Off the Grid (25 page)
The cab ride to Caleb’s was torture. Should she? Shouldn’t she? She was a daisy being plucked clean of her reason. It was annoying. She wasn’t a waffler. She was a doer. By the time the taxi dropped her off outside the glass doors of 1515 Homer Street in Kings Landing, she was the one freaking out. She glanced way up, then down the street, over to the seawall, which of course was right outside his door. He didn’t have money, he had MONEY.
Crap on a stick.
You didn’t acquire an address in the revamped warehouse district without some serious bucks. False Creek was right there, Granville Island across the way. She’d bet her lacy, black panties the view from above was incredible. And keep her panties every time because no one would bet against a sure thing.
She peered through the glass into the marble foyer. Of course, there was a concierge. Any second someone was going to walk out the front door carrying a little dog in a purse. She didn’t do little dogs. Or yoga. Or the color pink.
Then again she was passing time on the street teetering on stilts and wearing Victoria’s version of underwear which was so lacking in any kind of substance she was this close to going commando. Maybe yoga wasn’t such a bad idea. If she had any kind of zen going on right now she wouldn’t be such a mess.
Over a guy.
Well, not just any guy.
Over Caleb.
Because he was The One.
She felt it in her bones. And other damp places.
Her eyes travelled up, up, up, up. He was in there somewhere waiting. She squared her shoulders and went through the hoops needed to gain entrance, found the elevator and rode it to the top. She ran sweaty palms over her gently-used evening coat. The elevator doors opened. This was crazy. She snorted. More like insane. She stepped out and followed the numbers. A door opened and Caleb stepped out into the hall.
Heaven help her, he looked fresh and damp from a shower. Black dress pants, dark dress shirt, sleeves turned up to the elbows and undone at the throat.
Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe.
You’re committed. Do not fall flat on your face.
The corners of his mouth lifted. Her breath hitched. You couldn’t fake a smile like his. He moved back to let her past and she slid by without tripping over her feet. Or tongue.
“Let me take your coat.”
She shrugged out of it to reveal the dress she’d bought for his company’s fundraiser. The one she’d ditched what seemed like a million years ago. She smoothed a hand over the sleeveless, knee-length dress high in the front and very low in the back as she surveyed his personal space.
She glanced back over her shoulder intending to compliment him, but he was holding her coat and staring, a stunned look on his incredible face. Everything in her relaxed. The dress, the jewelry, the lingerie. The shoes. She was thankful for all of the props. They gave her the confidence to meet his hungry look with a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it look of her own.
He tossed her coat over the hallway table. A laugh bubbled out of her as she backed up. She didn’t get far. He caught her. His casual smile was gone. Intensity burned in his eyes, his hands smoothed over her hair and down her back.
“I missed you.” It was more accusation than entreaty.
“And.”
He took it as the challenge it was meant to be and captured her mouth. Sensation swamped her chasing away the cold, the cloying sadness, the guilt, and it felt so very good to be free of it for even a moment. She felt alive. Her need bubbled up like lava waiting to spill out and devour everything in its path. She met his tongue bold stroke for bold stroke.
He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “That was a lot like getting shot, only in a good way.”
All of a sudden she was hungry. Not starving. Not desperate. But ready to eat. The dining room table was covered with linens and bold white dishes, silverware and flowers. Wine glasses, water glasses, all artfully arranged. It was beautiful. And it was for her. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.”
He moved in close. His warm fingers squeezed hers as he lifted her hand to his lips. He led her over to the table, pulled out a chair. “It occurred to me we may have skipped a few steps. Drinks. Supper at a restaurant. Candles and wine. Popcorn in movie theaters. A little backtracking was in order, but I didn’t think you were ready for the whole going-out-in-public deal. So I hope this makes up for some of it. I didn’t plan on accosting you the minute you walked in the door. But that dress…”
She sat down, thankful to be off her feet. “Was bought with the express purpose of kicking your butt the night of the fundraiser.”
“Consider my ass properly kicked.”
She leaned back, checked out the space beyond the dining area. Art hung from the interior walls, most abstract, all gorgeous. The furniture more inviting than arranged. A stack of books over there. Requisite big screen TV. Jazz drifted out from invisible speakers. The view was stunning.
“So what do you think of the place?”
“It gorgeous. A girl could get used to this.”
“The only person I care about getting used to anything is you.” And the question was there in his eyes.
Her lips parted. And closed. Insecurities clogged her throat. But then she thought of all the time she’d lost with her sister. Because she’d been stubborn. And single-minded. Afraid. So, she blurted it out. “I think I’m in love with you.”
His lips curved. “That simplifies things because I’m pretty sure I love you too.”
Hearing his words settled her stomach. The way he said them settled her heart. They gave her the courage to be honest. “Things are bound to settle down. But I can’t promise you normal. Or easy. Or even my undivided attention. There will be times when I won’t be—”
He leaned in close. “So we see how things go. We’ll fit the Easter egg hunts and pumpkin carving around the marches and rallies. We’ll work on balancing careers and who spends what night where. And then we’ll reevaluate what doesn’t work. We’ll figure it out together.”
She held those words to her heart. Let the warmth and relief seep all the way in. She ached with want. For him. “Together.”
His fingers trailed from her cheek to her collarbone, across her shoulder. Warm lips found the tender spot behind her ear. She wanted to drown in the pleasure of it all. Her skin pebbled under his touch. Her neck stretched. She lifted her hand. His hair was soft under her hand and a little damp from his shower. Her sigh was soft as her lips moved to find his.
“To the next part of the journey.” His lips met hers.
A word about the author...
I grew up on a farm in the middle of Canada’s breadbasket. Under the canopy of crisp blue prairie skies I read books. Lots and lots of books. Occasionally, I picked up a pen and paper or tapped out a few meager pages of a story on a keyboard and dreamed of becoming a writer when I grew up. One day I knew without question the time was right. What to write was never the issue—romance and the gut-wrenching journey toward forever.
I love to hear from and interact with readers! You can drop me a note at:
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http://www.karyngood.com/
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