He shifted to his side, wrapped his arm around her middle, and pulled her close. She turned to find him wide-awake and staring at her with a sexy, tender, almost arrogant smile. Normally she would have slugged him for the arrogance, but tonight he had every right to it. If he hadn’t been the one to actually invent sex, then surely he should look into patenting his personal variations.
She would never settle for less again. Of course, how would she know if she were settling until too late? Men didn’t come with ratings tattooed on their foreheads, worst luck. She doubted the social acceptability of asking them if they were as good in bed as Dylan Bradford. Besides, they’d just lie.
His interest in her was surely a short-lived phenomenon. A delayed reaction, a response to a rush of adrenaline. One of those embracing life after a death-defying experience, with a dash of that old opposites-attract concept thrown into the mix.
He probably looked on her as an aberration, too. She could imagine how different she was from the other women he knew. Once he went back to New York, he’d forget all about her and—Oh, damn! He was going back to New York tonight!
She might never have this opportunity again.
If she wanted to have him again, it would have to be now. Endorsing Dylan’s new rule of never putting off until tomorrow, she reached a hand out to touch him.
Good, he was hard already.
Chapter Twenty
The combination of doggie breath and wet tongue pulled Dylan from a sound sleep. Turning away from MacDuff’s enthusiastic greeting, he smiled at the sight of Gracie snuggled against his other side.
Dylan buried his head in the crook of her shoulder and breathed deeply of her tangy-sweet scent. As he moved to caress her silky smooth skin, he stilled, realizing he had violated his hard-and-fast rule about never spending the night in someone else’s bed.
Although he used the excuse that he didn’t want to risk having some paparazzi catch him with his pants down, the truth was he didn’t like raising false hopes about his intentions. And so far, the only intention he’d ever had was to move on with as much speed and with as little resentment from his partner, as possible.
So this was new, waking up in a bed not his own with a woman beside him. And not just a woman, but Gracie. And hadn’t she turned out to be more than he’d fantasized? So warm and real and exciting.
And her body! Soft, round, voluptuous. No sharp angles or bony limbs. Nothing artificially enhanced, tattooed, or pierced. Even the curls between her legs were an au naturale wonder in his world where all the women were waxed, shaved, or shaped.
Personal grooming aside, he loved the unbridled interest and energy she focused on everything from the simplest kiss to making love all night long. What she lacked in experience, she made up for in enthusiasm. And sweetness and ingenuity and curiosity.
What could be better than that?
What could be worse?
He couldn’t believe she had so made him lose his head that he’d forgotten to use protection. That had never happened to him before. Never.
Grandfather, Uncle Arthur, even his mother had preached the sermon about safe sex and unplanned children since he was old enough to know where babies came from. No matter how tempting or innovative the partner, he’d never gone diving without a wetsuit before. What was it about Gracie that made him recklessly discard responsibility?
The answer that sprang to mind made him squirm.
His breathing grew labored and the walls of the bedroom started closing in around him. He’d better get out of here and back over to the B&B before he forgot his lousy track record for making commitments.
As he slid his arm out from under her, she turned her head and smiled drowsily. He stopped to return her smile. A rosy blush bloomed on her cheeks, and he brushed a kiss across one and then the other. He nibbled his way to her mouth.
Damn, he had zero control where she was concerned.
Amid the rest of the apartment’s swirling colors, her bed linens were pure white. Gracie’s vivid coloring stood out in the unrelieved starkness like a painter’s palette next to a blank canvas. Pink cheeks, flashing brown eyes, creamy complexion. Copper highlights shot through dark tresses that spiraled wildly across her pristine pillow.
“Gracie.” Her virginal sheet dipped, and his gaze wandered to her breasts. He ordered his twitching cock to back off while he said his piece. The sooner he got this over with, the less she’d be hurt. “Babe, I’ve got to go.”
“I know.” Gracie nodded, bright-eyed and cheerful as ever. “You’ve got plenty to do today before you leave.”
“Right.” He studied her with a wary eye. “I’ll need to go by the cabin and speak to the fire marshal, call the insurance company, and let Uncle Arthur know what happened, too.” He checked the time while he recited his schedule. “The game starts at eight. If I want to be in New York in time to see Natalie and Josh, and then take care of a few things before the tip-off, I need to head out.”
“Sure,” she agreed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Relief washed through him. She would be Gracie to the end, practical and well organized, with none of the clinging or scheming he’d experienced with other women. Why that thought didn’t make him ecstatic, he didn’t know.
Wouldn’t she be even a little sorry to see him go?
With the term reverse psychology running through his head, the last thing he wanted to do was make his usual quick getaway.
“Gracie...” He looked around for his clothes.
“Yes?” She got up, and he admired the view while she pulled on some sweat pants and a T-shirt. Haloed in sunlight, she handed him his jeans.
He couldn’t leave like this, feeling as if things were unfinished between them. “Maybe we can go to dinner when I get back from New York.”
A challenging smile bounced his way before she answered. “Maybe we can.”
“You mentioned something about a former fiancé.” He’d given more than a few uneasy thoughts to the man she’d been engaged to. “Is the relationship over or just on hold?”
“Over.”
“Good. After last night, I mean...” The words dwindled away. He normally steered clear of married women, but he wasn’t the guardian of anyone’s morality. If someone committed to another relationship was willing to sleep with him, it was on her conscience, not his.
Why was he so pleased to confirm that Gracie’s conscience would be clear? He cleared his throat and wished he could clear his head as easily. “Good.”
Her fingers toyed with the heart-shaped charm nestling between her breasts. “What about you? Any entanglements or significant others waiting in New York?”
“Nothing serious.” The hazy image of Linc’s cousin waiting somewhere on his horizon vanished like the mist. He’d tell Natalie that the plan was a no-go. He took an unplanned step toward Gracie. Before he gathered her in his arms, a knock on the front door called her away.
“There’s an extra toothbrush on the sink,” she said over her shoulder as he headed for the bathroom.
“Police chief’s here.” She tapped on the door a few minutes later, her voice laced with concern. “He wants to see you.”
He rinsed toothpaste from his mouth. “Be right there.”
“I saw your car down at Turley’s,” Dylan overheard the sheriff saying after she’d returned to the other room. “He mentioned you’re looking for some reliable transportation.”
“You have something in mind?” Gracie rattled around in the kitchen, making coffee while they chatted.
“Did Nora tell you we’re selling the Blazer?”
“No. That’s just what I need, if the price is right. Tell Brenda I’ll stop by and take a look.”
Dylan stepped into the living room, almost stumbling over the large police chief’s feet. Ron Fleming crouched with his hat and a padded envelope in one hand, scratching MacDuff’s neck with the other. The dark uniform covering his enormous frame was rumpled, torn, and dirty from the long night’s work.