“Just talk, huh?” she asked. He was sexy as hell, but the whirlwind date wouldn’t make her forget the cruel tricks he’d played on Granny.
“Yes. Just talk. And eat.”
Gawd, it would be great to let him throw all his money around, flashing that sexy almost-there grin, thinking he was being sly, manipulating her. And then at the end of the day she’d tell him “bite me”, watch his jaw hit the floor. It’d serve’im right.
“Fine. Take me to lunch.”
Gray figured Maizie would be surprised when his driver turned onto the gravel road next to the Wild Game Preserve sign, but she looked almost mystified.
“Is there a private airstrip somewhere in the forest? Maybe a helipad?” She searched through the car window, scanning between the trees, squinting into the shadows. Her hands tensed around the pastry box on her lap, denting the edges.
“Uh, no. No airstrip. No helipad.” Jeezus, where’d she expect him to take her for lunch? He’d dated plenty of women who expected over-the-top outings, but he hadn’t pegged Maizie as the type. Being raised by Ester, he thought she’d be more down to earth, more…real.
Several minutes along the gravel road into the forest, the car came to a stop. Gray reached down and pulled a shoebox from under the driver’s seat.
He held it out to Maizie. “Here. You might want to put these on.”
She turned, her gaze dropping to the box. A strange grin curled her lips. “You bought me shoes, huh?”
“Actually, I-”
“What are they, Manolo Blahnik? Jimmy Choo? Prada?” She handed him the pastries and threw off the shoe lid as though she was exposing some guilty payoff.
“They’re Timberlands,” Gray said. “My niece’s boots. I wasn’t sure of your size, but you look about as small as Shelly. It’s kind of a hike. Not muddy, but not exactly a high-heeled-sandal trail.” He opened his door. “You wanted designer shoes?”
She paled, practically shrank back into her seat. “No. No, I just thought… Never mind. These are fine, perfect.”
Dave, the driver, had gotten them as close to the picnic site as he could. Still, the quarry lake was a good distance from the road. Gray hadn’t been there in years, but he’d had a strange dream the other night about Maizie and him at the lake. She’d come up out of the water-naked.
Gray shook the erotic memory from his brain. He wanted to keep a tight rein on everything today, his actions as well as his thoughts. He didn’t want to risk losing control like he had in his wolf form. Jeezus, she brought the animal out in him.
Carrying the pastry box for her, he heard Maizie’s muffled oath and glanced back in time to see her recover from a stumble over a tree root. He grabbed her hand without thinking. She flinched, but then held his hand tight. It felt good. He tried to ignore it.
Gray watched her step high over the jutting root, her shapely leg stretching the limits of her form-fitting dress.
The idea was to ingratiate himself with Maizie, get to know her, let her know him somewhat. Yeah, he’d use seduction enough to influence her. He’d use her already budding attraction to gain her loyalty. When Cadwick made his move he wanted Maizie to have every reason to refuse him.
Nothing more. No matter what Ester hoped, there’d be nothing real between him and Maizie. There couldn’t be. There was too much between them already. The fact she couldn’t remember didn’t change anything.
They stepped into the narrow clearing along the shoreline.
“Ohmygod.” Maizie exhaled the words. “The quarry.” She’d gone pale.
“You don’t like it?” He gestured to the low table set atop a large Oriental rug. Big colorful cushions lined two sides of the table while the sun sparked off several silver dish covers.
Maizie’s gaze skittered over the table, her lips parted. “No. It’s…it’s beautiful. Surprising. I never would’ve guessed. I…” She glanced in the opposite direction and Gray followed her gaze.
When he saw the huge flat rock tilted gently toward the water, his sudden hard-on made him light-headed for a second. The memory of what she’d done in his dream. Good God, he’d come just thinking about it. He turned away, scrambling to rein in his thoughts. But then her hand trembled in his, her palm moistened. She was flushed, her breathing shallow. She was as turned on as he was, just as quickly affected. Why?
“Should we eat?” She dropped his hand and headed for the table. “Can’t wait to see what’s under those covers.”
He followed, but his mind was a chaotic mess with a million thoughts, a thousand questions. Something was happening between them, something he couldn’t explain but he could feel, like the forest around him. The pulse of life beating beneath the surface, touching the primal nature within him, he was connected to the forest and he was connected to Maizie.
His jaw stiffened. “No.” It’s not right.
“What?”
His gaze snapped to Maizie’s, her eyes questioning, a touch of hurt wrinkling the corners.
“We’re not eating here?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m sorry, I was… Excuse me. Please.” He gestured to the oversized purple cushion closest to them.
They toed off their boots and shoes, handing the pastry box back and forth, careful to step barefooted onto the rug.
Those greener than green eyes were staring at his feet, a look of utter female appreciation shading her face. “Nice feet.”
This was definitely a bad idea.
Gray ignored his semi-hard-on. He moved them to the table, guiding Maizie with his hand at the small of her back. She sat like a lady, knees together, legs curled to the side. The tight hug of her dress left her few options. She set the box between them on the table.
Annette had set the two entrées side by side. The other side of the table was filled with floral arrangements, a rather large bowl of fruit, and two flickering candelabras. With space limited and Maizie already seated, Gray had no choice but to take the cushion next to her.
After a second or two of fidgeting, they both accepted that her legs would press against his thigh. Gray did his best to ignore the sensation.
“So what’s under the covers?” she asked, suspicious. “Lobster? Truffles? Or no, I bet it’s steak tartare? Or maybe quail?”
Steak tartare? Rather than deny her bizarre guesses, Gray reached over and removed both covers at once. “Peanut butter sandwiches, chips, and a glass of milk. I was told it’s your favorite.”
She blinked, staring at the ordinary dish.
“You’re disappointed. I’m sorry. I thought-”
“No.” She grabbed his hand, smiled at him. “It’s perfect. You’re right. It is my favorite. But you…I’m sure you’d rather have, I don’t know, soft-shell crabs or something.”
Gray snorted, setting the covers off to the side. “No. Not a seafood lover. Besides, nothing’s better than peanut butter sandwiches for nerves.”
“I know.” Her gaze snapped to his as though she’d just heard what he’d said. “You’re nervous?”
“Oh. No. I meant…” He glanced at her. Something had changed in the way she looked at him. A softening of her eyes, the easy curve of her smile, as though he was suddenly more attractive to her. God help him, he liked the way she was looking at him.
“Yeah,” he said. “A little. I guess. You?”
She laughed and the tiny curls tickling the sides of her face swayed against her blushing cheeks. “Yeah. Me too.”
He could smell the lavender scent of her shampoo, but he’d love to feel her flaming red hair in his hands, press it against his nose, inhale her, the very essence of her.
Gray blinked. A quick shake of his head and he was out of the mental fantasy.
“You okay?”
He couldn’t stop his scowl. “Yes. I was just… How’s your sandwich?”
She laughed again, light and happy. “I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s peanut butter. Kinda hard to screw that up.”