.” He tipped the host with a handshake.

“Mr. Adams. So good to see you. I watched your race the other day. Wasn’t your best, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“I know, Giovanni. Have you met my new wife?”

The small, round Giovanni held out his hands to her. She placed her hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it. He squeezed her before releasing the hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Adams never brings women here, so we are thrilled he will not be dining alone tonight.”

Grace’s smile fell and her stomach pitched. She’d been wrong. He never brought women here, according to their host. Why did it need to be out of the way for their dinner then? Why was he bringing
her
here? She wasn’t his wife. Giovanni would be disappointed if he knew Stone was fooling him.

Stone put his arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him as they followed Giovanni across the room. Small tables were set around the edges and two larger circular tables stood in the middle of the room. White twinkle lights were threaded through the indoor trees and candles flickered on every table. Quiet diners glanced up at them as they passed and Grace smiled, keeping her chin down and her eyes darting from side to side, but not making eye contact with anyone.

“Relax. You’re doing fine,” Stone whispered into her hair.

She felt his hot breath and for a moment she forgot this was fiction and she snuggled deeper into his one-armed embrace.

Giovanni pulled out a chair for her at a table in the back corner of the restaurant. It was dark here and she realized how intimate the setting was. She sat and Stone pulled out his own chair across from her and followed suit.

“I’ll bring you a bottle of our best, Mr. Adams. Compliments of the house for your wedding celebration.”

“Thank you, Giovanni. That’s very thoughtful.” Stone smiled at the retreating form. “I come here quite a bit.”

She nodded, still not quite comprehending the information given to her. “It’s a nice place,” she said, finding her voice.

“My parents were engaged here. It’s always been special to my family.”

How romantic. She wouldn’t mind being proposed to in a place like this. The perfect cliche. Music, drippy candles and wine. “How long have your parents been married?”

“Thirty years last month. They’re always holding hands and kissing. It was awful when I was a kid, but now I want that for my own marriage. They’re the best of friends.”

Giovanni returned with a bottle of wine, which he opened with practiced expertise. Stone went through the routine of looking at, smelling and tasting a sample of the wine.

“It’s perfect, Giovanni,” Stone told the man, receiving a gigantic smile for his comment.

Giovanni filled her goblet and Stone’s before leaving the bottle in a wine bucket next to the table. “Stephen will be over to take your order soon.”

“We’re in no hurry,” Stone said.

His eyes focused on hers, not wavering. She couldn’t look away from him. She was mesmerized by the flickering light reflected in his eyes.

“Stone.” She said his name trying to break the cords between them. “Stone. I...”

He gave the hint of a smile, the corners of his mouth hitching upward. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Okay, you have to stop,” she demanded in a low hiss.

“Why?” His voice was only a whisper.

She couldn’t answer him. Her thighs were quivering and she thought about how those two beds in their room would look pushed together and rumpled after some serious sharing. She imagined him shirtless, his muscles toned and firm. Shaking her head to clear it, she willed herself to stop thinking about the things they could do together. It was either that or she was going to start drooling soon.

“You’re my brother-in-law.” It was the one thing guaranteed to dowse her flames of passion. He wasn’t hers.

“In name only, sweetheart,” he said. “As far as everyone in this restaurant knows, we are madly in love and can’t keep our hands off one another, which is why you are itching to touch me.”

She dragged in a deep, ragged breath.

“That’s right, I know what you’re thinking about right now. I can tell by the pink in your cheeks, by your shallow breathing and how dilated your pupils are.”

Damn!

“It’s dark in here, of course my pupils are huge,” she said in her defense.

“Admit it to yourself. You want me.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms. Pulling herself together, she smiled at him. “Do lines like that work on the women you usually date?”

Stone smiled in return. “Yep. It not only works, it’s true.” He leaned toward her across the table. Clutching her hand, he whispered, “If you weren’t affected by me, your hands wouldn’t be trembling.”

Grace tried to pull her hand out of his, but he held it tight. She gritted her teeth. “Let go of my hand.”

“Sweetie, I can’t let go of you. I might find out this was all a dream and you might disappear.”

She tried to glare at him. “I just might disappear.”

He released her hand and sat back. “Let’s sit back and enjoy the great evening.”

Stephen appeared and took their order. Within ten minutes Giovanni returned with their entrees. Prompt service. The amazing scents wafted toward her.

Grace inhaled the sweetness of the chicken drizzled in red wine sauce, encrusted with herbs. “It looks delicious,” she said.

Stone took a bite of his seafood pasta also in a sauce made with wine from the vineyard. He closed his eyes and savored the bite.

Grace felt his actions in her gut. She couldn’t stop gawking at his face. The hard angles of his bones were softened by the candlelight. His lips glistened with moisture from the food and his tongue darted out to lick them clean. How much sensual torture could one woman handle? She’d been attracted to him from the first moment she saw him, then when she found out her sister had married Stone Adams, pleasure coursed through her at the thought of seeing him often at family functions. She would have been okay with that situation, admiring him from afar, but now he teased her senses as her fake husband.

He moaned low and deep in his throat. Grace clamped her legs together to stop the pulsating need building there.

“Enjoying your dinner?” She knew the answer.

“It’s perfect. Have you tasted anything as divine? Do you want a bite?” He started to wrap pasta around his fork and speared some sort of seafood–a scallop, perhaps. Holding the fork out, over the table with his hand under the food, he offered her a bite. “Here, try some.”

Too intimate, her head screamed. She opened her mouth as sensually as she could to accommodate the forkful of pasta. Flavors exploded in her mouth. Now, she knew why he’d had the reaction he did. It was amazing. Smiling as she chewed, she nodded.

“Don’t you like yours?” he asked, looking at her untouched plate.

She’d been too wrapped up in his eating to touch her chicken. “I haven’t had the chance to try it. I will now.”

He topped her wineglass off. She took a deep draw from the liquid courage. Getting ready to take a bite of her food, she almost missed the flashbulb in her peripheral vision. Her gaze flew to Stone’s face.

“Don’t panic,” he said.

He was trying desperately to reassure her, so her face must have given away her fear.

“It’s okay, Divina.” He encouraged her with his eyes. They said,
play the role, go with it
.

She would have, but after the bottle of wine and the sensual turn her body and thoughts had taken, she wasn’t sure who would show up in front of the press.

“Giovanni won’t let them inside. They’ll camp out and wait for us to finish our dinner.”

“I don’t think I can eat knowing they’re out there,” she said quietly.

“We’re having a great night. I’m having a good time. There’s great food and wine. Enjoy yourself.” He ate another large forkful of pasta.

“How did they know we were here?” The whine that crept into her voice scared her. She sounded like her sister, although her sister would have run out the front door to meet the reporter and give an interview.

“I told them,” Stone said a measured look in his eyes.

Grace raised her eyebrows.

“I said I would help you get over your fear of the press. I called one reporter friend and told him where we would be tonight. I asked him not to show up early, but I can’t get everything right.” He shrugged.

Grace dropped her head into her hands, her elbows propped on the table.

Stone stood quickly and knelt next to her chair. “It’s okay.” He put his hand on her thigh and his thumb drew circles on her heated skin. “This guy’s a friend. He’s not going to do anything to embarrass you or hurt me.” He slipped his other hand under her chin and tilted it up toward him.

She thought he was going to kiss her, right there in the restaurant. Everyone must have been watching them, after he stood so abruptly.

“Love, don’t worry. Divina’s never timid.”

Grace cocked her head to the side. “Grace isn’t timid either. Should I run right out there and get the interview over with? Or should we get down to business right here in the back corner of the restaurant?”

“Easy, girl.” He returned to his seat.

After a few minutes and a few bites of the flawless, scrumptious chicken that tasted like sawdust in her mouth, she was able to calm her jangled nerves.

“Dessert?” Stone asked.

Grace shook her head
no
. She’d had enough pressure. Getting out of here was top priority.

“I didn’t do this to freak you out,” he said. “Reporters are only guys doing their job, just like you are doing your job as my wife. Not that it’s a job, but... You know what I mean. You’re beautiful and the papers and magazines are going to want to have pictures of you. You’re what will sell their papers this week. I’ll introduce you to Sam when we get out there. He’s married, has a couple of kids. You’ll know most of the reporters by name at the races. If you don’t know them, ask them their name. They want access to you. You give it to them if you’re comfortable.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, she nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Stone paid the bill, thanked Giovanni, kissing him on each cheek. Giovanni returned the kisses and made Stone promise to return soon. Stone slipped his arm around her and kissed her hair. He pushed the door open and the flashbulbs went off like it was daytime.

“Sam!” Stone growled.

Sam stepped out of the pack.

With a hand gesture, Stone asked for an explanation.

“I guess they followed me. I didn’t invite them or tell them, I swear.”

* * * *

Stone kept a tight grip on Grace.

That rat bastard. Probably gave out the info to pay old debts. He glanced at Grace, the picture of steel nerves and glamour. “Sam, this is my wife, Divina Adams. Divina, this is my former favorite reporter, Sam.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. You’re a big story. None of us knew Stone was seriously dating anyone and suddenly he’s married. You can understand why he’s front page news.”

Another round of flashbulbs lit the night. “Sam, I understand our surprise marriage has caught you guys off-guard, but it’s not our fault you weren’t doing your job before the wedding and didn’t see the story right under your nose.”

Stone gave her an encouraging squeeze. His face broke into a relieved grin. Why was he worried? Seriously. Grace was composed and professional.

“Now, Sam, if you don’t mind. I need to get my new husband home. We’re still on our honeymoon, technically.” She winked at the stunned reporter who scribbled quickly in his notebook.

“Thank you, Mrs. Adams.”

More flashbulbs popped and Stone ushered her out from in front of the restaurant and into the alley. She gave him a dazzling smile over the roof of the car before disappearing into the interior.

“Holy shit, Mrs. Adams,” he said after he’d shut his door. “Now they’ll be talking about how you couldn’t keep your hands off your new husband. Divina Adams isn’t a shrinking violet.” He wasn’t exactly angry, but he was concerned what this would look like to George Halkins.

“What did you want me to do? Be the simpering housewife? You’re a beefcake, it’s not like I married you for your brains.”

“Very funny, Grace. As you like to remind me, you didn’t marry me.”

She laughed. “Touche.”

“Let’s get home, Mrs. Adams. I think that’s enough excitement for one night.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Night’s not over yet.”

He felt the encouragement of her flirting like a punch in the solar plexus. Like the second before his car bumped into another car, and he wasn’t sure what would happen, would he hit the wall or be able to pull out of it in one piece. He glanced over at Grace in the dark. Her eyes were closed, her legs were crossed at the ankles and her hands were folded demurely in her lap. He sucked in a deep breath.