With Good Behavior (28 page)

His hand rested protectively on the small of her back as he gestured to the feast she was compiling on the counter. “What’s all this? Smells incredible, by the way.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I wanted to do something nice for you, to thank you for being my personal employment agency. So, I’m cooking you a Mediterranean meal.”

“My favorite food! I can’t wait to try it.”

“Well, don’t get too excited. It’s my first time making these dishes, so they might be a total disaster. And I’m not done yet. I didn’t expect you home so soon!”

“Yeah, Rog didn’t make me swab the deck tonight. But I still got kind of grubby on the ship.” He glanced at his watch. “How about I take a quick shower before we eat?”

“Yes!” she responded enthusiastically. “That would give me some time to finish up.”

“Wow. Are you trying to get rid of me, Bonnie?” He grinned.

Sophie blushed. “Not at all, Clyde. It’s just that I want this dinner to be perfect and having you here, hovering over me, is kind of, um, 
distracting
.”

“Say no more,” he advised, leaning in to graze his lips across her warm cheek and holding her spellbound with his tantalizing touch.

As Grant headed for the shower, Sophie felt her cheek and neck on fire from his lingering kisses. Slowly she turned her attention back to the cucumber, sighing happily.

* * *

“That was simply amazing,” he murmured appreciatively while surveying the table covered by remnants of their feast: rich garlic hummus with pita and slices of cucumber and tomato, then shish kebabs featuring succulent lamb, grilled onion, and green pepper, along with fattoush salad drizzled with lemon vinaigrette.

Sophie beamed. “I’m so glad you liked it. Are you ready for dessert?”

“Whoa, dessert too?” He clasped her hand in his, and the electricity that crackled between them only intensified. “What kind of dessert did you plan? Food or flesh?”

Her mouth dropped open, and he felt enticed by the parting of her pink, luscious lips. Heat stirred below his belly as she slowly slid her tongue across her bottom lip, leaving a moist trail.

“Hmm,” she mused. “I had planned some baklava to end our Mideast feast, but it sounds like you have something else in mind?”

Keeping hold of her warm hand, Grant rose from the table, drawing her out of her chair. “Maybe later for the baklava,” he suggested. He gently cradled her other hand in his and they faced each other, inches apart. His fingers slid softly over her smooth hands, which rested by her side.

“The flesh kind of dessert then?” She tilted her face up and leaned in to meet his smiling lips with her own. Their kiss started as tentative and sweet, an exploratory union holding the promise of deeper passion. Grant let go of one hand to cradle the back of her head, his hand pressing into her strawberry tresses while his lips bore down on her mouth.

Between gradually intensifying kisses he whispered, “Your delicious dinner was a wonderful thank-you gift.”

Snaking her hands up his back and cradling them over his broad shoulders, she gazed into his eyes and pledged, “My thank you is just getting started, McSailor.”

He raised his eyebrows and his typically cool eyes smoldered. Abruptly he squatted and hoisted her body in one swift movement.

Sophie squealed as he slung her over his shoulder.

“I’m taking you to my bed, woman,” he announced.

She continued giggling, feeling blood rush to her face. “Oh, McSailor, you’ve got me. I’m at your mercy.”

“Glad you see things clearly,” he responded as he took sure strides into the bedroom, his precious cargo slung like a sack of potatoes across his back. The bed was neatly made—traces of his military training—and he gently unfurled her body from his, resting her on the leafy sage bedding. He feasted his eyes on the rosy skin of her arms and neck.

“As sexy as you look in that getup, I’m going to have to strip it off of you right now.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

He grinned. “Ah, I love a feisty Bonnie lass.” Crawling onto the bed, he undid the clasp of her halter top while simultaneously planting a scorching kiss on her lips.

She pulled down her halter top, exposing her bare breasts. No bra! He swiftly lifted his light-blue polo shirt over his head, then straddled her reclining form.

He slid his long fingers up her ribcage, kneading and massaging her firm breasts and hardening nipples with his adept touch. Feeling his hardness near her, on her, around her, she desperately wanted him 
in
 her, and she reached down to unzip his jeans.

He was zoned in on the flesh cradled in his hands, however, and he would not be deterred. Her breath hitched as his tongue swirled across her sensitive skin. She gave up on removing his pants and allowed her arms to fall by her side, useless.

Grant paused and peeked up, smirking. “Is my little chef tired from all her cooking today? Just leave the work to me. I’ll take good care of you.”

She grinned as he scooted himself toward her feet while he peeled off her pantsuit. Always a gentleman, he popped off the bed to hang the pantsuit carefully on a chair before returning to his beauty.

Grant admired her black panties. “You are one sexy woman, Sophie Taylor.”

She sat up and grabbed the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans, noticing the tightening bulge beneath the zipper. “And you are wearing entirely too many clothes, Grant Madsen.” She helped him shimmy out of his jeans, then beckoned him back to the bed. He sat on the sheets and she cuddled up on top of him, her long legs wrapped around him as they continued kissing, reveling in their closeness.

Moving easily together, she helped him shed his boxers a split second before he removed her panties. Having spent several evenings naked in each other’s company, their self-consciousness was gone.

Grant nestled himself into the covers, resting on his back and panting with anticipation, as Sophie unrolled a condom over his rock-hard erection. There was no need for words as they synchronously flowed together, reading each other’s intentions through hungry looks or sensuous touches. He reached down to her core and let his fingers do the talking as he prepared her for entry, reveling in her delectable moans.

Crawling up his body, her eyes glowed with desire. The faint smile on her lips disappeared the moment she guided him into her wetness. Her lips separated and a staccato gasp stole the air around her as he filled her completely.

She rested her weight entirely on top of him and he bucked into her, his hands all over her glorious body as they thrust together. Somehow managing to corral his roving hands with her own, she held on for dear life as he took her screaming upward to the height of arousal—higher, faster, climbing to a soaring zenith as both reached a shuddering peak. They held onto their high for a magnificent moment, suspended in time. Then their bodies collapsed into each other, and Sophie tried to catch her breath, her lungs heaving and quivering against his strong chest.

Their eyes met again and she gave a brilliant smile, watching beads of sweat form on his forehead and enjoying the feel of him below her and inside her. “I love your widow’s peak,” she said, still trying to resume normal respiration.

“You do?”

“Very much,” she confirmed, shifting up to kiss the peak softly. “And I love the cute little mole you have over here.” She moved her mouth to plant a sweet kiss on his right temple. “I find your luscious, full lips irresistible.” He lifted his head to meet hers, and their tongues danced and dipped playfully.

“But most of all,” she continued, “I adore your beautiful eyes. I could get lost in those sparkling sea-blue eyes, McSailor.” She leaned forward and feathered a soft kiss on each eyelid in turn.

She finally rolled off him to rest by his side. They were contentedly quiet for a few moments until she remembered a question she’d been meaning to ask.

“So, how was your meeting with Jerry this morning?”

The high he’d been riding swiftly bottomed out with a crash, his lilting romantic fantasy abruptly ruined by his dark family reality. She noticed him tense instantly.

“Hey,” she softly cried, reaching out to cup his chin with her hand. “What’s wrong, Grant?”

Staring into her eyes, he knew what he had to do. This gorgeous woman deserved to know the truth about him and his family. She’d given herself to him, and he needed to be totally open with her. It was only fair.

“I …” He cleared his throat, his voice raspy from their intense lovemaking. “I need to tell you something, Sophie.”

Watching a resigned expression darken his features, suddenly she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She didn’t want anything ruining their perfect connection: lying here naked, snuggled close, relishing in post-coital bliss.

“Shh,” she responded, lifting herself up on one elbow and laying her index finger on his lips. “I’ve been thinking about us, and I realized it’s unfair for me to be mad at you for withholding information, when I myself have not been entirely forthcoming.”

“Huh?” Grant replied.

“I feel closer to you than anyone in my life,” she said, a slight tremor in her melodious voice. “Yet I realized there’s a significant piece of my past that I never shared with you. I want to tell you what happened to me, Grant. I need to tell you why I went to prison.” She couldn’t help but turn her eyes downward as her face reddened with shame.

Reading the pain in her body language, Grant gently brushed his fingers across her cheekbone. “You don’t have to tell me, Sophie.”

“Yes, I do,” she responded with increasing confidence, raising her eyes to peer into his once again. “I need to be completely honest with you if I want to make this relationship work. At least that’s what my shrink told me. I just hope, um, I hope you’ll still want to be with me when you know the truth.”

Grant flinched upon hearing her words, shocked that she’d been experiencing the same doubts as he had—fears that if the truth was revealed, one of them would leave. He felt deeply saddened that she thought he would cast her aside so easily. He would never allow that to happen.

He grasped her hands in his, stroking the soft skin of her palms lovingly. “Sophie, no matter what you tell me, I would never leave you. Don’t you understand?” He waited until she met his eyes. “I love you.”

She drew in a sharp breath and felt the sting of tears as her heart thumped furiously. Oh God! Her eyes glistened. “I love you too,” she declared. She was sure of it.

He squeezed her hands in his. “Don’t you see? We love each other, and we won’t let anything come between us, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He gently leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose, tasting the salt of her tears. They studied each other for a moment before she plunged ahead, determined to tell her story before she lost her courage.

“I was seeing a client in my practice,” she began. “He was court-ordered for treatment related to a, uh, an addiction.”

Grant nodded and drew her hand to his mouth to kiss it encouragingly.

“My client was a well-known criminal,” she continued, feeling her cheeks flush. “Well-known to everyone except for me, that is. I don’t know how I could have been so stupid.”

Grant frowned and smoothed his fingers down her long blond tresses. He carefully tucked a strand of strawberry hair behind her ear, then resumed caressing her cheek.

Sophie sniffed. “I’d been meeting with him for more than six months, and he wasn’t getting any better. I wasn’t helping him. Then this one session, he was telling me an awful story about his childhood—I was trying to comfort him—and he—he … kissed me. He did other things to me too. And …” She gazed down in shame. “And I let him. I liked it.”

“It’s okay, Sophie.”

“No, it’s not, Grant. It’s not okay! I was his psychologist! I shouldn’t have let it happen. I exploited the situation. I broke every ethical guideline in the book.”

“That’s why you went to prison?” he asked incredulously.

“No, what I did could have put my license in jeopardy, but it couldn’t have put me in prison.” She sighed. “There’s more. He stashed stolen money in my office. When I found the cash—there was a lot of it—I freaked out, and I called him and yelled at him. He was going to come pick up the money but before he got there, the police arrived. They had a search warrant. I tried to tell them the money was my client’s, but when they searched the office, they found … they found …” Her voice trailed off, and she seemed miles away.

Grant snuggled closer and planted a soft kiss on her collarbone, nudging her to continue. “It’s all right.”

“They found a stash of guns,” she choked out.

He lifted himself up on his elbow and stared at her, alarmed. “Guns?”

She nodded and felt her tears resume. “Guns. One of them had been used in a … murder.” Her last word was a whisper.

“But they weren’t your guns!” Grant objected. “Why should you have to go to prison?”

“Because my client skipped town—nobody knew where to find him. And somebody had to take the fall. At least that’s what my attorney said.”

Grant suddenly realized his hand had ceased caressing her face and instead was balled in a fist, pressing down on the pillow next to her head. He was infuriated.