Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2) (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO
____________________

L
IZ
B
EACON’S TOES DUG into Grant’s bedroom carpet as she watched the single drop of water slither down his baby-smooth chest.

Huh.

Why had she always pictured his chest with more, well,
hair?
Did he shave it? Wax it? Did men just not have chest hair anymore?
And how is it that after more than four months of dating, she’d never actually seen his naked torso?

She stood, staring at Grant’s chest, puzzling over whether he man-sculpted or simply had naturally non-hairy genes, when he dropped the towel he’d been holding around his waist and reached for her.

She inhaled.
Oh my.

Swallowing quickly, she sucked in her stomach, arched her back and tried
not
to tug at the fancy, new, “special-occasion” underwear that seemed designed to cut off the blood supply to her femoral arteries.
Not now,
she told herself.
Do not ruin this beautiful moment!

She hadn’t put in all those long hours working on the merger, fit in extra workouts to tone and smooth, and nursed Grant through that nasty bout of bronchitis for nothing!
No!
This night would be nothing less than perfect. So perfect, in fact, that in years to come, she and Grant would share a cup of Earl Grey in the Limoges china they’d gotten for their wedding, stare warmly into each other’s eyes and reminisce over the utter romantic perfection of this very night.

And, she deserved this night, didn’t she?

For all the chocolate binges she’d denied herself and youthful indiscretions she’d avoided… For all the nice-enough-but-go-nowhere-in-life guys she’d dated and, let’s be honest, ditched over the years… well, let’s just say it was no
accident
that she was standing here in pale pink, lace hipsters and matching push-up bra.

Liz Beacon knew where she was headed. She’d known, in fact, since that sweltering August afternoon when she’d stood in her parents’ backyard in an unflattering sea foam green dress and watched her sister parade her
pregnancy-enhanced breasts in an ironically white gown found at a local thrift shop. Liz had vowed then and there never to let this kind of careless disaster happen to
her.

No. Liz had
plans.
She’d walked away from Sugar Falls, NH, ten years ago and never looked back. She’d shed her awkward teenage pounds, dysfunctional family and hokey lawn-ornaments roots for a fab career, killer abs and a man every woman would envy.

Yes, she still talked to her mother daily and had a hidden stash of Easter peeps in her underwear drawer. Okay, and maybe they weren’t exactly killer abs, more toned. Okay, smooth.
Ish
. But none of that mattered now, because she was
this close
to consummating her relationship with Grant—the man who represented the cherry on top of everything she’d worked to become. Nothing could derail her now.

Not even ill-fitting underwear.

Resolutely ignoring her personal discomfort, Liz smiled at Grant.
Dear Grant!
From his polished, yet carelessly tousled hairstyle to that elegant, lean physique, it was as if he’d stepped right out of a Ralph Lauren ad and into her life. He was the ideal combination of style, ambition and athleticism. The man played racquetball twice a week and ran daily. Daily!

Swoon!
Their children would be gorgeous.

She licked her lips, Grant’s favorite Pinot Grigio still tart on her tongue, and threw herself into the moment. A soft adagio swept the room with romantic violins. True, she would have preferred Norah Jones or even a little Phillip Phillips, but this night was about Grant.

Grant ran his hand up her arm, and Liz closed her eyes. “Your skin is so soft,” he said into her ear. Mmm. It had better be for all she’d shelled out for that seaweed/aloe/vitamin E wrap in anticipation of this night.

Liz marveled over the sliver of picture-perfect Chicago skyline just visible through Grant’s bedroom window. They sank to his bed, kissing, Grant’s hands sliding over her shoulders, her back.

She fingered the sheet behind his head as she debated whether the volume of the stereo was too loud. “Your sheets feel like butter,” she said.

“They’re bamboo.”

“Really? Wow.” She should have known he’d choose eco-friendly bedding material. What an incredible man.

“So,” Grant said, rolling her onto her back, “where were we? I don’t think it was discussing my sheets.” He nuzzled behind her ear again.

“The light’s still on,” she said over his shoulder. She squiggled free and leapt from the bed. “I’ll be right back.” She flicked off the switch by the door and remembered the scented candles she’d brought over just for tonight.

“I’m getting chilly here all alone,” Grant cooed from the bed.

“I’m just lighting the candles,” she cooed back.

“I don’t need candles.”

“It’ll put us in the mood,” Liz said, blowing lightly on the last candle until a neatly flickering flame appeared. There.
Perfect
. She let out a smooth exhale and turned.

Grant lay on his back, his face in shadow. “I’m already in the mood,” he said, reaching for her hand.

Liz smiled down at him and gave his hand a squeeze. “I just want our first time together to be absolutely perfect.”

“I know.” Her heart gave a delighted lurch as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
So sweet!
“But you don’t have to try so hard, Liz. It’s just sex.” He gave her arm a tug, pulling her on top of him, then he growled—
growled?
—and rolled her beneath him.

“It’s more than just sex,” she insisted, catching her breath.

“You know what I mean,” he said against her lips.

She kissed him, once, then pressed her palms to his chest, thinking. “Actually, I don’t. What
do
you mean?”

“I mean, just enjoy it. It doesn’t have to be this Big Event.”

“It’s our first time!”

“Not unless we actually do it.”

She gave him a little shove, annoyed at the silky feel of his chest under her palms. “Meaning?”

Grant rolled to his side. “Meaning, I’ve been ready since you walked in the door, but you insisted you needed time to make things perfect. So I took a shower. Now we have to do the whole music and candles thing? Will we have to jump through these hoops
every
time we have sex?”

Liz scooted to a sitting position. “I was making an effort to make things romantic.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just… I’m a sure thing, Liz. I appreciate the effort, but you don’t have to work this hard.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Listen, I know this night is important to you. You don’t have to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“I understand if you are. I know you don’t have a lot of experience.”

Liz bit her lip as his fingertips stroked her hair from her face. Okay. So maybe she’d misrepresented that aspect of her personal history a teensy bit when he’d first asked, but who wants to leap into bed with a coworker on the third date? Everyone knows it’s corporate suicide to have a disastrous office affair. She wanted to be sure he was a keeper before getting that, um, involved. But now… “I trust you,” she said, stroking his hair in return.

“I don’t want to fight,” he said.

“Neither do I.”

Yes.
Back on track. Liz smiled and closed her eyes as Grant leaned in for a kiss. Could life be more perfect? The merger was nearly complete, she was within spitting distance of her goal weight and she had Grant in her arms. She sighed as his hand slid over her breast and…

Dum. Dum. De-dum. Dum-de-dum-de-dum-de-DUM…

Liz’s eyes burst open as her cell phone vibrated atop Grant’s dresser, the funereal tune like a black fog seeping under the door in a B-movie.

Oh. Dear. God. In. Heaven. Could she have
worse
timing?

“I’m so sorry,” Liz said, mentally kicking herself from here to Tuesday for forgetting to mute her cell phone. How could she have been so careless?! “Ignore it. I’ll call her later.” Liz pressed Grant back against the sheets again and kissed him with gusto.  She would not let
anything
distract her from…

Dum. Dum. De-dum…

Grant’s hands stilled. “You can take it,” he said against her lips, trying to sit up despite her better efforts to keep him right where he was.

Liz slid her hands down his chest, reveling in the feel of his rock-hard abs. My God, you could actually
see
the man’s six-pack. “I’m sure it’s not important,” she said.

He grabbed her hand before it slid further south. She reluctantly met his eyes. “You know she’ll keep calling unless you answer.”

“I’ll turn off the ringer,” Liz said a little desperately.
Not now! No more interruptions!
Grant arched an eyebrow. “We’ll turn off your ringer, too!” she added.

Grant disentangled himself, no small feat, and stood up. “Answer it, Liz. I’ll wait.”

Liz let out a long frustrated exhale—four months!—and hurried to the dresser. “I promise I’ll make it quick.”

Grant stooped to pick up his towel.

Liz picked up her phone. “Hi, Mom.”

“Elizabeth!” her mother yelled. Liz winced, having forgotten to hold the phone a safe distance from her ear. Her mother harbored a deep distrust of modern technology and was convinced any phone not connected by a physical wire must have poor reception. “Honey! I’m so glad I caught you!”

“Mom, now isn’t the time—”

“I’ll make it quick then! Is there any chance you could take some time off work to help out your dad and I?”

“Time off? I suppose I have some days accrued. What do—?”

“
Wonderful! We need you to take care of installing our new patio. Well, not actually installing it, more overseeing it!”

“A patio? Mom, I can’t come to Florida to—”

“Not in Florida! In Sugar Falls! We want to replace the old deck and put in a nice patio and walkway. Your father wants it done before we come home, so the grass has time to grow back before the heat of the summer. You know how he is about a lush lawn! We’ve got someone in mind, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble. I spoke with your sister last week, and she thinks the job should only take a few days—tops! ”

Liz’s heart sank with disappointment as Grant pulled on a pair of sweats and T-shirt. He handed her her glass of wine. She took a slug for fortification. He nibbled her ear.

“If Trish is on top of it, why can’t she supervise?” Liz closed her eyes as Grant’s tongue caused little tingles to run down her spine. She didn’t enjoy sounding petulant, but Trish’s geographical proximity to the deck in question, plus her devotion to HGTV, would seem to make her a much better candidate for supervising a patio install than Liz. Also, Liz was busy.

Her mother sighed. Loudly. “You know I can’t ask Patricia! With Russ’s travel schedule and her hands full with the new baby, where would she find the time?”

Liz shrugged away from Grant’s tongue. Talk of babies made her nervous when she was so close to a bed. “New baby? Clara was ‘new’ in December, Mom.” Oh God, what was she
doing
? She could not get sucked into this conversation!

Her mother made a sound of disgust. Either that, or she’d accidentally swallowed the phone. “Well! If you’d ever settle down and give me a grandchild, you’d know that
new
lasts a whole lot longer than a few days where a baby’s concerned!”

“You’ve had grandchildren since you were forty-eight years old, and you didn’t seem so thrilled at the time.”

“Nonsense! They are blessings each and every one of them! Anyway, you know we’d ask your brother, but I haven’t heard from
him
since Thanksgiving. Your father has been up in arms over it. We thought maybe he was planning to surprise us down here for Christmas! Of course it
was
unseasonably hot this year, enough to keep anyone away. Airfares are all over the place, too!” Her mother
tsk tsked.
Grant made impatient throat-slicing motions with his finger. Liz mouthed,
I’m trying
! and shrugged apologetically. “It’s all your father can do to stay comfortable. You know, it’s really not the heat, it’s the humidity. He should be thankful, I tell him! At least you don’t have to shovel the heat…”

Grant rolled his eyes and left the room. Crap! Liz watched his retreating backside and grimaced, tugging at the leg-band of her underwear. Then, wandering into the living room herself, she sank onto Grant’s dove-gray designer ottoman while her mother prattled on about hurricane warnings and prickly heat.

She’d been so right about the color. Liz ran an idle hand over the smooth, velvety fabric of the ottoman. It was the perfect complement to Grant’s black leather sofa and chrome and glass end-tables. Plus, the deep ocean blue accent wall she’d painted in alternating stripes of flat and gloss paint gave the room a subtle ‘pop.’ Liz was quite proud of the effect. Clean and sophisticated. Like Grant. It was so sweet of him to let her play with his decor this way.