and as Ali began her arduous research, she felt some of her old spark coming back. The exciting new project was keeping her days busy. Her other exciting new project—in the form of one Sam Gleeson—was keeping her nights busy.
They had settled into a strangely comfortable routine of sorts, one where Ali could expect an extremely sexy man, hair damp from a quick shower and led by an eager puppy, to knock on her back door sometime in the early evening hours. Sam would give her a devastating smile and a scorching kiss, then hand her the bag of take-out he’d brought or reach into the pan to sneak a bite of whatever she was attempting to cook for them. Without fail, he managed to make her feel as if she was the most important person he’d seen all day. She knew she wasn’t, of course, but when a girl was on the receiving end of Sam’s undivided attention, it felt pretty damn good. And it felt good to spend their nights together, listening as he told her stories about his day. The return of Caroline, his sorely missed receptionist and the one who kept his office running like a well oiled machine. His demanding assortment of ego-driven clients. How he’d had to talk Asher out of buying a stripped out Black Hawk helicopter on the down low yesterday—and Ali still wasn’t sure if he was kidding about that or not. And how Grady had narrowly escaped a sexual harassment complaint by the skin of his pearly white’s.
Grady had already told Ali that story himself, when he’d called to check in with her the other day, something he usually did a few times a week since installing her alarm. He’d given her no hint whatsoever that he was aware of her involvement with his boss, and Ali was relieved to know Sam didn’t kiss and tell. Lord knew, she wasn’t talking. It was Grady’s overprotective nature and brotherly fondness more than any romantic interest in her that spurred his regular phone calls, and his sunny personality never failed to make her laugh. So did the dumb blonde joke he would end each call with.
But Ali couldn’t tell Sam any of that, instead allowing the perfect opportunity to come clean pass by. She hadn’t seized the moment to interrupt his story and mention that she actually knew Grady personally because he had in fact, been in her home as a representative of Sam’s company. Was she a chicken shit? Maybe. Was she too far into her web of deception to get herself out? Definitely. Bowing out gracefully was no longer an option. Their lives were blending together and with little effort, they’d swiftly become a couple, bonding over more than red-hot sex. Most nights they would sit outside after dinner and watch the sun set, Sam with his bottle of pale ale and Ali with her chilled wine, discussing whether Texas Hold ‘em was better than Seven Card Stud. If beach volleyball should really be considered a sport. If Pete would ever fully understand and obey the stay command. Or, when their idle chit-chat wasn’t enough to keep their extreme attraction at bay, which house they were spending the night in and who got to be on top.
Sam had never pressed her for details on her past, her life prior to two weeks ago. He seemed perfectly content to accept whatever information she was giving him without pushing for more. Until last night.
“You’re the best neighbor I’ve ever had, Ali-cat,” he said, hugging her tighter against him.
Watching the tide roll in with the setting sun, they sat front to back on the nearly empty beach, Ali cradled in his strong arms.
She laughed at his semi-serious declaration, nudging his ribs with her elbow. “I would hope so, Gleeson. Wait,” she turned to look at his shadowed face, “does that mean sweet old Bernice turned you down? Because I’ve seen her checking out your ass. Hand to God, I swear.”
Bernice lived in the small house on the other side of Sam and she was eighty if she was a day. And Ali really had seen her checking out Sam’s backside. Apparently she
They had settled into a strangely comfortable routine of sorts, one where Ali could expect an extremely sexy man, hair damp from a quick shower and led by an eager puppy, to knock on her back door sometime in the early evening hours. Sam would give her a devastating smile and a scorching kiss, then hand her the bag of take-out he’d brought or reach into the pan to sneak a bite of whatever she was attempting to cook for them. Without fail, he managed to make her feel as if she was the most important person he’d seen all day. She knew she wasn’t, of course, but when a girl was on the receiving end of Sam’s undivided attention, it felt pretty damn good. And it felt good to spend their nights together, listening as he told her stories about his day. The return of Caroline, his sorely missed receptionist and the one who kept his office running like a well oiled machine. His demanding assortment of ego-driven clients. How he’d had to talk Asher out of buying a stripped out Black Hawk helicopter on the down low yesterday—and Ali still wasn’t sure if he was kidding about that or not. And how Grady had narrowly escaped a sexual harassment complaint by the skin of his pearly white’s.
Grady had already told Ali that story himself, when he’d called to check in with her the other day, something he usually did a few times a week since installing her alarm. He’d given her no hint whatsoever that he was aware of her involvement with his boss, and Ali was relieved to know Sam didn’t kiss and tell. Lord knew, she wasn’t talking. It was Grady’s overprotective nature and brotherly fondness more than any romantic interest in her that spurred his regular phone calls, and his sunny personality never failed to make her laugh. So did the dumb blonde joke he would end each call with.
But Ali couldn’t tell Sam any of that, instead allowing the perfect opportunity to come clean pass by. She hadn’t seized the moment to interrupt his story and mention that she actually knew Grady personally because he had in fact, been in her home as a representative of Sam’s company. Was she a chicken shit? Maybe. Was she too far into her web of deception to get herself out? Definitely. Bowing out gracefully was no longer an option. Their lives were blending together and with little effort, they’d swiftly become a couple, bonding over more than red-hot sex. Most nights they would sit outside after dinner and watch the sun set, Sam with his bottle of pale ale and Ali with her chilled wine, discussing whether Texas Hold ‘em was better than Seven Card Stud. If beach volleyball should really be considered a sport. If Pete would ever fully understand and obey the stay command. Or, when their idle chit-chat wasn’t enough to keep their extreme attraction at bay, which house they were spending the night in and who got to be on top.
Sam had never pressed her for details on her past, her life prior to two weeks ago. He seemed perfectly content to accept whatever information she was giving him without pushing for more. Until last night.
“You’re the best neighbor I’ve ever had, Ali-cat,” he said, hugging her tighter against him.
Watching the tide roll in with the setting sun, they sat front to back on the nearly empty beach, Ali cradled in his strong arms.
She laughed at his semi-serious declaration, nudging his ribs with her elbow. “I would hope so, Gleeson. Wait,” she turned to look at his shadowed face, “does that mean sweet old Bernice turned you down? Because I’ve seen her checking out your ass. Hand to God, I swear.”
Bernice lived in the small house on the other side of Sam and she was eighty if she was a day. And Ali really had seen her checking out Sam’s backside. Apparently she
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