The Millionaire's Proposal (5 page)

“It’s so strange to stand here and look out over the golf course.” His voice was quiet, and strangely humbled.

Grace took in the strong lines of Ford’s profile, his sensual mouth and firm, still-stubborn jaw. “Why is that?”

“Because I’m used to being on the other side,” he said simply.

Her chest expanded, hurting for him and the outsider he’d been as a child. She’d never thought of how the town appeared to his perspective, but she wanted to know now. “Tell me.”

“When I was a kid, I’d sit out on the golf course after dark, right over there on that hill by the thirteenth hole,” he said, pointing in that direction and leading her gaze toward that dark, secluded spot. “I’d stay there for hours, looking through those open French doors leading into the dining room of the country club, watching everyone eat their meals, and wonder what steak and lobster might taste like. And if I was really lucky, I’d see you and your family having dinner together.” Slowly, he turned toward her, reached out and brushed back the blonde strand of hair fluttering against her cheek. His thumb caressed her jaw, lingering there, and his eyes all but consumed her. “I’d watch the couples dance, would sometimes see you in some gangly kid’s arms, and would imagine what it would be like to dance with you, to hold you in
my
arms and sweep you off your feet. Pretty ridiculous, huh?”

She never knew, but could only imagine how detached he’d must of felt from the rest of the town, how isolated and bereft. Her throat was so tight, it ached, but she managed to answer him in a whisper, “No, not ridiculous at all.”

He gave her a dubious look tempered with the charm he’d developed with maturity. “Only you wouldn’t think so.”

She could hardly make up for his deprived childhood, but at that moment, she wanted to give him something to make up for every dance he’d missed. That was something she could do.

Moving slowly, she placed her hands on his shirt front, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Sliding her palms up around his neck, she gradually closed the distance between them. Masculine heat radiated from him, and firm muscles bunched beneath the caress of her hands. The air around them fairly crackled with awareness, and she reveled in the shimmer of desire coursing through her veins.

His incredible eyes took on a hot glow, and his hands automatically gripped her hips, keeping their bodies from melding completely. “What are you doing?” His voice was hoarse.

A feminine smile curved her mouth as the slow ballad from the dining room swirled seductively around them in the moonlight. “Relax and put your arms around me. I’m going to give you that dance.”

F
ord realized he didn’t have much choice in the matter when it came to dancing with Grace, not when she’d plastered her slender body against his, determined to lead him in a slow, swaying kind of shuffle that was romantic, and very intimate. He wasn’t about to complain about her bossy tactics; he’d dreamed of holding her just like this for eleven long years.

He slid his arms around her waist, and she snuggled up to him, her soft breasts crushing against his chest. Her thighs aligned to his, and a flood of heat ignited a swift current of desire in his groin. He drew a steady breath, and inhaled a light, feminine fragrance that reminded him of the scent he’d encountered when he’d entered her flower shop earlier that day—a heady combination of roses, and warm sensuality. The fragrance was intoxicating, and extremely arousing.

She looked up at him, her lashes half-mast, and a bewitching smile claiming her lips. “Have you been taking lessons while you’ve been gone?”

The teasing note to her voice warmed him deep inside. “Nope. You’re just an exceptional teacher.”

Her husky laughter mingled with the music, and she melted deeper into his embrace, resting her cheek against his chest. He was certain she could hear the stampede of his heart, the rush of blood in his veins. She curled closer and sighed contentedly.

The gesture was so trusting, so accepting, that he experienced a flash of guilt. He swallowed hard and tried not to think about everything he
hadn’t
told Grace. Not once had he outright lied to her during their conversation, but he was certainly culpable by omission.

But he couldn’t bring himself to reveal his intentions. Not here. Not now. Not when his life was finally fulfilled and perfect, even if for just this one night. Not when he was so close to achieving every one of the aspirations that had driven him for eleven years.

Including Grace.

Closing his eyes, he let go of the past, didn’t think about the future, and focused on the pleasure of the present. He smoothed his hand down the soft velvet covering her back, and she shivered in response. She lifted her head and looked up at him with lustrous brown eyes rimmed in the finest of gold. Her brow creased slightly, and he could see her fighting the attraction that had them both under its tantalizing spell.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, stirring old memories to life. Her lips parted, and the warmth of her breath caressed his jaw. Accepting the silent invitation before she changed her mind, he lowered his head and tentatively brushed his lips across hers, rediscovering the taste and texture of her. The kiss was so simple, so sweet, it made him ache in a place only she’d ever touched.

Her hands came to rest on the front of his shirt, but she didn’t push him away. “Ford . . .” Her voice was wobbly, uncertain, and maybe a little scared of what was happening between them.

He understood. The magic was still there, that compelling, unexplainable sorcery that lured a man and woman together, no matter how wrong it might be. The magnetism defied logic, as well as wealth, or reputation, or compatibility.

It just was.

Curling a hand around the side of her neck, he used his thumb to tip her chin up, to keep her mouth beneath his. She didn’t protest, physically or verbally, and instead leaned into him the same time the hand at the nape of his neck pulled his head down. Her lashes fluttered closed just before he settled his mouth over hers. This time, there was nothing simple about the kiss. From the get-go, this was a lush, adult kiss, borne of passion, and fueled by emotion.

Her lips were warm, pliable, allowing him to do as he pleased. And he did. He took his time, savoring the glide of damp lips, relishing the silky slide of his tongue along hers, and reveling in the uninhibited way she returned the embrace. He craved the way she tasted, like a warm, lazy summer day.

An eternity later, when he finally ended the kiss, they were both breathing raggedly. Only one thought clouded his mind, and he expressed it. “What do you say we go somewhere more private?” His voice was low and rough with arousal, thick with need.

She blinked up at him, a hesitant frown touching her brow. True, he was dealing with a grown woman with sensual desires, not the young, shy girl he’d left behind, but Grace proved to be the cautious sort, not that he could blame her for that.

He caressed the back of his knuckles down her soft cheek. “I’d like to be alone with you.”

She wanted that, too, but he could see the need warring with the indecision in her gaze, could see her thinking about the implications of leaving with him. After a brief moment, the doubts seemed to clear and she asked, “Would you like to go to your place or mine?”

Her question gave him a moment’s pause. He had no idea if she still lived with her father. “Define ‘your place’.”

A grin quirked her mouth, as if she read his concern. “I live alone, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Your place, then.” The last thing he wanted was for Grace to be seen with him at the hotel where he was staying. He wanted her, yes, but not at the cost of her reputation. “Follow me back to the hotel so I can leave my car there.”

She nodded, and he swooped down for another deep kiss that wipe away the last of any doubts and left them trembling and reluctant to part. He hoped the sensual rush lasted until they arrived at her place.

Tossing enough bills on the table to cover the tab and leave a generous tip, Ford ushered Grace out of the Whitaker Country Club.

The back way.

What in the world was she doing?

Grace pondered that question for the hundredth time as she cast a surreptitious glance at the man sitting in the passenger seat of her business van. He stared out his window as they turned left out of the heart of town and headed toward a remote part of Whitaker Falls. While her stomach tumbled with a combination of nerves and anticipation, he appeared calm. Ford wasn’t a stranger, but she’d never taken a man to her place before.

She knew little about the successful, gorgeous man he’d become, but there was no denying her feelings for him still ran deep and strong. Overwhelmingly so.

She’d been alone for so long, she yearned to feel that special connection again, craved to take a chance on the irresistible passion that simmered between her and Ford. She’d been the good girl her father expected of her, catering to his whims and wishes and keeping the reputation of the family name intact, but tonight was hers.

Tonight, the man who’d always held her heart was hers.

“Where is your place?”

Ford’s deep, smooth voice soothed her frayed nerves and directed her attention to something other than her troubling thoughts. “It’s about three miles up the way. Remember Hattie Morgan’s cottage?”

The interior of the vehicle was dark, but she saw him nod. “Yeah, I remember. The only thing separating Cutter Creek from Hattie’s was a half a mile of forest.”

“The forest is still there,” she confirmed. The house itself was secluded by a copse of tall trees, and overlooked a crystal blue lake. The area was quiet, peaceful, and gave her plenty of privacy instead of living in town. “Hattie died about four years ago, and I bought the place. The cottage is small, with only two bedrooms and a cozy living room, but it’s perfect for just one person.”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised that you’re not married.”

She glanced his way, momentarily caught up in the intensity of his eyes before training her gaze back to the road. She didn’t want to talk about David, not tonight, but she wasn’t going to lie to Ford. “I was married, for almost five years.”

He was quiet, and she could feel him staring at her. When he reached out and touched her, trailing his fingers over her shoulder, she felt an odd stirring of relief.

“What happened?” he asked.

“We married for all the wrong reasons.” She shrugged, not willing to delve too deeply into those reasons with Ford, since he was one of them. “He moved to Norfolk after the divorce. I hear from his mother that David is remarried and has two little boys.”

His finger flicked a soft curl lying against her neck. “You two didn’t have any kids?”

“No. We tried, but it didn’t work out for us. I’m not able to have children.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She squelched the painful reality that she’d been the one unable to conceive, and turned onto the gravel road that led to her cottage. She kept up a stream of inconsequential chatter to keep Ford from questioning her last comment, though she was certain he was smart enough to catch the drift of what she’d said. A minute later, she parked the van under an awning, and cut the engine.

“Well, here we are,” she said brightly, and exited the vehicle. She met up with him on the cobblestone walkway leading to her porch, and more nervous chatter bubbled from her as she opened the door and they entered the small cottage.

The rich, luscious scent of roses assaulted her senses, making her feel even more light-headed and anxious than she already was. She’d left the light above the stove in the kitchen on, which provided a small amount of illumination to the room. She flipped a switch on the wall, and the living room lamp flooded the area with bright, comforting light. Somewhere between the hotel and her cottage her confidence in following through with her romantic evening with Ford had fled.

He grinned when he saw all the crystal vases occupying the vacant space in her living room. Those dimples of his deepened with humor. “Wow,” he murmured.

Setting her purse on the small table by the door, she stepped out of her heels. “I don’t think I thanked you for all these roses.”