Selling Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 1) (12 page)

"I feel a little overdressed," I admitted as we slid into the booth that was provided for us.

Carter smiled at me. "Trust me, you look great. A bit distracting from the meal, in fact."

"Yeah? What am I making you think about?"

His smile widened. "I'm thinking about how long it would take for me to drive to my apartment from here."

"Why- ohh." I felt heat creep up into my cheeks as I caught onto his suggestion, and I hoped that the fairly dim lighting in the place would hide my growing blush.

We ordered food, but I honestly forgot what I requested as soon as I passed the menu over to the waiter. For the night, I spent most of my time just listening to Carter. I'd hoped to be distracted from my current money concerns, and it was as if he knew what I wanted - and he did an amazing job.

"Really? You grew up poor?" I exclaimed, smiling as I took a sip of my margarita. "I don't believe it - everything about you just seems so smooth and polished, like you've always had this much money!"

Carter shrugged, looking a little embarrassed about his wealth. He did the thing where he swept his hand through his hair again, mussing it up and looking even more adorable. "I need to put on this impression for my clients. No one wants to buy or rent a property from someone who doesn't look successful. But I've had to teach myself how to act proper all on my own; I didn't grow up this way."

"So how did you grow up?" I asked, leaning forward and feeling entranced.

His eyes were drawn down for a moment before answering, caught by the almost magnetic pull of my cleavage on display. Normally, I would have quickly sat back to avoid giving him such an unabashed view, but the margarita told me to relax and give him a chance to enjoy the sights. Its voice seemed strangely convincing.

"I grew up pretty normally," Carter admitted after a minute, forcing his gaze back up to meet my eyes. "One older brother, happily married parents, little house in the suburbs. Whole deal, might as well have had the white picket fence and everything. Very solidly middle class, maybe slightly lower than average. I wore a lot of my older brother's hand-me-downs."

"And then you headed off to the big city and set your sights on riches and wealth through commercial real estate?" I guessed.

He laughed. "Not quite. I went off to college, decided that I'd become an engineer, but couldn't handle the math and the devotion. Ended up scraping through classes to earn my degree, but my grades were awful, particularly at the end. I knew that I wasn't going to land a job with that degree, so I started trying to find something to keep me from becoming homeless."

"What did you do?"

"All sorts of odd stuff, at first," he said, leaning back a little in his chair. "Tried my hand at retail, worked in a warehouse for a bit. But I was lazy and had expensive tastes, which is a really dangerous combination." He snorted a little to himself. "Hell, still is."

"So how did you find real estate?"

"Totally by accident," he replied promptly, holding up a hand like he was taking the scout's oath, making me chuckle. "I got a temporary gig setting up a property - it's called 'staging' these days. Making it look perfect and clean and like it's totally ready for someone to move in and rent it. I started asking the agent about why he had to do things like set out a bowl of lemons, and he explained that it's the little touches that instantly add another five percent to his bottom line."

"Really?" I asked skeptically. "Putting out a bowl of lemons makes you thousands more?"

"Not just on its own, but you do that, bleach and clean the carpets, make the walls a shade or two brighter, and add a bit of artwork, and yeah, it basically makes the whole place seem more appealing," he admitted. "It seems like a dirty trick, but it helps potential renters to see the property in its best light, rather than just looking at it as an empty room with no real possibility."

Carter drained the rest of his beer and set the glass down on top of the wooden table with a thunk. "But I can't go giving away all of the secrets of being a successful real estate agent to you - not on the first date, at least!" he exclaimed. "At least, if you want to drag these secrets out of me, you'll need to cover the next round!"

I grinned back at him, strangely not feeling pressure or worry about this. I was just out to have fun, not thinking about where this might lead. Focus on the moment, Becca, I told myself. "I can definitely handle getting the next round."

"Perfect." Carter pointed to the bar, not moving from his seat. "I'll take another of the same, if you would be so kind!"

I started to get up, but then paused. "You just want to check out my ass in this too-small black dress, don't you?" the margarita in me asked, temporarily seizing control of my vocal cords.

Carter just grinned back at me. "I'm admitting nothing."

Chapter Fourteen

*

"Are you sure that you're okay to drive?" I asked Carter as I leaned heavily on him, once again glad that I hadn't chosen the high heels for tonight's date. With the gravel of the parking lot under my feet, I definitely was in imminent danger of slipping and breaking an ankle, even in my current flats.

"Yeah, I stopped a couple hours so that I could get myself - and you - home," he answered, looping his arm around my waist. He felt strong and warm and comforting, and I tightened my grip around his neck.

He coughed after a moment. "Easy, don't strangle me!" he protested, pausing and turning a little towards me.

Now looking into his eyes, I just smiled happily, the whole world slightly hazy and pink and happy at its edges. Our conversation at the restaurant soon shifted from discussing our respective pasts over to just chatting about art, some of the crazy things that artists created and how things like piles of garbage could be considered inventive and valuable. In addition, as the evening went on (and the level of liquid in our glasses dropped), the flirting grew heavier and more intense, little barbs flying back and forth across the table.

"I do enjoy some of the classical sculpture, although I'm not so sold on the stuff that Onyx does," Carter pointed out, and I snorted back at him.

"That's just because you don't like seeing a dick bigger than yours," I countered. "No man does, it's a weakness of your entire gender. But I bet if he was just carving nothing but breasts, you'd be all over that artwork, wouldn't you?"

"A nice pair of marble breasts would look great in my bathroom," Carter mused, his eyes again momentarily straying to my own pair, once again practically spilling out of my dress when I leaned forward to wrap both my hands around my margarita. At first, I'd been self-conscious every time that I leaned forward, well aware of the spectacle I was creating of myself, but several drinks helped to calm my fretting about what Carter might see. He certainly seemed to be enjoying the view!

"I remember when my middle school took a field trip to an art museum," I went on, as I sipped at my third margarita. "Half of the boys were speechless, just staring at all the tits on display, probably grabbing at their crotches whenever they thought that a girl wasn't looking at them."

"Not our fault," Carter defended men everywhere. "They're just so distracting! You can't tell me that you weren't distracted, too, the first time that you saw one of Onyx's statues."

I thought back to that first interview in Uncle Preston's office, when my eyes kept tracking over to the eight-inch cock on top of his shelf. "Okay, maybe they can be a little distracting. But at least we don't totally shut up and go dumb whenever someone whips out their dick!"

"Guys don't go dumb at the sight of breasts," Carter said. He paused for a moment. "Okay, some guys do, but most of us are able to still think when there's a pair of breasts around."

"Really? So if I let my top drop a few inches, you would still be able to hold a conversation with me?" The tequila from my margarita was doing the talking again, but it seemed to have a good handle on the conversation, so I let it continue.

"Not fair - yours are different," Carter answered.

I raised my eyebrows. "Different how?"

His eyes dropped down to take a good look. "Those aren't made of stone."

"So that's what determines whether a guy is struck dumb by tits?" I shook my head in mock amazement. "As long as they're on an actual woman, you'll do anything to get your hands on them."

"Not just any woman," Carter replied, and his eyes returned back to mine.

I paused, whatever barb I'd been about to say next evaporating into silence. Before, his eyes had just been warm with laughter as he enjoyed the banter between us. Now, however, they suddenly burned with lusty hunger, enough heat to totally distract me and make me unable to think of anything but how good it would be to let him pull me closer, let him peel this stupid too-tight dress off of me and exult in my womanhood beneath...

We were both silent for a minute, before Carter finally coughed and I managed to find my thoughts again.

"You know, I've got work tomorrow - we probably shouldn't stay out too late," I managed to get out, casting about wildly for some topic of conversation that wasn't how much I wanted for Carter carry me off to the nearest flat surface and commit all sorts of nasty carnal deeds with me.

"Right, right - and I have to pack tomorrow morning," Carter said, making me pause.

"Pack? Pack for what?"

He sighed. "I've actually got to take a trip for a few days - I'm headed off to talk with some property managers in London," he said. "I was going to bring it up, but I didn't have a chance before now. I'll be back in five or six days - a week at the most."

I felt my heart sink. In part, Carter's absence was annoying because he might be able to find me some leads on getting a sale for Onyx's large statue. Even more than that, however, I was already hoping that, even if the two of us weren't officially dating, I could see him again, maybe follow up on whatever happened tonight. We'd been flirting so well, back and forth, the heat between us building - and then, with this revelation, it all fell away.

"And you leave tomorrow morning?" I asked.

He nodded. "Really, I ought to have stayed home tonight so that I could finish packing for the trip, but I can get to it tomorrow before my flight. I basically just dump a handful of suits into a bag, and make sure to bring my laptop. That's all I need to sell property."

I stood up, pausing only to gulp down the last swallow of my margarita. "Well, hopefully you've got time to take me home at least," I said.

He stood up as well. "Let me just pay the bill at the bar and I'll meet you by the entrance, walk you over to where I parked the car."

Once I walked over to the entrance, however, I suddenly felt the impact of those three margaritas that I'd consumed, sloshing back and forth in my stomach. I held onto the hostess's station until Carter arrived, and then switched my grip over to him, using him for support.

"I'm drunk," I commented, holding onto his arm. Man, he had nice muscles!

"Yeah, I can tell," he grinned at me, and I saw that little glint of humor flicker back into his eyes. "Here, let me help you get out to my car, Becca Grace. We'd hate for you to take a less than graceful spill."

"Oh wow, recycling the same joke as when we met," I groaned, but I had no problem continuing to lean on him for support as he led me out into the cooler night air.

We made it down the street and over to the gravel parking lot, but here I felt the treacherous stones sliding beneath my flat shoes, and I had to throw my other hand around his neck to keep from sagging down onto the ground. "Slipping," I grunted out.

Carter's hands landed on my hips, steadying me and holding me up. "Don't worry. I got you."

In the dim light coming from the lamps around the edges of the lot, the hard lines of Carter's face were softer, his brown hair casting a slight shadow across his eyes. His face looked almost like it belonged on a statue, I found myself thinking. Onyx could have carved him - although, if he was one of Onyx's works, he'd certainly be showing a lot more below the belt, wouldn't he?

"What's so funny?" Carter asked, still holding me up, as I giggled.

"Nothing. Just thinking about penis statues," I answered.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted."

"Well, I don't have anything to compare it to," I pointed out. "So I guess it depends on what you might happen to be hiding, doesn't it?"

For a moment, Carter's mouth dropped open as he looked back at me. "You're definitely drunk, aren't you, Becca?" he asked.

I nodded happily. "Yup."

"So drunk that you won't remember this evening when you wake up tomorrow morning?"

I considered for a moment. "Nope. Not that drunk. I think I'll remember it all-"

"Good," he interrupted, and then pulled me close, across the last couple of inches between the two of us.

For just a moment, I felt myself as I pressed up against him, feeling his warmth through my exposed skin in all the areas that this damn little black dress didn't cover. My chest squished against his, my breasts giving way as they encountered his rock-hard pecs, one of his hands tightening and digging into the curve of my hip, the other hand sliding up the small of my back, up between my shoulder blades to wrap around the back of my neck-