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He fascinated her. Entirely too much. She pushed her hand through her hair and turned toward the doorway. “Thank you for showing me the painting. I guess I’d better be going now.”
He caught her arm. “What’s your hurry? Wouldn’t you like to stay and have a cup of coffee?”
“No, really. I need to…”
What? She was sure there was something pressing she should do, but nothing was coming to her at the moment. The closer Bryan leaned toward her, it seemed the blanker her mind became.
How did he do that to her?
“The truth is,” Bryan murmured, reaching up to touch her cheek, “I’m reluctant to see you leave. As I’ve said before, I enjoy being with you, Grace.”
She swallowed and told herself to look away from him, but his glittering blue eyes held hers captive. “Bryan—”
“Grace,” he said, and lowered his head just a couple inches more, so that his mouth rested lightly on hers.
Her lips brushed his when she tried to speak. “I really should…”
“Stay a little longer? Definitely.”
She shook her head slightly—which turned out to be a mistake since it only increased the pressure of his lips against hers. “I don’t…”
“Want to leave? Then stay.” He ran his hands down her arms, drawing her nearer.
Her mind seemed to be swirling, her thoughts getting all jumbled and confused. “This really isn’t…”
“A time to talk? I absolutely agree,” he said in satisfaction.
He pressed his mouth firmly against hers before she could stammer out any more unfinished inanities.
She could have resisted, of course. She could have pushed him away or turned her head or bolted from the room. All those possibilities, along with a few dozen more, flitted through her mind, but she didn’t act on any of them. Instead she just stood there, her eyes closed and her hands dangling uselessly at her sides.
He kissed her gently at first, his mouth warm and persuasive against hers. It occurred to her that tilting her head just a little to the right would give him better access. She discovered a moment later that she’d been right; this angle was definitely better.
He wrapped his good arm around her and increased the pressure of the kiss until her lips parted instinctively. She should have anticipated that Bryan would take immediate advantage of that slight concession. He deepened the kiss, a bit tentatively at first, and then more boldly when he met with no resistance.
Grace raised her hands to his chest, clutching his shirt. It wasn’t that she was trying to hold him there, she assured herself hazily. It was just that she needed the support; she was suddenly feeling a little dizzy.
Even as she allowed herself to linger in the embrace—even to participate in it—a distant part of her mind searched for rationalizations. She wasn’t sure she could get away with the emotional release excuse again—there hadn’t been any great crises to pump them up today. And she certainly couldn’t claim that Bryan hadn’t given her a chance to turn away; he’d certainly initiated the kiss, but he hadn’t forced it. She could have stopped it at any time, and they both knew it.
She hadn’t wanted to stop it.
As it happened, it was Bryan who finally lifted his head. He wasn’t smiling when he searched her face. He looked as though he was trying to decide what to say, which she found surprising because words always came so easily to Bryan.
She bit her lower lip, at a loss for words herself. It was getting harder to blithely ignore their kisses, harder to deny the fact that there was an attraction between them that only seemed to grow stronger as they spent more time together. What she didn’t know was whether that attraction was merely physical, at least on Bryan’s part. If so, her identical appearance to her sister was definitely a troublesome factor in the equation.
She made herself release his shirt and step back, shoving her hands into the pockets of her slacks. “I’d better go,” she said, wondering why he was suddenly being so quiet.
“It is getting late,” he agreed, which surprised her all over again because she had expected him to urge her to stay a little longer.
She told herself she wasn’t disappointed that he hadn’t—and knew that she was lying.
Bryan had already turned toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.”
Hadn’t she just observed to herself that he was a man of contradictions? She studied his back as she followed him down the long hallway, wondering why he had suddenly turned distant and unreadable. What thought had entered his mind to convince him that they should draw back before things got out of hand between them? It depressed her to wonder if he had been thinking of Chloe at the same time Grace had.
“You’ll drive carefully on your way home?” he asked at the door.
“Of course. Don’t worry about your car.”
