The Name of the Game (20 page)

Gracie smacked him on the shoulder. “Now she knows what we've been doing.”

James chuckled. “She didn't need any evidence to figure that out.”

She raised her head and glared at him. “And why do you have such a beautiful girlfriend?”

“She's not my girlfriend. She's my best friend.”

“Whatever.” Gracie let all her indignation, not jealousy, rise to the surface. “And she runs. It's sickening.”

James stroked a path up her back. “She's also gay. She lives with her partner, Anne, and my twin goddaughters. So you have nothing to worry about.”

Gracie's mood lightened considerably, and instantly her agitation drained away. She would not think about her relief. “I wasn't worried.”

“Sure you weren't.”

“I wasn't.”

He brushed his mouth over hers. “Did anyone ever mention you're stubborn?”

“Hardly ever.” She rose to her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around him. “Only my momma and Sam. But everyone else thinks I'm perfect.”

“You are perfect.” He kissed her long and deep, until she was breathless and ready. “And stubborn.”

She trailed her mouth along his jaw to whisper in his ear, “Take me.”

“Whatever you want, baby girl.”

 

 

They stood awkwardly at his front door as Gracie prepared to leave. That situation right here was precisely why James was a planner. He had no idea what to say to her. They'd carefully avoided all discussion of what would happen after that weekend, and now James found he had no idea what she wanted.

They'd had a good time.

Enough orgasms to lose count.

The animosity-filled tension between them was gone.

They'd accomplished their goals for the weekend.

But he had no idea where that left him. Or them.

She shifted on the balls of her feet and darted a glance at the door. “I have a long drive ahead of me.”

She needed to leave, but did she want to? He didn't know.

One would think he'd have a better clue after he'd soaped her up in his steam shower and taken her roughly against the tile not forty-five minutes ago, but her face revealed nothing.

Maybe he shouldn't say good-bye. Maybe he should say nothing at all. “I trust you'll have a safe trip.”

Her expression darkened and her brows pulled together. She nodded. “Will do, Professor.”

What was she thinking? He had no idea. He grabbed her arm before she could turn away. “I don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything.” She jerked her arm away. “We had a nice weekend, but now it's time to get back to real life.”

Frustrated, he scowled. Did she mean that? Or was she protecting herself? He gripped her wrist, and her fingers tightened on her purse. “What do you want, Gracie?”

“Nothing,” she said, her voice hard and unyielding.

“Are you sure?”

Blue eyes cold, she narrowed her gaze. “What do you want?”

The question stumped him, so he answered honestly. “I don't know.”

Her chin tilted. “We proved we could get along. Problem solved, right?”

That had been the goal. He ran a hand through his hair. “That's correct.”

He cringed at the stiffness in his tone. This wasn't going well, but he felt powerless to stop the descent. If only he had time to think through what he wanted to say.

“Great, then things are cool between us,” she said, her voice light and breezy. Like she didn't have a care in the world.

He crossed his arms over his chest to keep from reaching for her. “Is that what you want? For things to be cool between us?”

“Yep, and we solved that. The tension is gone and we worked the chemistry out of our systems.”

The tension wasn't out of his system at all. Sex with her had only increased his desire. He peered deep into her eyes, which looked back at him with cool directness and no subterfuge. “So how do you want to proceed?”

She took her bag from the floor and swung it over her shoulder. “Friends. What other options are there?” Before he could answer, she waved a hand in the air. “None.”

She was clearly brushing him off. Slowly, he asked, “So that's it?”

She gave him a sharp nod. “That's it. Thanks for the pleasant weekend.”

Anger pricked along his skin and he narrowed his gaze. “It looked a hell of a lot more than pleasant when you were coming your brains out and screaming my name.”

Color high on her cheekbones and she looked away. “It was just sex, James. I told you before, it doesn't mean anything.”

He wanted to throttle her and drag her back to his room until he'd erased the coldness in her eyes; a very base, caveman-like response he didn't appreciate. It was why he'd always stayed away from her. He preferred his interactions with women to be civilized, and he felt anything but at the moment.

“Fine, glad I could take care of that itch for you,” he said, waving a hand at the door. He needed her gone before he said something really ugly. “Drive safe.”

She jerked around. “Great, glad we understand each other.”

“You're crystal clear, Gracie.”

“See ya,” she said, twisting the knob.

He didn't try to stop her. “Take care.”

She slammed the door on her way out.

Back to animosity it was.

Chapter Eighteen

Early the following morning, exhausted, sore, and cranky after too many hours in the car and a horrible night's sleep, Gracie dragged herself to her office with a big mug of coffee.

She slid into her chair and took a sip, willing the caffeine to do its job. Her eyes were gritty and she'd avoided the mirror, knowing full well she looked like shit. The weekend had caught up with her, but as tired as she'd been last night, sleep had eluded her. She'd kept playing that last conversation over and over in her head, wondering where it had all gone to hell.

She straightened in her chair. It was for the best. After all, they had no future. So he'd been good in bed—okay, phenomenal in bed—but so what? It didn't change anything. Yes, he made her come so hard she saw stars. So he was some sort of evil genius between the sheets. Sure, he'd given her one of the best weekends she'd ever had, and made her laugh.

It changed nothing.

They'd had great sex that ended with the weekend.

In theory, she supposed they could have the same type of friends-with-benefits relationship she'd had with Charlie, but that didn't seem like a good idea. Somehow she doubted James would go for that type of thing.

So, yeah, the terrible end was for the best.

No matter how good he was, they weren't compatible.

Thank God she had a busy day ahead of her so she couldn't obsess. She had cupcakes to make for the annual fall tune-up event at Mary Beth and Tommy Crowley's garage. She had a batch of chocolate chip scones in the oven. She had cookies to make for the PTA, and pecan pies to make for the Lions Club luncheon.

She scanned the list she'd made before she'd left on Friday; it was endless. And she couldn't be happier. She wouldn't have time to think about James.

Or the expression on his face when she'd told him he'd been pleasant.

“What was that thought?” Sam's slow, lazy drawl ripped her away from her memories and plunged her into the present.

“What? Nothing.” The words too quick. Too telling.

“Good weekend?” Sam leaned casually against the doorframe, a sly smile on his lips.

Why did she live with her brother again? Oh yeah, because he owned the house with her. She clenched her jaw and picked up her list. “Fine, thank you.” A small lie, but she refused to confess, even if Sam already knew the truth anyway.

He grinned. “How was the spa? Did it relieve all that pent-up tension?”

Her cheeks warmed. Curse him. Sam knew nothing. All he knew was what his intuition hinted at, which wasn't fact. Even if he was right 95 percent of the time. She'd fibbed a little, telling everyone she spent the weekend at a spa for some much needed R and R. “They gave great massages.”

An image of James's hands moving torturously over her body invaded her mind.

“Everyone needs a little stress release now and then.” He pointed at the phone. “Call Maddie, she's worried about you.”

Gracie frowned. “Why would she be worried?”

“She thinks you're avoiding her and being distant.” He crossed his arms over his chest. He wore a black, long-sleeved waffle shirt, and faded jeans that highlighted his lean frame and set off the gold in his blond hair. This year he'd turned thirty, and had lost the last remnants of softness to his face. He was all man now. Gracie wished their mom could see her baby boy all grown up; she'd be so proud.

Gracie raised a brow. “Is that from her, or is that your assessment?”

He scrubbed his jaw. “She mentioned it Saturday night when she and Mitch came into the bar for a chat.”

Gracie didn't want to be distant. It wasn't her intention. She loved her friends. But she was going through a phase. One that started with the unexpected jealousy she'd experienced when Shane and Cecilia got engaged.

With only Sam for family, Gracie had come to think of their group as hers. But marriage bound the two women together, leaving Gracie in the outer circle.

They'd be angry at her for even thinking it. Hell, Gracie was angry at herself. But rationality had done nothing to cure the emotion.

It was why she couldn't tell them about James. She couldn't do anything to jeopardize her relationship with them. Another reason it was better they'd ended things quickly.

See, the list of
why nots
was endless.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked.

Gracie jerked her head back at her brother's question. “Nope, nothing to talk about. I didn't do anything this weekend.”

Sam smiled, slow and knowing. “I was talking about your distance with Maddie.”

“Oh yeah.” Gracie willed her expression to remain guilt-free. “I've been busy is all.”

With that intense focus he had, Sam searched her face. He pointed to the phone. “Call her.”

Gracie's tense shoulders relaxed; she was off the hook. She nodded. “I will.”

“Good.” He glanced at the clock over her head. “I've got to get to the bar. I have paperwork to do.”

“When are you going to start renovating?” Since Sam had bought the bar from Mitch with the little money left from their mom's life insurance, he'd been planning to renovate. Gracie didn't understand why Sam had bought the run-down dive, or how it could possibly turn a profit, but Sam had been insistent it was the right move, and Gracie learned not to question when he got that set to his jaw. And, in the end, it didn't matter if she understood or not. For whatever reason, Sam loved the place. Only he hadn't pulled the trigger on making the business the kind of bar people would want to go to. He'd talked about plans, but hadn't executed. Whenever she asked why, he'd shrug and change the subject.

“Soon.” Sam straightened and fished his keys out of his jeans pocket.

“When? Didn't you have a meeting set up with contractors?”

His knuckles whitened and Gracie didn't need to be a psychic to figure out he didn't want to talk about it. “Not yet.”

She knew perfectly well he'd had meetings set up with three companies, so what happened?

“Got to run,” he said, taking his leave before she could say another word.

Frowning, Gracie turned to her phone, picking up the receiver to retrieve her missed messages. She'd have to figure out the mystery another time. Five minutes later she hung up and stared at the list of names until the letters she'd written blurred.

Twenty calls. Twenty. It was only Monday. How was that even possible?

Yes, the cake had been for the mayor's chief of staff, and yes, there had been a large guest list, but she'd never expected this type of response so quickly.

Pure panic mixed with excitement raced through her blood. What was she going to do? More important, what did she want to do? The events were in Chicago. Delivering a few cakes was a pain in the ass but doable, but orders of this size would cut into her most valuable resource: time. If it continued, it would change the scope of her business.

She'd already grown as much as she could without opening up a shop, which in a town of twenty-five hundred hadn't seemed sustainable.

Nor had she wanted the commitment of a shop. She liked what she had. She worked out of her home and arranged her schedule to suit her needs, taking on as little or as much work as she wanted. She was busy, but not crazy. Her house and SUV were paid for. She and Sam split the utilities. She'd made the last payment on all her commercial baking equipment last year. She didn't have a lot of expenses and she made a decent living. It had been good enough. She was happy doing what she'd always loved.

She couldn't even wrap her brain around how she'd possibly handle these orders. The logistics alone made her head spin.

A million thoughts zipped along her neurons. She needed to talk. She always processed things better when she brainstormed out loud.

She froze, blinking at the first name that popped into her head.

James. Not her friends. The professor.

Now, instead of irritating her, the thought of all his calm, rational energy soothed her and all she wanted was to pick up the phone and call him. At the memory of their last conversation, she grimaced.

He wasn't an option.

 

 

“Okay, wait, let's go over this again,” Jane said, her exasperation clear.

Situated in James's office, they were supposed to be discussing the Jane Doe case they were working on, but somehow Jane had wrangled the whole Gracie story from him and now wouldn't let it go.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I already told you twice. Now you're just asking me to repeat myself for sport.”

Jane shook her head, as though he was too stupid for words. “No, I'm making sure you haven't left out any facts before I officially call you an idiot.”

James threw down the pen he'd been gripping far too tight. He'd replayed his last conversation with Gracie a million times and he still didn't comprehend what had happened. It was like they'd imploded. “I don't see how I did anything wrong.”

“That's because you're a man.”

“That's not helpful.”

Jane sighed and leaned forward, placing her elbows on his desk. “Let me spell it out to you. She thinks you gave her the brush-off, dummy.”

James racked his brain trying to come up with a reason Gracie would possibly think that, and came up blank. “I asked her what she wanted and she said she wanted to be friends. What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“You have so much to learn about relationships,” Jane said.

“I was with Lindsey for five years. I had no problem understanding her.” Although he'd never really argued with her because she'd generally agreed with him. “And I'm not in a relationship with Gracie.”

“Don't use that woman as an example.” Jane had never been a fan of Lindsey's. She blew out a hard breath and held up one finger. “You told Gracie to have a safe trip.”

“Yes, because she had a long drive ahead of her.”

“You said you didn't know what you wanted.”

“That was the truth.”

“And then you asked her what she wanted.”

“Since I was unclear on the matter, it seemed a logical question. She said friends. End of discussion.” He frowned. How could she want friendship after sex like that? He didn't understand it, but he didn't see how he had any other choice but to respect her wishes.

Jane ran a hand through her hair. “James, she asked you what you wanted, and you said you didn't know.”

This conversation made his head hurt. “Because I
don't
know. I haven't had time to think about it.”

“Of course she's going to say she wants to be friends.”

Dumbfounded, James could only stare at her.

“You gave her no indication of your feelings.” When James still didn't say anything, Jane let out an exasperated sigh. “Why would she come clean about what she wants after that?”

There was a knock on the door and his research assistant, Amanda Hutchins, poked her head in. “Sorry to bother you, Professor Donovan.”

“It's okay. What's up?” James gestured her to come in, thankful for the distraction.

She pointed to his computer screen. “I know you and Professor Conway are working on the Jane Doe, and I got the lab findings on the tests you ordered. I uploaded them on the share drive. I thought you might want them.”

“Thanks,” James said, already shifting his attention to the computer screen.

His assistant turned to leave, but Jane held up a hand. “Wait, Amanda. Can I ask you an off-topic question? I need another female to back me up.”

Amanda glanced at James and reddened before nodding. “Sure.”

James scowled at Jane, who paid no attention to him. “Tell me, Amanda. If you spent a weekend with a guy and at the end of it he told you to drive safe, what would you think?”

Amanda bit her lip, shifting on the balls of her feet. “I'd assume I was getting brushed off.”

“You wouldn't think he was nice and only concerned with your safety?” Jane asked.

Amanda looked at her like she'd just grown a third head. “No. Why would I think that?”

“And if you asked him about his feelings and he said he didn't know, what would you think?”

The younger girl cringed. “I'd think that's right up there with ‘I'm busy' and ‘We need to talk.'”

Jane gave him her best I-told-you-so smile. “You've been very helpful.”

James frowned. Apparently he'd made some sort of grave error. Maybe if he'd had time he could have put more thought into what he said. He nodded to the door. “Is there anything else?”

The girl's face clouded and her hair swayed as she shook her head. “If you, like, need anything, I'll be here for another hour.”

“Thank you, Amanda,” James said.

When the door clicked shut Jane threw up her hands. “See!”

“You've made your point.” James opened the folder that contained the data he'd ordered. So, he'd fucked up. Yes, he didn't understand how telling someone to drive safe was a mortal sin, but apparently he'd violated some secret female code. Yes, he should have been clearer. He might not know what he wanted, but it sure as hell wasn't friends.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Jane asked, tone as smug as her expression.

“I'll apologize.” And now he had a perfect excuse to call her. Something he'd been searching for all day.

It wasn't smart. Logically he should leave it alone and let this weekend pass as an anomaly, but he already knew he wasn't going to do that. When it came to Gracie, reason had no impact.