“I’ll pretend I don’t notice.” He clasped his hand around hers.
“Then I lean into the table so I can use it as leverage. What I lack in arm strength I’ll make up for by using my core muscles.”
“And again this is something your opponent wouldn’t expect.”
“Exactly.”
“The key is to keep your arm close to your body.”
“Got it.”
“The next part is all about surprise. If I can bend your wrist forward it’ll weaken your grip. Your attention will go there. Then I use leverage to compensate for the strength difference. If I’m fast and you don’t know the move, your arm will hit the table before you’ve figured out how to counter.” With their hands clasped on the center of the small table and their stances in battle-ready form, she asked, “Do you want to try it?”
He seemed to consider it. “You’ve already given away your advantage.”
“Yes, but you could test the technique now that you know it.”
“You wouldn’t care that I’d win?”
“We’re not in competition with each other—are we?”
He smiled and used his thumb to caress the inside of her wrist. “No, we’re not. So, tell me, what did you need to prove in high school?”
She was only beginning to unravel that herself now. “I don’t know. That I was worthy? That I could take care of myself?”
“Your brothers didn’t protect you? From the way you describe them they sound like the type who would.”
“It’s complicated.” She went to pull her hand away, but he held it there.
“So uncomplicate it. Remove the emotion and give me the facts.”
She looked away before raising her eyes to his again. “I’ve never told anyone. I’m not the whiny, crying, weak type who gushes on about the past.”
“No, you’re not, but there is nothing inherently wrong with a good cry. Who told you there was?”
To answer him honestly she needed to face a secret shame she’d carried with her for a long time. Voicing it felt like a betrayal. “My father is good man.”
Grant’s hand tightened on hers. “But?”
She sat and he followed suit. Memories came surging forward and she clung to his hand as she was transported back in time. “I was devastated when my mother died. She was sick for a long time, but that didn’t make it easier. I cried so much at her funeral that my father walked away from me. He walked away from everyone. One of my uncles followed after him and so did I. I was so afraid to lose him, too. I hid behind a tree. He didn’t know I was there. He wouldn’t have ever said anything to hurt me. But I heard him say he wished they’d stopped at two children. He asked my uncle if he thought it would be best to place me with his sister. Boys were different, he said. They were easy. He didn’t know what to do with me. I didn’t realize it until I left Cairo, but I spent almost the next twenty years trying to prove to him that I was not a problem—that I was as capable, smart, and strong as my brothers. I love my father and my brothers, but I’ve never told them what I heard that day. Talking about it would hurt my father, and I know he loves me. In my head I know he didn’t mean what he said that day. He didn’t send me away.” Viviana didn’t need to wipe away tears because she’d taught herself not to cry. “I don’t want to be angry about something that happened so long ago, and I don’t want to let it control me anymore. I’m on a journey to find me, and I’m hoping that Boston is where that happens.” She sighed with relief. Voicing what she’d held in for so long released her from the weight of it.
“Thanks for sharing that with me. You truly are a remarkable woman.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently, a move that was almost her undoing. “Was last night part of that journey?”
She smiled. “Maybe.” She laced her fingers with his. “You’re a bad influence on me.”
He kissed her knuckles. “So bad I’m good, I hope.”
She had trouble maintaining eye contact as she admitted, “I wouldn’t be here now if you weren’t.”
His expression turned serious. “I should have been more careful last night. That won’t happen again. I’m prepared tonight.”
“I share equal responsibility. I am, too.”
His eyebrows rose. “You are?”
“I’m a grown woman. I can stop at a pharmacy and buy condoms. Anyone who can’t has no business having sex in the first place.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He leaned forward again and asked softly, “How many did you bring?”
“Excuse me?” she asked with a surprised laugh.
“I’m curious.”
She glanced at her purse. “I’m not sure. I didn’t exactly count them.”
A lusty smile spread across his face. “I did, but since your number is unknown let’s play a game.” There it was—the tone he used that shot desire through her, warming her skin and wetting her panties.
“What kind of game?”
“The one with the most condoms wins.”
She laughed, all tension from before forgotten. “Wins what?”
“Whatever they want tonight.”
Oh, yes.
Oh, no. This requires some ground rules. “As long as it’s something the other person is comfortable with.”
“Of course.”
Viviana reached for her purse then glanced around. “Right here?”
Grant answered without hesitation. “I don’t care if you don’t care.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless you’re embarrassed by how many you brought.”
She unzipped her bag. “I don’t embarrass that easily. Prepare to go down.”
He wiggled his eyebrows again. “That’s one option. I’ll decide after I win.”
His playful smile tugged at her heart. For a brief second she wished they had started differently. She wondered how she would have felt in that moment if this stage had come later—layered on something solid.
Stop. She warned herself. If I can’t appreciate this for the simplicity of what it is, then I should go home now.
He’s not making promises or professing feelings.
I’m not expecting this to end with a proposal.
I like how I feel when I’m with him, and I’m beginning to like who I see in the mirror. He is helping me find a path back to myself. Maybe that’s all this was meant to be.
And if so—isn’t it still pretty damn amazing?
She removed a foiled condom from her bag and placed it on the table between them. “One. Match it or lose.”
He made a show of reading the packaging. “Extra large. I’m flattered.” Then he dug into the front pocket of his jeans and placed one of his own similar condoms then added another. “I match your one and raise you one.”
He looked so damn proud of himself she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him across the table for a deep, lingering kiss. With her lips still hovering close to his, she murmured, “Two is conservative. Realistic.” She sat back, lined up a second condom next to his and added an additional one. “However, I can match that and raise you one.”
He chuckled. “I see we share the same optimism about tonight.” He ran a caressing hand down her neck and over her arm before reaching back into his front pocket. “I match your three and raise you another.”
The sound of a slap drew Viviana’s attention away from their game. A passing couple had paused and were momentarily taken in by the scene before them. At any other time, with any other man, Viviana would have been mortified, but with Grant she felt young, sexy, and shameless. She smiled at the couple and said, “Seven should be enough, don’t you think?”
The couple looked shocked to be included in something so intimate. They nodded and retreated. Viviana burst out laughing.
Chapter Five
‡
Grant laughed so hard his side cramped. Never. Never had he met a woman he enjoyed being with as much as Viviana. She was a delightful combination of shy and bold, soft and strong, sincere but also sassy. He had no idea what she would say
or do next, but he wanted to be there to experience it.
Of course she could win an arm wrestling match. He loved the idea of her taking on the entire male population of her high school one at a time—and winning.
He didn’t like the reason behind why she’d done it, but her ability to look back at what her father had said with sympathy and loyalty touched him deeply. Viviana Sutton was a good person. He wished he could have spared her from the pain she must have felt when she’d heard her father wished her gone, but he was old enough to understand that with pain came growth. Her decision to move to Boston was a reasonable one. He didn’t know why she’d only had fifty dollars for that douche she’d dated to steal, but the more he learned about her the less he believed it was because she was irresponsible. It wasn’t something he could ask her about without offending her, so for now it was on the backburner.
As he reflected on all she’d shared about her own family, he regretted that he’d restricted himself to names and ages. She had opened up to him with such heartfelt honesty that he’d again been tempted to tell her the truth. If he did, and she didn’t run off angrily, she’d see how much they had in common.
Loss had changed both of their families. He’d lost a brother. She’d lost a mother. Both families had struggled, stumbled, and were dealing with the aftermath. I know how it feels to hold my tongue because there is no winner when it comes to loss. Everyone suffers. Everyone makes mistakes and does their best to piece things back together.
I could tell her now.
Or I can tell her tomorrow.
It wasn’t simply the promise of a night of sex with her that he wasn’t ready to risk losing. Things would change the second she knew he was rich. She’d look at him differently—in a better or worse light. Money and power were two things that very rarely brought out the best in a person.
Would she be more careful around him? Suddenly see him as a fish she could lure in?
Or watch what she said because she thought he would be critical only because he had more.
She might become insecure . . . or defensive.
Whatever her reaction, he would bet his trust fund it would change how they were with each other. I’m not ready to lose this yet.
I want more of her.
More of being just the man who wants her. No explanations. No pressure. Just us and how we make each other feel.
He scooped up the condoms, pocketed them, then began to gather their trash from the table. “Ready to get out of here?”
She let out a shaky breath, but nodded. “Where do you want to go?”
He considered taking her straight back to the hotel, but this was a date. Yes, a cheap one, but he wanted to do it right. “There’s a bar down the street that is supposed to be good. I heard they have darts. I’ve always wanted to try it. Want to give it a go, or are you already a pro?”
She visibly relaxed. “I am awful at darts, but I enjoy it. Let’s do it.”
He returned after depositing their plates and glasses in the trash and held out his arm for her to take. “Cannoli for the walk?”
“I thought you’d forgotten about dessert,” she joked as she looped her arm through his.
“How could I when you’re buying?” he parried back then brushed his lips gently over hers and started walking with her toward Carol Ann’s. She smiled between their kisses, and he was glad he hadn’t said anything.
Just a little more time like this. Then I’ll tell her.
A few minutes later, after sharing one decadently delicious cannoli and making their way to the nearby bar, they took a seat at a high top table and waited for their turn on the dart board.
“You didn’t win, you know,” she said as she looked over the drink menu. “I still have some left in my purse.”
A waitress came over and took their drink order before he had a chance to answer, but once they were alone again, he said, “I suppose it depends on my definition of winning. I’ll gladly concede to you if it means I get to give you what you want.”
Her eyes darkened with a look he already knew well. When her lips parted it was frighteningly easy to forget what they were talking about. Part of him was kicking himself for taking her to a bar before the hotel. Another part, though, wanted to be right where he was, taking the time to enjoy getting to know her before he enjoyed her body again.
“Have you ever been incarcerated?” she asked.
I didn’t see that question coming. “No, you?” He held his breath, hoping she didn’t reveal something that would change how he saw her.
She laughed. “Of course not.”
He accepted the domestic beer the waitress delivered and took a sip as he mulled why she thought he might have been. To his surprise the brew was refreshing, earthy, just like her. He took another sip before asking, “Then why do you think I may have been?”
She sipped at her own beer and took a moment before she answered. “You’re too perfect. There has to be something wrong with you.”
“I’ve been thinking the same about you.”
The shy smile she gave him was adorable. “You don’t have to say that. I’m a walking disaster most of the time.”
“Are you? That’s not how I see you.”
She cupped her glass with both hands and spun it slowly before raising her eyes to his. “How do you see me?”
There was uncertainty mixed with hope in her eyes, and it called to his protective nature. He hated every man who had said or done something to make her doubt herself the way she did. “I see a strong woman who has decided to live her life on her terms and to not settle for the hand life dealt her.” He reached across the table and laced his fingers with hers. “A woman I didn’t expect to enjoy as much as I do. You are not only sexy as all hell, but you’re also fun to be with.” There was an awkward pause after his declaration, as if he’d said too much too soon.
A young man placed darts on their table and said, “We’re done so it’s all yours.”
“Thank you,” Grant said. He offered a hand to Viviana. “I’ll let you go first to show me how it’s done.”
“Okay,” she said as she picked up one of the sets of darts. “But I’m not very good.”
“I’m sure you’re fine.”
The first dart missed the board entirely and stuck in the dark paneled wood beside it. Her second landed on the floor below, falling far short of the mark. She cracked her fingers, rolled her shoulders and squinted at the board. While holding one dart shoulder height she glanced back at Grant. “Do you mind if I take a step closer?”
For the safety of the other patrons he did not. “No, go ahead.”
“The dot in the middle is a bullseye. That’s what I’m aiming for.” She did a couple of test moves with her arm. Just as she was about to let it fly the waitress asked if they were all set and she turned to answer her, a miscalculation that sent the dart soaring about six feet to the left of the board. It landed near the foot of a very large and very drunk looking man.
With a roar the man rose to his feet and stomped over. “You’re fucking lucky it missed me,” he yelled at Viviana.
Grant stepped in front of Viviana, which brought him toe to toe with a man who towered over both of them like some Neanderthal throwback. “It was an accident.”
“They’ll call what I do to your face an accident if you don’t back the fuck up.”
Grant took a step back only because there was no reasoning with drunk and angry. “You’re overreacting because you’re intoxicated. Nothing actually happened.”
“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me,” the bear of a man growled.
“Why don’t you go back and sit down?” Grant suggested.
“Why don’t you shut the—?” The man swung a fist at Grant that was pathetically easy to dodge.
“I don’t want to fight you,” Grant said. He felt a little sorry for the man and whatever had brought him to this place in his life.
The man took another swing that Grant again easily dodged.
>
“Stop now before you get hurt,” Grant said firmly.
Rather than helping the other man gain control of himself, Grant’s warning seemed to push the man over the edge. He charged at Grant, but he did so in such a sloppy manner that a simple leg sweep sent the drunk man crashing to the floor.
“I’m going to kill you,” the man said as he pushed himself off the floor and back onto his feet.
Grant looked around with mild irritation. “Don’t bars like this have bouncers?”
The drunk charged again, and Grant raised his fist and stopped him in his tracks with a controlled punch to the face. The man sank to his knees with a bloody nose. Grant used one of the napkins from their table to wipe a spot of blood from his knuckles. He turned to check on Viviana, hoping the scene hadn’t upset her. Outside of the fact that her eyes were huge and round, she seemed fine. As the man on the floor swore loudly and struggled to his knees, Grant said, “I’m sorry. I thought this place would be safer. Let’s go.”
Viviana nodded, still not saying anything.
Grant tossed several bills down on the table and on impulse picked up his set of darts. He half turned toward the dart board and let the first fly. It hit dead center. The second did as well.
He had the third poised and ready to throw when the drunk took a step in their direction again. He aligned his sight and it whizzed by the man’s head so closely it scared him.
Grant said, “I’m sorry. I’m still learning the game.”
The other man ran his hand over the side of his face as if expecting to find a cut. “You’re both fucking crazy,” the man said before turning away from them and stumbling back to his friends.
“Ready to go?” Grant asked, holding his arm out for Viviana to take.
Viviana blinked a few times then linked her arm with his. “I can’t decide if I’m scared now or totally turned on.”
He let out a hearty laugh as they made their way out of the bar. “I’m the one who should be scared. Please tell me you don’t own a gun.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, then swatted his chest. “I am slightly nearsighted.”
“Really, I never would have guessed.”