I dropped my hand to his chest and worked my way inside his jacket. I rested my palm flat against him, and I could feel the warmth through his shirt.
“This, this wonderful heart right here?” I said, tapping his chest. The side of his mouth quirked up a little. “This is the heart I need. And if I have this—and a little schmaltz—I don’t need anything else in the world,” I said, and he smiled, my smile. The smile that had changed my life months ago.
But then his face changed. The smile faded. “But what about everything that you said? What about the nine years?” he asked.
“I don’t care. Clearly you are more emotionally mature than me, so we balance out.”
“What about the fame, the cameras, the photographers? What about people finding out about us? What about the next time someone posts a picture of us and says something nasty about you?”
“I’ll deal with it.”
“Grace…”
“Jack,” I insisted.
“What about Michael? What if you decide you want to be more than friends with him again?” he asked.
“I get it. That’s a fair question. And he will likely be around—we’re working together. But know that there could not be anything other than friendship between us. I thought he was back in my life for a reason, but I know now that reason is nothing other than being a friend and the creator of the show I’m in. That’s all there is, and that’s all there ever will be. I know this, he knows this, and now you know this. I belong to you, if you’ll have me.”
I smiled, and after what seemed like an eternity, he smiled too.
“Now, screw lunch. Let’s go fix this,” I said, tugging on his hand. He finally stood, but he put his hands on my shoulders and once again pushed me away.
My heart sank. What if everything I’d said wasn’t enough?
We’ll deal with it…
I was still determined. It didn’t matter what I had to do. I was never letting this man go again.
“I need to tell you something too, Grace,” he said, sinking back into his chair. He took a deep breath.
“Tell me what?” I looked at him expectantly. My heart began to pound a funny beat, as though it knew something my brain hadn’t quite caught on to yet.
“Back in L.A, well, something happened with me too,” he said, and I knew without question what he was going to tell me. The pictures in the magazine with the blonde. He’d done what I’d done. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew.
“After the movie came out and I got back in town, well, I went on a bit of a bender,” he said, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. I took my seat across the table once more, waiting to hear what he needed to tell me.
Breathe…
“I was so mad at you, Grace. So mad, and I was drinking so much and…other things were happening, and I just was out of my mind, totally out of my mind. One night, one thing led to another, and, well, I went home with someone. Totally random. It meant nothing, but…oh, God, Grace, it was awful.”
He looked at me now with tears in his eyes, and I saw once more what I’d done to him.
“I tried, Grace. I was so damn mad at you, but, Christ, I missed you, and this girl, she was so beautiful, and she smelled like coconuts, you know? She smelled like coconuts, and that reminded me of you, but they were awful coconuts—synthetic, and syrupy sweet, and not at all like my girl, and I just—I didn’t, I mean, I did things, but I didn’t…” he rambled on, so torn up inside.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to hear another word. I’d heard enough.
I came around the table and knelt in front of him again. I lifted his head so he’d look at me. He looked so very sad and so very young in that moment. I pressed my fingers to his lips to stop his words and leaned in. My heart was thumping wildly.
“I don’t care. I don’t want to know. Do you love me?” I asked.
“What?” he asked, his voice muffled through my fingers. He looked at me with wide eyes.
I chuckled lightly and removed my hand, cupping his cheek with my fingers. “Do you love me?” I asked again.
He was quiet for just a moment, and I couldn’t breathe. My world stopped in that instant. It could easily have been a lifetime as I waited for his answer.
“I do love you, Grace, of course I do. But—”
That was all I needed to hear.
I was on my feet and in his lap in a nanosecond. I pressed myself into his arms and kissed him square on the lips. This was my man, and I needed his mouth on mine—right now.
I pulled back to see him staring at me. “Then I don’t care what you did,” I explained. “They can cancel each other out. I don’t want to know the details. Please don’t ever tell me,” I said quickly, then forced myself on him again. This time his lips responded, and he kissed me hungrily. His hands found my hips and pulled me against him, pulling me home.
We kissed eagerly, passionately, and I forgot everything except his lips, the scratch of his stubble, and the feel of his hands on me. My fingers found his hair and dug in. I scratched his scalp, and he sighed into my mouth at the sensation.
I heard a scuffle, then a muffled giggle. I turned to see a few ladies from the hotel restaurant peeking in, but all but one immediately scrambled out the door. The one remaining blushed deeply.
“We just came to see if you were ready for your lunch, Mr. Hamilton,” she stammered, clearly feeling his star power.
I looked back at Jack, and he nodded to say it was my choice.
“I think we’ve decided on a little room service instead, right, George?” I asked, grinning cheekily at him.
“Whatever the lady wants.” He grinned back at me as I led him past the still-stunned hotel employee and out the door. He then led me to the bank of elevators next to the banquet center. As we waited for the elevator to arrive, we began to kiss. At first slowly, tiny little pecks, but they quickly grew into wonderfully sloppy kisses.
An elevator arrived, just as the doors to the adjacent banquet room opened and dozens of women from the Greater New York Area Quilting Society poured out after their buffet lunch. And there they found their Super Sexy Scientist Guy groping an older redhead. Shocked whispers turned to swooning frenzy in less time than it took to blink. Phone cameras appeared instantly.
“Grace, we need to get out of here,” Jack whispered in my ear, trying to shield me from the cameras as we hurriedly stepped into the elevator.
I laughed out loud. Nothing was gonna kill my buzz. “Ah, fuck it, George. C’mere.” I giggled and jumped up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around him and kissed him. Like it was my job.
He responded without hesitation, kissing me back with equal force as the doors closed. The quilting bee took plenty of pictures, and I didn’t care for a second. This was my life, his life, our life, and we might as well get used to it.
Chapter 17
He held me the whole way up in the elevator, refusing to put me down. We kissed slowly and leisurely, exploring each other’s mouths again, with serious attention to detail. When we got to his floor, he swung me up onto his back and carried me piggyback down the hall.
“Wow, swanky digs, Hamilton,” I said as I took in his suite from my perch on his back.
“Nothing but the best for this guy,” he said, closing the door and locking it behind us.
“I’ll say,” I responded softly, laying my cheek against his shoulder and squeezing his waist with my legs.
He walked me over to a big chair in the corner and dumped me unceremoniously.
“Hey!” I exclaimed.
He settled himself on the floor in front of me on his knees, his hands holding onto my legs. His fingertips made little patterns on my thighs while he studied me carefully.
“We need to finish talking,” I said gently, tracing his cheekbones and jaw line with my fingertips. We seemed to need the physical contact.