“Those are other words for rules.”
Her cheeks heated beneath his stare, but it wasn’t the telltale signs she was worried about. It was the slow unfurling of excitement in her gut, the trickle of heat down to her center that had her head begging her to retreat. “I’m too straitlaced for you.”
It was a feeble protest at best.
“I can help you undo those laces. I can help you loosen up.” His voice was dark, the edges blurred with something heady and lustful. Seductive.
“I like being this way.”
He shook his head, his free hand finding her hair. His fingers threaded through her curls to find the curve at the back of her head. He was close, the scent of coffee dancing between them. “I think you’ve had those ideals forced on you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Call it an educated guess.”
“You don’t know me, Des.” She shook her head, panic spread through her like wildfire. Her restraint crumbled like the broken edge of a cliff-face. She was going to fall and it was going to hurt.
“I know enough.” He sighed. “I’ve seen enough of those safe, boring men you bring to my restaurant. I’ve seen the disappointment in your face every goddamn time.”
“I just haven’t found the right guy yet.” A smile wobbled on her lips. “That’s why we’re here tonight.”
Her statement hung between them. Something flickered within the depths of Des’s eyes. They were darker than night. Like two pieces of polished onyx they reflected her and concealed him. “Is it?”
He couldn’t be right for her. He was far from what she wanted, from what would fit into her life, from what her mother would accept. Yet her body acted as though he were the Holy Grail of men.
“We’re wrong for each other.” She tossed her empty cup into a bin beside them and he did the same with his.
But neither of them backed away. If anything, getting their attraction out in the open had raised the stakes. They were on the same wavelength, heading for disaster, and yet something stuck them both to the ground as if none of it mattered.
But their differences did matter…didn’t they?
“What are we doing, Des?” It wasn’t something he could answer, but she had to fill the void of silence before it sucked her in. Before it consumed her right there on the spot.
“I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m going out on a limb.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I’m breaking my rule.”
“I thought you didn’t have any.” A smile quirked on her mouth.
“I have one…had one.” He grabbed her hand and closed the last of the space between them. Her fingers were knotted with his; heat raced through her veins.
As his mouth met hers, her mind went blank. There was nothing but the insistent press of his lips as he opened her, tasted her. She should have resisted. For a split second she wanted to resist, but his hands moved to her back, crushing her to him. She was powerless.
He kissed like he meant it, like he wanted to savor every second of it. His tongue delved gently into her, teasing, taunting, coaxing. But it wasn’t until he moved his hips against her, the evidence of his arousal jutting into her belly, that she sagged into his chest and let him in.
“Gracie,” he moaned into her mouth. His hands slid down her back, cupping her ass and lifting her slightly. Each subtle movement of his hips shot flames through her. She was unravelling. Fast.
“Des, I think—”
“Don’t think.” It was a command, without room for negotiation.
His lips were at her cheek, her temple, her hairline. She slid her hands into his hair, tugging him so his lips came back to hers. A tremor ran through him, a tremor she’d caused.
Excitement danced like fairy lights behind her eyelids. Her world was tilting; solid ground shifted beneath her feet.
“Come home with me.” The words were whispered like a secret in her ear, an invitation to undo her laces and break down her boundaries.
“I can’t…” If she did then she would never be the same. Des would ruin her for other men. After experiencing him, her world would be gray. It was too risky. “We’re not right for each other.”
“We’re right for now.”
It was enough to push reason to the forefront of Gracie’s mind. She didn’t do “now”, she did “long term” and Des Chapman was not a long-term choice.
“I’m sorry, Des. I’m not anyone’s one-night stand.” She straightened her shoulders and took a step back. “Not even yours.”
Chapter Four
It had been two weeks since her world had been flipped around. Two weeks since she’d kissed Des and thought of nothing else. It was true, she didn’t do one-night stands, but the possibility that Des might stick around longer than an evening of pleasure tugged at the frayed edges of her mind.
What if?
It was useless, but she couldn’t shake the sense of loss that followed after she’d abandoned him at the market. Gracie wasn’t interested in seeing anyone else…not anymore. She’d turned down a guy from her work—who was gorgeous, smart, and an executive—simply because there wasn’t the same fizz of attraction that Des ignited within her. She’d ignored messages on her online dating profile and even declined an invitation to drinks by a hunky acquaintance.
Des had ruined her, as she’d predicted, and that was before she got anything more than a kiss.
“Gracelyn, what on earth is wrong with you?” Her mother’s voice snapped Gracie’s attention to the present. “You’re so vague, it’s positively off-putting.”
“Sorry, Mother,” she murmured, spearing another piece of roast beef with her fork. Her appetite had been a non-existent concept of late, to the point that her work pants hung from her hips a little too loosely.
Why would she eat when the color had been sucked from her life?
“Just as well. To anyone else it might seem that you would rather be elsewhere than spending time with your family.”
Her mother’s formidable tone was perfected to strike fear into the hearts of either Greene daughter. She spoke with an edge sharp enough to carve ice and it was the subtext that mattered most; Gracie was on the verge of causing her mother to go on a tirade…and no one wanted that.
Under the table, she received a swift kick to the ankle. Gracie looked up to the meet a not-so-subtle stare from Emmaline.
“This roast is fantastic, Cecilia.” Conrad reached out and patted his mother-in-law’s hand. “Really top notch.”
Pass me a bucket.
“Thank you, Conrad. It’s nice that someone appreciates family meals.” Cecilia surveyed the table, set in the finest of cream linens and porcelain crockery, her eyes narrowing at each of her daughters in turn.
Conrad puffed out his chest and Gracie rolled her eyes. He was like a puppy doing anything he could to get a pat on the head. His saccharine smile grated on her nerves. But she kept her mouth shut. After all, Conrad was Emmaline’s husband and Gracie loved her sister more than anything…despite her poor taste in men.
She’d chosen a perfectly bland optometrist with a perfectly bland mansion in Toorak. Together, they lived in beige-colored society bliss, much to Cecilia’s satisfaction.
“Now, Gracelyn, you remember Mrs. Richardson, don’t you? She’s informed me that her son is back from a stint in Hong Kong. I’ve passed on your mobile number so she can set up a time for you two to meet.”
She remembered Mrs. Richardson all right. The woman had a mean disposition and a Chihuahua trained to attack anyone who got within a foot of its owner. Unsurprisingly, the only person the Chihuahua didn’t attack was Gracie’s mother, most likely because they were kindred spirits. She also remembered Mrs. Richardson’s son and she’d pick the Chihuahua as preferred company any day.