The Name of the Game (22 page)

There was silence over the line and he glanced at his screen to make sure the call hadn't dropped. Still connected, he put the phone back to his ear.

She cleared her throat. “That sounds very proper.”

Vexing woman. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Fine. I can't live without fucking the hell out of you again. Is that better?”

“Is it the truth?” Her voice all warm and husky, he relaxed marginally.

His own voice dropped. “Yes. I'd drive down there now for a chance to be inside you.”

“So you liked the sex?”

“You're fishing,” he said, his tone exasperated, but he smiled, feeling better than he had all day.

“Damn straight I am,” she said, amusement clear in the lilt of her tone.

“Are you going to make me suffer?”

“Yes.”

His smile grew wider, into a full-fledged grin. “The sex was phenomenal, baby girl.”

“I like when you call me that.”

“I know you do.” Determined to be entirely honest, even though he could easily keep talking about their physical chemistry, he said, “If it was just sex, it would be easy, wouldn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Even more than you being in my bed, I liked being with you. I liked you in my house. I liked talking to you. And I like how you make something ordinary, interesting.”

There was silence over the line.

He waited.

She said nothing.

Finally, he prompted, “Gracie?”

“I'm here,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse. “We should end things now before anyone gets hurt.”

He clenched his hand into a fist. “Is that what you want?”

There was a long, heavy silence. “Mary Beth tried to set me up on a blind date today.”

Over his dead fucking body.
The vehemence of his emotions startled him. Carefully, he asked, “And?”

“He sounded exactly my type,” she continued with absolutely no mercy. “But I said no.”

The relief swelled but didn't quite break. “Why's that?”

Another pause. “Because of you.”

He relaxed for the first time since he'd decided to call her. He wanted to reach through the line and touch her. “I'm not sorry. I have no idea what we're doing, but I want to see you again.”

“Me too,” she said.

“You're coming to Chicago in a couple of weeks. Will you stay with me?”

She didn't hesitate. “Yes. If you'll have me.”

“I'll have you so many times you'll lose count.” Talking to her was torture. The line practically crackled with the sexual tension between them. “It seems our plan has backfired.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sex was supposed to alleviate the tension, not increase it.”

A breathy little moan. “It's your fault, Professor.”

“How's that?” His muscles finally relaxed now that he knew he'd see her again. Have her. Taste her.

“You were too good.”

Primal male satisfaction seeped into his bones at her words. “So I shouldn't have given you all those orgasms?”

“Now who's fishing?”

He laughed, adoring everything about her. “Not willing to throw me a bone, are you?”

“Not today. Besides, I'm not sure you need it. I'm sure all those female students of yours fawn enough for the rest of us.”

He shook his head. “Don't be silly.”

“You don't think your students are in love with you?” Her voice so low and intimate he wanted to sink into the lush sound of it.

He put his hand behind his head, happy to be talking to her, content this wasn't the last time. “Not at all.”

“Please, I bet they all are.”

“Highly doubtful. I maintain firm boundaries. And anyone who gets another idea is sternly rebuffed.”

She laughed. “Sure, because no girls have stern-professor fantasies.”

“Do you have stern-professor fantasies?”

“Of course, all women do,” she said, her tone light. Teasing.

She was playing, but he wasn't so sure it was a joke. He'd paid attention. She liked aggressive. Assertive. Demanding. He wondered how far those fantasies traveled and if she'd let him in enough to find out. He put a hard edge in his voice. “I don't care about all women, I care about you.”

Nothing over the line but the quickening of breath. Finally she said, “And what about you? What's your fantasy?”

She'd diverted, but maybe that was because she felt vulnerable. Maybe if he opened up, she would too. “Do you really want to know? Because I've never told anyone.”

“Yes, please,” she said, oh-so-sweetly.

“Well, aren't you a good girl.”

She moaned, and he grinned. She definitely had themes. “Tell me.”

If he was going to do this, he wanted to do it right, but it didn't stop the embarrassment. And it was embarrassing. It also happened to be the truth. “It's silly. So don't get too excited.”

“Tell me, tell me.” And he could practically see her bouncing around on her bed. Preferably naked.

“You can't laugh.”

“I'd never do that.”

“It's simple, really. Boring.” Now that he'd committed, he didn't want to say, but he trudged on, understanding he needed to reveal his secrets to get to hers.

“When I was growing up we had this rec room in the basement. My brothers would take girls down there and put on a scary movie. Sometimes I'd be there and they'd make a pretense of letting me stay, but as soon as the girls got scared enough to crawl into their laps they'd kick me out so they could mess around.”

He could still remember the longing of wondering what it felt like. The jealousy at the way the girls would swoon over his brothers. He hated the memory, the awkwardness of being kicked out, the shame at his envy, but there it was. He blew out a deep breath. “By the time I got around to girls, they were already way past the horror movie, make-out stage. Not that it wasn't great to jump right into sex, but I never got that adolescent, desperate, touch-me-but-don't-touch-me angst. Never got to hold a pretty girl while she pretended to be scared to feel me close. I always wondered what it was like.”

He paused, and when she didn't speak, he worried maybe he'd said too much. “See, I told you it was silly.”

“It's not silly.” Her voice was more serious than he'd ever heard it. “I'm sorry you missed that.”

“I'm not sure it was that much of a hardship.” It was just that the memory was acute.

“I would have made out with you.”

He laughed, and the sound was far more bitter than he wanted. He'd barely been able to get her to make out with him now; he wouldn't have had a shot in hell when he was sixteen. “I appreciate the lie.”

She sighed. “I want it to be true.”

A smile touched his lips. “That's good enough for me. We are talking fantasy here.”

“I'll tell you what's not a fantasy.” Her voice a low purr.

“What's that?”

“I missed you. I thought about you all day. I couldn't get you out of my mind. And if you hadn't called me, I would have broken down and called you. Because I needed to hear your voice.”

It was more than enough. It was everything.

Chapter Twenty

Gracie stared out her kitchen window, a big dopey smile on her lips as she watched the sun rise over the weeping willow trees lining her backyard. Last night she'd talked to James for two hours. She'd told him all about the orders, her worries about handling the business, the endless list in her head, and he'd listened. Really listened. Just like she knew he would. The more she talked, the more the ragged edge of her panic smoothed away, and by the end of the conversation he'd made her feel like she could do anything.

Her phone rang and she picked it up, dreamily, not bothering to look at the caller ID. “Hello.”

“So, Maddie says there's a guy you're hiding from us.”
Cecilia
.

Gracie sighed. The urge to confess sat on her lips and she pushed the words back down. “Wrong.”

“You didn't decide to do something about James, did you?”

Gracie was just barely able to keep the gasp out of her voice. “No! God no!”

Things with James were too new. Too uncertain. When things ended between them, when they'd finally worked each other out of their systems, it was better none of their friends and family knew.

She remembered Maddie once saying James was the brother she told her secrets to, and Gracie could understand that. He'd never tell anyone. And when they were over, she could pretend nothing had ever happened between them, and he'd let her.

“You hesitated,” Cecilia said.

“I didn't.” She glanced at the clock on her stove. “Don't you have anyone better to harass at 6:50 in the morning?”

“Nope. You're the only one I know is up.”

“Lucky me,” Gracie said.

“Would you tell me if there was a guy?”

She crossed her fingers behind her back. “Of course. What's on your agenda for the day?”

“Mostly client meetings. You're avoiding.”

Gracie pressed a finger to her temple. “You should have been a lawyer like your brother.”

Cecilia laughed. “I tried. It didn't stick. I much prefer cleaning up other people's messes.”

And her friend was damn good at it. With her connections in the city, and Chicago's interesting political landscape, word of Cecilia's public relations skills and proven track record at damage control had grown at record speed. She already had a full client list.

Gracie's timer went off. “Ce-ce, I have to get stuff out of the oven.”

A long, put-upon sigh. “Fine. I'll call you later.”

“Sounds great.” Gracie hung up. The heat would die down eventually, since she had no secret plans to meet James again for three weeks. Three long weeks.

She went to her oven and pulled out her cookies. She already couldn't wait.

She had plans. And she intended to make James a very happy man.

 

 

Nine days after James had talked to Gracie, he sat with Jane in his kitchen, rehydrating after their run. He'd pushed himself particularly hard, setting a grueling pace that left Jane behind at the thirty-minute mark. He'd needed a hard run; it was the only thing keeping all this pent-up sexual energy in check.

Every night, lying in bed before he fell asleep, he'd talk to Gracie for at least an hour. He hadn't known quite how it happened, but she'd become a habit. A part of his daily routine he couldn't do without.

She talked to him about everything and nothing. He'd learned about the toll her mother's illness had taken on her, how she'd given up her culinary dreams to take care of her. She talked about Sam's intuition and how she worried he kept himself distant from others because of it. She told James about her father and how abusive he'd been. About her anger over her mother staying. The hopelessness of watching her die. She talked to him about her business, her plans, and her fears.

And to his surprise he found himself opening up to her. Secrets about things he'd never spoken of. Bad memories about being bullied. Good memories about growing up in a big family. Special times when his dad would take him fishing and they'd talk. Not about football or sports that dominated the conversation when his brothers were around, but about the things James liked. Science. History. The vastness of the universe.

While his attempts to get her to watch
Firefly
failed, he had gotten her hooked on
Doctor Who
and sometimes they'd watch an episode. He'd listen to her laugh, gasp, and shriek in surprise and he'd soak it all in, learning her as he'd never taken the time to learn another woman.

He'd listened to her voice grow low and husky as the conversation turned dark and sexual. He'd listened to her groan as she brought herself to orgasm, and sigh with contentment, purring out her breathy, Marilyn Monroe thank-you in his ear.

No matter what happened throughout the day, or what they spoke about, her voice was the last he heard before he drifted off to sleep, and his dreams were increasingly carnal.

Snap.
Fingers flashed in front of his face.

He blinked and his kitchen, and reality, came rushing back. He found Jane smiling at him.

“What?”

Jane pointed to the clock over his pantry. “You do realize you've been off daydreaming for the last ten minutes?”

No, he had not realized. With a scowl, he said, “I do not daydream.”

“I beg to differ.” She laughed, tightening her ponytail. “You've got it bad, don't you?”

He wasn't ready to discuss Gracie. He liked being wrapped in this private place with her and didn't want it to end. Couldn't help feeling once the world intruded, it would close in on them and they'd implode. He shook his head. “Nope. I'm totally in control.”

“That is a crock of shit,” Jane said. “In fact, I don't think I've ever seen you like this. Not even at the beginning with Lindsey.”

James thought about how his heart sped up whenever he saw Gracie's number on his phone. How he couldn't wait to see her. Never once had he experienced that with Lindsey, or any other woman. James sighed. “Stop being dramatic. I spent one weekend with her. It's not a big deal.”

“Why do you have to be so tight-lipped? You're a terrible best friend,” Jane said, her voice turning petulant.

James took a long drink from his water bottle. “Perhaps you're confusing me with a woman. I've heard they're much better at discussing feelings.”

She rolled her eyes. “You're impossible. Please, take pity on me. Anne is driving me crazy looking for details.”

The doorbell rang and he stood, giving Jane a smile. “You can tell Anne we had a pleasant weekend and we were able to resolve some of our differences.”

As he was walking to the door, she called after him, “You ingrate. I help you get back the girl of your dreams and you won't tell me anything.”

He pulled open the door to spot a FedEx employee jumping into his truck and speeding away. James looked down at his feet to find a large box waiting for him. Odd, considering he hadn't ordered anything. He picked up the package and read the return address. It was from Gracie. He walked back into his great room and put it on the island.

Logic dictated if he didn't want more questions he'd wait until Jane left to open the package, but he couldn't, he was too curious. Like all things related to Gracie, he had a hard time controlling himself.

Jane peered at the box. “What's that?”

“Don't know.” He retrieved scissors from the drawer and opened the box to find three containers packed between ice packets and bubble wrap. A note lay on the top. He picked it up and read:

James could only stare in amazement as he took the three containers out of the box and opened them up to find individually wrapped bars packed inside.

Jane's eyes widened. “Oh my. What are those?”

He was so stunned at the gesture he forgot to be guarded. “They're protein bars. Gracie made them.”

Jane picked up the chocolate peanut butter one and took a bite. She moaned so loud it would do a porn star proud. When she swallowed she said, “There's no way these can be healthy.”

He picked them up and took a bite. The flavor practically exploded in his mouth and all he could think was if she sold them she'd make a fortune. Somehow she made it actually taste like a peanut butter cup and not a pale imitation. “I think they are.”

Jane got a knife from the drawer and cut off slivers of the other two flavors, and each one was as fantastic as the last. James would never be able to eat another store-bought bar as long as he lived after this. Gracie had ruined him forever.

Jane shook her head, moaning in pure pleasure. “How does she do it?”

“I have no idea,” James said, still in awe. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for him.

Jane put down the bar and wiped her hand on a napkin before her expression turned gravely serious. “Now you listen here, James Donovan, and you listen good. Do not—I repeat—
do not
let this woman go. Do you understand me? It will be the biggest mistake you ever make in your life.”

James would never admit it, but at the moment, he couldn't agree more.

 

 

Gracie had gotten into the habit of keeping her phone close since she'd started talking to James throughout the day, so when her cell rang a huge smile slid over her face. He must have gotten the bars she'd made.

Sam was in the kitchen, watching her in that way he had, so she turned her back and answered the call, unable to hide the giddiness in her voice. “Hi.”

“You have been a very busy girl.” James's low, smooth voice slid over her skin like a caress, warming her all over.

“You got them?” She tucked the phone between her shoulder and neck, flicking off the mixer so she could hear him better.

“I did. You have outdone yourself. Jane was with me and we got in an argument because I wouldn't give her any to take home.” His voice dropped an octave. “When it comes to you, I find I'm selfish.”

Her heart actually skipped a beat and heat jumped in her belly. “I could make her some.”

“She'd love you forever.”

Will you love me forever?
The words slipped into her mind, so unbidden and unexpected, she had to grip the counter.
No. No. No.
She was the fun girl, not the forever girl. She cleared her throat. “I'd like to be on her good side.”

“You already are. Jane and Anne are bugging me incessantly about bringing you over when you're in town.”

Conscious of Sam behind her, she said, “That will work for me.”

“Good.” He paused and she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing before he said, “Thank you, baby girl. This is the best present I've ever received.”

“You're welcome,” she said, her breath catching a bit in her chest.

“I'll have to find a way to repay you.”

“No, I wanted to.” She wanted to make him happy.

“I'll think of something. Did you place the ad in the paper for an assistant?”

After much discussion and thought, Gracie had decided to hire help in order to deal with the influx of Chicago business. It was a big step—she was used to running a one-woman show—but she knew it was the right decision as soon as she'd hit upon it. “I did. So we'll see what happens.”

“Good for you. I'll let you get back to work, but I had to call and thank you. I'll talk to you tonight.”

Gracie couldn't wait. It was increasingly becoming a favorite part of her day. Sliding beneath her cool, cotton sheets, lying there in the dark, his incredible voice in her ear. She didn't think she could sleep without him. Which was increasingly worrisome. He was becoming a habit. More than a habit, if she was honest; he was becoming a compulsion. “Sounds good.”

With a great heaving sigh, she turned back to her work only to find she had no idea where she'd left off. She was in the middle of making a wedding cake for Saturday; she remembered that much. She went to the table to grab her list, to find her brother watching her.

She flashed him an innocent smile. “So, what are your plans for the day?”

He said nothing for several long moments. He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “Not ready to fess up yet, huh?”

She straightened her shoulders. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Not talking to anyone has got to be driving you crazy.”

He was right. It was driving her crazy. Especially when her emotions were so messed up. But still, she wasn't going to talk to Sam. Or anyone. By way of an answer, she shrugged.