Selling Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 1) (41 page)

Once we finished, I rushed home, ignoring Whiskers' meows of protest at being hustled out of the house, just as he'd found the perfect spot in his sunbeam. I still insisted on dragging my cat home with me each night, just in case he somehow managed to get stuck or hurt himself on a nighttime excursion in the Winterhearst mansion. Sanford once tried pointing out that I was being silly, since Whiskers explored the place all day anyway, but I suspected that he just wanted to keep the big orange tabby around for himself.

I set out an open can of wet cat food for the ungrateful animal and threw myself into the shower, despairing at the state of my hair. I'd have to just pull it into a ponytail, still damp, and hope for the best, I decided. I swiped some mascara on after getting out of the shower, found a blouse that managed to show off a bit of cleavage without making me look too overweight, and settled for a pair of dark jeans because I didn't have any nicer pants that were clean. I didn't look anything like a model, but Sanford would have to settle for me as I looked. If he'd given me more time to get ready, he could be going out with someone a bit more put together.

I stopped in front of the mirror one last time, groaning at the little strand of brown hair that refused to stay tucked away with its fellows. Right. A date, and I looked like I'd just gotten out of the shower after a long day of work. That was the truth, and Sanford knew it, but I still wished that I was thinner, that I carried more weight in my chest instead of my hips, that I was younger, that I was more impressive.

Oh well. I'd be able to drown my sorrows in pasta, at least.

Chapter Twenty

*

I'd been prepared to describe that dinner date as "horrible", but to my surprise, it turned out to be decidedly "not horrible."

No, even more than that, it was... fun? Is that right?

Sanford came by to pick me up right at six. This time, he drove his car, instead of Winston. "I decided to give him the night off," he explained when I asked. "After all, we don't need him for anything, and he can go enjoy himself."

A part of me suspected that Sanford just didn't want to worry about Winston walking in on us when he took me back to his house afterwards. After all, nothing kills the mood when your butler shows up halfway through sex, asking if he can do anything to help, maybe bring you some Gatorade, am I right?

We headed over to the restaurant, and Sanford even opened up the door for me after we found a parking space. I frowned up at him, even as I accepted his hand to help me up out of the low-slung luxury automobile.

"I'm suspicious," I said to him. "You're being strangely nice to me."

He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe I conked my head when you were on top of me earlier this afternoon. You probably whacked me with one of those boobs that you've got on display right now."

I smacked him in the arm, but it wasn't a hard hit. At least he was looking at my cleavage, instead of maybe staring at my wide hips or ass!

When we arrived at the restaurant, it was actually quite nice; red curtains hung between booths, giving it a rather intimate atmosphere, complete with little candles lit on each table. To my surprise, Sanford had called ahead while I'd been showering and getting ready, and the smiling hostess showed us directly to a table of our own, a cute little booth tucked back in the corner and fairly private.

I eagerly looked at the menu and picked out a big plate of chicken alfredo pasta, with an appetizer of bruschetta. Sanford looked at me a little oddly when I suggested it to him, and I felt my heart sink inside my chest.

"Great. You're thinking about it, aren't you," I said, unable to keep my expression from turning downcast.

"Thinking about what?"

"About the fact that I'm ordering a big plate of fattening food, not a little salad or something," I said. "Look, I know that you probably dated supermodels when you were in the city, but I just can't eat like that-"

"Hey!" he interrupted, frowning at me. "I wasn't thinking anything like that - and you can eat as much as you want! I'm not going to judge you at all."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah, right."

He glared back at me, and then leaned in closer, across the table. "Elaine, I am going to take you home tonight and fuck you senseless, no matter how much food you eat. I haven't been able to keep my hands off of you for the last week - do you really think that I'm judging you on your food choices at all?"

"Okay, maybe," I said, but I did feel a bit better.

Sanford sat back, just as our waiter arrived. Without giving me a chance to speak up, he placed my order for me - and then ordered just as much food for himself! He raised an eyebrow across the table at me, as if challenging me to even try to reduce the massive amount of delicious-sounding food en route to our table. I smiled back at him, feeling better, and didn't say a single word of protest.

As first our appetizers, and then our main entrees arrived on the table, Sanford proved to be quite charming, when he put his mind to it! He asked me about my hobbies, how I got involved in furniture and antique appraisal, and I told him about how I loved holding old objects, feeling the history of that item flowing through me.

"Everything has a story," I explained to him. "When I research an item, I get to dig into that story, find out all sorts of secrets about it. Most people look at a table, or a chair, and they don't think about where it came from, but there's so much more to that item that they don't see!"

Some guys might have been bored by this, might have rolled their eyes and instead focused on checking out my cleavage. Sanford, however, nodded along, encouraging me to tell him more, about some of my favorite items I'd come across in the course of my work.

"But what about you?" I asked at length, after I realized that I'd been talking for too long, dominating the conversation. My plate of alfredo was mostly untouched, while Sanford had finished off most of his. I'd been too busy using my mouth for conversation, not filling it with this absolutely delicious food!

He shrugged. "What about me?"

"Don't you have some hobbies? What do you like to do? What are you going to end up doing with this big house, once you've got it all organized and cleaned out?"

Sanford frowned. "To be honest, I'm not sure. I spent most of the last decade or so just struggling to build my business, to keep on track of everything that happened, trying to learn everything I needed to know as I realized how deeply I was in over my head. Now that it's all gone, sold off, I'm not sure how to fill my time."

"You could start a new business?" I suggested.

"Sure, but doing what? I don't have any other skills to develop."

"Well, maybe you just need to try some things. Do something hands-on, figure out what you like, and then you could get good at it," I said, smiling at him as I scooped up a big forkful of delicious sauce and noodles.

This time, his eyes definitely dipped down into the neckline of my blouse. "I know what I like to do that's hands-on, and from your reactions, I'm already very good at it."

"Not what I meant," I said, as I predictably blushed. "Something that you can share with others, that won't get you arrested!"

He frowned, considering. "What happens to those antique pieces that are too broken to be sold?"

"Garbage, usually," I admitted. "Sometimes they can go to a woodworker, someone who knows how to fix them and sell them as restored, but most of the time it's just not worth the added expense. Those woodworkers are pretty rare, and they know that they can charge a steep premium for their services. By the time I pay them to fix the item, I usually can only really hope to break even at best if I put it up for sale."

"Seems wasteful," Sanford said, and I nodded.

"No real way around it, though. There's always more stuff than there is money, in my experience," I replied.

We wrapped up dinner, and although I made the token offer to help with the bill, Sanford smiled and waved me off as he passed his credit card over to the waiter. "Trust me, you can pay me back for that dinner in other ways," he whispered to me as we walked out of the restaurant, his hand nestled in the small of my back, and I felt my skin prickle as I imagined just what he might be imagining.

Back in the car, he started driving back, but I reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "Wait," I said, my heart pounding. "I thought that maybe, tonight..."

"What?" he asked, as I lost my nerve for a moment and my voice faltered.

I'd been considering this idea throughout most of dinner, but I still hadn't completely managed to convince myself that it was a good one. After all, if Sanford just saw what was happening between us as a fling, a little side pursuit to occupy him as he sat around in his big house and watched me at work, this could stir up all sorts of extra complications.

I also knew that, if I thought deeply about how I felt about Sanford, I'd get myself into trouble. Better all around to keep things light and flirty, to not start thinking about the long term or where this could go.

But at the same time, I'd grown tired of going home to my own bed, of laying there after Sanford and I finished together and wishing that I could snuggle up to his big, strong frame at night, that he could wrap me up in his powerful arms and just hold me, comfort me.

So even though my heart pounded so loudly in my chest that I could barely hear my own words, I still spoke up.

"Maybe tonight, instead of us going back to your house..." Deep breath, Elaine. You can say this. "Maybe you could come back to mine, instead?"

Sanford didn't say anything for a second, and a dozen horrible scenarios ran through my mind. He'd actually been planning on dumping me tonight. He had another girl on the side as well, and I'd never be able to handle all of him. He didn't think that I was relationship material, and just wanted an easy fuck.

"Sure," he said after another beat, although he didn't look totally sure of himself.

I smiled up at him, even though tears had already started to creep into the corners of my eyes. "Really? That's not taking things too far?"

I saw him start to respond, but then paused. "It probably is crossing one of your lines, isn't it?"

"Maybe," I replied, stung. "But I'm the one who asked you, so you can't use that as an excuse."

"You're right," he agreed. "And if it ends up being a terrible mistake, we'll just not do it again, and stick to all of the wild, amazing, crazy hot sex."

"Is that not also happening?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

It worked. He grinned over at me, and the gaze that swept over my body in the passenger seat beside him was anything but professional. "Oh, that is most definitely happening. We'll have to banish Whiskers from your bedroom, so that he doesn't get scarred for life by the sight of what I'm doing to his owner."

"Like he cares," I replied as my mind swam with hungry arousal at the thought of Sanford dominating me and taking me in my own bed. We'd never done it in my house, and I wanted him more than ever.

Sanford just smiled back at me as he turned the key in the car and headed away from the restaurant, back towards my house. I rode along with him, hoping like crazy that this wasn't a big mistake that I'd made, that I wasn't breaking our tentative relationship by pushing it too far, too fast.

Chapter Twenty-One

*

I woke up the next morning, feeling strangely cold. Hadn't there been a warm blanket draped over me? I started to feel around without opening my eyes, groping for that warm weight that I remembered settling over my shoulders.

A moment later, however, I stiffened and froze as I remembered how the night before ended. I'd invited Sanford to come back to my house, instead of back to the Winterhearst mansion. That great date ended with equally great sex, just like the man always delivered - seriously, he must have some sort of voodoo charm hidden on him somewhere. I had no idea where, given that I'd examined just about every inch of his naked body at some point...

Anyway. We'd come back here, and he proceeded to rip of my clothes and savage me until I could barely walk, my wobbling legs refusing to support me. He carried me upstairs to my bed, and he curled up next to me, draping one big arm over me, pressing himself up against my butt and murmuring something to me about how I was "soft and pattable," whatever that had meant.

But he wasn't here now.

I confirmed this a moment later when I sat up, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes and looking around. Nope. No Sanford Welles, no sexy man anywhere in sight. I was all alone, back in my bedroom, as if the last night never happened.

I threw back the covers to get up, but hastily pulled them back up to cover me. It was purely an instinctive reaction at realizing that I was sleeping naked. That definitely wasn't like normal!

Maybe Sanford got up before me, I told myself. He might be waiting right now for me to come downstairs, waiting for me in my kitchen, smiling at me over a mug of freshly brewed coffee-

I went around the corner into my kitchen, only to find it sadly empty of handsome men bearing coffee. "Well, this stinks," I said out loud.