Souvenirs (21 page)

“Are going to be here for a while yet, as are Susan and Morris. And Ryan is spoiling for Round Two.”

At the edge of the dance floor, Charlie Devlin was talking to Harry Levy and Paul. Ryan stood, ignored on the fringes, glaring at her.

“Home?”

“If that’s what you want.”

They walked across the dance floor, out the far doors, and into the elevator lobby. It wasn’t the escape route she’d expected. “Where are we going?”

“Gino and I stashed my car in the garage this morning so I could leave whenever I felt like it and no one would see me.”

“Sneaky,” she teased.

“You learn to be.” He held the passenger door for her. “It’s a nice night. Why don’t we put the top down?”

Grace’s thoughts were tumbling in her head so loudly she almost didn’t hear him.

“Sure. That would be nice.”

They emerged from the garage and fresh air hit her face. Inhaling deeply and aching for more freedom, she slipped from her shoes and plucked pins from her hair. “Bennett?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not running away from him.” It was important to her he knew that. “But I’m glad you offered this.”

“May I offer something else? The beach, maybe.”

“Sure, why not.”

From the passenger seat, she watched him behind the wheel. The wind ruffled and tossed his hair, and he rested one elbow on the door while he steered with his other hand, light and relaxed. His quiet confidence helped her unwind. Leaning back against the seat, she closed her eyes.

The car stopped, the engine quieted, and Grace’s comfort diminished when she realized their location. “Your apartment?”

“I live at the beach, remember.” With a smile, he uncurled from the driver’s seat and came around to open her door. “I’m not kidnapping you. It’s my last week to have it, and I thought you’d like to see it on the inside as well.”

She was proud the hand she gave him didn’t shake, but her insides quivered as he unlocked the door.

The apartment was spare but comfortable, and the deep dark of the ocean whispered on the other side of glass doors. One of the chairs faced the view, and the table next to it was stacked with paperwork. Curiosity pulled her forward.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Scripts. Do you want to look at them?”

She shook her head. It felt wrong to read another writer’s work. Instead, she read the spines of the books stacked in the floor.

“Drink?” he offered.

“Do you have any beer?” Grace asked as she faced him. She became transfixed as he clawed at his tie.

“That thing has been bothering me all evening. Yes, I have beer. Go through. I’ll be out in a minute.”

On the deck, she stood against the rail with her back to the door. Watching him get undressed had been a highlight of her vacation, and she wasn’t going to torment herself with the memory.

The beach was quiet and, while the stars were dimmed by the lights lining the coast, the moon sat heavy and full in the sky. She stepped out of her shoes, hitched the hem of her dress to her shins, and went down the stairs. Her toes sank into the silvery, cool sand, and she wriggled until she was up to her ankles. It was probably ruining her pedicure, and she couldn’t have cared less.

The door slid open and Ben emerged. He had a bucket of longnecks in one hand and his tuxedo pants rolled almost to his knees. He offered his arm and they lumbered through the loose sand to reach the hard packed surface of the tide line. She left her arm in his.

“It’s nice out here alone,” Bennett said. “Just us and the moon.”

“And whatever is lurking in the water.” She looked around him, half-expecting a monster to rise from the black sea. “There’s probably a shark stalking you. You look like a giant penguin.”

“Yeah? Well, I only have to be faster than you, and I think we’ve proved I’m safe on that score.”

They shared their laughter, and her nerves quit jangling under her skin. At a suitable spot, she shimmied the dress up her hips until she had enough room to sit on the sand.

Muttering in an unintelligible whisper, Bennett put the beer between them and sat, balancing his weight on the arm behind her and protecting her like a large, black dune. Drinking her beer, Grace watched the foaming whitecaps wash ashore.

“You asked me once about my name,” she began.

“Until my audition, I thought it began with an I.”

“It’s Ella. My father named me that, and no one’s used it since he died.”

“Is there a story behind it?”

“He knew I was a girl before I was born. Mom said he’d come home, kiss her stomach and whisper, ‘Hello, Princess.’ She put her foot down. Princess Donnelley was
not
done, but they could name me
after
princesses. Princess Grace was her favorite, and he . . .”

When her breath shook, he stuck his beer in the sand and closed his fingers over hers. She laced them together and tightened her hold.

“He said his daughter wasn’t always going to have to work as hard as her parents, so he picked the only princess who fit.”

She looked up at him and saw the shock in his eyes.

“You’re named for Cinderella?” When she nodded, his eyes danced with suppressed glee. “It fits.”

“It sorta does.” Her smile apparently freed his humor, and their joint laughter warmed her inside and out.

They fell silent again, and she lifted a second beer from the bucket. Bennett followed suit. The ocean crashed, and the surf erased their footprints, leaving them marooned with no path backward.

“I’ll miss this in London.”

“There’s the river,” she said.

“The Thames is nothing like this. And where are we going to run?”

“Somewhere no one can see you kick my ass,” she teased.

Bennett dropped his chin to her shoulder. “Why did you hide this from me?”

“The Hulu interview didn’t even have my name under my face. I was an unnamed executive, and the crush of my fans collapsed an entire communication system because they wanted to know about the movie. When my agent put out feelers for my coming out party, they crashed
his
site. And for what?”

She sighed. “I’m a geek. I spend most of my time working at home, wrapped up in an alternate universe. Social media is driving me crazy, and Twitter is from the devil himself. I run out of food, and I’ve started buying underwear in bulk because I keep forgetting to do laundry. I hate department store underwear.”

“Thank God,” he teased, and she elbowed him.

“I lost my toothbrush this morning,” she confessed.

“How did you—”

“I don’t
know
. I had to buy another one on the way to work.”

She slumped against him. “I did that interview, unplugged, and got on the plane to Austria. No one would have recognized my face. But my
name
? I had nightmares about being chased from the Spanish Riding School by a horde of people with questions. One Tweet with a picture and I’d have been doomed. My mother and I would’ve had to come home, and it would’ve broken her heart. So I lied. And then I met you, and I didn’t know how to get out of it. ‘By the way, I’m kinda famous’ made me sound like an egomaniac or a nut.”

He grimaced and nodded. “There was this part of me, a very small part, that wondered why you didn’t recognize me.”

“So
you’re
the egomaniac, and I’m the nut,” she teased. She looked into his eyes and felt his breath on her skin.

“The crowd thing isn’t all about being recognized, is it?” she asked.

“It’s sensory overload. I’ve never been good with them.”

“You’re reserved, and shy, and quiet, and private. And I just described the antithesis to my fan-base,” she explained. “I knew the cat was coming out of the bag, and I knew what it would put you through. You’ve seen my life, even during those wacky months on Skype. Whoever is involved with me either stays home and gets ignored or comes with me and gets overlooked.”

“Or they have fun with you. Grace, watching your mind is like watching a child play in this sand. You glow when you work. Did you know that?”

She shook her head, fighting tears.

Cradling her jaw, he kept her from hiding. “You’re bloody blinding, and any man who’s not told you so, including me, is daft.”

Grace kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Nobby.”

He tightened his hold and brushed his lips across her skin, following the angle of her cheekbone to her lips. The pressure was so light she might have imagined it except for the heat of his breath. She turned into it. “Ben.”

“Finally,” he groaned.

The second kiss wasn’t imagined. His lips roved her face from her eyelids to her chin and then across her jaw. He nibbled on one ear while his fingers traced the shell of the other.

When he finally claimed her mouth, she opened beneath him with a sigh. Leaning in, she traced his lips with the tip of her tongue and slipped her hand under his jacket. His heart hammered under her palm and that rumble shook her clear to the elbow. The hand on her jaw shifted to the nape of her neck and tangled in her hair.

Taking advantage of his support as he curled closer, she curved her other hand around his head and anchored him to her. He smelled like heaven and tasted better, and his silky, fine hair slipped through her fingers.

When he stroked her spine, it set her skin aflame. She wanted to be free of this straightjacket of a dress with the cool sand at her back and his heat at her front. His tongue invaded her mouth, then retreated. Invaded. Retreated. Invaded . . .

The sensual rhythm made her hungry, and she indulged. Tasting his lips, she chased after his tongue, wound around it, and swallowed his groans.

The kiss ended with both of them gasping for breath, their foreheads touching.

“I’m never going to be able to kiss you like it’s our first date,” he grumbled.

“Thank God.”

He lifted his head and pulled her hand from his chest. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, and you’re making it damned hard.”

She collapsed against his shoulder in a fit of laughter.

“Difficult,” he chuckled. “Difficult.”

She regained her composure and eyed him. “What are you trying to say?”

“I know it sounds weird, given our history, but I’d like to
date
you. It’s important to me.”

“It does sound a bit odd, but it’s also incredibly sweet.” Grace kissed his cheek and moved away. “If it’s important to you, we’ll do it your way.”

He stood, picked up their bucket, and offered his hand. “Chivvy on. I’ll take you home before I change my mind.”

As he helped her into the car, she saw a box in the back seat.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise.”

All the way home, she kept glancing behind her, wondering about the glittery package tied with a bright purple ribbon.

Once at her door, he pressed a kiss to her lips and the box into her hands. He stopped her fingers on the bow. “Wait until I’m gone, please.”

She didn’t have long to wait. He loped to the car and waved as he slid behind the wheel. Clutching her gift, she watched the taillights disappear through the gate.

Grace set the package in the middle of the table and forced her hands away from temptation, aiming her steps down the hall. Stripping, she shook the sand and salt from her dress and showered. It took three washes to get all the makeup removed and the styling gunk out of her hair.

Comfortable in her pajamas, she perched on a kitchen chair and untied the ribbon. Showing incredible restraint, she slipped a fingernail under the tape, freeing the seams along the edges. Then she ripped the paper like a hungry lioness tearing into a ham sandwich.

Inside the box were several smaller packages, each labeled.

From Denmark there were earrings that looked like drops of rain. I can imagine these with your green dress, teasing me through your hair.

In Belgium he’d found a handmade journal and a wooden pen carved and then inlaid with shells and stones. Your vacation journal was almost full. I hope you use this to write about all the things we do together. And I hope you let me read it.

From Ireland, there were knitted turquoise gloves. These will keep your hands warm until I can hold them, and turquoise is still my favorite color.

From Turkey came a delicate batik silk tunic. This reminds me of your skin against mine in the dark.

From Greece, there was a bone white bookmark with an azure stone. The coast here is beautiful. You’d love the sunshine, and I’d like to know if you tan.

From London, there was a thick, heavy, gold bracelet. Happy Christmas, my Idgie.

Without design or embellishment, it was hammered in an irregular texture. Once she touched it, it warmed with her body heat. Each bump and dip in the surface encouraged her to explore further. She couldn’t stop stroking it.

The light caught the inscription on the inside curve. If only you were here.

She opened the card with numb fingers.

I thought of you constantly. I’d see a place you would like, and I’d reach for your hand. Someone would tell a story, and I’d hear your laugh. I spent hours in the library of every city. I should have never let you leave me.

I’ve always wanted you to have these, but I wasn’t sure when or how. This seemed like the proper time. I wanted to see your face when you opened them, but now I’m afraid to watch. I hope you like them. Dear God, Grace, I hope so many things.

She sat with the note in one hand while her other traced the gifts he’d purchased and saved for her. Tears fell until she lost track of time. Finally coming to her senses, she went in search of her phone.

He answered on the second ring. “H-hullo?”

His hesitant whisper was unrecognizable.