Elaine paused for the briefest hesitation, then sighed and flipped off the light. “No, it’s fine.”
She climbed in next to him, covered a pillow with his shirt, and lay down, her back to his front. His chest whumped in relief and he wasted no time in snuggling up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist. He left a little room between them—as Father Lawrence would say, leave room for the Holy Spirit—but there was nothing holy about his thoughts right now. Even so, he didn’t need her to know the extent of his desire, or of his suffering. As she relaxed into him, he knew this was going to be the longest night of his life. Her hair spread over the pillow and smelled like flowers. He didn’t know what kind of flowers because he was, after all, a dude, but the scent was flowers for sure, and her skin smelled like that fancy bar of soap back at home in their shower. He wanted to savor it. He breathed in deep, slow, and apparently loud.
“Grant? Are you . . . smelling me?”
His pause was infinitesimal. “Get over yourself. Of course I’m not smelling you.”
He was totally smelling her. He nudged a little closer, pressing his chest against her back and slipping his hand up under her shirt to rest it on her warm abdomen.
“Hey, now what are you doing?” she whispered and caught his arm at the wrist.
“Touching you,” he whispered back.
“I know you’re touching me, but you should stop. These walls are wafer thin.” She didn’t push his arm away but her grip tightened.
Still, the whiskey made him bold and silly. He nuzzled the back of her neck and took another obvious breath. “So . . . no boogie-woogie, then?”
He felt her body move with silent laughter. “Absolutely no boogie-woogie. You said you’d never take advantage of a damsel in distress.”
“I never said that. If I did, I was just trying to get laid.”
He felt her laughing again, though no sound came out. “Go to sleep.”
“Won’t you at least kiss me good night?” He sounded more desperate than sexy. Damn whiskey. Damn dick that felt no sense of shame or pride.
Elaine rolled slightly so that she was looking up at him. Lights from the parking lot lampposts shone in through the seams of the curtains, making her look dark and mysterious.
She lifted her mouth and gave him a fast, tight kiss on the lips, but he followed as her head fell back to the pillow. That tiny taste had only made him want more. His hand slid farther around her, turning her onto her back. She didn’t resist, and the kiss deepened briefly, until one of the goddamn Paradise Brothers slammed the bathroom door and the moment was over.
Elaine kissed him once more, a soft brush of the lips at the corner of his mouth, then she rolled to her side once more. “Go to sleep, Grant.”
Yep, this was going to be one long, uncomfortable night.
Chapter 14
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S no signal?” Three hundred and fifty pounds of virtual linebacker plowed into Delaney’s chest, and Grant’s phone shook in her hand. She pulled the quilt back up to her waist as she sat in the bed. It was barely daybreak, and with the time difference between Illinois and California, she’d woken her sister up.
“I’m sorry, Lane,” Melody said, her voice drowsy. “I don’t know what to tell you. I checked when I went to bed last night and it showed that your phone was still in Bentley, Illinois, but when I check it now, it says it’s offline. So either your burglar turned it off, or your phone died.”
“Crap! Crap, crap, crap.” Elaine punched at the mattress with her fist.
Grant rolled over and scrubbed a hand across his face. “What’s the matter?” His voice was as scratchy with sleep as Melody’s.
“Who’s that?” her sister asked. “Your mysterious Grant person? Let me talk to him.”
“Oh, hell no.” That’s all she needed. Melody and Grant exchanging information. “Just let me think.” But her brain wasn’t booting. After a few seconds of blank nothingness where her cognitive reasoning should be, she spoke up. “OK, listen, Mel, I guess we’ll head to Memphis. I’ll call you when we get there, but don’t tell anyone about any of this. Not about the phone or the car trouble or anything. I want to take care of things myself, without having to worry about what the people worrying about me are actually worrying about. Got it?”
Her sister’s voice rose. “But what if I’m worried? You’re acting nuts, you know. I don’t want the next picture I see on People magazine to be a mug shot of you, or one of you shaving your head or something. What do you even know about this guy? Is he trustworthy?”
Elaine looked down at Grant. His short hair was a little bed-heady and he had a pillow line on his cheek. Very threatening.
“Are you trustworthy?” she asked him. “My sister wants to know.”
She was making a joke, scrambling to find some humor in this latest twist, but his sleepy gaze turned serious. “I am trustworthy. Tell your sister I’m going to get your phone, and your money, back and get you home safely.”