Up to Me (Shore Secrets) (10 page)

“Married? To other people?” he suggested, leaning over to peer at the page.

“No. You can see them fall in love with each other as they write. I don’t think they even know who the other person is in real life. Just think, they might walk past each other every day and not realize the object of their affection is five feet away.”

“Sounds like a waste to me. Why not stop hiding behind a ballpoint and get on with it? Get some balls and get your woman, is what I’d write in there.”

She unhooked the pen from the cover, and pointed with it. “Look at this. ‘Your sweet spirit shines through these pages like the sun streaking through a bank of clouds.’ He’s romancing her.”

“Maybe he’s a soldier, and got a ball shot off.” Gray grimaced comically. “That would explain why he won’t just ask her out.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Hey, you like someone, you feel that click, and no matter how complicated it may be, you ask them out. So. Ella. I’d like to take you to dinner.”

She put pen to paper.
I
met a guy.
Gray grabbed the pen, drew a tiny arrow, and inserted the word
handsome
above
.
Ella grinned.
I
want to go out with him.
I’m ready.
I
think I’ve been ready for a while.
Should I let him take me to dinner?
He grabbed the pen again, scratched out the last half of the sentence and replaced it with
romance me?
Wow. If only she could remember that fancy term from the Summer Olympics when the divers rolled through three somersaults and ended on a twist. Gray made her stomach do that.

Signing her name in a big, loopy scrawl, Ella pushed the journal over onto his thighs. And wished she was the one sitting atop all the hairy muscles she remembered peeking out from between the flaps of his robe last night. “Your turn.”

“Can’t I wait and see how this turns out? One big question at a time?”

“Don’t be a scaredy cat. I told you this can be anonymous. Take a chance. Ask something big and bold that you’d never risk asking your friends or colleagues.”

He sucked in a short, sharp breath at her words, then turned away for almost a full minute, staring out at the glimmer of the lake. Ella was just about to ask him what was wrong when he bent and whipped the pen across the page.

Should I quit my job?
The pay is good.
I
don’t have a plan or even an idea of what else I could do.
But I think it’s slowly crushing my soul.
Gray dropped the pen. Looked away.

Wow. Ella didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t that. “I guess I should jump ahead to a standard first-date question. Just what is it exactly that you do, Gray? Because right now I’m guessing either hit man for the Mafia or a casino craps dealer. Definitely a soul-crusher, handling all that money and never getting to keep any for yourself.”

He thumbed the top of the ball-point pen. In. Out. In. Out. “If I don’t tell you, if I make you wait to find out on our first date, does that come off as creepy, or just confident that the town will vote yes?”

“A little creepy. Since you didn’t deny the whole hit-man thing.”

“You can have the hotel maids search my room for weapons. Will that put you at ease?”

“I suppose.” But now she wondered. Why the caginess? What sort of man didn’t want to talk about his job—whether to complain or brag? The secrecy set off a tiny alarm bell. “Besides, we should have an answer soon.”

“How soon? I’m only here for two weeks, remember.”

Ella didn’t intend for that to be an issue. She’d formulated a work around to waiting for a response. “A day or two. But we can spend time together while we wait for the answer. As long as it isn’t anything officially date-like.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

Technically. “I call it bending the rules, not breaking them. I’m slammed with back-to-back massages until eight tonight—Saturday’s always our busiest day. How about we meet up again tomorrow for breakfast?”

A slow, conspiratorial smile spread across his face. “If that’s your best offer, I’ll take it.” Gray cupped her cheek in his big, warm palm. “I’m sorry I made you dredge up those painful memories.”

“They’re a part of me, now. I can’t shy away from the past. But I can focus on the future.”

“You really are remarkable, Ella.”

His words warmed her as much as his touch. If she didn’t break the bubble of sensual tenderness building around them, she’d probably cover him in kisses in about two seconds. And Ward was right—this was the least private spot on all of Seneca Lake. It was definitely not the spot for a secret make-out session.

Ella stood. “Now put the journal back in the mailbox, spit on it, and turn in a circle on one leg three times.”

His jaw dropped open. “What does that do—initiate some magical bat signal letting everyone know we left a question?”

“No.” She dissolved into peals of laughter. Oh, but this was going to be fun. “I just wanted to see if you’d fall for it.”

Chapter Six

Gray racked his brain for another question. This whole non-dating thing was turning out to be harder than he’d anticipated. Not a complaint, though. Because a simple breakfast with the beautiful Ella was more fun than he’d had on his last year’s worth of dates put together. Even without any of the fancy trappings that usually made a date special. Like champagne, a cleavage-baring cocktail dress on her, or second-base groping in the back of a cab.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that the supposedly simple breakfast of raspberry-stuffed French toast topped with warm maple syrup was served to them on a secluded stone patio overlooking the bright blue lake. The patio curled off the main dining room like a snail. Towering weeping willows shaded it from the morning sun. Ducks—geese—hell, Gray didn’t know, just that something grey that quacked kept waddling by with a trio of tiny, fluffy chicks following behind. Only big enough for three tables and covered by a green metal awning, the patio lent the illusion of privacy. A feeling often hard to come by at a hotel. Which meant a tick in the pro column of his notes on the place.

Sadly, the secluded patio didn’t come close to the privacy they’d shared the other night on her stairs. The lip-to-lip sort of privacy Gray badly wanted to revisit. The plain, light purple top Ella wore shouldn’t tempt him so much. Her loose skirt fell all the way to her deep purple sneakers with the hot pink tongue and racing stripe. The outfit was probably chosen for comfort as she stood over the massage table all day. It shouldn’t tempt him into a state of semi-arousal. But it did. She did. And he’d damn well return the favor. No reason they both shouldn’t leave the breakfast table hot and bothered.

As casual as could be, he asked, “What’s your favorite sexual position?”

The crystal tumbler of orange juice almost slid through her fingers to crash onto the flagstones below. But Gray was prepared for her reaction. He nipped it out of her suddenly lax fingers as Ella gaped at him.

“Why would you ask me that?” She took a breath and looked furtively over her shoulder. “For Pete’s sake, there are Manor guests right on the other side of those French doors.” Ella jerked her head in that direction. It was anything but subtle. Much like her loud stage whisper. “You can’t ask a thing like that. Not at breakfast.”

He enjoyed her adorable spluttering. It brought color to her cheeks. And Gray figured it was nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction. The woman who’d wrapped herself around him with such passion on the stairs up to her bedroom couldn’t truly be embarrassed by his question. Caught off guard, sure. But Gray would jump right into that big-ass lake in front of them, fully dressed, if she didn’t come back with a sassy response before he drained his coffee.

“It’s your game,” he said, idly stirring in more cream. Yeah. Cream. Not skim, not half-assed two percent. If he was going to stay at a genuine castle, he’d use full-fledged cream in his coffee. Gray never stayed in one place long enough to have a trainer. He made up for it by pushing himself through a rigorous running regimen. Pumped weights when he could find them. Experience proved the exercise gave him extra energy. But mostly Gray watched his diet because he didn’t want to end up with his Uncle David’s gut in five years, or inherit his grandfather’s blown abdominal aortic aneurism in twenty years.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the whole truth. Maybe it was because he’d do everything possible to outlive his father. To be there to watch when they eventually wheeled the bastard out through the electrified prison gates nailed into a pinewood box. And to finally be one hundred percent certain the long nightmare had ended.

Ella curled her fingers back around her juice, pulling it closer. “My game? This isn’t a game, Gray. It’s a date.”

Ah. It was all the more satisfying to string her up by her own rules. “Nope. No official ‘dating’,” he put finger quotes around the word, “till the town green-lights us, remember?” Wacky it might be, but he’d respect her request. “Which is why you suggested we ask each other questions that we’d never, ever ask on a first date.” Thank God. It meant she couldn’t ask him something predictable, like what he did for a living. And that put off lying to her on a whole other level just a little while longer.

“Yes, but—”

“You mentioned a prize for whoever came up with the best anti-date question.”

“I was joking.”

“Really? Cause you seemed like you were gunning for the win when you started with politics,” he reminded her. Gray had gotten a kick out of her fearless launch into that topic. “You asked me who I voted for in the last election.”

Ella shook her head so fast that her ponytail smacked into the corner of her eye. She winced. “Politics themselves might be taboo on a first date. But asking about the election was a fairly mild question. The president did win by the biggest majority in decades. Chances were good, given our demographically similar ages, that we both voted for him. I didn’t blast you with pure shock value right off the top.”

A fun argument could stir up the blood almost as much as a string of sexy promises. Gray preferred a woman who could go toe-to-toe with him. When Ella first told him about the mailbox arrangement, Gray had wondered if she’d turned into a pushover since...what did she call it? Disaster Day? But he’d only wondered for about two seconds.

As Ella continued with her story it was clear that her choice to be backed up by the entire town was made from a place of strength, not weakness. An acknowledgement that she needed help during her darkest days. But it also seemed Ella never actually relinquished her control, her independence, despite their loving smothering. She still got up every day, went to work and made people feel better. She chose not to give up. Not to huddle in her bed every day wallowing in misery. This was a woman with a backbone forged of steel and sheer grit. And with a breathtaking smile Gray intended to nudge out of her as often as possible.

“Oh, so you admit you tried to game me?” He leaned forward, hands braced on the edge of the green wrought iron table. “Planned to throw softballs until I caved and asked you something predictable and against the rules? Like the name of your movie star crush or your favorite boy band?”

The moment she decided to change tactics, Gray knew. She telegraphed it with a tiny uptilt of her right eyebrow. If he hadn’t been staring at her eyes, trying to drink them in, trying to pinpoint their exact combination of green and yellow and caramel, then he would’ve missed it. However hotly she’d planned to deny ever crushing on a boy band—something he wouldn’t believe for a second—Gray knew that moment had passed.

“It was a warm-up question.” She flicked it away. “I had to test and see if you were up to the challenge. I’ll admit, you impressed me when you lobbed right back with the one about the latest scandal at the Vatican.”

And that had kept their conversation flying nonstop, if somewhat hotly, for at least half of breakfast. “Politics and religion. The two most awkward topics to ever discuss on a date.”

“Well, we did start getting to know each other when I blurted out the tale of my parents’ tragic death. An argument about politics could only be a giant conversational step up from there.” Ella shook her head in a slow, regretful swing from side to side. “Clearly, I showed my hand too early. Should’ve saved the Disaster Day revelation for this morning.”

So she’d recovered enough to joke about the tragedy that upended her life. Gray added resilient to her list of attributes. A list he shouldn’t be making. The list he should be making, the list his paycheck depended on, shone a different spotlight on Ella. The list for his job should have a big star at the top next to her name. Point out that she’d fallen to pieces once already when life turned to crap. By her own admission had turned her back on running the hotel. Statistically speaking, she could fall apart again. Which made him feel like a giant douchebag for even thinking about it.

Gray knew she was the lynchpin to his entire recommendation. Come to think of it, Ella would probably be happier if someone else
did
own the hotel. She could tend to her massage clients without any other responsibilities scratching at her conscience. Taking ownership away might be the kindest thing he could do.

Of course, if he pulled that trigger, Gray would bet not only his paycheck but his hefty, year-end bonus that she’d never bestow that sassy smile on him again. Which left him screwed no matter how he looked at it.

He was in a sugar coma from breakfast. Little brown birds that sang like they’d had multiple starring roles in a cartoon perched on the hedge rimming the patio. And Ella looked a million times more delicious than the lip-smacking French toast. How was a guy supposed to formulate a plan in a place this idyllic? Instead, he pushed work to the side. Again. Along with the guilt that came with neglecting the entire reason for his visit to Mayhew Manor. Promised himself he’d buckle down as soon as she left to start her workday.

For now, it was more fun to keep the game going. Gray mimicked the flat tone of a buzzer. “Strategic error. Dead parents would’ve netted you the win for sure. So with politics and religion out of the way, the list of possible topics never discussed on a first date is short. You can’t act all shocked at my question. The only thing left for me was sex. Never comes up on a first date. Unless you’re a hooker or a porn star.”

She used her long, strong fingers to cover her mouth. But the telltale stretch of her grin showed at the edges. “Wow. You get bonus points for mentioning hookers and porn stars on our first official non-date date. You’re really going for the win.”

“My competitive spirit knows no bounds.”

“Fair enough.” Ella leaned back. Stretched out her legs so the skirt sheeted to the ground. Damn it. Now Gray was fantasizing about an actual sheet wrapped around her legs. The super soft one on his bed the color of a pale, green grape. With him underneath it. Wrapped around her. “But it’s my game, Gray. I invented it, even if I didn’t expect you to follow through. So I intend to win this inaugural match.”

Too bad she was still ducking his official question. But he couldn’t wait to see what she thought could top it. After another swallow that almost drained his cup, Gray made a come-and-get-it wave of his fingers. “Bring it.”

“Actual inches—not the inflated number that guys always brag about to each other—how long is your penis?”

Yup. The automatic shocked virgin routine was gone. In its place was that playful spirit he’d glimpsed more than a couple of times already. And he still had at least three sips of coffee left, as predicted. Gray scooted back his chair. Angled it towards the lake, and spread his arms wide at shoulder height. “You’re welcome to come on over here and discover for yourself.”

A burble of laughter escaped her lips. Then, with obviously fake nonchalance, Ella made a show of looking at her wristwatch. Something silver and elegant. Probably a graduation gift from her doting parents. Whereas the only thing Gray got at his high school graduation was his face splashed over the tabloids as the son of a convicted sexual deviant. Oh well. It was far from the first sign that his father hadn’t ever bothered to think about how his actions affected his family. In the grand scheme of how his father screwed up their lives, a forgotten graduation present barely made a blip.

“Why, look at that—it’s almost time for my first massage. Sorry, Gray. We’ll have to continue this later.” Ella bounded out of her chair with a smile brighter than the diamonds of sunlight on the water almost blinding him. She leaned down to drop a kiss on his forehead. “How about we call this one a tie?”

“If it’s a tie, then we both win. And I’m claiming my prize right now.” He grabbed Ella’s waist to twist her backwards down onto his lap. One hand cradled her back. The other turned her face just enough to ensure her lips met his.

Gray kept it sweet. And PG. He knew heads inside were probably turning all the way around like owls to catch the show. If by some miracle none of the guests recognized Ella, the staff certainly did. He didn’t want to smear her reputation. All he wanted was a taste. The sweetness he’d drink off of her to sustain him through the day. So he didn’t tease her mouth open. Didn’t plunge inside. Tried desperately not to think about how the tight roundness of her ass rubbed against the inseam of his jeans.

So he kept the pressure light. More of a feathering than a full-blown kiss. Just enough to kick-start the heat between them. Just enough to notice the soft give to her lips. The faint stickiness from the maple syrup that led Gray to lick all along the top and then sweep back across the bottom. The way she leaned into his body when he nipped at the full swell of her lower lip. How her hair slid through his fingers to brush against his cheek.

And God almighty, he noticed the way his blood instantly heated at her touch. Not just where they touched, but all through his body. Heat that Gray tamped down immediately. If they couldn’t officially date yet, he sure as hell couldn’t nuzzle his way down her neckline to explore the creamy perfection of her breasts. Well, at least, not at breakfast. Behind closed doors was another matter. A plan he’d have to formulate ASAP. The illicit thrill of sneaking around would add a kick of fun. Not that he and Ella needed any help in the sparks department. That was as about as necessary as following a shot of Jäger with a chaser of Everclear.

So he smoothed his thumb along her cheekbone. Eased back with a sigh of regret. Heard a matching whisper of a sign from Ella. “Okay. Now you can go to work,” he declared.

“What? Don’t I get to claim my prize?” She ran her hand down the front of his Red Bulls jersey. Very suggestively. Gray would go so far as to say with purpose. That purpose evidently being to push him to the edge. Ella bent her head as though to kiss his neck. But all he felt was the swish of her ponytail as she twisted away, up and out of his embrace.

“Go ahead. I’m all yours,” he said. With only a tiny flicker of guilt. Okay, a stabbing zing of guilt. How long would he be able to keep Ella the woman separate from Ella Mayhew the owner he might put out of business?

“I’ll keep that in mind. But I think I’ll savor the anticipation for a while.” She grabbed a sweater striped with two shades of purple from the back of the chair. “You might want to swing by the mailbox if you get a chance. Find out if the town’s weighed in yet. Otherwise, meet me back here for breakfast tomorrow?”