All Over You (18 page)

“Have I told you how much I love your hips?” he asked.

“Yes.” He’d sung their praises often, but she’d never get sick of him telling her how much he wanted her.

She shivered as he slid his hands over the fine cotton of her skirt and down toward her hem. In a flash his hands were beneath her dress, smoothing up her silk-stocking-clad legs. She bit her lip as his hand slid onto the bare flesh at the top of her stockings and he growled low in his throat.

“God. How am I supposed to sit here and concentrate on work when I know you’re walking around out there dressed like this?” he muttered.

Impatient, he rucked her skirt up out of the way so he could see her. Her heart began to slam against her rib cage as he drank in the sight of her black-lace panties and red-silk garter belt.

His eyes flicked up to her face briefly as he leaned toward her, his hands firmly guiding her hips forward, and then she gave a moan of pure pleasure as his mouth fastened over her sex and she felt the wet heat of his tongue through her panties. His hands massaged her butt cheeks as he nibbled at her through the lace and she had to hold onto his shoulders as he hooked a finger beneath the elastic and pushed it to one side.

The firm, wet pressure of his tongue sliding into her folds almost did her in. She widened her stance, inviting him closer, deeper. He grunted his approval and began to tease her inner lips with his fingers even as he zeroed in on her clitoris with his mouth.

Liquid heat pooled between her thighs and quickly she began to climb toward her climax. He knew what she liked, how to tease her, when to go hard, when to back off. He played her like a virtuoso and within minutes she was sobbing out his name, her body pulsing around his fingers as his mouth coaxed the last shred of pleasure from her body.

He lifted his head so that he could lay his face against her stomach for a beat afterward, his hands cradling her backside gently. Then he pressed a kiss to her belly button and sat back, letting her dress fall into place.

“What time were you supposed to meet them?” he asked wickedly, and Grace’s eyes flew to the clock.

She was late. Surprise surprise.

“You did that on purpose,” she said.

“Serves you right for not inviting me,” he said.

“I told you, it’s just my sisters and my folks. We haven’t seen each other for ages. You’d be bored rigid. You can meet them another time,” she fibbed.

Of all the men she’d ever gone out with, why did Mac have to be the only one who was actually keen to meet her family?

“Come back here afterward,” he said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll give you dessert.”

Her eyes lowered to the significant bulge tenting the front of his boxers.

“It’ll probably be too late,” she said noncommittally, tearing her eyes away from his erection.

“Come anyway,” he said.

She tried to avoid answering by kissing him goodbye, but he caught her hand.

“Okay?”

“Sure,” she said. They both knew it was a lie and she saw his face settle into the frustrated lines that were becoming all-too-familiar.

“I really have to go,” she said, grateful as all hell that she had an excuse to get out of there.

Hopefully, by the next time she saw him he’d be so horny he’d forget her broken promise.

As luck would have it, she had trouble finding a parking spot and she was well and truly the last to arrive at the table. It had been so long since she’d seen her sisters en masse that she actually stopped in her tracks and blinked when she entered the restaurant.

Like three different artists’ impressions of perfection, they sat ranged around the end of the table. On the left, Felicity, her blond hair sleek and straight and perfect. She shared Grace’s tilted eyes, although hers were a vibrant aquamarine. Her nose was snubbed and she had a neater, less generous version of Grace’s mouth. Serena sat on the end, the perfect foil for Felicity’s fair beauty with her long dark hair. She had Grace’s nose with the addition of a strong jawline to balance it and pale-blue eyes with long dark lashes. The youngest sister, Hope, sat on the right, her full, bee-stung lips arranged in a pout. She was pure runway model — all cheekbones, sharp planes and dead-straight ash-blond hair. Her pale-gray eyes flicked over Grace dismissively as Grace greeted her and Grace smiled grimly to herself. It had been nearly two months, but Hope was obviously still angry that Grace had given her her marching orders when Hope had taken advantage of her hospitality too long.

As befitted such attractive women, Felicity and Hope both sat next to handsome men — Brad, Felicity’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, and Zane, Hope’s equally transient partner. Brad’s greeting was friendly enough, but Zane offered her a limp handshake that was designed to let her know that he, too, hadn’t forgiven Grace for ejecting Hope from her apartment. For a wild moment, Grace was tempted to call both Zane and Hope on their sulkiness. She wondered what they would say if she told them she’d overheard them talking about her, referring to her as “the family mascot.” Would they drop the wounded air and scramble to apologize or would they simply suggest Grace had misheard them?

She decided it wasn’t worth the fuss. Her parents were sitting there, smiling at having their brood of children all together, and Grace let the thought go. She sank into the remaining seat at the foot of the table. It didn’t escape her notice that she was as far from Serena as possible. She wondered vaguely if it had been planned that way, or if it had just happened naturally. She didn’t know what they were worried about — it wasn’t as though there had ever been any ugliness between her and Serena over what had happened. The two of them had an unspoken agreement — Grace had offered absolution and in return Serena kept her distance. Since family gatherings were few and far between, it didn’t stretch either of them too much.

Because they lived out on the fringes of Pasadena, she hadn’t seen her parents for a while and she spent a few minutes catching up with them. Her mother was dressed in pale-pink and brown to complement her fair skin and carefully styled blond hair, and her former-beauty-queen’s face was holding up well to the rigors of aging.

Grace waited patiently as her mother inspected her latest vintage find, a 1960s-era red-chiffon cocktail dress with a high neck and no sleeves.

“Gracie, you look lovely. You know, I never looked that good in those dresses,” her mom said affectionately.

“I’ve seen the pictures, Mom,” Grace said dryly. “You did okay.”

Her mother had been just as stunning as her sisters when she was a younger woman.

“So you’ve been across to Oahu, have you? Don’t suppose you got a chance to play a few holes at the Moanalua Golf Club?” her father asked a tad wistfully.

Despite the fact that Grace had never set foot on a golf course in her life, David Wellington persisted in hoping that one of his children might share his passion for golf.

“Ah, no, Dad. It was a working trip,” Grace said, exchanging amused looks with her mother.

For some reason, Grace was preternaturally aware of Serena that evening, even though her sister was sitting at the other end of the table. She kept catching a word here and there as Serena told a story in her sexy, husky voice, or being distracted by Serena’s throaty laugh. She looked well, Grace noted during a lull in the conversation. She’d cut her hair a little shorter, although it still fell past her shoulder blades, and her wide blue eyes were clear and worry free.

Grace pulled her gaze away, surprised to catch herself wondering how someone who had betrayed a loved one so foully could sit so comfortably, so easily, within the circle of her family, with not a blush or a guilty flicker to show for it.

It wasn’t the last dark thought to cross her mind as the evening progressed. Her sisters became more raucous as the wine bottles emptied, while Grace became more and more quiet as she watched them interact with each other and the world. It was more than just a family dinner she was observing — it was a command performance. The whole restaurant was fascinated by the table with the three stunning women at it. Eyes — particularly male eyes — constantly drifted their way, the waiters and waitresses fawned, the host kept stopping by their table to check that their meals were up to standard.

Grace had seen it before. She’d seen it all her life, in fact. But for the first time she noticed how much her sisters played up to the situation — the overloud laughter, the knowing looks if they happened to catch a man ogling them, the flirtatious giggles between themselves. They were like a floor show, the fabulous Wellington sisters, showcasing their attractiveness to the world. And God forbid that anyone not be dazzled by their beauty.

This last sour thought brought Grace up sharp and she pushed her wineglass away. For starters, she was driving. And she didn’t particularly feel like descending into a pit of black self-pity. It had been the coping mechanism — if she could call it that — of her teen years, before she’d become her own woman. Reaching for her water glass, she took a long swallow and swept her hair over her shoulder.

It was just dinner, nothing special. And they were her sisters, not the enemy.

All went well until they neared the end of their meal. Desserts were on the way, and Grace found herself sitting between Hope and Serena when Felicity asked her to swap places so she could chat with their parents at the other end of the table.

Having discovered that Serena was single at present, Hope was going through the address book in her cell phone, trying to hook her older sister up with one of her model friends.

“You’ll like this guy — he’s so sexy,” Hope said. “He rides a motorbike and he’s desperate to fall in love.”

“Where’s the challenge in that?” Serena joked. “It’s no fun if they roll over and play dead right from the start.”

Instantly Grace’s thoughts went to Owen. Had he been a challenge? Had that been part of the attraction for Serena?

She’d never asked — because she’d told herself it didn’t matter. But now Serena was making jokes about seducing men. Was it just Grace, or was the whole conversation in pretty bad taste?

“Oooh, here’s one who should be a worthy opponent,” Hope said, her gray eyes sparkling with interest as she keyed up another entry. “A confirmed bachelor — sworn off women for good he said last time I saw him.”

Serena cocked her head. “Now I’m interested,” she said in a sultry purr, wriggling in her seat suggestively. “I love a man who’s hard to get.”

Grace was speaking before she could help herself, four years of bile suddenly surging up her throat and out her mouth.

“But is being a committed bachelor really enough, Serena?” she drawled. “Surely you want someone a little more challenging. Haven’t you got a married guy in there, Hope? Preferably one with kids. That’s more up Serena’s alley, don’t you think?”

As luck would have it, she’d spoken during a pause in her parents’ conversation, and her words carried clearly. Her mother paled, and Felicity’s gaze widened in shock. Serena sucked in an audible breath and Hope’s mouth puckered into a bemused pout. For what seemed a long, long heartbeat, all eyes were on Grace. Very cool, she pushed her chair back.

“I really have to be going. Great to see you all,” she said, scooping up her handbag and keys. Tossing some money onto the table, she headed for the exit.

She was furious, she realized. She couldn’t understand where so much anger had come from so fast. Her hands were shaking as she tried to open the Corvette, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. She’d never spoken to one of her sisters that way before. Sure, she’d been mildly provoked, but she’d practically called Serena a whore in front of the whole family.

Slowly Grace’s pulse slowed and she felt calmer. For some reason, she’d been more sensitive to the situation with Serena tonight. She’d been edgy with Mac, too. If she was the kind of woman who liked to pull her innards out and analyze them, she might draw some conclusions about those two circumstances. But she wasn’t, so she was going to opt for denial, her favorite religion.

But just for a moment as Grace started her car and prepared to drive away from the whole shitty evening, the lump of anger in her belly threatened to rebel and coalesce into something bigger, more untameable. Grace pushed it down — way down, back where it belonged. In the past where it couldn’t hurt her.

Starting the car, she signaled and pulled out into the traffic. She was halfway to Mac’s place before she registered what she was doing — obeying her subconscious wish to be with him, to seek comfort and reassurance in his arms.

A slippery slope.

Pulling into the nearest driveway, she turned around and headed for her apartment, where she should have been going in the first place.

M
AC WOKE
the next morning alone in his bed. Grace hadn’t come over to his place after her family dinner, as she’d agreed she would.

But he’d kind of known she wouldn’t, hadn’t he?

Staring up at the ceiling, he admitted the truth to himself at last. Grace was eking out their time together as though they were on rations and it was beginning to seriously grate on him. She never committed to spending two nights in a row with him, even if she had to come up with some outlandish excuse to put him off. So far, she’d had a hair appointment, a massage and a dinner with old school friends. And, of course, last night, the family reunion. He was waiting for her to use washing the cat as an excuse.

She had trust issues. He didn’t need to be too quick on the uptake to get that about her. But short of laying his feelings on the line and telling her in no uncertain terms where he thought they were going, he didn’t know what else he could do. He’d been holding off, but maybe it was time to push a little. They were never going to get where he wanted to go if Grace was constantly pulling in the other direction.

After a quick shower, he dressed and stopped by his favorite deli to grab a selection of walnut bread, free-range eggs, smoked paprika, fresh herbs. By ten he was on her doorstep, a man on a mission.

She opened the door looking puffy and half asleep. He liked that her eyes lit up the moment she saw him, despite the fact that she did her best to seem nonchalant.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“Yep. Came to cook you breakfast in return for making use of your delectable body,” he said, dropping a kiss on her lips on the way inside.

“I probably have dragon breath,” she said apologetically.

He pulled a face to confirm this and she swatted his backside as they made their way up the hall and into the kitchen.

“Why don’t you go shower while I whip us up some Eggs Baghdad?”

“Why am I sensing an ulterior motive?” she asked suspiciously. “There’s not some
Lord of the Rings
marathon playing somewhere, is there?”

He stopped in his tracks. “I was wondering if you saw my secret stash.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, looking smug.

“I swear I have no ulterior motive except sex. Lots of it.” He checked his watch. “In about five minutes’ time. And counting.”

She accepted this at face value and disappeared in the general direction of the shower.

Ten minutes later, they faced each other across her small dining table. Grace was wearing her black-silk robe and, as far as he could tell, precious little else. He was finding it difficult to concentrate on his real ulterior motive.

“So, how was dinner last night?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Good. Same old, same old. Dad wants someone to be interested in golf as much as he is and Mom still worries about eating dessert in case it ruins her figure.”

Her gaze slid away from him and Mac found himself getting annoyed. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d been thinking about — she was lying to him about something. It made him feel shut out, like an outsider looking in.

“What happened?” he asked bluntly, annoyance making him sharper than he’d intended.

She looked a little startled. “Sorry?”

“Something happened to upset you last night. I want to know what it was,” he said. He held up a hand before she could respond. “And before you give me the inevitable brush-off, I’m asking because as well as being your lover, I’m your friend and I want to know when you’re upset about something.”

She looked even more startled and started collecting their empty plates. “I’ll do the dishes since you cooked,” she said.

He caught her with an arm about her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

“You asked me the other day what I cared about and I wanted to say this then, but I didn’t because I knew you’d freak. I care about
you,
Grace,” he said.

For a moment he saw something soften and unfold behind her eyes. A smile curled her lips. He found himself smiling back.

Then Grace’s ever-present self-editor stepped in and she wriggled off his lap.

“Thank you,” she said carefully. “That was a nice thing to say.”

He let her go into the kitchen before he followed her.

“You could send me a polite little note, if you like,” he said testily as he watched her rinse the plates.

She stopped what she was doing and put a hand on her hip. “Pardon?”

“‘Dear Mac, thank you for your kind words on Sunday regarding your feelings. I was most flattered. Unfortunately I am unable to return your sentiments. Have a nice life. Yours, Grace’,” he recited mockingly.

He was angry again, sick of being held at arm’s length by a woman he was beginning to realize he wanted to cherish and worship and adore.

She looked stricken and the carefully composed expression dropped from her face.

“Mac, don’t. It’s not that I don’t feel the same,” she said. He could tell the words were torn from her by the way she immediately pressed her lips shut firmly, as though she were trying to prevent more truths from escaping.

He moved closer, pulling her into his arms and looking down into her face.

“We said we’d see where this went, but you’re not with me all the way, Grace,” he said. “I am not Owen, okay? And I can’t make a relationship work between us on my own. You need to share the heavy lifting. You need to talk to me. I need to know what’s going on in your head, because, believe it or not, I am not psychic.”

She leaned forward and put her head on his chest so that he was looking down at the top of her head.

“I’m trying,” she said, her voice muffled. “I just don’t want to be the one left behind again.”

“It’s not going to happen,” he said, feeling an intense, burning need to hunt Owen down and make it impossible for him to ever screw a woman over again.

“You don’t know that,” she said.

“Yeah, I do. I will never hurt you, Grace,” he vowed.

She was silent for a long moment, then she looked up at him.

“I had a fight with one of my sisters last night. I had to leave the dinner because I didn’t trust myself not to say anything else,” she said.

He nodded, understanding that she was offering up this information to him in return for his declaration. Not quite the reciprocation a man falling in love longs for, but he’d take what he could get from his prickly Grace.

“She must have provoked you,” he said. “I’ve never seen you lose your temper without cause. Well, except with me, but that was because you were longing for my hot body,” he said.

To his utter astonishment, Grace blushed a fiery, beet red. She was so embarrassed he could feel her body burn with it.

“Whoa, something just struck a nerve,” he said.

Grace bit her lip, then closed her eyes. “I used to fantasize about you,” she blurted in a rush. “Before Claudia made us work together, I used to bring home the episodes from work and watch you and think about you and me and…you know.”

Suddenly it all made sense to him — her ball-breaking attitude on that first day, the way she’d torn his clothes off like there was no tomorrow. His Gracie had had a crush on him! A wave of intense satisfaction washed over him. Closely followed by a surge of pure, unadulterated lust.

“You used to fantasize about me,” he repeated. “How often?”

“A lot. I hadn’t had sex for four years, remember,” she said a little defiantly.

“What did I do in these fantasies?” he asked, growing harder by the second.

“Everything,” she said boldly. Her eyes had dilated and he dropped his gaze to where her nipples were jutting against the silk of her robe.

“Anything in particular that you remember?” he asked, reaching for the tie on her robe.

They’d been in the middle of an important discussion, and he knew he should capitalize on her willingness to be frank with him. But he was hard and hot for her and her robe was already sliding to the ground.

She licked her lips and reached for the buckle on his belt.

“There was this one fantasy with chocolate sauce,” she said.

“Sounds messy.”

“It was. Very, very messy.”

Her hand was inside his pants now, stroking him.

“You, ah, you got any chocolate sauce?” he asked, reaching for her breasts.

“In the cupboard,” she said, shuddering as he thumbed her nipples then squeezed them firmly.

“Excellent. Did I ever tell you how much I like to finger paint?”

A
FTERWARD
, G
RACE LAY
sticky and sated in Mac’s arms. She’d broken her own rules today, telling him about her fantasies and her fight with Serena. Surely it was crazy to give him so much power over her? But just telling Mac those two small things had felt so good, so right. She remembered what he’d said about them being friends as well as lovers. It had touched her more than she dared to admit even to herself.

“Does chocolate stain?” Mac asked, eyeing her chocolate-smeared sheets.

“I don’t care,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“These fantasies of yours — you’ve probably got quite a few up your sleeve, yeah?” he asked.

She smiled. “Hundreds.”

“Hundreds. Dear God, I am the luckiest man on the planet,” he said.

No, she couldn’t regret what had happened this morning. For good or for bad, Mac was whittling away the last of her defenses. And as much as it terrified her, she didn’t want to stop him. Was it crazy to let herself feel this way about a man again? Or was she kidding herself that she had any control over any of it at all? She’d been magnetically attracted to Mac from the moment she met him and every minute with him only reinforced that attraction. Perhaps she should give in and let this happen — whatever it was.

For the next ten days, she proceeded to do just that. They spent every night with each other, mostly at his place since it was larger and more private. Each morning she woke feeling a little safer, a little braver. The words that she’d been biting back didn’t seem so stupid or unfeasible anymore. Maybe, one day soon, she’d even allow herself to say them out loud.

She’d fallen in love with Mac. Irretrievably, head over heels, lock, stock and barrel in love. And she suspected — no, she knew — he felt the same.

Not bad for two cynics who claimed they didn’t believe in love.

She was still luxuriating in the new contentment and certainty that was growing between them when Mac came home from work on Wednesday night, his blue eyes shining with excitement. She knew he’d been grappling with casting problems and other production issues to do with the special and she recognized his excitement with relief.

He’d been so stressed-out, she’d been rubbing the knots from his shoulders on a nightly basis. Now, he grabbed her and kissed her soundly.

“What are we celebrating?” she asked.

He waved a DVD case under her nose.

“Guess who this is?” he asked triumphantly.

“You cast Tania,” she guessed, knowing that finding the right actress to play the part of the seductive troublemaker in Gabe and Hannah’s story had been his biggest bugbear.

“Oh yeah, baby,” he said. “Wait till you see her.”

He crossed to Grace’s entertainment unit, pressing buttons until the screen came to life. A dark-haired beauty filled the screen and Grace’s hands curled into fists instinctively, even as her world seemed to tilt on its axis.

“Isn’t she perfect?” Mac said. “Her name’s Serena Watts. Great look, a really mature sexiness. And she looks uncannily like Gabe’s first wife. She’s exactly right to make the audience think that Gabe might actually cheat on Hannah.”

Grace summoned a nod from somewhere as she marvelled at how quickly a person’s world could fall apart.

“What do you think?” Mac asked after they’d watched the two-minute audition scene from beginning to end. “Perfect, right?”

Grace opened her mouth, but no words came out. She cleared her throat, her eyes glued to the television screen where Serena’s beautiful face was paused.

“She’s my sister,” she said. Not quite the bright, casual revelation she’d imagined in her mind, but passable.

“What? No way,” Mac said, his face alight with amazement. “Really?”

“I told you that one of my sisters is an actress. Watts is her stage name,” Grace said. Even to her own ears her voice sounded flat and she twisted her stiff lips into what she hoped was a pleased smile.

Mac was studying Serena’s face on-screen, his head cocked to one side.

“I can kind of see it. She’s got your nose, right?” he said.

Grace suddenly couldn’t stand it for another second. She wanted to scream — maybe break something — not discuss the finer points of her sister’s facial features. She stood abruptly and turned toward her bedroom.

“Hey — are you okay?” Mac asked. He was looking at her intently, clearly registering her odd reaction.

“Yeah. I just realized I forgot something,” Grace said vaguely.

He frowned, but she was out of the room before he could push for more.

In her bedroom, Grace sat on the bed and stared at her hands, tightly clenched into fists in her lap.

Of all the actresses in Hollywood, Mac had cast her sister. Her cheating, lying, boyfriend-stealing, gorgeous siren of a sister.

She’d choked down a lot over the past four years. She’d sat opposite Serena at family dinners, smiled as she unwrapped Serena’s Christmas gifts, listened to tales of Serena’s exploits without revealing even by the flicker of an eyelid that she had any residual feelings over what had happened. Apart from her recent blowup at the family dinner, she’d personified the adage forgive and forget. But she had no idea how she was going to stomach the idea of Serena working daily with Mac, acting out the lines of dialogue that Grace had so painstakingly written. The alternative — telling Mac the full story of her break up with Owen — made her stomach churn with anxiety, however. More than anything, she didn’t want him to see her as a victim.

Confused and angry and very aware that Mac would be wondering what was keeping her, Grace stood and smoothed her skirt. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the living room, ready to do what she’d always done where Serena was concerned — suck it up.