In Shady Grove: About That Night Part 23

"Positive." But it took her too long to work moisture back into her mouth. To force the word out.

d.a.m.n him and the c.o.c.ky grin that said he'd noticed her struggle.

He slowly dragged her forward, tipping her head back. "Then I guess I'll just have to do this here."

He didn't swoop. Didn't crush his mouth to hers. It was more of a gentle seduction, the way his lips moved over hers. He took his sweet time, and that's exactly what the kiss was. Sweet. Warm. The kind of kiss that would lull her into forgetting why kissing this particular man was a bad idea.

Her hands fluttered as if looking for purchase, and she slid them to his shoulders. Held on while he coaxed her mouth open. She was all sensation. The taste of him-coffee and the tang of dark chocolate from his dessert. The rough pad of his thumb caressing her jaw. The warmth of his body against hers. His scent, now familiar and comforting.

Those sensations coalesced, like a wave building toward sh.o.r.e. It would be easy, so blessedly easy, to let them pull her under. To let go of her thoughts, to let down her guard.

To give up, give in and drown in her attraction to him.

Her lungs ached. Self-preservation kicked in as she struggled to focus. To breathe.

She pushed him back a full step, breaking the kiss. The hold he had on her.

They stared at each other. Her own shock and desire were mirrored in his eyes; their breathing was labored.

He reached for her and, G.o.d help her, she swayed toward him, completely under his spell before snapping herself out of it.

He curled his fingers. Slowly lowered his hand. "Ivy-"

She gave him one quick shake of her head. And bolted inside as if the hounds of h.e.l.l were snapping at her heels.

Staring into the darkness of her apartment, her back pressed against the door, she felt for the door handle. Turned the lock and shut her eyes.

Jasper meowed and b.u.t.ted his head against her calf. She picked him up, nuzzled him against her throat.

And wondered what she was going to do now.

IT WASN'T SPYING, Gracie a.s.sured herself as she looked out her window into Andrew's backyard. She was simply taking in the view from her bedroom. Which she was more than ent.i.tled to do anytime of the year, especially on a bright, sunny summer day.

If she just happened to have her nose pressed against the gla.s.s and was leaving a ridiculously large smudge, well, that was her right, too.

But honestly, it was hard to look away when Andrew and Kennedy were making out-making-out making out-right there on the deck for G.o.d and everyone to see. Including the neighbors, such as Gracie. Kennedy, in a black bikini, her red hair like a beacon against her pale, pale skin, Andrew with his shirt off.

Gracie's stomach turned. Jeez. Take it inside already.

She wasn't jealous. She sighed. Crossed her arms. Okay, so maybe there was a teeny, tiny bit of jealousy trying to work its way into her system. It stung, knowing that while Andrew had been with her, he'd really wanted to be with Kennedy.

Mostly she was disgusted, both at their current display and that they didn't care about Luke enough not to wait awhile before officially becoming a couple. G.o.d, it'd only been a week since Luke had discovered them together. The least they could have done was wait a month or so before rubbing their relationship in his face.

Poor Luke. If he saw this, it would kill him. Something about that scenario niggled at her brain. She frowned. Luke...

Oh, no!

She turned, leaped for her phone on the bedside stand as someone knocked on her door-clear indication it wasn't any of her brothers. "Come in," she called, still hopeful she could catch Luke before he left his house.

Too late. Luke was already following Molly into the room.

"Luke's here," Molly, queen of the obvious, said, baby Carter on her hip.

"Hey," he said, giving Gracie a grin. The swelling around his eye had gone down considerably, enough that it no longer looked as if he was squinting all the time. The skin was still black, but fading, the outer edges of the bruise bleeding into blue, then gray. He lifted the basket of clothes in his hands. "Where do you want this?"

"Luke offered to carry it up for me," Molly said, wiggling her eyebrows at Gracie behind Luke's back, then wiping drool from Carter's chin. "Wasn't that sweet?"

Gracie blushed. Tossed her phone onto the bed. "Yes. It was very nice. Thank you," she told him.

And noticed her purple bra was there, right there, smack-dab on top of the pile.

"I'll take it," she blurted out, rushing over to grab the basket from him. He held on for a moment, sent a sly glance at the bra, then back to her, the brow over his good eye raised as if he was teasing her. Or flirting with her, which was just too crazy a thought to contemplate. She tugged until he let go. "Thanks."

"Luke!" Caleb cried from the doorway, as if discovering gold in them thar hills. Still in his pajamas, his hair sticking up, his feet bare, he rushed into the room and tackled Luke's legs. "Luke! Come see my LEGOs!"

"Luke and Gracie have to go to work." Molly laid her hand on Caleb's head while Carter babbled and reached for his brother's hair. The baby loved to pull hair. "He can look at your LEGOs another time."

"No," Caleb grunted as he pulled on Luke's hand. "Now. Come. On!"

"Do you mind?" he asked Gracie. "We have a few minutes, right?"

Did she mind getting him out of the room where he could possibly catch a glimpse of the two people who, just last week, had been his girlfriend and his best friend pawing at each other?

"Nope. I don't mind at all. Go right on ahead."

"Cute and good with kids?" Molly asked in a low murmur as Caleb dragged Luke away. "That boy is a keeper."

"We're just friends," she reminded her stepmother for what had to be the hundredth time. "Coworkers and friends."

Molly gave her a serene smile-the same one she bestowed upon Gracie's dad whenever he tried to argue with her. The one that said "aren't you cute, in your deluded little way?" "I realize things have changed since I was seventeen, but it seems to me there's only one reason a boy spends several nights a week with a girl-two of those nights at her house surrounded by her six little brothers. And it's not because he wants to be in the friend zone."

Just because she and Luke had hung out a few times-the first being the night he'd told her about Kennedy cheating on him-didn't mean anything. Yes, she'd gone to his house twice, and okay, so he'd spent a few nights here, as well. All they did was watch movies or play with her brothers or just talk. Nothing romantic or even remotely date-like.

Gracie glanced at the window, but all she saw from this distance was the roof of Andrew's house and the endless blue sky. "Luke and his girlfriend just broke up last week. I doubt he's looking for a replacement already." And she was smart enough not to want to be his rebound. "Even if he did want another girlfriend, he wouldn't be looking at me."

Switching Carter to her other hip, Molly frowned, an unusual occurrence for someone who was always so calm and happy. "What does that mean?"

Gracie lifted a shoulder. Pretended great interest in matching a pair of socks from the basket. "Just that I'm the complete opposite of Kennedy and girls like her."

"Did you ever think," Molly asked quietly as she brushed a strand of Gracie's hair back, "that might be exactly what Luke wants?"

Gracie couldn't meet Molly's eyes. Tears clogged her throat. She wished she could throw herself into Molly's arms. Tell her about Andrew and how stupid she'd been to trust him. How afraid she was to believe that Luke could like her.

How much she was starting to like him as more than a friend.

But she couldn't say any of that. Didn't want the woman who'd been more of a mom to her than her own mother to know what she'd done. To be disappointed in her.

"Friends," Gracie said, hoping Molly wouldn't notice the unsteadiness of her voice. "Just friends."

Molly looked as if she wanted to say more, but luckily Luke came back. "One of the twins is calling for you, Mrs. Weaver. He's in the bathroom."

"Please call me Molly. Mrs. Weaver is my mother-in-law. And no one wants to be confused with that woman," Molly added under her breath, then winked at Gracie, who grinned back.

Grandma was one mean old lady.

"Hey," Luke said after Molly and Carter left, "before I forget, my sister asked me to watch my nieces Friday night. You want to come over? Babysit with me?"

Her heart beat hard and heavy in her chest, but she forced herself to remain calm. Just friends, remember? "Sure."

"You don't have to," he added, wandering around her room, his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. "I mean, you must get tired, being around kids all the time."

"I get a little tired of it," she heard herself admit, then immediately felt guilty. "Not tired," she amended quickly. "More like sometimes I just want..."

"A break?"

She smiled. Nodded as she folded a tank top. "It seems selfish. Molly and Dad don't ask me to babysit every day or anything, and they make sure I have plenty of privacy when I am at home."

They'd even given her her own suite of rooms at the far end of the house-her bedroom, a front sitting room and bathroom. Trusted her enough to leave her alone in her room with a boy.

And hadn't that backfired on them? She'd brought Andrew to her room, had practically thrown herself at him, telling him he could kiss her if he wanted. Making out with him on her bed.

Not that her wanting to kiss him had given him any right to lie to her. To use her. But she couldn't deny that she held part of the blame for going too fast. He hadn't forced her to sleep with him.

She'd loved him. Enough to want to be with him. For him to be her first.

Too much to say no.

She slid a glance at Luke as he studied the pictures on her bulletin board.

Her parents gave her plenty of freedom to make her own choices. Her own mistakes.

She'd made a doozy with Andrew, and it was one she refused to repeat.

Luke turned and sent her an easy smile.

Her stomach dipped pleasantly and she had to look away. Not going to make the same mistake twice, she reminded herself as she crossed to the walk-in closet. No matter how much she might want to.

She was putting a pile of shirts on a shelf when Luke swore viciously.

Oh, no. She'd been so wrapped up in her discussion with Molly, she'd forgotten about Andrew and Kennedy. Sure enough, when she stepped into the room, Luke was glaring out the window.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was hoping you wouldn't see that."

He turned to her, his mouth a thin line, but she noticed there was hurt in his eyes along with the anger.

"It's not your fault." He glanced out the window again, then moved toward her, his shoulders rigid, his gait stiff. "I guess I'm going to have to get used to seeing them together."

"It still sucks, though."

He scrubbed a hand through his short hair. "Yeah."

Her heart aching for him, she started to reach out, to do what came naturally when she was with someone in pain. Offer comfort. Give a hug. Be there for him.

And d.a.m.n Andrew for making her hesitate, for making her doubt herself. For making her wonder if Luke wanted her hug or if he'd rebuff her.

Only one way to find out.

Inhaling deeply, she closed the distance between them, saw his eyes widen slightly, but then she was there, her arms around his lean waist, the top of her head barely reaching his chin. He immediately wrapped his arms around her. Lowered his head, his breath ruffling her hair.

She pressed her cheek to his chest, his heart a steady beat in her ear. "I know it's a cliche, but it really will get better with time."

He squeezed her and she felt him nod. Then he...well...it sounded as if he sniffed her hair. But then he straightened, and she told herself she'd imagined it. "Thanks. I'm okay. But do you mind if we go out through the garage?"

She knew why he asked. The garage was on the other side of the house. Far from any view of Andrew and Kennedy. What she didn't know was if Luke wanted to avoid them so he wouldn't have to see them together.

Or so they wouldn't see him with her.

No. She was giving him the benefit of the doubt, remember?

"Sure. Come on," she said, doing what she'd do with any other friend and taking his hand. Tugging him along. "We'd better get going."

He held on even after he could have let go. Yes, she thought as they went down the stairs. She was going to keep giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Until he gave her reason not to.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

C.J. SHIFTED THE bottle of champagne he was carrying to his left hand, which already held a dozen red roses. He knocked on Ivy's door. Blew out a breath to calm his pulse. He was nervous. Like a teenager on his first date, waiting on the porch for the girl's father to answer the door, carrying a shotgun.

He thought of the phone call he'd gotten yesterday. Holy h.e.l.l, he could be one of those fathers in a few years.

He really, really hoped Ivy was right and the baby was a boy.

He knocked again. Her c.r.a.ppy car was in the parking lot, so he figured she was home-such as it was. The building itself wasn't too bad, and it was in a nice part of town, residential, a few stores nearby. But it wasn't exactly the place he'd imagined his child being raised.

He wouldn't say anything about it to her, though. He wanted her to trust him. To think of him as a partner, not her enemy. He was making headway there, he thought. Extremely slow but steady progress. He'd had to go back to Houston for work the day after their dinner date, but he'd called her every night he'd been away to check in. To talk.

To hear the sound of her voice.