The Name of the Game (10 page)

He was tired, having been up far too late, his mind filled with images of a certain blond bombshell who kissed like the devil. What bit of stupidity lurking in his brain had possessed him to touch her? Now, just like he'd anticipated, his brain didn't work properly and he'd lost out on some much-needed sleep.

In a calm voice that betrayed nothing, he said, “I'm fine.”

“Didn't you sleep well?” his mom pressed, still with that look of concern. She wore her faded strawberry-blond hair in some sort of clip, and her cheeks had a healthy glow, as though she'd exercised that morning. In a buttery yellow top she looked downright radiant. Better than she had in a long time.

“I slept fine,” he lied.

He'd been so close to losing it. Ten more minutes and he would have taken her against the wall. Right after he'd thrown down the gauntlet and made his big speech about her actually having to like him, he'd been ready to pound into her, consequences be damned. She had no idea how close she'd come to obliterating his control. After she'd left he'd gone running, and five miles had done nothing to calm his emotions.

Since his mother still watched him like a hawk, he said, “You're looking particularly well.”

A smile lit her face and she shifted in her chair. “Thank you.”

“He's right,” his sister said, giving their mother a long perusal. “There's something different about you.”

“I'm happy my daughter is married and my son is on his way. What else could a mother ask for?” Shannon Donovan asked. She held up two fingers. “Two more to go.”

God help him.

Thankfully he was saved from a response when his eighty-eight-year-old great aunt Cathy snorted. The older woman, who had never had children and buried all five of her husbands, accompanied his mom to most get-togethers so she wouldn't get too lonely.

A second later Evan joined her. “Not everyone wants to settle down, Mom.”

James contemplated his brother's hand that still rested on Gracie's chair.

He didn't like it. It took all his discipline to fight the urge to tell him to move it or suffer the consequences. He shook his head. Suffer the consequences? Hell, he was turning into Shane.

Gracie frowned at him, and he realized he was glaring and relaxed his expression. She shifted in her chair, angling her body away from Evan, and James's muscles eased fractionally. She tucked a curl behind her ear and went back to paying elaborate attention to her menu. Today she wore a powder-blue V-neck top with buttons down the front. He wanted to rip them off.

He was in trouble.

That kiss had rocked his world. Unlike Gracie, he'd never tricked himself into believing kissing her would be anything other than a disaster, and he'd been right. Now he couldn't think about anything but getting his hands on her again.

“You didn't run one of those marathons this morning, did you?” Aunt Cathy asked, her cackling voice shaking James from his thoughts.

“What?” he asked, lost in the conversation.

Aunt Cathy, who still fancied herself a teenage girl, prided herself in keeping up with all the latest trends. Today's outfit was a pair of skinny jeans and a One Direction T-shirt. “You're not tired from running one of those marathons you're so fond of?”

James glanced down at his watch. “It's nine thirty, Auntie. Twenty-six miles takes me a little longer than an hour or two.”

“All that exercise isn't healthy, boy,” she said.

James picked up the glass of water and toasted her. “Medical science would disagree.”

She waved a gnarled, dismissive hand in his general direction. “Ha. I'm eighty-eight. I smoke, drink, and eat whatever I want. I'm proof those scientists don't know what they're talking about.”

Even though he knew better than to argue with her, he felt compelled to point out her recent diagnosis. “You've developed emphysema, which is why you're not supposed to smoke anymore.”

She huffed. “Just a touch.”

Shane chuckled. “I think that's like being a touch pregnant, Auntie.”

“That's not the point, boy,” the ornery old woman said. She'd had five husbands and put every one of them in the grave; in her mind that made her the expert on everything. “The point is it's not right for a man to worry about calories.”

It continued to elude him why everyone gave a damn about his eating and exercise habits. He liked to take care of himself. In most circles this was a good thing. But not his family, who'd taken it as something they needed to fret about.

He sighed, shrugging at Evan, who'd finally moved his hand off Gracie's chair. “Evan exercises way more than I do.”

“That's for his job,” Aunt Cathy said. She lasered her intent focus on her youngest nephew. “You wouldn't exercise if you didn't have to, would you?”

“No, ma'am,” Evan said, all lazy and sly.

“See,” Aunt Cathy said, her expression rife with satisfaction.

His mother put a hand on her arm. “Let James be.”

Aunt Cathy shrugged and glowered at James. “I liked you better the other way, boy.”

Gracie's head shot up and she zeroed in on him, the questions clear in her expression.

“Auntie, you know there's no use trying to convince him to be a couch potato,” Shane said, rescuing James from a response.

Fortunately, the waitress came to the table to take their orders and James ignored the snort of derision when he ordered an egg-white omelet.

 

 

“You okay?” Maddie asked as they washed their hands in the restaurant's bathroom.

“Sure, of course,” Gracie lied. She didn't know what she was, but okay wasn't it. She'd contemplated making an excuse and heading back to Revival this morning, but in the end she couldn't do it. Running away was not her style and she wasn't about to start because of the professor.

Her friend pressed. “You sure?” Maddie looked lovely in a white top and fitted jeans, her red hair loose. The green eyes she shared with her brothers shone with happiness and Gracie could barely stand to look at her. She was a breath of fresh air, in direct contrast to how Gracie felt after a horrible night's sleep. The only things that gave her any satisfaction were the dark circles under James's eyes, indicating he hadn't slept any better than she had.

They'd suffered alone, but at least they'd both suffered.

Gracie beamed her brightest smile. “Of course, what could be wrong?”

“I don't know, you've been quiet since yesterday and that's not like you.”

Gracie shrugged. Under normal circumstances she'd confess everything to Maddie. Share every detail about the kiss and the emotional upheaval she currently internalized, but how could she? James was Maddie's brother. Yes, Shane and Mitch routinely gave each other shit about sleeping with the other's sister, but that was different. Gracie was pretty sure Cecilia and Maddie weren't plopping down and comparing notes. Besides, the thought of some girl talking about Sam the way Gracie thought about James was enough to give her the heebie-jeebies. “I'm good. I'm just tired and ready to get back home.”

Maddie glanced at her in the mirror, her expression concentrated and speculative, but finally she shrugged. “Okay. But you'd talk to me if you needed to, wouldn't you?”

“Don't I always?” Questions about James burned in her chest. Namely, what exactly had Great Aunt Cathy meant when she'd said she liked James “the other way”? It was the second time a family member had alluded to James being different in the past, and Gracie was near desperate for answers. But of course she couldn't ask.

Maddie's face clouded. “Lately it doesn't seem that way.”

That's because I can't stop thinking about your brother. Or the way his mouth felt against mine.
Gracie turned away from the sink, dried her hands, then turned back to her friend. She gave her a big hug. “I'm fine, I promise.”

“Okay, as long as you're sure.” Maddie squeezed back.

“I am. Come on, let's get back.” She needed to figure out a way to get James alone and confront him about last night. She needed to make sure he understood that kiss had been a mistake. Last night, she'd lain awake in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, and had never been so grateful to be rejected. If he kissed like that, once would never be enough. Her plan only worked if it was a disappointment, which clearly wouldn't be the case.

Sex with him could only lead to disaster.

 

 

As luck would have it, the gods were smiling upon her, and twenty minutes later James's car and hers were the last ones in the valet line. Thankfully, Chicago's busy streets didn't allow for lingering, and everyone had said their good-byes and driven away. Gracie tapped her foot anxiously as Cecilia waved before climbing into their Mercedes. As soon as Shane and Cecilia had driven away Gracie took a big breath and turned to James. “About last night.”

Brow cocked, he cast those cool, evergreen eyes on her. “About last night.”

She cleared her throat, cursing the nerves jumping in her stomach. “I think we can agree it was a mistake.”

“Was it?” That voice, that smooth, steady voice.

“Yes.” There, she sounded quite certain.

His gaze dipped to her mouth. “Then why do I want it again?”

“Stupidity,” she quipped.

To her shock, he laughed. A real laugh that made his dimple flash and her heart skip a beat. “I'm not going to argue with you there.”

She stubbornly ignored how his hair ruffled in the breeze. “That's a first.”

The smile stayed on his lips even after the laughter faded away. “I've discovered there are other ways to occupy you besides arguing.”

Heat. How could there be nothing but heat after all this time? She swallowed hard. “Don't even joke.”

“Who's joking?” He stepped closer and she had to look up at him.

What had possessed her to wear ballet flats today? Oh yeah, her feet had been killing her after all the time she'd spent in heels. And she hadn't anticipated him towering over her. On the defensive, she said the first dumb thing that entered her brain. “Look, it was an okay kiss, but that's as far as it goes.”

“Just okay, huh?” He appeared amused versus insulted.

“Yes,” she said, her throat Sahara-desert dry.

“Liar.”

“I am not.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “I didn't need more than a kiss to know I was right about you all along.”

“That I'm a complete dud.” Again, with that bemused expression.

Why couldn't he be normal and be insulted? “Exactly.”

His gaze slid over her. “Your pulse is pounding.”

The observation made her hyper aware of her rapidly beating heart. “Wrong.”

“Your pupils are dilated.”

With the sun, she could hardly blame the weather. She gave a nonchalant little shrug.

“And you can't stop thinking about that kiss.”

She licked her parched lips. He was far too observant. “How can you be this much of an egomaniac when I'm rejecting you?”

He took another step forward. The brightness of the day made his eyes so bright and compelling she couldn't look away. “I've had mediocre kisses before, and that wasn't one of them.”

“Maybe you just lack experience.”

His expression flashed. “It's so much easier for you that way, isn't it? Pretending I'm some bumbling professor with patches on his tweed sports coat, who doesn't know his way around a woman's body. But you can't quite buy it, can you?”

He was acting different. Or was he? She couldn't tell. All she knew was she was confused and needed to get away from him, only her feet were glued to the sidewalk. “You're delusional.”

“Is that so?”

He was so frustrating. He didn't fight like a regular guy and it threw her off-balance. And she hated feeling off-balance. One more mark against him on an already long list. So why did she want him so damn much? “Yes, that's so.”

The valet sped to the curb with her SUV. She pointed to it. “There's my car. See ya.”

With a sigh, he shook his head, grasped her arm, and pulled her close. His mouth covered hers and everything else ceased to exist.

It was a hard, demanding kiss. He took complete control, giving her no other option but to respond. She wanted to remain rigid, but her body had a mind of its own and her arms wound around his neck.

His tongue thrust, twining with hers. She plastered her chest against his, moaning into his mouth.

It was better than last night. More aggressive. She shuddered. Dirtier.

His mouth was so damn sure. So damn confident. Some deranged part of her had always been attracted to arrogance and his kiss was nothing but.

The noise of the traffic, the people on the street, the wind at her back, all faded into the background. She was lost. She rose to tiptoes, needing
closer
.

His arm tightened on her waist as his fingers tangled in her hair. His tongue rolled over hers, and she moaned, low and deep.

Then he pulled away, leaving her gasping for breath.

He ran a finger over her cheek and down the curve of her neck. He released her and she swayed. Steadying her, he flashed a wicked smile she'd never seen before, turned, and walked to his car, which had pulled behind hers while she'd been locked in his arms.

Both the valets watched them with smug, knowing expressions.

James pulled open the door of his sensible, dark gray sedan. “See ya.”