Picture Perfect (Butler Island) (10 page)

Okay, so that probably played a role
in her decision to keep their dinner plans, too. But, damn it, tonight she was
going to practice some restraint. The logical side of her brain had to remain
in charge because if she lost control again, she was in big trouble.

“Hey, beautiful”, he said as he
answered the door, although “beautiful” couldn’t even begin to de
scribe how amazing she looked. She wore a deep
green blouse that buttoned down the front, mirroring the intensity from her
emerald eyes. A pair of black jeans hugged her soft curves, daring his eyes to
trace her sensual silhouette. Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around her
narrow waist, filling his lungs with the scent of her floral shampoo.

“I hope I’m not
late”, she said as she gently leaned
into him.

“Nope—you’re right on time.”

After their embrace, Olivia followed
Grant inside. He took the bottle of wine from her grasp and moved into the
kitchen to open it.

“So what are you makin’?” she asked. 

“It’s a surprise”, he answered as he
filled her wine glass.

“Oh?”

Walking toward her, he offered her
one of the glasses. “That’s right.” His fingers tucked a strand of hair behind
one of her ears and then gently tilted her chin upward. He gave her a quick
peck on the lips and then pulled back to look at her. “I just have a couple of
things left to do. Why don’t you take your glass of wine out on the deck and
I’ll be out there in a few minutes to join you.”

Olivia eyed him suspiciously. “What
are you up to, Womack?”

“I guess you’re gonna have to just
trust me.”

“Trust
you?”
she questioned
sarcastically. “You mean the same guy that tossed me in the ocean yesterday?—
that
guy?”

Opening the sliding glass door, Grant
smiled at her. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

After the door was shut behind her,
she leisurely walked to the edge of the deck and leaned her elbows along the
railing. The sun had just disappeared to her right, leaving vibrant hues of
pink, orange, and lavender in its wake. Up ahead, the tide was steadily rising,
the brisk water devouring the soft, velvety sand with every mellow wave.

Olivia took a sip of wine and then
focused her attention on the docile chocolate lab brushing against her thigh.

“Hey, Dexter!”
she exclaimed as she knelt
down to pet him. With his tail wagging like a
pair of windshield wipers during a monsoon, he stepped closer and then lapped
her cheek with his tongue.

“Should I be
jealous?” Grant asked as he
emerged from the kitchen.

Olivia glanced over her shoulder
while she scratched along Dexter’s neck. “Perhaps you should be. This handsome
devil right here would never toss a lady in the ocean. Would ya, boy?”

Dexter responded by giving her cheek
another sloppy lick.

“In case you forgot,
you
started
it”, he reminded her. “I should’ve known you were up to no good!”

Olivia revealed a mischievous grin and
then stood up.

“Dexter”, he called, “go lie down!”
The dog trotted to the corner of the deck, turned two complete circles, and
then lowered his body onto a navy-blue cushion.

“Wow! He listens really well!”

“Yeah, he’s a good dog… Um, go ahead
and have a seat. Dinner’s ready.”

Olivia settled into the chair he’d
offered, her eyes focused on the lone hurricane lamp in the center of the
table. Grant disappeared into the kitchen and then returned moments later
carrying a large platter with several dishes balanced on top. When he placed
her bowl in front of her, she quickly turned her head to meet his gaze. “Shrimp
and grits…? You made me shrimp and grits?” she questioned in disbelief.

“Yeah, probably not as good as what
you’d find in New Orleans, but—”

“Grant, this is
my
favorite!
How did you
know?”

After placing his bowl on the table,
he took the seat beside her. “I called Kendall.”

The corners of her mouth ascended
into a wide grin. “Look at you, trying to impress me.”

“Is it working?”

“
Maybe…
”

Conversation was fairly lighthearted
during dinner. She complimented him on a job well done, explaining that if she
couldn’t be in New Orleans, his rendition of shrimp and grits was the next best
thing. Having heard about her famous grits, he’d asked for some pointers and
she’d jokingly responded that if she shared her secret, she’d have to kill him.
But when their bowls were finally empty, their con-versation veered away from
playful.

“So you’ve lived in New Orleans for
how long?”

“Well, I visited right after Hurricane
Katrina. I spent a couple of weeks there documentin’ the clean-up efforts and
then headed back to my apartment upstate for a few days. But it just didn’t
feel right, ya know?”

Grant studied her for a long beat.
“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever been there?” she
asked. When he shook his head indicating that he hadn’t, she went on. “I don’t
know. There’s this…
vibe
in New Orleans. I’ve traveled all over the
country for my career and I’ve never felt anything like it anywhere else.”

Running the back of his fingers
across the short stubble along his jaw, he pinned her with his eyes. “What does
it feel like?”

“Like… like I’m
alive.”

Grant reached out and placed the pads
of his middle and index fingers over the pulse point on the inside of her wrist
and smirked. “Well, I guess there’s no need to go back then. You feel alive to
me.”

Olivia laughed and then slid her arm
away from his grasp. “I’m not sure if I told you the other day, but the house
is lookin’ really great.”

“Thanks—it’s been a work in-progress
for a few years now.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Throwing his head back, he
emptied the last bit of wine from his glass and then gently placed it in front
of him on the wrought-iron patio table. “My grandpa was… well he was really
old. He had a hard time with the upkeep. About six years ago, before he died, I
came to visit him. I did as much as I could for him during the week I was here,
but…”

His brows furrowed, revealing a
glimpse of the overwhelming pain and regret he’d kept hidden so well. He was
denied a relationship with his grandpa over a dispute his parents had had with
Mr. Gibson when he was just a boy. He’d attempted to bridge that gap six years
ago and had managed to build a very special bond with his grandpa in a limited
amount of time, yet still held himself partly responsible for not having known
him better. Olivia covered his hand with hers and gave it a firm squeeze. “I
think your grandpa would be really proud of what you’ve done with the place.”

Grant looked at their joined hands
and then focused his attention on the gorgeous woman sitting next to him. He
was almost speechless—she never ceased to amaze him. He hadn’t meant to unveil
his remorse. She made him open up about things he’d never shared with anyone—
made
him feel things he’d never felt before.
“You’re almost too good to be
real”, he uttered softly.

“You wanna check my pulse again? I
can assure you I’m quite real!”

A powerful gust of wind washed over
them, but neither seemed to notice. His eye’s bored into hers, searching.
Searching for clues; some sort of sign that indicated she was feeling the same
way he was. His attention was temporarily diverted to her mouth as she raked
her teeth across the surface of her pouty bottom lip. She was completely
unaware how erotic that simple action was, but he certainly wasn’t.

Something was definitely happening
here, she acknowledged. Their bodies were communicating—sending and receiving
messages—longing for the opportunity to take action.

Stay in control!

She needed to intercept these
messages; needed to keep things light and easy. She closed the distance between
them; could see him lick his lips in anticipation. When she was mere inches
from his mouth his lips parted, inviting her to lose herself in his
testosterone-laced kiss.

Not so fast, Womack.

At the last moment, she turned her
head slightly and pressed her lips against the side of his cheek.

Yes, this kind of made her a bit of a
tease. But she desperately needed to stand her ground. She needed to set
boundaries. Flirting was fun and playful and an occasional kiss here and there
was fine. But that was as far as this “thing” between them could go.

“Thank you for dinner. It was
delicious”, she whispered. She started to pull away, but one of his hands
reached up and cupped the back of her neck, preventing her from fleeing. He
aligned their mouths, regaining control and stealing what small amount of will
power she had left. She could feel his warm breath against her lips and inhaled
the intoxicating spice. And just as she felt the first hint of his eager lips brush
against hers, she felt something else—

Raindrops.

Several oversized drops collided
against her skin, landing on her cheek with a heavy thud; warning that there
was an army of raindrops prepared to plummet after. She felt Grant smile
against her mouth as the quantity of drops increased and when it became clear
that the intensity would only continue to grow, they both leapt from their
seats, laughing as they collected their empty bowls.

They managed to open the sliding
glass door, seeking shelter inside just as the sky released a blanket of water
from the saturated clouds hovering above. Once inside, Dexter vigorously shook
his body, ridding his chocolate coat of excess water, inadvertently dousing the
two of them.

“Where in the hell did all that come from?”
he asked as he swept his hand through the air, gesturing toward the wall of
water assaulting the patio.

“I don’t know!”

Grant took her empty bowl and walked
toward the sink.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d have
thought you were trying to get me wet again—”

Holy shit!

Grant lost his
grip. The dishes tumbled
,
clashing together like an intricate harmony of percussion instruments before
finally coming to rest in the sink. He lowered his head and gripped the edge of
the countertop with his strong hands, struggling to regain his equilibrium.
“You drive me crazy”, he mumbled, his low, rough voice nearly unrecognizable.

Olivia leaned against the kitchen
island behind her. His back was turned, but if she reached out he’d be close
enough to touch. His knuckles were
turning
white as his fingers dug into the gray
countertop. His red t-shirt was
stretched across his muscular back, emphasizing every deep breath he inhaled.
Clearly, his body and mind were feuding; battling over what he should and
should not do. She recognized the signs, because at that moment her body was
waging a similar war.

“Strait jacket crazy or
you-get-on-my-nerves crazy?” She asked curiously.

Grant chuckled softly, turning around
to face her. He leaned his backside against the edge of the
sink and reached for her. Hooking his finger in
her
belt loop he gave a firm tug, forcing her to move closer.

Suddenly her body was pressed against
his. She could feel his powerful leg muscles against her thighs, could feel the
swell of his sex against her belly. Her hands gently roamed over the ripples of
his defined torso; up the wall of his solid chest.

God she felt good pressed against
him. Her body was trim and lean, although she had mouth-watering womanly
curves. She was the epitome of the perfect woman and he wanted her.

God, did he want her
.

“Neither”, he
replied. Lifting her chin, he
inched his mouth closer. “You drive me
good-crazy, although the strait jacket might come in handy.”

Olivia raked her teeth against her
bottom lip, stifling a groan from Grant. “Why’s that?” she asked breathlessly.

Grant lightly brushed his lips
against hers as he spoke. “Because I have a hard time keeping my hands to
myself when I’m around you.”

He could feel her smile against his
mouth. Unable to contain the mounting ball of lust in the pit of his gut any
longer, he pressed his lips against hers and felt a surge of electricity arc
between them. Her lips parted, urging him to taste. His tongue surged into her
mouth with determination, the taste of her sinfully sweet tongue intoxicating
his body with a potent mixture of desire and euphoria.

Rising onto her toes, Olivia wrapped
her arms around his neck, desperately clinging to his steady body as her world
was spinning.

A rough groan escaped from the back
of his throat—she’d practically climbed his body in order to get closer.
Gripping her waist, he pushed away from the counter and without interrupting
their mating mouths, he backed her up into the living room. When the back of
her legs collided against the tan sofa, he cupped her firm, curvaceous ass with
his strong, eager hands and lifted until her feet left the sturdy floor beneath
her.