Restoration (6 page)

As she sipped her wine and fell in love with Mr. Darcy all over again, she thought about what John would have thought if he’d walked in on this scene. He would have rolled his eyes and laughed at her. He never understood the romance Jane Austen was able to evoke in such subtle ways. His idea of a good time was rock climbing, skydiving, or hiking. He’d always told her that watching TV was a waste of time and energy.

Her thoughts led her down the path filled with more memories of John. Before she could stop herself, a tidal wave of emotions crested over her. Grief took hold as she pictured the life she should have had with him.

Then relief caught her by surprise as she thought of where she was now. Relief was something she’d never felt while working through the first year of John’s death. But now, as she sat by herself doing whatever she wanted with no one judging her, she suddenly felt free. There were no ties to him weighing her down, no eyes filled with pity. She was free of the label,
poor girl
.

Tears rolled down her cheeks at the thought of wanting to be free of anything to do with John. Her tears morphed into large gulping sobs and by the time she heard the knocking on her door, she was full-on
ugly crying
.

Grace took in her appearance in the hall mirror. She immediately rubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe away the tear tracks running down her cheeks. She padded over to the front door and looked out the peephole. With a start, she saw Drew standing on the stoop.

“Just a minute please,” she yelled through the door as she ran to her bedroom.

Tearing through her dresser to find something appropriate to wear, she finally settled on a pair of dark jeans and a sheer cream top with a camisole underneath. She ran a brush through her hair, applied a light spray of perfume, and took a steadying breath as she walked back to the front door.

Chapter 7

“Grace! Please let me in. It’s a bloody hurricane out here.” Drew’s voice was tinged with panic and frustration.

She rushed to the door and pulled it open. “Drew, what are you doing here?” She motioned for him to come in out of the storm.

He stood dripping on her floor with a box full of what looked like camping supplies and her coat slung across one arm. “You left the shop so quickly and . . . well, I didn’t think you . . . that is, I didn’t know if you’d be properly prepared for the storm.”

“Wow, that’s so nice of you. And really not necessary. We’ve got storms where I come from, you know. This is definitely not a hurricane.”

Drew’s gaze fell to the wet floor and he pushed past her into the living room. He set the box of supplies and her coat down on the floor next to the fireplace. The wind howled and the rain beat mercilessly against her little cottage.

“Do you want to stay for a bit? You know, until the storm dies down?” she asked as he reached for the door.

He cocked an eyebrow and grinned as he peeled off his wet coat. “I’d quite like that.”

She watched him take in the living room with its half-empty wine bottle and pint of chocolate ice cream right next to the sofa. Yet another blush crept up her neck and she busied herself in the kitchen, watching him from the corner of her eye as he took a seat on one end of the sofa.

“Not expecting company, I see?”

She bristled. “Nope. Just me and Jane Austen for the night.”

He nodded. “Might I trouble you for some tea?”

“Oh, sure. You probably need to warm up. Give me a second.”

“So, you said you’re no stranger to storms. Where is it you’re from again?” he asked as she filled the kettle and put it on the stove.

“Virginia. Right on the coast. It’s a small town called Golden Beach. We get a lot of storms each year. Hurricanes, plain old wind storms, ice storms, the list goes on.”

He raised one eyebrow. “So, then, why did you leave your mack and books at my shop if there was obviously a big storm coming in?”

“Mack? Oh, my coat? I . . . was just in a rush and forgot I’d taken it off.” She was flustered as she came around to the living room and sat on the sofa. “Thanks again for bringing it back, and all the supplies.”

His lips turned up in a slight smile. “My pleasure.”

The space between them seemed to suddenly decrease as she examined his features. The last time he was in her house he’d kissed her, and not just a little kiss either. Her gaze lingered on his freckles, a light dusting across his nose and cheeks.

He had an errant eyelash on his cheek and, unable to help herself, she reached up to brush it away. As her fingers touched his skin she raised her eyes to his. They were so like John’s, but different, too.

She now noticed the color was a deeper brown, less freckles covered his face, and his smile was brighter, less guarded. He raised his hand and took hers from his cheek, not letting go, gently pulling her to him.

For a moment, she was falling into his gaze and as the distance between them diminished, she felt a familiar twinge of anticipation. Their connection was abruptly interrupted by the screeching of the tea kettle. She shot up off the couch and bolted for the kitchen to subdue the offending kettle and take a moment to gather her wits.

“How do you take your tea again, Jo . . . Drew?”

A wave of humiliation rolled over her as she caught herself. She cringed and waited for his answer.

“Sorry, what’s that?”

A sigh of relief escaped her as she realized the kettle had still been whistling while she was talking.

“I said, how do you take your tea?”

“Oh, white please.”

“I have no idea what that means,” she said as she brought him his steaming mug.

Drew stared into his mug and chuckled. “Obviously.” He set the cup down and she looked at the mug of hot water with no actual tea in it.

“Oh, God! I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

“It’s fine. I’m plenty warm now. I guess I’ll be going. I’ll leave you to Darcy and Elizabeth.” He motioned toward the TV.

A sense of loss overtook her as Drew stood to leave.

“You don’t have to leave. I really shouldn’t finish this bottle of wine by myself.”

Drew chuckled softly and sat back down. “Well, never let it be said that Drew Tensley allowed a beautiful woman to drink alone.”

Grabbing
a second glass, she handed it to him. She sat down as he poured his and refilled hers. She took a nervous gulp and slowly started to calm down. They sat in awkward silence, drinking their wine, and looking at each other in turns.

“Right, let’s just get this out of the way then,” Drew said as he downed the rest of his wine.

His large hand took her drink and placed it on the coffee table as he turned to her. Her eyes were wide as she noticed his shaking hands and the determined expression on his face.

“Drew?”

He rapidly closed the gap between them, took her face in his hands and gently pressed his lips to hers. She melted into the feel of the kiss, inhaling the scent of his skin and hair. She could taste the wine on his mouth and opened her own to invite a deeper kiss. Drew tangled his hand in her hair and breathed a sigh as she allowed his tongue access to hers. Shifting on the couch until she was underneath him, Drew began to move his hands from her hair down her body. As his fingers reached the bare skin of her waist where her shirt had ridden up, she arched her back, pressing herself closer to him.

Her skin felt feverish and she found her hands dancing over his body. She splayed her fingers across his muscular shoulders, then traced down his spine. She felt an overwhelming need to feel his skin rather than his sweater and began pulling the cloth up and out of the way.

Drew broke their kiss to remove his sweater and she thanked him by reinstating her hands along his back. His skin was smooth and warm. He shivered at her touch and if she had any uncertainty of his interest, it disappeared as he pressed against her. She raised her hips to him in response and his breath hitched in his throat.

Just as he lowered his lips for another kiss, the lights flickered once, then went completely out. The only light was the warm glow of the fireplace.

“Grace,” he whispered against her lips.

She ran her fingers through his mussed hair and looked up at him. “Drew?”

“Is this too soon?”

She chewed on her lip momentarily as she considered his question. It
was
too soon, she knew that. But he felt so good. His arms around her felt right and she’d been so alone for so long. “Well, I suppose it could be. I mean, we barely know each other.”

His face fell slightly.

“But, we’re both adults. We know what we’re getting into.” She paused, considering. “Do you think it’s too soon?”

“I can’t tell. I just know that my head is full of you. I think of you all the time. I can’t stop.” His eyes were steady on hers. “I’ve never been so consumed with another person. Every time someone comes into the shop I hope it’s you. I walk around town just hoping to happen upon you.” He dropped his head into the crook of her neck. “I think I’ve been waiting for you.”

The honesty of his admission should have scared her. The words
too much, too soon
flashed in her brain, but his proximity, his breath on her neck, and the familiar feeling of being held overtook her. She found his neck and began to pepper it with light kisses.

“Not too soon,” she whispered when she reached his ear.

“Oh, thank God,” he said as he lifted the hem of her shirt and slowly removed it. Again, his hands trembled and she felt warmth spread across her body. His gaze roamed over her torso, taking in her form, his eyes wide, reflecting the firelight. “You’re so lovely.”

He kissed a line from her lips down to her navel, slowly, almost agonizingly so. His lips were soft as they retraced the path back to hers and his hands encircled her waist to encourage her to lift herself, aiding in the removal of her bra. When he couldn’t find a clasp, he growled against her lips.

“Front,” she whispered.

“Brilliant.”

She could feel his smile on her lips as he popped the clasp and her breasts spilled free.

His hands were warm as they cupped each breast. He massaged slowly and carefully as she closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure at the feeling of such attention. She reached up to run her hands through his hair again and had a momentary flash of John. His hair had been shorter, nothing to hold on to. Her heart gave a squeeze at the thought, but she pushed it away. She brought her lips to Drew’s neck and kissed along his collarbone as her hands drifted down to his belt.

“Oh, my God!” Valerie’s exclamation broke through the romantic atmosphere with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

Grace instinctively brought her hands up to cover her bare chest as Drew grabbed a throw blanket from the back of the sofa and covered her.

“Valerie! What are you doing here?” Grace asked, not even trying to hide the annoyance in her voice.

“Um, I live here, remember?”

“You said you were staying in London tonight.”

Valerie had the good sense to look embarrassed. “Well, Mick and I had a fight, so I decided to come home.”

Valerie stumbled in the dim light to the kitchen where she found a battery-operated candle and a flashlight. “Hi, Drew. Just, um, pretend I’m not here. I’ll go to my room and listen to my music at high volume until the battery on my phone dies.” Valerie scurried off in the direction of her room, and the door closed and locked loudly.

Drew turned to Grace. “Right, I best be going then.”

She thought for a moment. “Well, we’re definitely finished with our more adventurous activities for the evening, but you don’t have to leave.”

He smiled, his whole face lighting up as he put his sweater back on and raked his fingers through his unruly hair.

“Let me put my clothes back on and I’ll get us some more wine,” Grace said. “We’ve sort of been coming at this backward. I think we need to get to know each other a little better.”

“Quite right,” he said as he handed her bra to her, dangling it on the tip of his index finger.

The fire blazed in the small fireplace, while she and Drew shared another bottle of wine and cold pizza from the fridge. Fleetingly, she considered letting Valerie know it was safe to come out and join them, then thought better of it. She wanted Drew all to herself.

She was feeling the effects of the wine as their conversation moved from basic likes and dislikes, him anchovies and her mushrooms, into more serious topics such as future plans.

“So, I know you’re allergic to mushrooms, always wanted to be an architect, and you have an unusual obsession with the Tudor monarchy. What about just you?” Drew asked as he filled her glass.

“Well, I was raised in Virginia. I’ve been to ten Civil War re-enactments, participated in two, and I can touch my nose with my tongue.”

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow.

In answer, she stuck out her tongue and lightly touched it to the tip of her nose.

“Well, that’s just . . . weird, really. I was actually talking about the Civil War re-enactments.”

She blushed. “Yep. My family originally came from Georgia. We can trace our line through the Civil War and back to England in the sixteen-hundreds.”

“Is that why you’re so interested in the Tudors?”

“I guess so. That would make sense. I’ve always been fascinated by Henry VIII and his ridiculous libido.”

He burst out laughing, almost choking on his wine at her statement. It took him a few minutes to quiet his laughter and she used the opportunity to throw another log on the fire. As she stood, she stretched her arms and back, conscious of Drew’s eyes on her. The wind was blowing fiercely and every now and then a tree limb clattered onto the small patio outside.

“I wonder when this storm will let up,” she murmured conversationally as she walked to the window and peered outside.

“It can’t go on much longer. I’m sure it’ll clear by morning.”

Drew rose to meet her at the window. He put his hand on her shoulder and stroked his fingers down her arm lightly, causing goose bumps to rise along the skin. She turned to face him, swaying slightly from fatigue mixed with a little too much wine.

“Thank you for coming tonight. I’m so sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Believe me, I’m the better for it. Thank you for leaving your things at my shop.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair. “God, you smell so good.”

“Still Valerie’s shampoo,” she whispered.

“Keep it.”

He wrapped his arms around her then, holding her close and tilting his face down to meet hers. Their lips connected in the semi-darkness and a blossom of happiness opened in her that she hadn’t felt in the year since John died. Drew ended the kiss too soon for her liking.

She looked up at him. “You didn’t tell me anything about you.”

“Mmm, not much to tell, really. I like football, but I’m terrible at it. I play goalie for a neighborhood team.”

“Football? Oh, you mean soccer?”

He grinned. “Right, the rest of the world calls it by the wrong name. I’d forgotten. Thanks for the reminder.” His grin widened and his eyes twinkled. “I’ve played piano since I was a child. I’m actually pretty boring, come to think of it.”

“I doubt that. So, not an adventurer then?”

“Not really, no. I like trying new things as much as the next bloke, but I also just enjoy being here.”

“That’s . . . refreshing.”

She yawned, causing him to chuckle.

“All right, you’re knackered. I’d better be off home. I
will
see you again, Miss McConnell,” he said as he navigated the small, dark living room.

“You will, Mr. Tensley. Are you sure you’ll be safe getting home? It’s so windy.”

“I’m always all right. Don’t worry about me.” He grabbed a flashlight out of his box of supplies and put on his coat and shoes. “Until we meet again.”