Great-Aunt Sophia's Lessons for Bombshells (33 page)

Sophia had warned that sleeping with Declan would demand too much of her. What had started as a plot to heal her own heart by stomping on Declan’s had degenerated into frantically trying to protect herself, while he remained as impervious as ever.

She only had a couple of weeks left in Pebble Beach, and then she’d head back to Seattle. Declan was probably counting on that to end their affair for them. Only it wouldn’t. She would still be hoping to hear from him, hoping he’d come visit her, hoping there was a future with him.

The only way to save herself, and have closure, was to end the affair herself. Then, in the weeks that remained to her, she would try to lay the foundation of a long-term relationship with Andrew. It was the obvious, logical, intelligent path to follow.

The thought brought a sinking heaviness to her soul.

She heaved a sigh, miserable despite the beauty of the morning and the luxury of the Duesenberg. To either side of their route down the emerald grass stood white stanchions with catenaries of plastic chain drooping between them, cordoning off the classic cars from the mass of people who would soon be packing the fairway.

Halfway down the fairway an official in a linen jacket and boater waved the car toward its waiting slot amid a short row of Duesenbergs. Darlene turned the car and backed into place, and Grace turned round to look out over the sapphire blue of Stillwater Cove and Carmel Bay. The fairway dropped off in a short gold beige cliff to the water, fifteen feet behind the car. The last of the morning mist had just burned off, and the sun was bright above the hills to the east.

“Thanks for the ride,” Lali said, hopping out of the car and slamming the door with enough energy to make Darlene wince. Lali leaned on Sophia’s door for a moment, her eyes shining. “My friends are going to be so jealous I got to ride in the Duesenberg.”

“If you get a four-point-oh this coming year in school, I’ll let you have it—and Darlene—for your prom.”

Lali bounced on her feet. “Thank you! Oh, thank you so much, Sophia!” Lali blew her a kiss and darted off to find a friend she’d arranged to meet.

Darlene came round to open Sophia’s door, a sour look on her face. “Thanks.”

“Every girl deserves to feel like a princess now and then, doesn’t she?”

“Everyone always wants to be the princess,” Darlene sniffed. “No one wants to be the queen who has to do all the work.”

“All the better for the queen,” Sophia said. “Fewer competitors for her power.” She cast a glance at Grace. “No queen can rule forever, though. A wise one trains her heir.”

Grace barely responded, her mind too entwined with thoughts of Declan to leave her bandwidth for verbal sparring with her aunt. She came around the car and offered Sophia her arm. Sophia took it, and they strolled down the fairway toward the Lodge, leaving Darlene to do a final rubdown of the car before the show opened.

“You’re quiet this morning,” Sophia said, giving Grace’s arm a gentle squeeze.

“I was just thinking that the summer is drawing to its close, and I don’t see any sign that I’m going to win that extra thirty thousand from you for making Declan fall in love with me.”

“And it’s only the thought of losing the money that has your face so long?”

Grace didn’t answer.

“I warned you it would be dangerous to try.”

“I know. But I never thought . . .”

“That you’d fall in love with him?”

Grace closed her eyes against the pain of that truth, not surprised that Sophia had so easily divined her feelings. “Yes,” she whispered.

“For God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t tell him how you feel.”

Grace’s melancholy fractured under the sharply spoken words. “I wasn’t going to! I’m not stupid.”

“Women in love are stupid. They give men gifts, they are the first to say I love you, they make sex tapes. Stupid.”

“I’m not going to do any of that. I want to end the affair.”

“You’re giving up?” Sophia asked, her lips curling in disapproval.

Grace’s heart ached. “It’s a retreat in the face of insurmountable odds. I have to protect myself.” She glanced at Sophia’s face, looking for some hint of hope, some sign that her aunt, who knew Declan so well, thought differently.

“Hm. And after this retreat, are you going to sit around sulking?”

Grace pursed her lips in annoyance. “No. I’m going to pay more attention to Andrew, as I should have been doing all along. There’s certainty of a future with him. I can’t fathom why I should have fallen for the uncertainty of Declan.”

“Then you need to read up on your behavioral science. Intermittent, unpredictable rewards are always more addictive than sure things. Maybe you’ve become too much of a sure thing to Declan.”

Grace’s lips parted in surprise. “You think so?”

“You’re right that Andrew is more suitable for you in the long run. Refocusing your attention on him can serve the double purpose of sealing that relationship and bringing Declan to his knees. He won’t recognize his feelings for you—if he has them—until he loses you. You’ve got to make it a real loss, though, Grace. Andrew doesn’t deserve to be toyed with, and Declan will sense it if you’re only trying to manipulate him with ploys. Drop him for real, and you may yet win that extra thirty thousand.”

The thought brought no cheer to her. What good would that money be, when it came at the price of her heart?

She didn’t want to give up hope. She wanted, suddenly, to run to Declan and declare her feelings, and beg him to say the same in return.

She imagined the look of repugnance on his face; his glance going to the nearest exit; his hands gripping her biceps, holding her away from him.

Sophia was right. You didn’t chase men like Declan. To do so was to lower your worth in his eyes.

“If Declan’s appeal lies in his unpredictability,” Grace said, “then I’ll just have to stop seeing him, cold turkey, as if he were any other addiction. As soon as I see him, I’ll end it.”

Sophia murmured a faint noise of discontent.

“What?”

“I would ask, Grace dear, that you do this old woman a favor and humor me and my irrational fears, and wait until this evening to deliver your blow.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“It’s silly . . . I keep telling myself it’s ridiculous to think the same thing could happen twice. And Declan is so different from Archie . . .”

Grace was bewildered. “Who’s Archie?”

“My first husband, dear. Archibald Townsend the Fourth. A dashing, dark-haired man who loved cars, women, and golf.”

“Golf,” Grace repeated flatly. Argyle vests and golf knickers didn’t fit her image of dark men who loved cars and women.

“It’s why we bought our house here in Pebble Beach. We were very happy here, until . . .”

“Until?”

Sophia shivered. “Did the sun go behind a cloud?”

“What happened to Archie?” Grace asked, even as a foreboding certainty grew inside her.

“It was 1955, the final year they held the Pebble Beach Road Races on Seventeen-Mile Drive. Archie had driven in it since the year of its inception, and he had a new MG sitting in the garage, waiting for its chance to challenge the course.”

“The same one Declan is going to drive?”

Pain shimmered across Sophia’s face, and she nodded. “It survived the race, whereas Archie . . . The car had hardly a scratch on it. A friend returned it to me afterward, thinking I would want the reminder of Archie. It was a generous thought, but . . .”

Grace’s throat tightened in sympathy as the disjointed story became clear. “Oh, Aunt Sophia, I’m so sorry.”

“He died in that car, at the turn just south of our house. I
was standing with a crowd of friends at the end of our driveway, cheering as the cars went by. I blew a kiss to Archie—” She stopped, her trembling lips closing into a hard line, as if holding back the words could hold back the memories. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper. “And then he was gone.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“The worst of it was, we had had a fight that morning. The kiss I blew him was for show; I was embarrassed at the thought of our friends sensing something was wrong. But I’ve wondered ever since if he would have died if we hadn’t had that fight, if his concentration had been purely on the road, if he hadn’t been distracted by the things I’d said.” Sophia shook her head. “I blamed myself. Other people thought the route was too dangerous, with so many trees so close to the road. They said there was too much car and not enough racecourse. They moved the races to a new track at Laguna Seca the next year.”

Sophia smiled sadly. “So, although I know it’s foolish of me, I would ask you not to end your affair with Declan until the race is finished. I’d hate to think of him being distracted as he passed my house and headed for that curve.”

“Of course, Aunt Sophia! A few hours won’t matter one way or another.”

They reached the Lodge, a whitewashed, white-columned building that had stood at Pebble Beach since the 1910s. A terrace on the back looked out over the course and the bay. Waitstaff carrying trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres threaded between the guests in boaters, linen, and tea party hats who were beginning to fill the space. An elderly official greeted Sophia, and guided them to a small cloth-covered table near the edge of the terrace, reserved specifically for her.

“That’s better,” Sophia sighed as she eased down onto the padded chair. A waiter brought them flutes of champagne and
Grace settled back in her chair to watch the people going by on the grass below. She wanted to ask Sophia more about her marriages, but it seemed neither the time nor the place, and she didn’t know how well she could listen even if Sophia did speak of them. Grace’s emotions were too distracted with worries for Declan during the race mingling with love, hurt, and the misery of uncertainty. She wanted her relationship with him over, at the same time that she relished these last few hours where there still remained a crumb of hope—however small—that he might yet fall on his knees and declare his love for her.

It was a miserable state to be in. She looked out over the growing crowd and tried not to think about it.

“Grace, dear, go see if you can find Dr. Andrew and tell him where we’re sitting. I thought I caught a glimpse of him going indoors.”

Grace went in search of the doctor, taking off her sunglasses as she stepped into the lodge. She wore an apricot shantung silk dress with a wide V neck, tightly fitted bodice, and a full skirt that ended just above her knees. Jeweled flat-soled sandals lent a playful touch. As she sidled through the thickening crowd searching for Andrew, she caught the surreptitious leers of older men, their gazes lingering on her breasts. Once upon a time she would have hunched her shoulders in embarrassment, but now she strode by the men without concern. She didn’t blame them for looking: her bra cantilevered her breasts before her like Juliet’s balcony, an open invitation to adventurous suitors. She would stare, too. They were great breasts.

Which didn’t mean she expected to be manhandled. A strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the crowd, making her squeak in surprise. Her hat blocked her view of her assailant, but even as he dragged her into a narrow hallway her body recognized him.

Declan.

“If I didn’t know better,” he said hoarsely as he dragged her into a ladies’ room, “I’d swear you’d been avoiding me these last few days.”

“You’re the one who’s been too obsessed with car engines and tires and gear thingies to spend any time with me,” Grace said, a note of complaint in her voice.

Declan checked the solitary stall and, finding it empty, locked the door to the hallway. The chamber was more a small ladies’ lounge than a traditional bathroom, with a carpeted floor and a chaise longue.

Declan ignored the chaise and, grasping Grace by the waist, hoisted her up onto the marble countertop. The back of her head hit the mirror and one hand knocked a jar of lotion into the sink. It was hard to care, though, as Declan’s mouth came down on hers and his hands slid up her thighs. His tongue plunged against hers, chasing away all thoughts of breakups and endings. It was as if those thoughts had belonged to someone else, in another lifetime. Nothing mattered but the melting pleasure of his touch and the desire she could feel in the straining of his body.

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I haven’t been fantasizing about what I’d do to you the next time we were alone,” Declan said into her throat, as his mouth traced down toward her cleavage. His hands found their way up to her panties and tugged.

It was tempting to give in one last time, to let him take her right there on the ladies’ room counter. It would be fast and hard and good.

As it would be the next time. And the next, and the next. When would it stop? It never would, unless she took control. She couldn’t break up with Declan before the race, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t behave as if she had.

She grabbed his hands. “Not now. Sophia’s waiting for me.”

“Let her wait.”

She shook her head and forced herself to get down from the counter, even as her body cried out to stay. “I
can’t
.”

He leaned against her, pinning her to the edge of the counter. “You can.”

Anger born of hurt flared to life inside her. She was a sex toy to him, nothing more. It was all she’d ever been and all she’d ever be. “I said
no
!” she snapped, and slipped out of his grasp. A moment later she was out the door.

Seeing Andrew across the room, Grace started toward him, only to have Declan grasp her hand and pull her back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Aunt Sophia asked me to find Dr. Andrew and take him to her,” she said without emotion, trying to hide her anger. “I think her hip is hurting her.”

“What’s got into you?”

“Declan!” a jovial older man interrupted, slapping him on the back.

As Declan looked at the older man, Grace tugged her hand free and wove through the crowd toward Andrew.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said when she reached him. “Sophia wanted me to tell you where we’re sitting.”

“That’s funny. She sent me to find you.”

Smiling to hide the tears that threatened, Grace led Andrew out of the crowd and, on impulse, dragged him into the narrow hallway. Before a question left his lips, she pressed her body up against his and pulled his head down to hers, then kissed him.
Prove you can replace him
, she silently pleaded.
Show me that I don’t have to give up passion
.