The Name of the Game (13 page)

Shane had mentioned in passing about Gracie coming to Chicago. James wanted to see her.

No matter how he fought it, she was there, lurking in his thoughts. He was tired of fighting his attraction. It wasn't working. Now that he'd kissed her, everything felt unfinished.

He needed to take control of the situation and finish it.

The idea had popped into his head and before he knew it, the phone was in his hand and he'd Googled her number.

Five minutes later he had a date with the most wanted woman in Revival.

Chapter Eleven

Gracie rang the bell of James's townhome and hoped she wouldn't faint. This was it. In retrospect, agreeing to dinner tonight had been a stupid idea. She'd been up since five putting the finishing touches on the cake. Then she'd driven for hours to make the delivery on time. She was drained, exhausted, and sore.

It had been worth it. The stress and adrenaline and frantic work had paid off because her cake was spectacular. One look at the happy mother
and
daughter told her she'd hit her mark. It came out exactly as she'd envisioned, clean and sophisticated enough for a fancy party, but with the sixteen-year-old's wishes firmly in mind. When the girl had hugged her and whispered a reverent thanks, Gracie's heart swelled.

Gracie couldn't be more proud of her accomplishment. Or more exhausted. Once the cake had been delivered, the adrenaline had seeped out of her, leaving her wanting to curl up in her bed and sleep for a week.

But instead she was here for a date with the professor.

If not for the nerves jumping in her stomach, she'd have fallen asleep on the front stoop. Luckily, she was too tired to contemplate how much she wanted to see him. Or how she'd ached for this day since he'd called her and asked her out. They'd only spoken one other time to go over the details of her arrival, and even though she'd been alone, she'd still been tongue-tied.

Which frustrated and confused her.

Before she could ruminate any further, James opened the door and her throat dried up.

He looked gorgeous. His hair was slightly messy and he wasn't wearing his glasses, so his green eyes seemed to hit her right in the solar plexus. In a pair of faded jeans, his broad shoulders filled out a blue T-shirt with a white police box on it and the words
Trust Me, I'm the Doctor
. Next to him she felt like a bedraggled mess.

He smiled and held out a hand. “Can I take that for you?”

She blinked and froze. Everything would change once she stepped over the threshold.

James took the overnight bag from her hand and opened the door wider, gesturing her inside. “Come in, Gracie. I won't bite.”

She waited for the “unless you want me to” pun men normally made after comments like that, but this was the professor, so of course it didn't come. She swallowed hard, urging her feet to move.

They stared at each other for several long moments before she finally cleared her throat and stepped inside. “Thank you for having me.”

He grinned and her heart leapt in her chest. “My, aren't we polite today.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I'm always polite . . . except to you.”

The door clicked behind her as she entered the foyer.

“I guess I'm a lucky man.”

“Guess so.” Behind her she heard a thump she assumed was her overnight bag.

“I figure you're exhausted.” He sounded close. Too close.

She nodded.

He pressed a hot, open palm to the center of her back, which burned through the cotton of her blue top, urging her forward, and she tried not to flinch in surprise. If he noticed her tension, and she was sure he did, he didn't mention it. For all her tightness, he couldn't have sounded more relaxed when he spoke.

“Kick off your shoes and go put your feet up so you can relax. Give me your car keys. I have to run outside and put a permit on the dash.”

“Okay.” She grabbed her keys from the front purse pocket where she always kept them and handed them to James.

He led her to the couch and nestled her into the corner, running his hands down her jeans-covered legs to lift her feet onto the sofa. It was an intimate, caring gesture and she wasn't sure why she let him handle her that way, other than it was nice. Unexpected.

“How'd it go?” he asked.

“Good,” she said, letting her head fall back against the soft cushion. She didn't know if she was dead on her feet or he really had the most comfortable couch in the world. “I have pictures.”

“I'll check them out when I get back, but for now, rest. I won't be but a minute.”

And then he was gone.

She glanced around the room. His house was so warm and open, nothing like the man himself. Was that true? Or was his perceived coldness another layer of defense she put between them? She let her shoulders relax and her lashes drifted closed. She'd think about it later. For now, she'd sink into these lush, soft pillows and be thankful she could finally put her feet up.

Her lids grew heavy.

She yawned.

Her body eased and she let her mind drift.

 

 

“Gracie,” a man's voice said from a distant, faraway place.

“Gracie.”

She snuggled deeper into the warm haven and mumbled, “Go away.”

A deep chuckle pulled her into consciousness. “Come on, open up. I have something for you.”

As the voice finally registered, she bolted straight up, instantly wide-awake. “Where am I?”

“You fell asleep.” James sat on the couch next to her, the heat of his thigh pressing against her hip.

She relaxed into the cushions. She didn't remember drifting off. “How long was I out?”

“About forty-five minutes.”

She scrubbed at her eyes, belatedly aware she wore mascara and probably had smeared it all over her face. She must look a wreck. “I'm sorry, I don't normally come into a person's home and pass out.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm sure it's been a long day. That's why I got you something.”

She blinked at him. He got her something? “What?”

He jutted his chin toward the stairs. “It's why I couldn't let you sleep any longer. Come on, I'll show you.”

She licked her dry lips, and as though he was a mind reader he held out a chilled glass. “I figured you'd need this.”

Grateful, she took the glass and drank. It was delicious. It tasted like water and lemon, but with a hint of something else. Refreshing and crisp. She downed the whole thing, then looked at him quizzically. “What's in there?”

“It's infused with cucumbers and lemon. It boosts energy and helps flush toxins.”

Instead of her normal churlishness when he spouted health-fanatic stuff, she couldn't help but smile. Especially when it tasted surprisingly good. “It's delicious, thank you.”

Their eyes met. Locked.

Heat filled the space between them.

She soaked in his features. He might not drip testosterone like the men she normally dated, but he had a presence even more compelling.

She swallowed, unable to look away. She wanted his mouth on hers. For weeks she'd been thinking about the way he kissed. Had barely been able to get it out of her mind.

As if he read her thoughts, his gaze dipped to her lips, and those evergreen eyes darkened.

Her lips parted in anticipation. Her breath caught.

He shook his head, then stood, and disappointment washed over her.

He held out an open palm. “Come on.”

Her attention slipped to his T-shirt. What did a police box have to do with being a doctor? She pointed to his ridiculously impressive chest. “The doctor?”

He laughed. “It's from
Doctor Who
. Maddie gave it to me last Christmas.”

“Who's that?” She took his hand, and when his fingers curled around hers electricity shot up her arm.

“It's a sci-fi show about a time traveler who's only known as the Doctor.” He tugged her upstairs. “We can watch it on Netflix if you want to check it out.”

“Is it good?”

“It's awesome.” He came to a door and opened it. The bedroom was dimly lit, and soft, soothing music filled the air.

Her heart sped up to a gallop and for one brief moment she thought he was about to take her to bed, but then a short woman in a white shirt and pants stepped out from another door. “I'm ready, Mr. James.”

Confused, Gracie regarded him. “What is this?”

“I thought you'd be tired and sore from your day, so I arranged a massage for you.” He gestured to the woman standing patiently by a table. “This is Rosa. She gives the best massages on the face of this earth. You'll be in good hands for the next ninety minutes.”

Openmouthed, Gracie could only gape at him. “You did this? For me?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

He shrugged, frowning at her. “I thought you would like it.”

She shook her head. “It's too much.”

“It's not. I wanted to. Besides, I think our dating experiment will go better if you're not dead on your feet.”

She couldn't believe he'd done this. She was stunned. Floored. She couldn't be more surprised if he'd offered her diamonds. Hell, this was better than diamonds. It was too much. “I shouldn't.”

He cut her off. “Don't deny me.”

His words caused a tingle low in her belly. She bit her lip, then put a hand on his arm, hoping to convey her gratitude from this unexpected gesture. “Thank you. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He rubbed his knuckles over her arm and she shivered. “Then you haven't been pampered nearly enough in your life.”

She'd never been pampered at all. Men normally focused on getting her naked, not taking care of her. “I don't know what to say.”

“Say you'll enjoy yourself and let Rosa work her magic.” He pointed to the closed door. “The guest bath is through that door. It's got a state-of-the-art steam shower and a heated Jacuzzi tub. Feel free to use either or both. I put your bag in there while you slept.”

He'd thought of everything, and for the first time she found herself thinking maybe an analytical, overly prepared man wasn't all bad. She was so overwhelmed with gratitude she wanted to raise to her tiptoes and kiss him softly on the lips, but didn't dare. Instead she whispered, “Thank you, James.”

“You're welcome,” he said, his voice gruff. “Now go.”

She went, turning herself over to Rosa.

 

 

Two hours later Gracie wandered downstairs, her skin pink, damp curls around her face. Rosa had left a bit ago and James had been waiting for Gracie to appear. He laid the book he'd been reading across his stomach and smiled, trying not to wonder if she was naked under that big, fluffy robe. She shouldn't look sexy, but of course this was Gracie they were talking about. The woman could make a burlap sack alluring.

The bags under her eyes were gone. The fatigue that had pinched her face when she'd arrived had also eased. She looked fresh, her cheeks rosy. Makeup-free, her expression held an innocence and vulnerability he'd never seen on her before. She sank into the corner of his couch, farthest away from the club chair where he sat, and tucked her bare feet under her.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“I feel excellent.” She smiled, all soft and warm. “I'm so relaxed, I'm Jell-O. You're right; Rosa is a genius. Thank you again.”

“You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I had a hunch you might, and a good massage never hurts after you've been working your ass off, as I'm sure you have been.”

Gracie picked up the end of the tie of her robe and started to fiddle with the edges. “You shouldn't have.”

“I wanted to.”

She bit her bottom lip and her gaze flitted to his, then away. “Why?”

He picked up the book and put it on the end table next to him. “I wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted to take care of you, because I'm guessing you don't get that often. But I'm selfish too; I didn't want you exhausted.” He decided to be bluntly honest. “Besides, if you're going to be preoccupied thinking about a bed, I'd rather it not be because you're dying to go to sleep.”

“I see.” More fiddling with her robe. “So you're not that much of a Boy Scout.”

“Nope. Although I stand by my promise to be a complete gentleman.” He still wasn't sure sex was a good idea, but when he'd asked her out he'd decided to stop pretending it wasn't a possibility. Since the weekend of the engagement party, the dam had burst, and he wasn't sure there was any stopping it. Or if he wanted to.

She shifted restlessly on the couch as though she couldn't find a comfortable spot. “You know this is a stupid idea.”

“Probably.” He couldn't argue with her there. This was not his brightest hour, and surprisingly, he found he didn't care. He needed to finish this with her. He'd play out this weekend and see where they landed.

“We have nothing in common,” she said, her voice soft, with none of the sass she normally reserved for him.

“We don't. Or maybe we do, and don't realize it.”

“Doubtful.”

Even though he agreed, her belief that they were so dissimilar they might as well be different species irked him. Irrational and unfair, since he'd often focused on their incompatibility to manage his attraction. “There's something, though, isn't there?”

She shrugged.

“If there's not, why are you here?”

“Curiosity.”

Instead of being defensive, he chuckled. “Is that all?”

“You're distracting me from my point.”

“Which is?”

“I hate health food.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together to stop the smile twitching at his lips. In his most deadpan voice he said, “In that case, I need to cancel our reservations for the vegan, raw food restaurant I was going to take you to.”

Her head shot up, the scowl already lining her lips. “I hope you're kidding!”