Great-Aunt Sophia's Lessons for Bombshells (31 page)

A glance at her face showed her eyes sternly ahead, a small crease between her brows. Was she concentrating on driving, or was she thinking about him and what they’d done? He wasn’t going to risk asking, not with that look on her face.

Tangling with Grace was like tangling with a tiger. He had to be on guard if he was going to escape with only minor scratches, or have any hope of keeping the upper hand. He was surprised that he’d managed as well as he had today with her; he was even feeling hopeful about his chances of turning her affections away
from Andrew and onto himself—which was a minor miracle. He’d been making everything up as he went along.

It was while they’d been trying to get the car up the driveway that he’d had his epiphany about Grace. She all but asked him to push her out of her perpetual, self-inflicted control. Locked in a cage of her own construction, she had handed him the key and asked him to open the door, for she hadn’t the power to do it herself.

He’d been half afraid to oblige her. He’d felt her surprise when he kissed her beside the vacant house, then felt the answering hunger in her mouth. He hadn’t been a hundred percent certain he had read her correctly about what she wanted, though, and it wasn’t the type of decision a man could afford to make a mistake about. He’d watched the nuances of emotion on her face and listened to the language of her body, alert for any hint of resistance, any intimation that she’d offered an invitation she didn’t want to honor.

When he’d started to enter her, her eyes had gone wide in surprise, but her body had pressed toward his, seeking more. And when she’d wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into his back as if kicking him to give her more, the last of his caution fell away.

He’d wanted her for two months, with a growing obsession unlike anything he’d felt before. To finally have her was a feast for a man who had been starving. The sex was as good as he’d hoped, but it was over before he’d had more than a taste of all he wanted. Leaving Grace unsatisfied had been unavoidable, but not regrettable. It meant she was still primed for a second round.

Assuming Grace continued to be willing. The question he’d have to help her answer now was whether escaping the protection of her cage was worth the rewards. Left alone with her thoughts for too long, Grace might chase herself back into the cage and swing the door shut.

Andrew would like that, no doubt. He’d add extra bars and
locks of his own to keep her neatly contained. Andrew was no tiger hunter.

Grace turned down the driveway to Sophia’s house and coasted through the turns. She stopped in the courtyard, and Declan pointed toward the garages around the side of the house. Grace shifted into first and headed the car back to its stall.

To keep Grace from closing herself back in her cage, there was only one sure way he knew to distract her.

They pulled into the shaded interior of the six-stall garage and Grace shut off the engine and started to get out. Declan caught the end of the tangerine scarf and pulled it through his fingers, the silk creased and damp.

“Grace,” he said, reaching over and catching hold of the hem of her skirt as she stood.

“What?”

He slid over the bench seat to her side and grasped her thighs. A breath of surprise slipped from her; she looked down at him with parted lips and a question in her sea green eyes. Holding her gaze, he wrapped the scarf around her thighs and tied it, pinning her legs together.

She laughed nervously. “What are you doing? I can’t walk like this.”

“Walking is the last thing on my mind.” He got out of the car and took her in his arms, kissing her hard enough that she wouldn’t be able to think. His hand roamed down her backside and lifted the hem of her skirt. Her arms went around his neck, her body sagging against his, and a soft moan of hunger purred in her throat.

“I want you standing,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “There,” he said, turning her toward a support column a couple of feet away.

She hesitated and he saw uncertainty in her eyes. He waited,
knowing that she needed a moment to understand that she was truly free, even if she chose to pretend otherwise.

“Grab the post,” he told her.

A ghost of a wicked smile touched her lips and then, slowly, as if taunting him, she did as bid.

It lasted longer than it had on the tail of the car, and he put his hands to good use, making sure she got where she needed to go. Her soft moans were his guide and his reward. When they were finished, he untied the scarf from her thighs and handed it to her as she stood up straight, her skirt covering her again.

She looked blankly at the mangled scarf in her hands. “Do I get my panties back?”

Feeling sheepish, he pulled them from his pocket and gave them to her.

“Thanks.” Still she didn’t move.

“Grace, are you okay?”

She looked up at him, the frown between her brows again. Her hair was a mussed mess, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were swollen from kissing. She didn’t seem to see him, her vision turned to some inner landscape. “I want . . .”

“Yes? You want?”

“I want . . .” She turned and looked out the open garage doors at the white glare of sunlight.

“What do you want, Grace?” He’d get it for her, whatever it was. He’d hand-wash her in a tub of warm water. He’d take her to Paris. He’d carry her to her bedroom, sing her to sleep, anything.

“I really,
really
want a bacon cheeseburger. Can you get one for me?” she asked, as uncertain as if asking him to bring her a bar of gold.

He laughed. “Is that all?”

She shook her head, her expression deadly serious. “With french fries. And a chocolate shake.”

“I can do that.”

She put her hand on his arm. “And, Declan?”

“Yes?”

“Get extra bacon. Lots of extra bacon.”

“Okay.”

She left him then, walking stiff-legged out into the sunlight while holding her panties and scarf in one hand. He followed from a distance, and then stopped to watch from the corner of the house as Andrew came out to greet her. The tall man seemed flustered by Grace’s somnambulist manner, his questions met by murmurs. As if sensing his enemy, he turned and saw Declan.

Declan held two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute to the doctor. “You’re losing her already,” Declan said under his breath. “You wanted a fight, so I’m giving you one. And I don’t intend to lose.”

CHAPTER

21

Research Notes

August 6

Author has clearly gone mad. Starvation diet, extreme exercise routine, and Draconian beauty regime of last two months have exhausted Author of all willpower, self-control, common sense, modesty, restraint
.

Ability to obey instructions of Sophia is gone. Control of eating, gone—along with change from semivegetarianism to an unhealthy obsession with cured meats, especially bacon. Exercise routine is gone through with only the barest motions, angering trainer. Author unable to care about trainer’s anger, and in a weak moment made rude comment about trainer’s lack of ass
.

While Author had originally suspected that focusing entire self on becoming beautiful would lead to mental disorder, Author did not predict the form such derangement would take. Author is now obsessed with sex with the despised male, Declan
.

Has shallow focus on appearances harmed Author’s self-worth to sufficient degree to make Author seek out sex as substitute for self-esteem? This explanation would fit Author’s earlier theories
.

However
.

Author is unaware of any dip in feeling of self-worth. While aware of slight increase in being judgmental re: the appearance of others as Author becomes more focused on own appearance, Author’s judgments of herself seem to have improved with increase in own attractiveness
.

State of Author’s emotions regarding the male is unknown, and at present point may be unknowable. Sexual fever must die back before order can be made from internal chaos. Author is in constant anticipation of next sexual encounter, subsuming all emotion and thought in lust
.

August 7

Said male came upon Author in far reaches of garden, and engaged in sexual encounter. Second sexual encounter in D.’s bedroom. Third encounter in Author’s bathroom
.

August 8

Garden. Garage
.

August 9

Author’s bedroom. Under piano
.

August 10

Author notes that Dr. Andrew is becoming more attentive and protective, and prone to questioning Author about activities and company she keeps. Dr. seems concerned about Author’s mental status
.

Friend Cat also lately concerned re: mental status
.

Mother calling more often, asking more questions, and deeply distressed re: weight loss. Author cannot recall informing mother of weight loss. Suspects Cat has been talking to mother behind her back. Also possible that Cat and Dr. are in contact and scheming
.

Note: Possible development of paranoid thinking
.

Simple solution is to leave phone turned off
.

On bright side, Dr. held Author’s hand, a major step forward. For moment, Author thought Dr. might muster courage to kiss her, but the despised male appeared and put the kibosh on that
.

Sand dunes
.

August 11

Author’s period has arrived. Author thanks Trojan for making effective product
.

Lack of restraint re: food, exercise has not improved. Five pounds regained. PMS was possibly responsible, but Author recognizes fixation on bacon played its part
.

Author unwilling to give up bacon
.

As food frenzy and weight gain are contrary to deal worked out with Sophia, Author recognizes she is in danger of losing the $20,000 offered to her in payment for obedience to S.’s instruction
.

Author still unwilling to give up bacon
.

Alternatives:

Give up $20,000
.

Gain control of eating (somehow)
.

Convince S. to drop diet and exercise from plan
.

August 12

Author is outraged by medical establishment and media. In preparing arguments for Sophia re: diet, Author searched medical literature regarding weight and all-cause mortality. For nonsmokers, overweight and obese people have lower risks for premature death than normal weight or skinny people. Skinny people are at highest risk for premature death in all age ranges. Author feeling bitter re: self-restraint for past two months, and unnecessary guilt for past decade
.

Also, benefit of exercise beyond minimal amounts (30 min. walking daily, tops) is not clearly established and may in fact be harmful. Author thinks personal trainer should be arrested for assault
.

Author has been told for past five years to lose weight for her health, and now finds that she was less likely to die when she was heavier. Confirms Author’s suspicion that all “it’s for your health” comments are a crock
.

Author additionally annoyed to discover that according to research the “most attractive” body mass index for women is 21 (admittedly less than Author’s BMI, even postdiet), but that attractiveness drops off much more sharply below 21 than it does above 21