Best Man for Hire (Entangled Lovestruck) (Front and Center) (13 page)

He wrapped his arms around her again, pretty sure he’d never felt anything so deliciously perfect in his life. They bobbed together like that for a moment, the ocean water making a soothing cocoon around their bodies. The sun was warm on his back, and he filled his lungs with the heady scent of ocean air and something coconuty in Anna’s sunscreen. A pack of surfers chased waves off in the distance, and only one lone fisherman had nabbed a spot on the pier.

He’d never seen the place this quiet.

“This is nice,” she said, looking up at him. “The water feels so good. So warm.”

“Mmmhmm,” Grant replied. He should probably let her go. He’d do it in just a minute. The way she moved against him was making all the blood leave his brain to occupy another part of his body that was probably becoming damn obvious to her by now.

As though reading his thoughts, Anna grinned and wrapped her legs around his waist. She pressed her lower body against him, hands on his shoulders, as her eyes flashed with something that drained the last teaspoon of blood from his brain.

“Is that a tube of sunscreen in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”

“If I weren’t a gentleman, I’d suggest you squeeze it and find out.”

She laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made him want to devour her shoulders and neck and throat and collarbones. He moved his hands to her butt, holding her against his growing arousal. He glanced behind her toward the pier. It was thirty feet away, so even if someone strolled out there, they probably couldn’t see beneath the water. Still.

“Grant?”

“Hmm?”

“This bikini’s pretty tiny.”

“Thank God,” he murmured, pressing himself against her.

“But it might surprise you to know it has a pocket.”

The randomness of her words surprised him enough that he tore his eyes off the pier. He blinked at her, the paddleboard bumping against his elbow. “What?”

“A pocket. In the back of my bikini bottoms. It’s probably supposed to hold a car key or something, but you know what else it can hold?”

The grin had spread wide across her face, and Grant’s balls ached at the thought of her spreading anything else for him. He slid his hand to the spot just below the small of her back and felt the crinkle of cellophane.

“You didn’t seriously bring a condom out here.”

“I’m learning from your Boy Scout ways,” she said, her breath warm on his neck now. She nibbled his earlobe as she ground hard against his erection. “Be prepared, right?”

He didn’t answer her. Not with words, anyway. As his mouth found hers, he slid one hand from her ass to the front of her bikini bottoms. He slipped one finger inside, groaning when he found her slippery and wet from more than just seawater.

“Christ,” he murmured, kissing her harder.

“I want you,” she whispered. “Grab the condom.”

She drew back so their upper bodies were angled apart, even as their lower bodies pressed tight together. She held herself away from him, grinning, with her fingers laced behind his neck. “As far as anyone knows on the beach, we’re just a couple embracing in the water. Maybe kissing a little.”

Her words were a faint buzz in his ears, and though he knew it was crazy, he found himself fumbling the condom out of her bikini pocket. He tore off the wrapper, shoving it in the Velcro pocket of his swim trunks so it wouldn’t float away.

“So conscientious,” she murmured, kissing his neck. “Such a responsible, upstanding citizen.”

“Who’s about to do something highly illegal,” Grant murmured, not caring all that much.

She drew back again, fingers laced behind his neck as Grant slid the condom on as discreetly as possible. Was this even safe in saltwater? He wasn’t sure, but part of him didn’t care.

“I googled it, in case you’re wondering. As long as you maintain an erection the whole time so the condom doesn’t slip off, we should be safe.”

“Leave it to you,” he murmured, not sure if he meant the preemptive research or her frankness about the whole thing.

“Are you complaining?”

“God, no. Though I sure as hell hope those people on the beach don’t complain to the police.”

“Relax,” she said, leaning away from him again as she ground her pelvis against him beneath the water. “For all anyone knows, we’re out here discussing politics.”

“Or baseball.”

“Or existential theories of existence preceding essence.”

“Or beer.”

“Kiss me.”

He obeyed, taking her mouth with bruising force so he wouldn’t give in to the temptation to cup her breasts in his hands. That would be too visible to anyone on shore, but what was happening beneath the surface—

“God, you’re hard,” she murmured, pulling back to smile at him. She released his neck, letting her upper body fall back to float on the surface of the water, while her legs wrapped tight around him, anchoring them together.

Grant groaned and slid his hand between their bodies. He pushed her bikini bottoms to one side, expecting to go slow, to take his time.

But Anna had other ideas.

She straightened up and anchored her hands on his shoulders, pressing her body down to take him all in one slick stroke.

Grant closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He felt her fingers twine around his neck again, and she rose up in the water, then sheathed him completely.

“Jesus, Grant,” she gasped, grinding against him, moving her hips. Her eyes were wide with something that looked a lot like wonder as she sank down on him again. “The water—holy Christ, this feels good.”

He grinned and slid his hands into the small of her back, amazed at the weightlessness of her, at the slippery heat between her legs. The paddleboards bobbed along the surface on either side of them, creating an odd sort of privacy shield. He felt one of the tethers winding around his arm, but couldn’t stop to free himself.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he groaned as she rode him with aching slowness. Above the water, their bodies barely moved. Below the surface, it was another world entirely. She was hot and tight around him, her body gripping him as she ground herself against his abdomen.

He was going to last about ten seconds at this rate, so he said a prayer of thanks when she gasped in his ear.

“Oh, God!”

Grant replied by gripping her hips tighter, pressing her down onto him, driving himself deeper, matching her thrust for thrust.

“Yes,” she hissed, closing her eyes and biting down on his shoulder. Grant winced, but kept going, feeling his body start to give as she clenched and spasmed around him. He was three beats behind her, so close.

“Holy mother-of—”

She smothered his words with a kiss, while the orgasm rocketed him to another planet, sending pulse after pulse of pleasure though his cock, his hips, his arms, his legs, through every molecule of his body.

When she pulled back, she was smiling at him. She planted a kiss on his forehead, then his nose, before drawing back to look him in the eye. “I’ve had that on my bucket list forever. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said, too shell-shocked to give much thought to whether that had meant something to her or if he’d just been her ticket to fulfilling a kinky fantasy. Did it matter?

She slid away from him, adjusting her bikini bottoms and untangling the paddleboard tether that had managed to wind its way around her leg.

Grant concentrated on shoving the condom into his pocket, saying a silent apology to the marine life. He glanced at the pier, then back at the beach. A grizzled-looking fisherman was bent over his hook, finessing his bait into place. Back on shore, a middle-aged woman dug through a bright red cooler, while a twentysomething couple strolled hand in hand along the water, their eyes cast downward in search of seashells.

No one seemed to have noticed anything.

“That was incredible,” she said, and Grant turned his attention back to her.

“It was.”

“I don’t suppose you have any water back in your car?”

“Ocean’s not enough for you?”

She grinned and slugged him. “To drink, dork. I thought I saw a cooler in back?”

“Yeah, come on. Let’s replenish our reserves before we do any more paddling.”

He showed her how to climb back on the board, staying on his knees to cover the short distance to the beach. When they reached the shore, he grabbed one board under each arm as Anna grabbed both paddles.

“If you want to wait here with the boards, I’ll grab the water.”

“Might want to empty your pockets, too,” she said, grinning as she sank down into the sand, stretching those glorious legs out in front of her.

Grant shook his head and turned away. He jogged back toward the parking area wondering how the hell it was possible he could want her again.

You know how.

He’d almost reached the car when a woman stepped out of the shade of a palm tree with her hand extended. “Afternoon, sir. I’m Sarah Marshfield from KITV news. We’re filming a piece on the history of the Hanalei pier, and got the loveliest shot of you and your wife embracing out there. Can I ask you a few questions for the broadcast?”

…

Anna laughed all the way to Kapaa.

“So there’s going to be footage of us screwing on the news?” She sat grinning in the passenger seat, her bikini still damp with seawater and flecked with sand. He loved that she hadn’t bothered to cover up with a pair of shorts or a T-shirt like most women did. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and speckled with salt crystals.

Grant shook his head, pleased she found the whole TV thing amusing instead of mortifying. “They thought we were just kissing,” he said. “I couldn’t exactly tell them they’d just filmed porn.”

“That makes the whole thing even better. I wonder if I could get a copy of it after it airs?”

“There’s something to add to your family’s video library.”

She nodded and looked out the window, the smile still lighting up her face. Grant turned his eyes back to the road, feeling warm and satiated in a way that didn’t just come from an afternoon of exercise and sunshine.

“This is what I love about you,” he blurted, a little surprised by his own words.

He watched her head swivel back toward him, something odd in her expression. “Love?”

“No. I mean—you know what I mean.”

She nodded, looking uncertain. “Sure. I think so.”

Grant put his gaze back on the road, trying to make the words come out right. “I just mean it’s great that you’re not freaked out by something like that. Most women I know would be embarrassed or weirded out or angry. Hell, most women I know would never have sex in a public place like that. I love that you’re so—”

“Different.” Her voice had gone flat, and Grant looked over to see she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“That’s a good thing,” he clarified, not sure where she’d taken offense. “A great thing, really. I love that you’re not like most women.”

She fell quiet again, her eyes cast out the passenger window toward the road. Grant gripped the steering wheel, not sure if he should apologize or wait it out to see if she had something to say.

He’d just pulled into the driveway of his house when she turned to face him again.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Grant.”

“Another confession?”

She nodded. “A bigger one this time.”

He pulled the parking brake and killed the engine. Something in her voice made his gut cinch up tighter than a ball of rubber bands, and he tried to keep the dread from showing on his face.

“Okay. Let’s hear it.”

Anna licked her lips, and he watched her chest rise and fall as she took a steadying breath. “I lied to you.”

Chapter Twelve

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Anna knew she couldn’t take them back.

So she said them again. “I lied.”

Something dark flashed over Grant’s face. “This isn’t about condoms and saltwater, is it?”

“Definitely not.” She managed a halfhearted smile, but shook her head. What she needed to say was too important to let herself get derailed by sex. “Can we go inside? I’d rather have this conversation in a house than a car.”

“You’re scaring me,” he said, and the vulnerability in his voice made Anna want to cradle him in her arms and forget this whole damn thing. She was wavering when Grant pushed his door open.

“Come on. I’ll grab us a cold drink and we can sit on the couch and talk.”

She let him lead her inside, but she didn’t sit down on the couch. She was wet and sandy, and she shivered a little in the air-conditioning. Grant moved to the kitchen where he busied himself pulling two glasses from the cupboard. Anna moved past him, opening the door to the lanai. She walked out into the sunshine, hesitating at the edge of the chair. It was where she’d been sitting the first time they’d kissed. Before she’d opened her legs and her heart and her mind and told him everything—

Not everything.

“Here,” he said behind her, and she spun around to see him standing there with a glass of ice water. She took it from him, her hands shaking, as Grant folded himself into the same chair where he’d been seated a little over a week ago.

Had it only been that long?

He set his water on the table and turned to face her. “Okay, so what’s on your mind?”

Anna took a drink of water, then a steadying breath. She set her glass on the table and began to pace.

“I lied to you,” she repeated, not meeting his eyes.

“You mentioned that. Can we get to the specifics?”

“Right. See, the thing is, I want to get married.”

“Right now?”

She turned at the alarm in his voice and saw the color had drained from his face.

“No—I mean, not to you. Or maybe to you, I don’t know. I’m not proposing, Grant, and I’m not trying to say I want to date exclusively or settle down or move in together or start looking for rings or—”

“What
are
you saying?”

She stopped pacing and turned to look at him. To
really
look at him. His face was still pale, and his hands were clenched so tightly in his lap he looked like he might rip his fingers out of their sockets.

“I’m saying I’ve tried very hard for a number of years to convince myself that marriage wasn’t my thing. That it was okay for other people, but not something I ever planned to do myself.” She pressed her lips together, trying to find the right words. “The thing is, I don’t think it was ever that I didn’t
want
it. It was more that I thought I didn’t
deserve
it.”

He was staring at her stone-faced, an expression that left Anna feeling like an elephant was sitting on her chest. She turned away and began pacing again, determined to say what she needed to say before she broke down like a big idiot.

“I haven’t trusted my own instincts for a long time. Between missing all the signs that my sister’s husband was a jerk, and my own stupid near miss with a guy who turned out to have a wife already, I had every reason to think I couldn’t rely on my own judgment. That I couldn’t trust myself.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and guarded.

“I spent my childhood blaming myself for my parents’ divorce and a lot of my adulthood blaming myself for my sister’s divorce.”

“Right,” he said slowly, and she saw him nod in her peripheral vision. “And we talked about how that’s a shitty thing to do. None of that was your fault, Anna. You can’t blame yourself.”

“You’re right,” she said, turning to face him again. She stood with her hands limp at her sides, the relief at being understood mixing in the pit of her stomach with the dread of what she was saying. “And I thank you for making me see that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But you’ve also made me see something else.”

“That you want to get married.” His voice was flat, emotionless.

“Yes. Or maybe I always knew that. Maybe that’s why I became a wedding planner in the first place. I love it all—the flowers, the veil, the goddamn birdseed stuck in my hair. But mostly, I love the ritual. I love the standing together at the altar and pledging forever even though you know it might not work. I love the love.”

“Love,” Grant repeated, the word sounding like a foreign language tripping from his tongue.

“Love,” Anna repeated, folding her arms over her chest to keep herself from shivering. “I want the whole package. Everything. The man, the emotion, the ceremony, the rings, the commitment, the legal bond, the happily ever after.”

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

He looked like a trapped animal. Anna took a shaky breath and uncrossed her arms. “I’m not saying I need that with you. Just that I need someday, and that whoever I date needs to feel the same way.” She stopped herself, then shook her head. “Hell, maybe I’m lying again.”

She started to pace, raking her fingers through her hair as Grant sat silent. “Obviously, I don’t expect any sort of commitment from you after a week. Christ, that would be insane.”

“Insane,” Grant repeated, his voice taking on a robotic quality now.

“But I’m saying I want it all. I want to get married. Not now, but someday. I
need
that.”

She turned to look at him and her heart nearly broke in two. He was staring down at his hands, looking lost and wounded and so bewildered, Anna’s chest ached.

When he looked up at her, his eyes were filled with apology. “I don’t need that. Marriage, I mean. Not ever.”

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak right away.

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” She took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling very naked and vulnerable standing on a balcony in her bikini. “I think I’d better go now.”

He blinked. “Anna, wait—”

But she didn’t wait. She turned and sprinted through the house, grateful she’d left her purse on the counter and her rental car in his driveway. She twisted the front doorknob, feeling a moment of panic when it wouldn’t turn.

She twisted the dead bolt, feeling like an inmate escaping as Grant’s voice echoed behind her.

“Wait, Anna, don’t go!”

She made it halfway to her car before the tears started to flow.

…

Janelle handed Anna another tissue and covered her sister’s hand with her own.

“And then I just left,” Anna concluded, smearing the tissue over her eyes and blowing her nose again. “Just got in my car and drove away with Grant standing there on his porch yelling after me.”

Janelle shook her head. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I can’t really blame him. I didn’t give him a chance to—”

“Not Grant.
You
.”

Anna blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“No,
I’m
sorry. I can’t believe you didn’t feel like you could tell me about running off to Vegas with a stranger. I would have supported you, honey.”

“I know. I just felt so embarrassed.”

“I understand. But we all make mistakes. You’ve seriously been wallowing in this blame over my marriage ending?”

“I’m your sister—
and
I’m a wedding planner. I should have seen the signs.”

“That’s bullshit.” Janelle shook her head, her expression strangely fierce. “I don’t know whether to hug you or strangle you. Anna, if you had the power to predict which marriages will fail and which ones won’t, you’d never need to work another day in your life because everyone would be lining up at your doorstep for your psychic services.”

“But I—”

“Enough!” Janelle snatched the soggy tissue from her hands and dropped it into the wastebasket before handing her a fresh one. “How many weddings have you planned in your career?”

“Three hundred and eighty-two,” Anna said automatically, dabbing her eyes.

“And how many marriages have you, personally, had? Like actually walked all the way down the aisle and said ‘I do’ before going home to make a life together?”

“Janelle, I—”

“None. Zero, zip, nada.” Janelle squeezed her hand. “You may be the older sister, but this is one area where I’ve got you beat in experience, so let me tell you something, sweetie—marriage is fucking hard work. Even when it’s a good one and you’re not fighting all the time or dredging up past grievances, it still takes a lot of work. Mom and Dad worked like hell at it, and yeah, having kids put a strain on it. But so did careers and mortgages and the fact that Mom wanted to travel and Dad liked to stay at home, and Dad enjoyed wine tasting while Mom couldn’t stand it. Those were all factors, but you haven’t spent your life boycotting jobs or real estate or vacations or Pinot Noir, have you?”

Anna wasn’t sure what to say, so she just shook her head. “No.” She looked down at the tissue, which she’d started to shred into soggy little ribbons. “The thing is, I was getting to this point already. The point of forgiving myself and realizing I didn’t deserve a lifetime of punishing myself for bad decisions and other people’s botched marriages. And I owe at least some of that to Grant.”

“I know, honey. The man made you realize you wanted marriage and then ran like hell when he thought you might want it with him. I’ll deal with him later.”

“Please don’t,” Anna said, sniffling again. “It’s not his fault. You don’t go springing the M-word on a man when you’ve known each other ten days.”

“Hmph,” Janelle said, clearly not convinced, but spared from saying anything further by a knock at the door. She stood up and marched across the room to unfasten the dead bolt. She flung open the door, looking ready to spit nails.

“Speak of the devil,” she said, pushing the door wider.

Anna looked up and felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. “Grant. What are you doing here?”

“You left before I got a chance to explain.”

Anna shook her head, feeling like an idiot for sitting here sobbing over a man who didn’t want to marry her.

Jesus. Talk about a stereotype.

“There’s nothing to explain, Grant,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and hoping her face wasn’t blotchy and red. “It’s fine. We have different goals in life, and that’s okay. It was fun while it lasted, but there’s no reason to shed any tears over it.”

She forced herself to smile, a gesture that made her whole face feel prickly with dried tears. With a discreet sweep of her arm, she tried to push a pile of crumpled tissues into the wastebasket, along with four sticks from Fudgsicles she and Janelle had devoured in the last fifteen minutes.

God, you’re pathetic.

She half expected him to run, but he just glanced at the wastebasket, then back at her. He met her eyes again, his expression pleading. “Can we go someplace and talk privately for a minute?”

“You can have this place to yourselves,” Janelle said, not sounding too thrilled about it. “I have a manicure appointment in fifteen minutes anyway. Anna? Is that okay?”

Anna looked at Grant, then nodded at her sister. “Go. It’s fine. Thank you for everything.”

Janelle walked back over and gave her a sloppy hug. “Hear him out, okay?” Janelle whispered. “I’ll cut his heart out later if I need to, but at least give him a chance to explain. The man rubbed papaya on your butt and rescued a cat from a tree. He deserves a chance to speak his mind.”

Anna nodded and released her sister. Janelle grabbed her purse from the space next to the laptop on the kitchen table, then flounced out the door with one backward glance at Grant.

As soon as her footsteps faded away, Anna turned to Grant. “And now you know.”

“Know what?” He seemed to hesitate, then moved across the room and dropped heavily into the kitchen chair Janelle had vacated. He looked tired, and his shirt was wrinkled.

“Know I’m just like all the other girls. I fantasize about frilly dresses, I eat Fudgsicles when I’m sad, and I cry when I have my heart broken.”

Grant winced, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He sighed and put his head in his hands, looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry, Anna. I never meant for this to happen.”

“It’s not your fault. We were both up front with each other about not planning any sort of future that involved marriage. I’m the one who had a change of heart, not you.”

He took a heavy breath, still not meeting her eyes. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Anna studied the back of his head. Her tears had dried up, and there was a prickle of something else in the back of her throat. If this thing between them was over before it even got started, at least she could get some answers. Some little shred of honesty from the man who’d been so hell-bent on hiding himself.

She rested her hand on the laptop, then flicked the power button with her index finger. Grant’s flash drive was still in the USB port, and Anna slowly navigated her way to the folder.

“Grant?”

“Yeah?”

“When I got back here after leaving your place, I didn’t want to come inside right away. I wasn’t ready to face my sister, so I sat there in my car and looked up a word on my phone. Desiderium?”

He’d gone very, very still. He was still breathing, but other than that, he looked like a man frozen. Anna kept talking.

“It’s Latin. There are a few different meanings, but the one that jumped out at me was ‘grief, longing, or regret.’”

He said nothing, just sat there like a statue, so Anna went on. “I saw the photos on the drive. The pictures of your brother?”

It was an awkward subject change from their breakup to his family, but what the hell did she have to lose? If nothing else, she wanted answers. About Grant, about his secrets, about what on earth made him the way he was.

“Why don’t you ever talk about your brother?” she asked. “What happened?”

He shook his head slowly, raising it up to look at the image splashed across the screen. He didn’t look surprised to see it there. Just tired. So very, very tired.

“I can’t—” He began, then stopped. He let out a heavy breath and looked away again. “I just can’t.”