looking out at the ocean, wondering what else he could do to fill the time waiting for Grace. He’d already returned phone calls, replied to e-mails, and checked up on the progress of his development project with the architecture firm and his contacts in the county, but if he didn’t find more busywork to do, he risked dwelling on the last time he’d seen Grace, and what an utter ass he’d been.
Cyndee had scampered off to wherever she’d come from, leaving him with faint interest in their date tonight. The sex that followed would be athletic and enthusiastic, but he didn’t want to spend the whole night with her; the woman couldn’t sit still or be quiet to save her life. How had such noise ever evolved in the human female? He’d have thought they’d all been eaten by lions on the savannah before Homo sapiens left Africa.
He blew out a breath. It had been stupid to ask out Cyndee the human pogo stick. He didn’t know what had come over him: Grace had looked at him with eyes that declared him a chauvinist pig, and the next thing he knew he was doing his best to prove her right. It was as if he unconsciously wanted her to hate him even more than she already did.
On the night of Grace’s arrival, he’d had a little too much to drink and decided to spend the night; one of the guest rooms washis whenever he was in town. He’d made the mistake of sitting down on the couch in the living room, though, and before he knew it he was zonked out, waking only when Grace began her midnight serenade.
He didn’t know what had motivated him to all that followed. There were Sophia’s instructions to behave as normal—i.e., as a cad—but he’d gone beyond that. He’d wanted to chase Grace away from the house entirely, hoping she’d leave in the morning with her volatile friend.
Once he’d started touching Grace, though, all that mattered was the warm, soft female who was slowly giving herself to him. All cats were gray in the dark, and this one had been in heat. Her flesh beneath his touch had been deeply, darkly inviting, filling him with the animal urge to conquer and consume. At that moment, he had to have her. Rational thought had ceased.
It hadn’t returned when Catherine crashed into the crockery; it hadn’t returned when she stood in the doorway calling Grace’s name. It was only when the light came on that his brain reengaged.
He wished it hadn’t. Interrupted passion, embarrassment, Sophia’s instructions, the hateful imagined image of Grace and Dr. Andrew in marital bliss, they all came together and made him behave in a way that now brought an unfamiliar twinge of shame.
He thought he was a nice guy under the hound exterior. Not yet ready to settle down, but never the type of asshole who ended up on DontDateHimGirl.com, either. A good guy who’d never intentionally hurt someone innocent.
Now, every time he looked at Grace he would see the ugly truth reflected in her eyes. Given the right situation, he could be a dick.
It was exactly how Sophia wanted him to behave, but he was having a hard time feeling good about it. It was so much morefun to be a womanizer when it came naturally, without conscious thought. Self-awareness was a bitch.
To please Sophia he would take Grace out today, and he’d be as rude and crude as Grace no doubt expected of him, but he wasn’t going to touch her again. A guy had to be able to look at himself in the mirror.
Deep in thought, he didn’t realize Grace was approaching until she appeared in the corner of his eye. With a start he looked down at her, his vision falling smack into as lush a mound of breasts as had ever graced the cover of a men’s magazine. They welled up from the V-neck of a green dress that wrapped round her body and tied at the side, hugging a small waist and full hips that belonged on Kim Kardashian or Marilyn Monroe. He was used to California gym addicts with their sinewy arms and boys’ hips, and in comparison, Grace’s voluptuous feminine
Cyndee had scampered off to wherever she’d come from, leaving him with faint interest in their date tonight. The sex that followed would be athletic and enthusiastic, but he didn’t want to spend the whole night with her; the woman couldn’t sit still or be quiet to save her life. How had such noise ever evolved in the human female? He’d have thought they’d all been eaten by lions on the savannah before Homo sapiens left Africa.
He blew out a breath. It had been stupid to ask out Cyndee the human pogo stick. He didn’t know what had come over him: Grace had looked at him with eyes that declared him a chauvinist pig, and the next thing he knew he was doing his best to prove her right. It was as if he unconsciously wanted her to hate him even more than she already did.
On the night of Grace’s arrival, he’d had a little too much to drink and decided to spend the night; one of the guest rooms washis whenever he was in town. He’d made the mistake of sitting down on the couch in the living room, though, and before he knew it he was zonked out, waking only when Grace began her midnight serenade.
He didn’t know what had motivated him to all that followed. There were Sophia’s instructions to behave as normal—i.e., as a cad—but he’d gone beyond that. He’d wanted to chase Grace away from the house entirely, hoping she’d leave in the morning with her volatile friend.
Once he’d started touching Grace, though, all that mattered was the warm, soft female who was slowly giving herself to him. All cats were gray in the dark, and this one had been in heat. Her flesh beneath his touch had been deeply, darkly inviting, filling him with the animal urge to conquer and consume. At that moment, he had to have her. Rational thought had ceased.
It hadn’t returned when Catherine crashed into the crockery; it hadn’t returned when she stood in the doorway calling Grace’s name. It was only when the light came on that his brain reengaged.
He wished it hadn’t. Interrupted passion, embarrassment, Sophia’s instructions, the hateful imagined image of Grace and Dr. Andrew in marital bliss, they all came together and made him behave in a way that now brought an unfamiliar twinge of shame.
He thought he was a nice guy under the hound exterior. Not yet ready to settle down, but never the type of asshole who ended up on DontDateHimGirl.com, either. A good guy who’d never intentionally hurt someone innocent.
Now, every time he looked at Grace he would see the ugly truth reflected in her eyes. Given the right situation, he could be a dick.
It was exactly how Sophia wanted him to behave, but he was having a hard time feeling good about it. It was so much morefun to be a womanizer when it came naturally, without conscious thought. Self-awareness was a bitch.
To please Sophia he would take Grace out today, and he’d be as rude and crude as Grace no doubt expected of him, but he wasn’t going to touch her again. A guy had to be able to look at himself in the mirror.
Deep in thought, he didn’t realize Grace was approaching until she appeared in the corner of his eye. With a start he looked down at her, his vision falling smack into as lush a mound of breasts as had ever graced the cover of a men’s magazine. They welled up from the V-neck of a green dress that wrapped round her body and tied at the side, hugging a small waist and full hips that belonged on Kim Kardashian or Marilyn Monroe. He was used to California gym addicts with their sinewy arms and boys’ hips, and in comparison, Grace’s voluptuous feminine
Similar Books
