“He’ll buzz you in,” I reiterated to Flo, watching the rippling muscles in Graham’s back as he moved across the loft to the front door, where a sleek intercom panel was embedded in the wall. He walked with the lithe, athletic grace of a former athlete; like all the best quarterbacks, he was deceptively light on his feet for such a big man.
I’d bet he was a fantastic dancer. My mind flashed with the insane vision of him in a groom’s tux, steering me across the dance floor in an elegant waltz, my white gown floating around me in a cloud of tulle. I shook my head to banish it.
“Great!” Flo chirped in my ear, bringing me crashing back to reality. “See you in a sec!”
She disconnected before I could say anything. I used the brief moment of solitude to haul in a series of deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart and clear my expression of all emotion, calling upon the years of customer service training to summon the cool, composed mask I used whenever shit hit the fan. Then, I went about the business of pouring three additional mugs of coffee. One for Florence… milk and two sugars. Another for Desmond… black with one sugar. And a third for Graham…
Only, I didn’t know how he took his coffee.
I thought of him casually sipping from my mug, like we’d shared beverages a thousand times before on mornings just like this one, and felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation take hold of my heart, like a fist squeezing until pain began to radiate. The man was right about one thing; I had gone out of my way to avoid getting to know him. But I was beginning to realize that endeavor was entirely one-sided. Because while I might’ve spent the past few years ignoring his existence, it was abundantly clear that Graham had been paying attention.
Closeattention.
Tome.
This realization set off a spiral of contradictory feelings that made it difficult to draw a full breath into my lungs. Panic, surely. Annoyance, most definitely. And last but not least, something I was barely able to admit, even to myself…
Exhilaration.
Being around Graham these past few hours was a shot of pure epinephrine, a chemical dose of adrenaline that skyrocketed all my senses off the chart. When he was near me, I felt alive in a way I’d never felt before.
It wasn’t just that he’d saved me or that he was so damned mouthwateringly gorgeous to look at, especially when his shirt was off and his lips were within kissing distance. (Okay, so, it was partly that.) But it wasalsothat ravaged look on his face when he found me in that basement. It was the grip of his hand on mine as he led me down the sidewalk. It was the half-smile his lips tugged into whenever I cracked a dumb joke. It was his strong fingers, so achingly careful as they tended to my injured knees. It was his sleep-roughened voice, telling me his Kindle password. It was his attentive silence as he absorbed every single word of my story last night, without interrupting or ordering me to shut up and go to sleep or seeming at all bored by the things I was telling him.
This was a new Graham. One I’d never let myself know; one he’d never shown me. He’d never acted quite like this before — so openly considerate, so forthright. And so blatantly, outrageously flirty.
I assured myself it was no more than some new, nefarious battle tactic in our never-ending war of attrition, designed to throw me off my game. I needed to get my head screwed on straight. I wasn’t some innocent wallflower. I shouldn’t be so enthralled by his every innuendo and heated look. I shouldn’t be so turned on by him when I knew, better than anyone, that he was just playing a game with me. Toying with me for his own amusement, like a cat with a mouse between its paws.
Men like Graham lived for the challenge of a new conquest. I had no intentions of being the next girl in the long line of starstruck exes he sent packing once he tired of their charms. Surely, I was stronger than this. Stronger than whatever inexplicable animal attraction had gripped me the first time I laid eyes on the man, all those years ago, long before he was even a man — just a boy in a lifeguard tower, who looked into my eyes and stole my heart without even trying. Even as a kid, he’d captivated me like no one else. Infatuated me like no one else.
It was just that, though.Infatuation. There was no substance behind it. That boy was long gone; the man in his place was a brute who’d only break my heart if I gave him the chance. He was high-handed and bossy and unlikable. The sooner I got away from him, the better.
I had no doubt once I was back in my own space, with several blocks of distance between us, this bizarre feeling that had seized my heart would fade, and we would go right back to hating each other.
All would be right in the world.
At least, I hoped it would.
Chapter Twelve
I bring a lot to the table. (Mainly charcuterie.)
- Gwen Goode, attending a dinner party
“Oh my god,Gwennie!”
Florence rushed into the loft through the garage stairwell door and raced for my side in a blur of dark glossy hair and faded denim. She threw her arms around me, the impact rocking my whole frame back against the countertop. “I’m so relieved you’re okay! I’ve been freaking out!”
I hugged her back, closing my eyes for a moment as her warmth sank into my bones.
“Really?” I asked, chuckling. “That’s odd, I couldn’t tell from the twenty-four missed calls.”
She pulled back to smack me lightly on the arm. Her chocolate brown eyes were glossed over with tears. “Don’t joke. I’ve been a basket case. Ask Des if you don’t believe me.”
“It’s true,” her boyfriend agreed, setting down a large white bag that saidBagel Worldon the counter. “You have no idea how much effort it took to convince her to wait until daylight to come here.”
“Sue me for being worried about my best friend!”
Desmond ignored his girlfriend’s indignant pouting as he stepped closer, looped his lanky arms around the both of us, and squeezed tightly. I felt his lips brush the top of my hair in a brief, brotherly kiss. “Glad you’re okay, Gwen. For a few hours there, I was worried I’d have to put Flo in a padded cell.”