Taming McGruff (Book 3, Once Upon A Romance Series) (5 page)

Carried away with desire licking through her, Priscilla matched his movements, twirling her tongue with his. His hot breath mingled with hers and sent heat coursing in her body. A blaze of fire built, low and deep.

Pulling slightly away, Griff ended it, and then placed a gentle kiss on her swollen lips. He removed her hands from his face and set her away from him. Tugging her seatbelt around her, he clicked it into place.

With quick, efficient movements, he opened the garage door, buckled up, and then started the car.

The intimate exchange rocked her to her core. Her body hummed just like the sleek Vette did now. Yet how could he brush it aside and return to normal just like that? Was she that bad? Or was he throwing the inexperienced girl a bone? Rico told her men did things like that, even worse.

“Damn, Pixie,” he muttered under his breath, backing out of the garage.

She glanced over at him. He met her stare. His was hot and searing. Priscilla smiled, hugging this moment to her. It did affect him. “And you say I’m the one who has to name everything, McGruff.”

He grunted.

She giggled.

The memory of that kiss lingered in his mind and on his lips. Lethal was too mild a word to use for his Pixie.

Priscilla King had undone years of training, years of precision focus, years of building walls around himself and keeping people away. He couldn’t get hurt that way. Not again. His mission of revenge had fueled his desperate need to strike when the time arrived: not a moment too soon, nor too late. That time was now. But in less than fourteen hours, she’d found the cracks and wedged her way in. Now he had to guard himself from her shattering every little piece he’d painstakingly erected.

So why was he waiting for her to open her apartment door? Why did he care if she got hurt? He couldn’t answer that. He just knew he did care. That was the problem.

He hadn’t cared for anyone, not like this. Protecting her, even from him, reigned paramount in his mind. Her inexperience may play a part, but yet something deeper stirred in him, something honorable.

Griffin James did not like it, not one bit.

“Coming in?” she asked, opening the door and entering.

“How can I refuse?” Just a few minutes to see her place. He soothed himself with the promise it was for research purposes only. Entering, two things hit him: one, he shouldn’t have come here, and, two, the bright, cozy room was the complete opposite of his place. “Lilac? And, what’s that, mint green?”

She tugged on his arm to draw him in farther and closed the door behind him. “I’ll show you around.” Dragging him to the center of the room, she positioned him just so. “From here you can see it all at once. Well, if you turn, you get a three-sixty view.”

“This is it?”

“Yep. My humble abode.” She pointed to different areas, naming them. “Kitchenette, beyond there. Over that way, bathroom. Beside us is the living area, of course. And over there is my daybed.”

“I think my bathroom is bigger than this,” he murmured, stunned that this King daughter had so little when he knew the wealth her mother rolled in.

“It’s all mine, now that Francie married and moved out.”

“Your sister and you lived here together?”

She nudged him toward a chair. He shook his head. “For a few months. It’s all we had when we left Mother’s. But it didn’t come with strings attached.”

“More like freedom,” he guessed.

“You do get it.” She beamed. It sucked the air out of his lungs.

“So this is what your heart looks like?” He referred to her statement last night: your home reflects what’s in your heart.

Waving a hand, she said, “I redecorated once Francie moved out. What you see, is all me. Sunshine and roses.”

“Pixieland,” he countered. His middle sank. He should not have come here; he’d never get the image of her here out of his mind and maybe not even out of his heart.

***

Hours later, Griffin stood, knocking on the door to the King-Royale residence. He looked forward to the distraction from thinking about Priscilla. If only he could exorcize the lovely strawberry blonde’s essence from his house, his car, his senses…

“Back to business.” Clinging to a one-word mantra, he murmured, “Focus.”

The door flew open. “Well, look at you, you hunky man,” the older woman said. “I betcha you’re Griff. Come on in, honey.”

Taken aback at the warm welcome, he cautiously entered the large home.

“I’m Dolly.”

“Charlie’s friend,” he recalled.

“That’s right. And cook.”

“And mother hen,” Charlie inserted as she came to his rescue. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thank you.” He wondered who the other candidates were. Did they bring their families? And would that hurt his chances in the long run?

A buzzer went off. “Oh, that’s my timer,” Dolly said, rushing out of the room.

Charlie smiled. “Oh, our Dolly! I don’t know what we’d do without her.” She hooked an arm through his, guiding him down the hallway and into a large room filled with people and laughter.

His gut twisted. He tended to stay away from large groups. And lots of noise, he added to himself, as a baby, cradled in an unfamiliar woman’s arms, cried and refused to take a bottle. Two elderly gentlemen, seated at a round table near the floor-to-ceiling windows, played dominos. He recognized one as Alex’s grandfather from a brief introduction years ago.

The pictures of Francine King Goode didn’t do her justice, he reasoned, as she sat beside her new mother-in-law—learning to knit, it appeared. He recalled the grainy newspaper photos of the wedding a few weeks ago.

There were roughly fifteen people in total, he assessed, not able to process all the details of them in such a brief glimpse before his hostess yanked his attention away.

“Don’t be afraid. We’re rather harmless,” Charlie said, leading him to her husband and her new brother-in-law talking near the bookshelf. “You remember Alex. Honey, you worked with Griff. And this is Marcus Goode—he’s taken over King’s for me.”

In turn, each man shook his hand. “It’s been a long time, Alex.”

“Griff, good to see you again.” The man hadn’t changed in appearance, but his eyes filled with love for his wife had.

Marcus waved to a smaller, more intimate area set up with four, large comfortable chairs in a circle. “We should talk first.”

“Business before pleasure,” Charlie agreed.

Alex kissed his wife on the forehead. “I’ll let you three alone.” He nodded to another man, obviously the father of the woman’s baby as he picked up the little one and kissed her cheek. The cries ended and cooing began. “Stu and I are practicing up on our poker game. Maybe we can beat Dolly one of these days.”

“I doubt that.” Charlie shivered. “She’s fierce.”

Before turning to leave, Griff looked back to the large room, attempting one last survey. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Priscilla. Leaning back on the couch, she read a book to a curly-haired boy snuggled against her side and his obvious twin, who pushed a small car along the back length of the sofa. Something made them all laugh. His heart tugged.

She looked so damn natural with them.
Adorable
.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. She must have felt it; she jerked her head to look at him. Her mouth dropped open. No, she hadn’t expected to see him there.

For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t assumed she’d be here. It was her family. Why hadn’t he anticipated this meeting? What was happening to his usually sharp instincts?

“Can I get you a drink, honey?” Dolly came up to him, turning his attention away from his little strawberry blonde pixie. He noted Priscilla went back to reading to the boys. “Here, let me take your coat for you.” She practically took off his leather jacket, helping him shrug it off.

Griffin grabbed his cell phone and dumped it in his shirt pocket. There was no way he’d chance anyone seeing the information he had on it, especially about the King family. “Water will be fine. Thank you.”

“Water, smater.” She poked him in the belly. “You’re solid like a rock. No diet for you, not in my house. I’ll get you one of my specials.” She winked at him.

He grinned, not able to help himself. Looking up, he caught Priscilla’s gaze and her wisp of a smile. She’d seen.

A few minutes later, settled in one of the chairs facing the large room, Griffin made certain he had his back to the wall, a trait left over from his service days. No one could sneak up on him. However, glancing past Marcus’ right shoulder, he watched his pixie. Big mistake.

The cook came with a round of drinks on a tray. “I put a little bit of ginger in your water, honey; it’ll help your tummy,” she clucked as she handed Charlie her glass.

“Thanks, Dolly.”

“Marcus, honey, you and our guest, Mr. G., have my super-duper lemonade. No driving for at least two hours after, got it?” She nudged his arm.

Griffin stiffened as she put his glass on the table in front of him. “I don’t drink,” he said.

“Me neither. Makes me act all silly and stuff. More so than usual,” she whispered. “Just ask my Eddie. Nah, this stuff is high octane from the special blend of lemon, sugar, and my secret ingredient.” She stood back with her hands folded over her middle. “You try it and see.”

Tentatively, he sipped it. The tang of the lemons and overly sweet concoction and hint of cayenne pepper exploded on his tongue. “Very good,” he choked.

Marcus chuckled. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Rushing off, she said, “You call me when you’re done. I’ll be happy to get you a refill.”

Charlie said, “Life is not boring with Dolly around.” She kicked off her shoes, tucked her legs underneath her, and settled back in her chair. “Now, gentlemen, this shouldn’t take long. Marcus, do you want to start or should I?”

“By all means,” he said, waving to her.

Turning to Griffin, she said, “I’m glad you decided to take me up on my invitation. Although,” she shrugged, “you really didn’t have a choice, did you?” She didn’t let him answer, but her smile took the sting out of her admission on forcing his hand. “I don’t play dirty.”

I do when it comes to your stepmother
.

“But I do know what I want and I do try to get it, in business, at least,” she amended. “For all intents and purposes, I’ve been a workaholic for decades now. I’ve lived and breathed King’s Department Store all my life, something I suppose I inherited from my father.”

That much he did gather in all his files on the family. “Admirable.”

“And what did you inherit from your father?” Her question came out of the blue, hitting him in the solar plexus.

“Tenacity,” he bit out. Inwardly, he corrected it to revenge. His drunken father had left him that legacy, hatred of Agnes King. It had served Griff well.

“Interesting,” she said. “That’s how you rose through the ranks.” At his nod, she continued, “Marcus has helped me these last few months, but, as you know, he’s ready to start a new life.”

Griffin turned to the man. “I understand you just sold your corporation.” That news had been intriguing, but not more so than his new path.

“I’m going back to my roots. Stu,” he nodded to the other room, “and I are partners in a pub and grill. I’m eager to begin renovations in a few weeks. King’s should be finished with the salon’s remodel by then. Sorry, the new Charmings Beauty Bar, as Priscilla says.”

At the mention of her, Griff’s antenna went up. “Beauty Bar?”

“It’s more of an all-in-one stop for ladies, a spa-like atmosphere,” Charlie said. “We pamper them. Priscilla came up with Pamper Parties; usually a group of friends book us for a special girls’ night. We give them the works—hair, nails, skin, makeup, refreshments—and we bring in a stylist and put together certain looks for them or a special outfit. Our most popular at the moment is The Bridal Pamper Party.”

“Have you seen the website recently?” Marcus asked. “Priscilla also came up with the concept of the different hairstyles, cuts, colors. Just upload a picture of yourself and try on whatever you like. Of course, they make an appointment online and send us their choice. Also, as an added bonus, while they’re in the salon, we offer a complimentary makeup session. We’ve been booked solid for the last few weeks. It’s been such a hit, we’re bringing the feature for clothes into our women’s department.”

Griff sat up, fascinated. “You mean they can access any style from the comfort of their home just by inserting a picture of themselves? I thought that technology was just in the development stage.”

“And they’ll be able to order the item online, free shipping,” Priscilla added as she came into the area and sat on the arm of Marcus’ chair. She rested her forearm on her brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I heard my name,” she admitted, raising an eyebrow at Griff, daring him to say she didn’t belong there.

“Interesting,” he murmured, admiring her business savvy. Nodding to her, he said, “Well done.”

A blush crept up her neck. “Thanks.” She’d changed into a soft yellow sweater with what he knew were boyfriend jeans, rolled up at the hem. Barefoot, her bright pink painted toenails caught his attention. But it was the sweater he lingered on. It should be illegal for her to wear it. He longed to kiss her in the scoop where a hint of flesh teased him, and then he yearned to trail his lips… He stopped himself.

“Priscilla’s been a surprise designer,” Marcus said. “She has potential. She took the men’s department by storm when she first started out.”

“We couldn’t keep the styles she created for the mannequins on the shelves,” Charlie added. “She’s helped with the window displays, also. More sales for those items.”

“After the beauty bar is complete, we want to utilize Priscilla’s talents more,” Marcus said. “We’re not certain where, though.”

“I’m sure she’ll succeed at whatever she does.” He meant it. Her curiosity and determination would take her far.

This time her blush reached her cheeks. “I don’t have the best track record.”

He raised his eyebrows at her admission.