Wound Up(69)

                “And you?”

                “If you’re there at seven-thirty?” He leaned toward her, one corner of his mouth lifting in an approximation of a smile, thrilling at the way her lips parted and her breath caught. “I’ll be there at seven to make sure you have a place at the table.”

                “Seven-thirty it is.” She lowered her lids halfway and swayed toward him.

                His heart stuttered and his palms grew slick.

                “Now stop with the seductive crap and get back to work.”

                His laughter echoed through the near-empty room. “You’re a total vixen.”

                “Nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”

                “Then I haven’t been nice enough.”

                She didn’t comment but returned to her notes, leaving him to wonder what would happen if they kissed again.

                His mind jumped to the image of her naked beneath him, writhing and calling his name. His cock swelled and he sought to regain his control before he was forced to stand up and let his burgeoning erection announce that his mind had been in the gutter.

                No, not gutter. Not where Grace was concerned.

                Seduction was the key phrase he had to focus on tonight. He would find the best way to show her who he was outside the club, outside the office. He’d come this far through hard work, determination and, more than once, self-sacrifice. He wanted her to see that. If he could, he might have a chance. His life was finally falling into place. But for the story to be worth telling, he had to get the girl.

                No pressure.





                                      12

                GRACE STEPPED OFF the 68 bus and, head down, started the short walk home. Her address’s only redeeming quality was that it put her close to the bus stop.

                Fat raindrops began to fall. The clean scent dissipated the overwhelming smell of pot as she passed the first drug dealer’s house.

                No one had to tell her not to slow down, not to look left or right, not to notice too much. She’d grown up here, knew the streets and the dangers that lay in plain sight, as well as those that didn’t.

                There was no way she was going to stay in Seattle. Living anywhere near this hellhole she’d grown up in was out of the question. She wanted out, wanted to be thousands of miles away, to start a new life with none of the ugliness and poverty and fear that had been her life up until now. She wanted to cut ties with her mother and find a place to settle down, create roots and a sense of belonging, both to community and to someone special.

                Justin’s face flashed through her mind.

                He’d shared his family with her, showed her what it was like to have roots, people who cared about him. And he’d opened the door to her, offering to let her be one of them for the last couple of weeks she’d be here.

                But she couldn’t get invested in these people and then just leave. What he offered would only fuel her desire for him, because she found the way he treated his friends and extended family incredibly attractive. Okay, a little sexy, even.

                She was so lost in thought she didn’t notice the large man walking down the sidewalk until she’d almost run into him. Quickly stepping aside, she murmured, “Sorry.”