“Okay, okay,” he grumbled, scooping out a spoonful and holding it out for her.
Gracie reached for the spoon, but Kevin held on. “Just take a bite,” he said, as if he feared relinquishing the spoon would be the end of his claim on the rest of the carton.
Remembering the effectiveness of her tactic with the strawberry pie, a streak of pure devilment came over her once again. Rather than simply eating the offered ice cream, she wrapped her hand around his to steady it, then slowly began to lick the ice cream as if it were in a cone. She ran her tongue around the melting edges, then took the spoon into her mouth and sucked. She turned the eating of that little mound of ice cream into an erotic adventure, one step more dangerous than the strawberry pie he’d fed her.
Kevin’s skin heated more quickly than the burner on a stove. Beneath her clasp, she could feel his pulse buck. His breath fanned against her cheek and seemed to come more rapidly.
She took a very long time to finish, and only when she was done did she dare to meet his gaze. She was shocked by the raw hunger she saw in his eyes. For a second she feared she had unleashed something primitive and untamable in him, but he blinked and it was gone, replaced by that familiar, irrepressible grin.
“That was…” He hesitated. “…interesting,” he said finally.
Gracie was too stunned by the yearning thrumming through her to reply. She had to wonder just which one of them had been caught by the game’s snare.
Kevin dipped another spoonful of ice cream from the carton and offered it. “More?”
Her gaze rose to clash with his and she saw the laughter and the dare in his eyes. “Sure,” she said bravely. “Why not?”
She took a little less time with the second bite and the third. Somewhere around the fifth, Kevin glanced into the carton and realized what had happened.
“Why, you little sneak,” he muttered. “It’s gone. You ate the last of the ice cream.”
Gracie grinned at him. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? Thanks for sharing.”
“Sharing? I never got so much as a single lick.”
“Really? I’m sorry.”
“I should go off and leave you to sit out this storm all by yourself.”
“But you won’t,” she said confidently.
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re a southern gentleman.”
“Something at the moment I am deeply regretting,” he said. “That’s what cost me that blasted ice cream.”
“Oh, no,” Gracie said. “That was lust, pure and simple. Watching me eat that ice cream was turning you on. Admit it.”
“I don’t think you want to go too far down that particular path, darlin’. Somebody might accuse you of being a tease. Somebody might decide to claim what you were so clearly offering.”
Gracie swallowed hard at the lightly-spoken warning. Some part of her wanted him to do exactly that, wanted him to take matters out of her hands and persuade her straight into bed. If he’d known how little effort it would require, no doubt he’d seize the opportunity.
But the sensible, practical side of her knew better than to open that particular door, knew that if she didn’t change the subject in a heartbeat, one of them was going to make a move from which there’d be no turning back. As long as Kevin stood squarely between her and the future she wanted for herself, she couldn’t allow anything else to develop between them. It would be asking for trouble.
Unfortunately, she didn’t exactly feel like resisting too hard. Nor could she come up with another topic that was half so fascinating.
Fortunately the ringing of the phone saved her.
“Max, no doubt,” Kevin said dryly. “It’s just about time for his daily crisis.”
“It’s not even dawn in France,” Gracie pointed out as she crossed the kitchen toward the phone.
“Which means he must roll out of bed thinking of ways to get you back over there,” Kevin replied. “Sure you
don’t want me to take the call? I enjoy dealing with old Max.”
“Much as I would like to delegate the responsibility for dealing with Max to you, I think I’d better handle him myself.”
“Suit yourself.” Kevin rocked back on his chair and watched her, clearly intent on making the conversation his evening’s entertainment.
“Hello,” Gracie said, wishing she’d bought a portable phone, instead of one that necessitated standing right in front of Kevin. And, of course, a portable wouldn’t have worked with the power out, which would have been better yet. “Yes, Max, I was still up. What is it this time?”
Her tone was more impatient than usual thanks to her awareness of her audience.
“You sound upset,
chérie
. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is just peachy. And stop calling me
chérie
. I’m not your dear and you’re not French.”
“You
are
having a bad day,” he concluded.
“I’m fine, Max. Why did you call? I haven’t heard from you for a couple of days now. I’d hoped you were handling the crises on your own.”
“Everything is running smoothly, yes.”
Gracie was taken aback by that announcement. She found the reaction more telling than she liked. Could it be that she had enjoyed Max’s little crises, invented or not? Could it be that she had actually craved those daily reassurances that she was missed?
“I’m delighted,” she said through gritted teeth, unsure whether her sudden annoyance was directed at Max or herself.
“Yes, I can hear that in your voice.”
“Why did you call, Max?”
“I called only to say hello, to see if you are getting along okay.”
“I’m fine. Terrific, in fact.”
“And this man who answered your phone the last time I called, who is he?”
Suddenly—finally—Gracie got an inkling of why she hadn’t heard from Max for a few days. He’d been sulking. He’d actually been sitting over in Cannes stewing over Kevin. Was it possible she had actually misjudged the level of his interest in her? Would it matter if she had? Truthfully, no.
“He’s a friend,” she said, refusing to meet the fascinated gaze of said friend.
“That’s all?”
“Max, I’ve been here a few weeks,” she said, her exasperation plain. “What more could it be? Besides, what business is it of yours?”
“I worry about you,” he confessed. “You were very vulnerable and unhappy when you left here. I would not like to see someone take advantage of that.”
Max’s insight startled her. She’d never suspected he was capable of thinking beyond his precious bottom lines.
“Max, you don’t need to worry. I can take care of myself.”
“Perhaps I should come and see for myself.”
The announcement startled her so badly, it took her a minute to gather her composure. “You want to come here?”
Kevin’s increasingly smug grin broadened. “Told you so,” he murmured.
“Oh, go to hell,” she muttered back.
“What?” Max asked, sounding shocked.
“Not you, Max.”
Max sighed heavily. “He is there, then?”
“Yes, more’s the pity.”
“If you don’t enjoy having him there, why don’t you insist that he leave?”
“We got caught in a bad storm,” she began, then broke off. She didn’t owe Max any explanations at all. “Never mind. Max, I appreciate you offering to come, but it’s not necessary.”
“I think it is. In fact, I am more convinced of it than ever. I will call you when I have made the arrangements. Expect me within a week or so, sooner if I can get matters here under control.”
“Max!”
“All revoir, ma petite.”
He hung up before she could try to talk him out of coming. “Well, damn,” she muttered.
“So,” Kevin said, still grinning. “Max is coming?”
“It appears he is,” she said, and began pacing.
“You didn’t try very hard to talk him out of it.”
“I didn’t think he was serious until it was too late. Besides, nobody talks Max out of anything. He’s a very stubborn man.”
Before she realized what he intended, Kevin reached out and snagged her hand, toppling her into his lap. The next instant, his mouth covered hers in a bruising, heady kiss that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a branding.
He released her as abruptly as he’d claimed her, setting her on her feet and standing himself. He walked to the door, then turned back. “Remember that, when Max comes calling,” he said lightly.
Before Gracie could gather her wits, he was gone, the door slamming behind him and another crash of thunder adding its emphasis to the moment.
She touched her fingers to her swollen, tender lips and felt the tug of something powerful in her belly. Forget the prospect of Max’s unwanted arrival. The more immediate problem was what to do about Kevin Patrick Daniels and his unnerving ability to make her head spin.
13
K
evin was hotter than a sidewalk at high noon in August. His temper, not the heat, was responsible. In fact, it was only a pleasant eighty-degrees outside with a breeze that actually made lying in the shade in his favorite hammock almost chilly. He’d been mulling over that phone call from Max the night before and getting more worked up over it by the second.
Unfortunately, with his usual lousy sense of timing, Bobby Ray chose this precise moment to show up and interrupt his already dark mood. When Kevin caught sight of Sara Lynn and a ponytailed man with Bobby Ray, his annoyance tripled. Perhaps if he feigned sleep, they’d go away.
“Hey, Kevin!” Bobby Ray shouted as they approached.
“Not now, Bobby Ray,” he said without opening his eyes.
“Yes, now,” Bobby Ray said, his tone fierce and just a little desperate.
That panicked note got Kevin’s attention. He sighed and rolled out of the hammock. “Inside,” he said, and led the way.
In his office Sara Lynn regarded him warily, while the stranger, Daniel Featherstone, grabbed his hand and pumped it enthusiastically.
“You’re not going to regret this,” he claimed.
Kevin glanced at Bobby Ray. “Oh, really,” he said wryly.
“Everything was spelled out in those contracts I left for you,” Bobby Ray reminded him. “You’ve looked them over, right?”
“I looked them over,” Kevin confirmed. Bobby Ray had managed to tailor the deal in his own favor without it being obvious. Too bad he hadn’t used that business acumen in some of his other pursuits.
“It’s a great deal, right?” Featherstone enthused. “Bobby Ray and I are going to get rich.”
Kevin doubted it, but the prospect of arguing with the man hardly seemed worth the effort. He regarded Sara Lynn intently, then exchanged a pointed look with Bobby Ray. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure,” his cousin insisted, keeping his gaze fixed on his wife.
Kevin sighed and pulled out the checkbook for the estate account. He scribbled in the exorbitant amount Bobby Ray needed to hang on to his wife, then handed it over. Everybody beamed, including Sara Lynn. Kevin scowled back.
“Out!” he ordered. “Now.”
Sara Lynn and her friend didn’t waste a second bolting from the room. Bobby Ray lingered.
“Thanks, Kevin.”
“Don’t thank me. I just pray you won’t live to regret it. For the life of me, I can’t figure out how you can choose a woman like that over Marianne.”
For an instant Bobby Ray’s expression turned wistful, then the flash of vulnerability was gone, replaced by his more typical cocky expression. “You always did have a soft spot for Marianne, Kev. Get over it. I did.”
For the first time in all the years since the messy divorce, Kevin wondered about that.
The meeting left him in a foul mood for the rest of the morning. He yelled at Molly, snapped at Aunt Delia, and told his secretary in Richmond not to bother him with things she could handle herself.
Why was he in such a lousy mood and taking it out on everyone around him? He knew better than to lay all the blame on Bobby Ray. The bulk of it belonged to Gracie.
Blame it on that smoldering kiss they’d shared right before he’d walked out on her. Blame it on the untimely call from Max and the promise—no, threat—of Max’s visit.
Blame it, ultimately, on the fact that he was losing his head over a woman he barely knew. He sighed and sipped his lemonade, wishing for once that it was something stronger, something that would dull his mind and make this hot ache in his loins go away.
“Okay, young man, what has you in such a snit?” Aunt Delia demanded, standing next to him, hands on hips and fire in her eyes.
Kevin opened one eye and peered at her. The effect of all that indignation was ruined a bit by the whimsical addition of a hot pink baseball cap someone had given her from the Saratoga racetrack and her matching hot-pink sneakers.
“Go away,” he ordered.
She stood her ground and impaled him with a blister
ing look. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. It’s one thing for you to bark at me or Bobby Ray, but Molly and that sweet lady in your office don’t deserve it.”
“I know it,” Kevin conceded with a sigh. “I’ll apologize. I’ll buy Molly that new food processor she wants and I’ll send Jane flowers.”
“And I’m sure they’ll appreciate the gesture, but I’d prefer it if you’d just tell me why you’re in such a mood.” She regarded him craftily. “Is it Gracie? Did you two have a fight?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you. You were always a lousy fibber, Kevin Patrick. What’s Gracie done to upset you?”
He sat up with an air of resignation. “You aren’t going to leave this alone, are you?”
“No,” she said as emphatically as he had a moment earlier. She sat in a nearby Adirondack chair, folded her hands in her lap and regarded him patiently.
“Gracie’s having company,” he finally said.
“I see.”
“Her old boss. She thinks he’s just coming to try to persuade her to come back to work for him.”
“And you disagree?”
“The man has invented more crises than the Middle East has had since the beginning of time.”
“Maybe he depended on Gracie.”
“I’m sure he did. In fact, I know he’d be crazy if he didn’t want her back running that hotel of his.”
“Are you afraid she’s going to go?”
“Of course not. It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other whether she goes.”