Written in the Stars (14 page)

“I was serious.” Mason took a step forward and Grace took a giant step back, nearly out the door.

“My singing is pretty horrible.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You didn't have to agree with me.” She tilted her head to the side. “So did you come here to laugh at me?”

“No.”

“Give me singing lessons?”

“No, although you could use some.”

“Ha, very funny.” She narrowed her eyes. “What, then?”

Mason shook his head. “Okay, I confess. I
can
resist your singing.” When he smiled, Grace closed her eyes and fisted her hands at her sides, mentally going through her list of rules. She was on number three when he said, “What I can't really resist is
you
, Gracie.”

“No!” Her determination to stick to her list was only so strong. Opening her eyes wide, Grace turned and fled out the door, which of course didn't lead to an escape because she was surrounded by water. Unless she opted for a cannonball into the river, she had no place to go. When a gust of wind picked up her list of rules from beneath the pen, she lunged for it. “No!” The list fluttered away like a bird in flight before taking a nosedive into the water once the wind died down. “Oh, bollocks!”

Mason hurried over to stand beside her. “Was that sheet of paper something important?”

“Extremely.”

“Do you want me to go in after it?”

Grace gave him glance. “Into the water? Are you quite mad?”

“Angry?”

“No, mad as in crazy.”

“I ran out into a raging storm, remember? I don't mind jumping into the river, but the current is taking your extremely important paper away fast.” Mason gripped the railing, clearly willing to take the plunge. “Speak now.”

“No! Don't!” The knowledge that he would jump into the river on her behalf made her want to break all of her rules at once, beginning with kissing him. “Perhaps it wasn't nearly as important as I thought.” She gazed at Mason while her brain warred with good sense and potent desire. Good sense was losing by a long shot. “Mason,” she began, but he shook his head.

“Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Say anything.”

Grace gave him a slight smile. “Unfortunately, that doesn't usually work for me.” She longed to take a step closer and put her hands on his solid chest. She wanted to bury her nose in the soft cotton of his shirt...and most of all she wanted to be in his arms kissing him.

“You drive me insane, you know.”

“Wait—­do you mean that in a good or bad way? Because it can go in either direction,” she tried to joke, but her voice came out soft and husky.

“Both.”

Grace tried to look away, but those blue eyes of his held her pinned to the spot. Her heart thudded and good sense left the building for good.

“And you're totally ruining my careful plan.”

“Hey, the Broomstick Brewery idea will work,” she said, trying to steer this visit toward business and get back to her rules. “I'm quite sure of it.”

“Maybe.”

She arched an eyebrow.

He sighed. “Okay, probably, but I'm not thinking about or going to talk about the brewery right now.”

“So what plan are you referring to, if not a business plan?”

“My grand plan was to give you the cold shoulder so you'd get pissed off at me and stay away.”

“What kind of bizarre plan is that?”

“Well.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and gave a short chuckle. “The plan was designed to protect me from getting hurt. See, if you stay away, I can't kiss you.” He reached over and ran a gentle fingertip down her cheek, which made her want to tilt her head into his palm—­but she wanted to look into his eyes and grasp just what he was trying to tell her. “And...,” he began, but hesitated, as if not sure if he should divulge the rest of his plan.

“Carry on. I must know the rest.”

“My plan would keep me from falling for someone who has no intention of staying.”

Grace's heart thudded and she thought of her own set of silly rules floating down to feed the catfish. So they'd both been trying to stay from each other. Grace pointed to the river. “That paper had a list of rules concerning pretty much the same thing. I think we're on the same sad page.”

“Really?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Interesting, but Danny had a better idea.” The sideways look he gave her made her feel warm all the way to her toes.

“Are you going to share Danny's little tidbit with me?”

Mason looked at her for a heartbeat and then nodded. “Danny told me to give you a reason to stay, Gracie.”

“Oh.” She glanced away so he couldn't see how close to the mark he'd just hit. “Is that so?”

“Maybe that's all you ever needed.”

Mason's statement startled her. Could he be right?

“You make a strong point.” Unable to stop herself, Grace put her hands on his chest. She felt his warm skin through the shirt. He felt solid, strong, and real in a way that no man had ever felt to her before. He wasn't playing games but being honest. God, he was such a good guy, and she didn't want to hurt him. “But, Mason, I can't give you any promises. I know my nature, and—”

“Hey.” Mason put a fingertip to her lips. “I'm not asking for any promises. Just a chance. Forget about the brewery right now. Why don't we give this thing between us a fighting shot? In case you haven't noticed, a lot of so-­called visitors end up moving to Cricket Creek, Kentucky.”

She smoothed her hands over his chest. “So your brother changed your mind?”

“He gave me a different point of view. But no, you changed my mind. After you left, I wondered how I could be crazy enough not to kiss you. What in the Sam Hill was I thinkin'?” He looked at her mouth as if it were the most interesting thing on the planet, and then gazed into her eyes. “Seriously.”

“I don't know who Sam Hill is, but he's a smart man.”

Mason laughed and then dipped his head and kissed her.

Grace melted into the kiss, and when he pulled her closer, the whole five-­foot rule blew all to pieces and fell like warm confetti sprinkling over her body. Make that warm, wet confetti. Oh wait, it was raining! Thunder boomed and the sky cracked open.

Laughing, Mason grabbed her hand and pulled her into the cabin. “What is it with us and thunderstorms?”

Grace joined in his laughter as they all but tumbled inside the cabin. She danced around when the cool air-­conditioning hit her. “I don't know, but I sure want to get out of these wet clothes. How about you?” She started backing up toward her bedroom while crooking her finger at him.

“Gracie!” Mason shouted just as she tripped over her forgotten running shoes.

With a yelp she went down hard on her bum.

“Oh my God! Are you all right?”

“Well, I guess that's what I get for trying to be sexy and lure you into my bedroom.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes and winced.

When Mason extended his hands, Grace allowed him to haul her to her feet. “Just to give you a heads-­up, you don't have to lure me anywhere. You've already caught me, hook, line, and sinker. How about that for using fishing terms?”

“So all I have to do is reel you in?”

“Pretty easy, huh?” he asked, but then without warning he swooped her up into his arms.

“Mason!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Um, sweeping you off your feet. Is it working?”

“You betcha,” she said with a laugh. Grace had never had a man carry her before. She was always too tall, but Mason carried her easily, without staggering, making her feel dainty and oh so feminine. Grace didn't think she would like to be treated like a princess. She was supposed to be independent. But damn if she didn't like it. A lot. Of course, she'd never dated a country boy before.

Hold on...were they dating?

Thoughts swirled around in her head fast and furious, like the wind and the rain coming down. When they reached the foot of her bed, he let her slide slowly against his body until her feet touched the floor. But he didn't let go. Instead, he kissed her softly, lingering, and then pulled back and looked at her. “Gracie, I want this to be the start of something, or I wouldn't be in your bedroom. I don't take this lightly, just so you know.”

Grace put her hands on his cheeks and nodded. “I already had that figured out,” she said. “And neither do I,” she added, and it was true. She'd never understood the appeal of casual sex, but she hadn't stopped thinking about what it would be like to be naked in Mason's arms.

And she was about to find out.

As much as Grace wanted to get out of her wet clothes, she couldn't keep her eyes off Mason as he tugged his ­T-­shirt up over his head. The ripple of muscle made her want to moan, and so she did, getting a grin from him. His body was even more impressive than she'd imagined. Her gaze lingered, taking in his wide shoulders, defined pecs, and a lovely dusting of dark chest hair tapering to an enticing line south. She wanted to take that path with her tongue.

Mason held the wet shirt in his hand. “Where do you want this?”

“Anywhere but on your body. Drop it and carry on with the rest of it.”

“You want to watch me undress?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Are you that easily entertained?” He reached for his zipper, and then looked at her.

“No, I get easily bored, but I could watch you do this all day long,” she said, loving the rich sound of his laughter.

“Then I'm flattered.”

“You should be.”

He laughed again, and then went for his zipper, going slowly just to torment her. But the lines of stress she'd seen on his face softened, and it hit her that he must be under so much pressure these days. Grace had learned from her mother that laughter was the best medicine, especially during the worst of times. This was a man who put his own dream on hold to save his family's business, and he deserved to be happy. She wanted to kiss away his worry, make sweet love to him, and then hold him close.

When he tugged off his boots and then shimmied out of his jeans, Grace's breath caught. He was, in a word, magnificent. No wonder he carried her with ease. She shivered with anticipation.

“Baby, are you cold?”

“I should be, but looking at you makes me warm all over. But say that again.”

“Say what?” he asked while he started tugging at her tank top.

“‘Baby.' I like it when you call me that,” Grace admitted, and then felt a bit of a blush heat her cheeks. In her quest for independence, she'd shied away from endearments. Allowing herself to become attached meant having to settle down, and so when it got to the calling-­her-­“baby” stage, she was always ready to run.

But not this time.

Mason paused to look at her standing there in nothing but her cream-­colored satin bra and bikini panties. “You're beautiful,” he said in a simple, straightforward manner. While Grace knew on an intellectual level that she possessed physical beauty, she hadn't ever really felt that way. But she felt that way now.

Mason slipped the straps over her shoulders, nearly but not quite exposing her breasts. Cupping her, he rubbed his thumbs oh so lightly over her cleavage, causing a hot shiver to slide down her spine. Brushing her damp hair to the side, he kissed her neck, teasing with the tip of his tongue, and began a sensual trail of light nibbles. With a flick of his hand, he unhooked her bra, and her breasts happily tumbled free, eager for his touch. When he sucked a beaded nipple into his mouth, Grace groaned. “God, here I thought that whole weak-­in-­the-­knees thing was a bunch of rubbish,” she said in a breathless voice, and then sank backward onto the bed.

“So you're saying that I make you weak in the knees?”

“Apparently so.” She gazed up at him, drinking in the sight of his gloriously naked body. “I don't think there's a body part on me that isn't reacting to you.” She gave him a slow smile. “One area in particular.”

“Then let's concentrate on that particular area.”

“Oh, please do.”

Mason joined her on the bed and kissed her shoulder. “There?”

“Nice...but, no, not quite,” she said, and sucked in a breath when he grazed his hand over her breasts.

“Then I guess I'll go on a treasure hunt until I find the right spot,” he said, and began kissing every inch of her body, slowly, seductively, except for where she wanted him most. Her body quivered when he kissed a hot trail down her torso. “Am I getting warm?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” But when he got to her mound, he veered to the left and nibbled on the tender skin of her upper thigh.

Grace could feel the warmth of his breath so very close to where she needed him. She arched her back, wild with wanting his mouth on her core. She felt rather dazed, almost out of breath. “Mason...” Grace was going to ask if he enjoyed torturing her when he grabbed her ankles and slid her to the edge of the bed. He tugged her panties off and tossed them aside.

“Here?” The touch of his tongue to her core sent a jolt of hot desire through her.

“Yes, oh God, yes.” She felt a deep ache, an intense longing that only he could fulfill. She fisted her hands in the comforter and her heart hammered in her chest. His mouth was gentle at first, but then he explored her folds, licked, sucked, as if he couldn't get enough of her. She came up on her elbows, thinking that the sight of his dark head between her thighs was the sexiest thing ever. When he took her to the brink, she fell back against the covers. But then he slowed down, making Grace attempt to sit up and pound his back in protest, but her limbs felt as if they were made of liquid. “Mason,” she said breathlessly, pleading. “Don't stop.”

He paused for a second, making her moan, but then he slid his big hands beneath her bum to get better access and began licking until his silky tongue sent her flying over the edge. Waves of exquisite pleasure washed over her, and she sure hoped that her cry of sheer joy wasn't echoing across the river, alerting all of Cricket Creek and the creatures in the woods that she had just experienced the most delicious, mind-­blowing climax of her life. “That was...mmm, uh...”