Betrayed by Love (12 page)

He extended his arm. “Then let’s get the evening started.”

I slipped my arm through his. “Okay. Let’s.”

As we left the living room, Jen emerged from the kitchen and quickly walked down the hall. “What a handsome pair you two make.” She smiled at Grant. “Doesn’t Lin look great?”

“Jen!” I shot her a cold look, which she ignored.

Grant nodded. “Yes, she does.” He turned to look at me. “Yes, you do.”

The look in his eyes left no doubt of his sincerity.

Needless to say, I decided things could only get better after that. When Jen would have rattled on and on, Jarrod joined us in the foyer, cupped a palm under her elbow, and practically dragged her away and into the living room.

Grant grinned at me. “Alone at last.”

Feeling flirty as hell, I leaned closed and grinned up at him. “I thought we’d never get rid of her,” I whispered.

He laughed and squeezed my arm against his body.

We stared at each other for several moments before I realized I was leaning against him. I straightened and pulled my arm from his.

We walked to his car without speaking. Once we were seated, I asked about his meeting.

“Are you really interested or are you just being polite?” he asked.

“I’m interested,” I insisted, even though I really wasn’t.

Damn him, he took me at my word. He discussed the difficulty the meeting had presented for the next twenty minutes. After the first five minutes, I realized I was interested and started to ask questions.

By the time he parked in the lot of an upscale seafood restaurant near the Delaware River, some of my nervousness had dissipated.

“I hope you like seafood,” he said, offering me his hand as he opened the passenger door.

“I do,” I gave him my hand. And I like you too.

He stood very close to me and made it impossible for me to alight from the car without brushing against him.

I looked up at him. “You’re as subtle as Jen is. It must run in the family.”

He laughed and slipped an arm around my shoulders.

That felt so nice and natural, I slipped mine around his waist.

Over dinner, I discovered that we were both Philadelphia Phillies fans. He said he tried to attend a number of home games each season when his travel schedule allowed.

“I watch as many games as I can on TV and when they come to play in L.A., I always get tickets for the series,” I told him.

“When are you returning to L.A, Linea?”

I wasn’t about to admit that depended on how well our date went. “I’m not sure,” I hedged.

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?”

“Jen and I are driving down to the Jersey shore tomorrow morning after breakfast. Jarrod will join us there tomorrow night.”

“How long will you be down there?”

“We’re planning a long weekend. Jarrod will leave Sunday night, but Jen and I will probably drive back here either Monday night or Tuesday morning.”

“What are your plans down there?”

“I don’t have any other than lying in the sun, swimming, and reading. We’ll probably go to Atlantic City at least one night for a little gambling.”

“Sounds relaxing.”

I nodded.

“Perhaps we can have dinner when you return.”

I smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”

“So would I.”

We spent the rest of the meal discussing baseball. Seated over coffee he asked if I wanted to go somewhere to dance. The idea of dancing with him again set off tiny fires in my nether regions, but after my lustful dreams of the night before, I decided dancing with him wouldn’t be wise. I might make a fool of myself by grinding against him like a low–class hoochie mama.

“Thanks, but I probably should pass on that.”

He leaned across the table to gaze into my eyes. “Why?”

I blinked. “Why?”

“Yes. Why? It’s not like we haven’t danced before. You know I can control my hands and the rest of my body.”

The problem was I didn’t want him to control his hands or any other part of his body. Not that I was about to admit that. “Well—” I began.

“Good. It’s settled.”

“What? What’s settled?”

He grinned at me. “We’re going dancing.”

“We are?”

“Yes. We are.”

My heart had never been broken because I’d always gone out of my way to retain a large measure of control in my love life. Like most women I wanted to fall in love, get married, and have kids. But I wanted those things in my own time and under circumstances of my own choosing. I wasn’t sure I wanted a man like Grant in my life. He seemed prepared to take charge of our relationship. I guess I was used to men willing to give and allow me more control.

Nevertheless, Grant had things his way that night. The way he determined we were going to go dancing when I’d already declined his invitation should have been an indicator that he might be trouble. Maybe part of me did know that but didn’t care.

While I sat staring at him, wondering why I didn’t insist he accept my refusal, he signaled for the check.

“Grant, I’m not in the mood to go danc—”

“We’re going dancing.” He grinned suddenly, casting a quick glance at my breasts. “Me and the girls have decided. All you have to do is be gracious and get with the program because the decision is made.”

I stared at him.

He stared back. “Is something wrong?”

I shook my head. “If you and the girls agreed, who am I to try and stand in your way?”

“That’s the spirit. Never try to come between a man and his girls.”

“So now they’re yours?”

“If not now, they soon will be,” he said, his smile vanishing.

I bit back the urge to ask him if there was anything intimate he had I could claim—like his cock.

He suddenly arched a brow and smiled. Almost as if he’d read my mind.

“It’s yours if you want it,” he said softly. “And I hope you do. If you’re not interested, I’ll bet my girls are.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, Grant.”

“Oh, but I am. I can almost feel them hardening.”

My nipples were taut. I swallowed hard and punked out by looking away from his intense blue gaze. I ignored his soft, taunting laughter.

He reached across the table to brush his hand against mine. “I’ll behave for the rest of the night,” he promised.

I shrugged, annoyed at how gauche I felt. I was too old to feel so unsure of him and myself.

He gently squeezed my hand. “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I said, pulling my hand away.

He smiled. “That’s the spirit, Linea. I admire a woman who gives as good as she gets.”

“Ask me if I care.”

He laughed.

I liked the sound of his warm laughter and the way his eyes sparkled when he did.

Less than an hour later, we were dancing slow and close together in a dimly lit lounge called For Lovers Only.

With the combination of his cologne teasing my senses and his palms pressed against my back as he guided me around the room, I felt lost in him. He was sexy as hell and exuded a sensual confidence that infused me with heat and desire. It took all of my willpower not to link my arms around his neck and rub myself against him in a way he’d find impossible to misinterpret. But I managed—barely.

Despite my level of sexual discomfort, he kept his composure. He didn’t allow his hands to wander below my waist to my ass nor did he use our slow dance as an excuse to cop a feel.

We shared several dances before we returned to our table. I had a drink. He had bottled water. While I struggled to think of something witty and entertaining to say, he sat staring at me with a small smile playing around his lips—as if my struggles amused him. Damn him.

“Why are you trying so hard? Just let things take their natural course,” he said.

That was easy for him to say. Despite all his talk about my breasts, he seemed annoyingly cool and unfazed by my presence.

I ignored him.

He flashed his pearly whites at me.

Damn him and that sexy smile of his.

“Are you finished with your drink, Linea?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like another?”

If I had another one, I might jump into his lap and flash the girls at him. “No, thanks.”

“Then let’s dance again.”

I was feeling horny and thought dancing with him again was a no–no. Nevertheless when he rose and stood by my chair with his hand extended, I gave him my hand and rose.

He linked his fingers with mine.

I felt almost as giddy as a teenager as we returned to the dance floor.

When he folded me into his arms, I practically melted, pressing my breasts against his chest.

He sucked in a breath.

I smiled. Now we were both a little sexually uncomfortable.

He tightened his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his hard body.

I surrendered to the inevitable, pressing my cheek against his shoulder.

We made no pretense about dancing this time. We just openly ground against each other. We shared two slow grinds before my nipples were hard and I felt his cock stirring against me. If we kept that up, I would be hard pressed not to slip my hand between our bodies and palm his cock. And I wasn’t about to stoop to that—at least not in public. I pushed my hands against his shoulders. “Grant?”

He lifted his cheek from mine and looked down at me. “What’s wrong?”

His voice was even and held none of the tension I felt.

I shook my head. “Nothing. I think we should go.” To bed. Oh, hell, take me to bed before I burst a blood vessel. Please.

His arms tightened around my waist. It was only for a moment, but I felt the unmistakable outline of his cock. Yes! He was horny too. I wasn’t prepared to have intercourse with him that night, but damned if I didn’t want to fool around a little—a lot.

The thought of his hands cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples or palming and slapping my ass just made me hornier than ever. In that mood, I considered anything short of allowing his cock into my pussy acceptable on a first date.

But first I needed to be alone with him. I pushed at his shoulders again.

He sighed, allowed his arms to fall away from me and stepped back. He glanced at his watch. “How about we take the long way back?”

I wasn’t really interested in taking the scenic route because I just wanted to feel his big hands on my bare flesh ASAP. Still, I wasn’t interested in having him think I was an easy lay. How far did he live from the club? Would we make it to his place or start groping each other in his parking space?