Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (15 page)

BOOK: Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1)
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“When I . . . when I touched your back . . . .” He stops and rubs the back of his neck again. “God, Ariana, I’m sorry,” he expresses with regret, his eyes glazed from tears.

Jerry the commentator calls everyone off the field. We head towards the grandstands, and of course, Michael sits next to me. God, what kind of woman would stoop so low to write an article of your personal life for millions to read?

“Ariana, stop ignoring me. We need to talk. God, I’ve missed you, and I’m so damn worried about you,” he says balling his hands into fists. He turns away, focusing on the game.

I feel the heat rush over me as I watch him sitting there all sexy as sin, wearing a pale green polo shirt and khaki pants hugging every firm deliciously muscle on his lower body. Damn him, why did he have to look so good. I turn my attention to the game.

“My first experience with polo was heart pumping.”

“Ariana,” Michael hisses out.

“I felt the thundering vibration beneath me as those beautiful horses and polo players sped by, sending a thrilling sensation through my entire system. I knew then I had found my passion in life,” I explain, trying to ignore his presence. I sense the air around us thickening with intense tension.

“What a touching story. However, at the moment, we need to discuss what happened last week.” He crosses his arms over his chest, watching my every move.

Without facing him, I say with an edge of sarcasm, “I think you should leave. We shouldn’t be having this discussion here. Polo is for spectators who love the game. You, however, are annoying me and are preventing me from watching.”

“I hate to deflate your bubble, Miss DiMarco, but that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not only a spectator of polo. I’ve also practiced with some of the guys on Sundays out in Connecticut during the summer months for the past several years, and in England with my partner Mark,” he says with a cocky attitude.

I clap. “Bravo for you, Mr. Grayson. Now, if you’re finished, I’d like to get back to the game,” I say with a sardonic tone, but deep down inside, I’m bubbling with excitement. The thought of Michael playing polo has my heart racing.

I glance at him and say, “Furthermore, your accusatory behavior last week still stings, and let’s add you’re overbearing, controlling, and bulldozing personality.” Why am I being so cruel to him, this isn’t like me.

Michael’s jaw drops open, and then it closes. He’s befuddled and blindsided by the mocking comment. His eyes grow dark and wary, glaring at me. I left him speechless. Good, it’s about time someone stumps him. There I go again, applauding my brutality. Jeez, I need to shut the hell up.

“I said I was sorry. What more do you need from me to convince you.” He turns his head towards the horse trailers and then back at me. “I’m not controlling Ariana. I’m protective. It’s my nature. I can’t help it, but I’ll do my best to keep it at bay,” he says, with a pained expression on his face.

“If I hadn’t proven to you that I wasn’t wearing a wire, would you have believed me?”

He doesn’t answer, just as I thought.

Michael’s engaged in the game. Cristian, one of the top players, slams the ball with his mallet from the forty-yard line and makes the goal. The crowd roars and cheers with excitement.

“Way to go, Cristian,” I yell out. That was a beautiful move. The howling claps from the spectators echo throughout the field.

I gasp and let out a squeal when Michael stands and picks me up, tossing me over his shoulder like a caveman.

“Michael, put me down,” I scream, kicking my legs as I continue to punch him on his backside. My sunglasses slip off my face, and I grasp hold of them before they fall to the ground.

“Put me down, you Neanderthal,” I yell through clenched teeth. I take a quick glance up, and now we have an audience. I feel as if I’m on display in a Macy’s window. I lift my head higher, and Cristian and the other players are cheering Michael on. Damn men, always sticking together.

“I’m not going to repeat myself again, Michael Grayson.” I’m fuming, steam coming out of my ears.

“I will, as soon as I find a spot where we can talk in private.” He chuckles.


You . . . are . . . infuriating
,” I screech out.

He finally sets me down in a more secluded area away from the field. “You no-good . . . overbearing . . . barbaric beast. You ever do that to me again, and you’ll be singing soprano.” My hands fisted, punching him numerous times on his chest. It’s like hitting steel, and it hurts like hell. Damn, my poor hand is probably fractured.

“I have never . . . been so humiliated . . . in all my life. You have crossed the line, Mr. Grayson,” I say through clenched teeth, poking my finger into his chest, glaring at him. I shove him as hard as I can, and the big bully doesn’t budge, not one inch. “Damn bulldozer,” I growl out.

He lets out the sweetest, most arousing laugh, leaving me paralyzed. Ahhh! God, This man can be so exasperating. I turn away, and he grabs me by the arm, swings me towards him, bends down, and grazes me with those luscious, sensuous lips that immobilize me. I pull away; our eyes meet, and everything but us vanishes.

He cups the back of my head and kisses me again. I encircle my hands around his neck. Michael pulls me against his chest and envelops me into his heated body, making me tremble in his arms. I taste the sweet mint of his toothpaste, savoring the flavor as the blood rushes through my veins in a frenzied rush. My heart is spinning with gratification.

He pulls just a few inches away, and we’re nose-to-nose. He looks deep into my eyes with a warm glow, and I can feel the heat rising along with my beating heart. “You drive me to a delirium, to the point I am so incoherent the moment I’m around you that I have an out-of-body experience. I can’t even think straight. You have me by the balls, Ariana.” He shakes his head, his eyes glowing with desire. He touches the side of my face with tender strokes and smiles.

“Please forgive me for my overbearing and accusatory actions toward you last week. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I’ll also do my best not to be so controlling,” he pleads.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll absolve me,” he begs, sounding heart-stricken.

“You’re forgiven, Michael, but don’t let it happen again . . . you hurt me.” I stare at my feet, playing with the grass beneath my sandals.

He tips my chin up and flashes me a wicked smile. His thumb caresses my bottom lip. He leans forward, his mouth to my ear. I feel his hot breath sending all sorts of crazy signals to my core. “I’ll make it up to you; I promise. I give you my solemn oath,” he whispers with a seductive tone, affecting my equilibrium. His mouth trails across my cheek connecting with my lips like soft silk. My breath hitches and I’m lost in the abyss. Goose bumps surface over my skin giving me a chill of excitement. He kisses me adoringly and pulls away.

I’m left numb and speechless. It takes me a minute to get my brain into motion before I mutter a word. “Well . . . you could make it up to me by taking me out to dinner.” I smile, enjoying the vibration course through my body. He frowns, and my heart stops dancing.

“I’m having dinner with Trent and Josh tonight. You’re welcome to join us.” He beams.

“I have an idea. Why don’t you and your brothers’ stop by after you’re done for a homemade dessert?” I watch his facial expression go from a young successful man to an excited little boy with a sweet tooth.

“Sounds like a plan, but are you sure you’re up to baking?”

I nod. “I’m fine, now stop worrying about me.” I smile at him, admiring his beautiful face and soft, tender lips.

“Okay, you’re on,” he says.

“Perfect.” We walk back, holding hands, toward the grandstand and enjoy the last chukker.

Look at us, resembling young teenagers kissing at a polo field. This is
so
not like me. Men I’ve dated wouldn’t have gotten as far as Michael. They were lucky to get a kiss on the cheek.

I don’t know, but something about this man rattles me. For some unknown reason, the universe has put a powerful pull between us. I understand my heart tells me to go with the flow. However, my subconscious wants me to back away, leave, and run as far as I can, telling me that men are all like Danny.

“A quarter for your thoughts?” Michael asks.

“Ask me again after the game is over. I come here as a spectator, not socialize,” I whisper and giggle. “Sorry,” I say and kiss him on the cheek. “This is my favorite sport to watch. As a friend of mine describes the scene, it’s like watching a ballet.” I gaze out onto the open field, captivated by the movements of the players and horses.

The horn blows with only thirty seconds left to the game. Yes, Cristian’s team wins, and applauds erupt from the audience, excitement rushing through me.

“Ariana, I’m going to follow you back to your apartment,” Michael announces as we walk towards my car.

“Michael, that isn’t necessary.”

“Ariana, I heard the message.” He points out.

I open my mouth to say something, and he stops me with a touch of his finger over my lips.

“He’s watching you, Ariana, and for the life of me, I don’t know how or from where. He’s like an invisible insect.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I won’t lie. I’m frightened, Michael.” I’m scared for my life. How the hell did he know I was sitting outside on my terrace when I’m towering over the park?

“It scares the hell out of me too.” He pauses, and by surprise, he kisses me and strokes my bottom lip causing my poor heart to faint.

“I love the taste of your lips, Ariana. I’m so tempted to bite them,” he says softly against my ear, and I melt against him.

I gasp as he captures my mouth, leaving a sweet, shuddering feeling over me. “Have you no pride kissing me in public?” I say in a low voice.

“Not with Ariana,” he confesses, and a big grin appears lighting up his face, and his eyes beam with desire.

“Don’t look so smug. Come, let’s go.

“After you, Miss DiMarco,” he says, laying his hand above my waist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 12

Surprise Visits

 

 

Michael insisted that he come in to do a quick check of my apartment and then left to meet his brothers for dinner. He extended an invitation again if I wanted to join them. I declined. Being around him sends my good senses right out the window.

I decided to make a Texas chocolate sheet cake with pecans and walnuts. I think the men will drool over the dessert. My intercom goes off. I glance at the clock, and it’s eight thirty. What perfect timing.

I check my hair and the makeup I lightly added. The bell rings alerting me that the elevator doors are about to open.

I take one last glance in the mirror. I lay my hand over my pounding heart and take a deep breath. Why am I so nervous, I shouldn’t be; he's caring and attentive. He isn’t an eyesore. The man is drop-dead gorgeous, intelligent, in perfect shape, successful, and one hell of a kisser. So why am I a bundle of nerves? Because you think, every man is a reflection of Danny, my subconscious screams out.

I pull myself together and walk into the foyer to the breathtaking sight of three handsome, well-dressed men. They look hotter than those on the cover of
GQ
. The one who stands out is Michael, who’s holding out a bouquet of flowers for me. I grin from ear to ear.

Josh greets me with a kiss, and of course; Trent always has to squeeze the air from my lungs and spin me. After I get my breath, I turn to Michael.

“Oh, Michael,” I murmur. “They’re lovely. Thank you so much.” He kisses me on my lips, leaving me breathless.

I move back to let them walk into the living room and take the flowers from Michael’s hand. I gather them against me, inhaling the sweet fragrance. I rush to the kitchen and get a footstool. I pull out a vase from the top cabinet.

As I step down, I sense the temperature rising, feeling his gentle, strong hands enclose around my waist to steady me. He nibbles at my ear, and I giggle as a slight shiver goes through me. “I missed you,” he murmurs.

“Already?” I purr. My heart is on water skis and leaps over the ramp, cheering with satisfaction.

“I can’t get enough of you, Ariana. This chemistry between us drives me mad. You continue to push me into overdrive.” He kisses the side of my neck, and I almost collapse from weak knees. He turns me around to face him. “Damn, woman, what smells so good?”

His brothers are outside on the terrace. The dining room table is set for four. I move to the oven, pull out the dessert, and place the pan on the counter.

“I made a Texas sheet cake with pecans and walnuts mixed into the chocolate frosting.

“If you don’t marry her, I will,” Trent calls out.

We both turn as Trent and Josh walk back in with smiles on their faces and rubbing their firms stomachs, looking like young boys.

“Get in the back of the line. She’s going to marry me,” Josh scolds Trent.

“Neither of you holds any claim on her; she’s mine. If you touch one hair on her head, I’ll bury you both alive,” Michael proclaims, with a displeased look on his face. He turns back to me and flashes a heart-throbbing grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Is that so?” I say my hands on my hips.

He nods slowly and stares into me with smoldering eyes. My heart skips a few beats, pushing and nudging me forward.
Pucker up, you fool. I’m tired of reading romance novels. The time is here for us to get the real thing, girl
.

I get my nerve up, kiss him on his soft lips, and pull away, and with shaky hands I lift the cake and place the Pyrex dish on the dining room table. “Time for dessert, guys. Who wants coffee or tea? A symphony sings out for java.

The intercom goes off.

“Are you expecting anyone, Ariana?” Michael questions.

“No, but we’ll soon find out.” I walk over to answer. “Hello.”

“Miss DiMarco, it’s Larry from security. A Joanne Bennington is here to see you.”

I gasp with excitement. “Send her right up,” I shriek with excitement.

“Yes, Miss DiMarco. Have a good night.”

“Thank you, you as well.” I’m elated. Joanne’s here, I can’t believe this.

“Who’s Joanne?” Michael inquires.

“She’s one of my best friends. Joanne, Blake, and I all work at the studio.”

Michael beams. “From the look on your face, it seems you haven’t seen her for some time.”

“She’s been traveling for almost two weeks,” I answer.

The bell rings alerting me the elevator doors are opening. Joanne, a beautiful, petite, five-foot woman, full of spunk and fire comes bursting through the foyer like a nor’easter. Her long blond hair swings as she turns toward me with her big, chocolate-brown eyes, which will make any man respond to her every need. She has on a brown Chanel skirt with a blue silk blouse and four-inch heels, which would hurt immensely if anyone thought of doing her wrong.

“Ariana!” She runs to me and gives me a big hug matching Trent’s, except, not as powerful.

“Joanne! What a pleasant surprise,” I say with enthusiasm. “Why didn’t you tell me you where in town when we spoke earlier today,” I ask.

“I wanted to surprise you, so enjoy all of me while I’m here because I’m off to Vegas tomorrow night. This job is bad for my physical appearance. I swear I’ve probably gained more weight since we’ve last spoken.”

Joanne was oblivious to the men standing in the dining room. A chorus of coughs from the guys resonates out.

Joanne slowly turns and faces the three massive males now standing with big grins.

“Well, well, well, Ariana, you never told me you had a tremendous amount of heart-stomping testosterone sitting right here in your apartment,” she says with a bright, drop-dead-gorgeous smile, which has them drooling already. “Are any of you gentleman Michael Grayson?”

Michael steps up and greets her. “A pleasure to meet you Joanne,” he says, shaking her hand.

A smug expression appears over her face. Oh no, I know that look. She’s going to say something that will embarrass me. I sense the air changing. She smirks at me and at Michael. “I want to inform you, Mr. Grayson, you’re a damn lucky man.”

“Why is that?” He asks with curiosity.

“I heard what you did to my poor girlfriend. I was so ready to hang your balls on the Brooklyn Bridge to make a statement. No one hurts my friend and gets away with it,” she says, poking her finger in his chest with narrow eyes.

Michael appears shocked, his face turning beet red, but takes it like a man and admits his mistake. “I deserve that. I apologized for my immature accusations,” he explains with sincerity.

I hear a few chuckles in the background. Michael turns and gives a nasty glare to his brothers and then turns his attention back to Joanne.

“I’m glad to hear you apologized,” Joanne says and blows out a long breath and begins to fan herself. “Whoa, it’s sweltering in here,” she blurts out. “Put the damn air on. All this testosterone is making me hot.”

The guys burst out laughing, sending me to an unknown world of ecstasy. The sound of their laughter is toxic.

“Please excuse my friend. She’s . . . well . . .
blunt
,” I explain, giving her the eye.

“Oh, Ariana, if they can’t handle my comments, I’ll escort them to the exit.” She turns her charm on and gives a wicked smile, putting Trent in a trance.

Oh. My. God. Do I see sparks between these two? Josh is the first one to approach her.

“Joanne, I’m Josh. A pleasure to meet you.” They shake hands.

“Likewise,” Joanne replies to Josh.

Trent pushes Josh out of his way and flashes his gorgeous, knockout smile, which has Joanne’s jaw dropping and with quick reflexes she shuts her mouth closed and smiles back. Her pulse is throbbing against her neck, and I see little beads of sweat forming over her nose. Holy shit, I’ve never seen Joanne react like this to any man.

“Joanne,” Trent whispers. “A pleasure to meet you darlin’, a real pleasure,” he emphasizes with a faint growl.

“The pleasure is mine, big boy,” she exclaims with a purr. Trent’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows several times. His gaze glued to Joanne.

“Hey, guys, let’s take this party in the dining room and enjoy some cake before the coffee gets cold. Everybody heads into the dining room. I detour into the kitchen for an extra set of plates and utensils and Michael is right behind me.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t think she would confront you, but this is how Joanne is. I love her dearly, but sometimes . . . she can be overbearing.” I shrug with a slight frown. I go for the cupboard.

“I’m fine, Ariana, I deserved what was coming. She’s your friend, and I’m grateful you have such wonderful friends who care so much about you.” He leans over, and feathers a kiss over my lips and all I want to do is stay in his arms.

“You sure do have a silver tongue, Mr. Grayson,” I whisper.

He tips my chin up and gives me a wicked smile. “I may have a silver tongue, but yours tastes as sweet and smooth as honey,” he confesses and without warning his mouth crushes onto mine, leaving me breathless.

We jerk apart when Joanne sneaks in on us. “Stop sucking faces and get in here. I want a piece of cake and hot coffee, not cold,” she dictates and marches out of the kitchen with her long hair swinging over her shoulders.

I give Michael the rolling eyes, and we both burst out laughing. I walk towards the dining room, and he slaps my bottom. I turn and sneer at him. He chuckles.

The evening is stirring with energy. The men and Joanne rave over the dessert. Both Josh and Trent can’t keep their eyes off her. God, I hope this isn’t going to cause a war between the two.

I’m sitting at the head of the table, and Michael is to my right. Josh is to my left, next to Joanne, and Trent is across from her. I’m so happy Joanne had the chance to meet Michael and his brothers.

“Ariana, you outdid yourself. This is the best Texas sheet cake ever. I’m homesick now,” Trent comments, rubbing his solid abdomen.

“Thank you for baking it. I’m sure this must have been time-consuming,” Josh says.

“It’s the least I could do. You went above and beyond to help me. Especially since we only met a short time ago,” I say with gratitude. Beneath the table, Michael’s warm hand gives my knee a gentle squeeze. I jump in surprise, and glare at him in a way he’ll get the message to behave himself. He grins with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“So what do you do Joanne?” Josh asks. He swallows the last piece of cake from his plate and takes a sip of his coffee.

Joanne sits back, tossing her hair behind her. “I host a segment called Extraordinary Restaurants.”

“So you must travel a lot,” Trent says, entering the conversation, and he’s watching her every move and examining her like a side of beef.

“Yes, I had been gone for a couple of weeks and gained at least three pounds,” she complains. “And here I am eating cake, like I need the extra calories.” She rolls her eyes in disgust.

“I would have never guessed. You’re petite,” Michael comments. He takes a drink of his coffee, a quick glance at me, and winks.

“Thank you, flattery will get you everywhere,” Joanne replies and stares my way, giving me her crooked grin.

“So where are you heading after Vegas?” Trent inquires. He sits forward and places his thick forearms over the table, gaping at Joanne.

“Paris and Switzerland.”

The intercom rings and we all flinch. “Who could that be?” I mutter, getting up to answer the system.

“Hello.”

“Miss DiMarco, Blake Delaney is here to see you.”

“Let him up. Thanks so much.”

“Blake is on his way up. What a surprise,” I say to Joanne.

“Fantastic,” Joanne exclaims.

Since Blake doesn’t eat chocolate, Joanne and I start clearing the table off. The men gather in to help.

The bell rings alerting me the elevator doors opened. Blake walks into the living room and stares directly at Michael. I never had a chance to tell Blake that I ran into Michael at the polo game.

“Blake this is Michael, Michael; this is Blake,” I introduce.

“Mr. Grayson, nice to meet you. It looks as if she’s forgiven you.” Blake comments with sarcasm and extends his hand to shake Michael’s.

“Pleasure to meet you as well and yes, she’s forgiven me, and I’m grateful. Please call me Michael,” he says.

He greets me with a bouquet of colorful, exotic flowers and a box of Godiva chocolates. This must be my lucky day. I’m being showered with luxurious gifts. I’m surrounded with strong, powerful men and my best friends.

He’s also oblivious of the guest standing in the dining room.

“Ariana, how are you, love?” He gives me a warm embrace and kisses me on the cheek.

“Oh, Blake, thank you for these. I love them,” I babble with glee.

“You’re welcome, love,” Blake says, kissing my forehead. He’s startled when he gets a smack on the back. He spins around on his heels and is face-to-face with Joanne.

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