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“Can I read one?” The question was out before I could think it through, but if she thought it was strange, she didn’t let on.
“Um, yeah. I guess so.” She sounded awkward as hell. She hurried out of the room, but before I could regain enough sense to follow, she reappeared with a book in her hand and offered it to me. I took it from her, studying the cover. A woman stood with her back to the photographer, an elegant gown around her waist and nothing marring the alabaster skin of her back but a string of pearls looped around her neck. My eyes bulged. I’d seen some of Grace’s books, but never one that looked like this. I’d definitely have noticed. After all, the main reason I hadn’t delved into any of her novels was that reading wasn’t really my thing, and it would take something more interesting than what I thought of as dry historical stories to tempt me.
I’d read that situation all wrong.
“Here,” she said. “That’s my most recent one.”
“Thanks.” I tucked it under my arm without opening it. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see inside, but I didn’t want to react in a way that might bother her, so I’d look later, when I was alone.
“Tess tells me she’s been doing some writing,” she said, turning back to the kitchen counter. “Have you read any of it?”
“Not yet.” I latched onto the change of topic with relief. “She’s very private about it.”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. She will share when she’s ready.”
I ran my hand over the buzzed ends of my hair. “Please tell me she hasn’t read anything of yours. At least, not anything like this.” I waved the book from under my arm.
Grace snorted with laughter and tossed a tea towel at me. “Of course not. Come on, grab a peeler. If you’re here, you might as well help.”
* * *
As soon asI got home after dinner, I settled on the sofa and opened Grace’s book. I scanned the first few pages. They were innocuous enough. I could tell it would be a love story, but if not for the cover, I wouldn’t have guessed it to be anything raunchier thanPride and Prejudice. I flicked through a few more pages until I glimpsed a word that brought me up short.
Cock.
I looked closer. I’d never heard the word “cock” come out of Grace’s mouth before. Seeing it here in black-and-white, as a product of her imagination, felt dirty.
I couldn’t look away if I tried.
I read a paragraph, then two. At first, I was a bit lost because I didn’t have enough context, but it didn’t take long for me to work out that the heroine was a widowed gentlewoman who’d stumbled upon a sex club, and the hero was a notorious womanizer who’d taken it upon himself to seduce her. The scene was incredibly erotic. I was glued to the pages as the man blindfolded the gentlewoman and stripped her of everything except her pearl necklace, which he used to tease her until she was a writhing mess. He was securing her hands above her head when I came to my senses and slammed the book shut. My heart beat wildly, and filthy images assailed my mind one after another. I closed my eyes, but there was no stopping them.
Grace, naked except for a pearl necklace and a blindfold.
Grace, gasping with desire as I trailed the pearls around her breasts, over the silky smoothness of her stomach, dipping between her legs.
My dick throbbed, fully invested in the fantasy.
Her cheeks would be flushed with passion—a delightful shade of pink nobody else ever got to see. Her slender legs would shift restlessly, seeking the release only I could give her.
Fuck.
I shot to my feet and bolted to the bathroom. With shaking hands, I turned on the cold tap and splashed my face. The bite of the icy water brought me part of the way back to reality. My dick deflated.
“You can’t think about your friend that way,” I told my reflection. “Not cool.”
But damn if that horny bastard cared.
15
GRACE
I was glaringat the computer screen, trying to dig up more information about what had happened to Pearl and Charles after they married at Destiny Falls. Unfortunately, I was having little success. The front doorbell rang, and I flinched in surprise. Duke barked and raced out of the room.
“I’ll get it,” Alice said before I could seize on the distraction as an excuse to give up my research.
I clicked through the records Kennedy’s private investigator had sent her after she’d hired him to look into the couple, but nothing new jumped out at me. Twisting my lips, I scanned the words I’d already read several dozen times. Giving up, I returned to Google. What I really needed was to find one of the couple’s descendants—if only I knew how to track them down.
“Grace.”
