Saving Grace (19 page)

“Sure.” He glanced back at Clint as he walked to the front door. “Why don’t you call Summer and see if she wants to come over for dinner?”

Grace always fixed enough food for an army.

Clint nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Chord typed in the four-digit code that unlocked the front door and pushed it open.

Dozens of people yelled, “Surprise!”

He jumped back as his heart almost exploded in his chest. He took several deep breaths trying to calm his pulse. They had remembered. Relief replaced the unhappiness he’d wallowed in most of the day.

“Y’all scared the crap out of me.” He smiled and shook his head. “Wow, I thought no one remembered.”

“We got you, coach.” Keshan Dawkins raised a beer in toast.

Loud music started out by the pool. Chord stepped into the house and began the round of handshakes and congratulations. He couldn’t wait to see Grace. She had put this together—the kids had probably helped—but she’d put this together. Grace had remembered—they all had remembered—and spent a long time putting this party together.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Grace. He turned to her. In that short, tight dress, she had legs for days. Her hair was curled and she’d done something with makeup so that her eyes appeared even larger and darker. She was stunning — absolutely breath taking, but he’d give anything to see her in her ratty old jeans and a T-shirt.

Ignoring well-wishers, he made his way to her.

“Happy Birthday.” Debra stepped into his path, slid her arms around him, and kissed him hard on the mouth. She tasted of Jack Daniels and desperation.

He pulled away in time to see Grace turn her back on him.

Just as he was about to wrap his hands around Debra’s waist and forcibly remove her from his path to Grace, Debra gripped his shoulders tightly.

“Do you like the little surprise the kids and I cooked up?” She gestured to the party. “Happy Birthday.”

She and the kids? It didn’t make sense. This had Grace written all over it.

Debra leaned in for another kiss, but he dodged right. It was more than hard to believe she’d put this together, in fact, it was impossible.

“This was your idea?” That didn’t ring true.

“Of course, darling. It’s your birthday. I wouldn’t forget your birthday.” She was all humble gratitude and love. “I’m your girlfriend, and it’s my responsibility to organize your birthday.”

“Right.” Several weeks ago, she’d threatened to leave his eight-year-old twins home alone because she was pissed at his daughter. He hadn’t heard from her since then, and to tell the truth, he’d forgotten about her. “If you were ever my girlfriend which I don’t recall that you were, we broke up when you stormed out of my house the night CoCo ran away. Get out of my way.”

He unwrapped her arms from around his neck, and picked her up and set her out of his way.

“Now wait a minute.” She was indignant, but he didn’t care one little bit. She was in his rearview mirror because he’d moved on to better things…Grace.

He found her in the kitchen filling up a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

He walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “Do I get a special birthday kiss?”

“Looks like you’ve already had one.” The words were ground out rather than spoken.

He nuzzled her neck. “Somebody’s jealous.”

Grace tried to unwrap his arms, but he held tight. “You should be out there with your girlfriend.”

“Why? I’m in here with my girlfriend.” He kissed his way to her jaw line. “Why does everyone think Debra and I are an item?”

“Because she keeps telling everyone you are. She got here thirty minutes ago and positioned herself at the front door so she could greet your guests.” Grace slammed some deviled eggs in the middle of the platter.

“Want me to throw her out?” Chord could care less about Debra or anyone else for that matter, Grace’s ass kept bumping against the front of his pants.

“No, it’s your birthday. You shouldn’t have to deal with unpleasantness.” She dumped some cheese cubes around the deviled eggs. “If you happen to toss her into the pool, I wouldn’t be sorry.”

“Want me to hold her head down until she stops struggling?” He sucked on her earlobe.

“Only if you can make it look like an accident.” Grace turned around and snaked her arms around his neck and grinned. “Happy Birthday.”

“Do I get a birthday kiss?”

“Not until you brush your teeth. You have skank-mouth.” She patted his cheek.

“That’s fair…I guess.” Not really. He wanted a birthday kiss from her. In fact, he wanted to set some new birthday traditions with Grace. This was their beginning, and he wanted to create some new long-term birthday rituals they would share over the years. He knew Clint sent Summer’s mother flowers every year on Summer’s birthday thanking her mother for bringing Summer into the world. Chord shook his head. While it was sweet, it was overly sweet and wasn’t his style. Plus, Grace’s mother was dead.

Maybe after everyone was gone and the kids were asleep, he and Grace would share a champagne toast—just the two of them. That would be nice. Some alone time…no one around.

Before his own mother had run off with her gynecologist and divorced his father, every year on his birthday, she’d baked him a cake, remind him to make a wish, and then after he blew out the candles they’d talk about the wishes she had for him. It was funny. He’d forgotten that until now. She always had three wishes for him for the coming year. He should start doing that with Grace and the kids.

Grace hugged him and then her arms slipped back to her sides. She picked up the tray, stepped out of his grasp, and headed out of the kitchen.

Right before she stepped into the living room, she hefted the tray on her right shoulder and turned around. “The kids are all sleeping at friends’ houses. I hope you have condoms.”

His mouth dropped open and the vague idea that he should close it drifted through his brain. The kids weren’t going to be home tonight. He and Grace and condoms. He reminded himself that breathing was an autonomic function. The whole house to themselves. Grace all to himself.

That was a birthday ritual he could get behind.

She turned around and walked into the living room.

His mouth was hanging open, but he didn’t care. After everyone left, he and Grace were having a private party. His world turned perfect.

After Grace put the last dirty dish in the dishwasher, she fanned herself. She was more than a little hot under the collar. She threw in a dishwashing cube, closed the door, and hit the start button.

Knowing for a fact it was a crisp sixty-nine degrees in the house, she knew that wasn’t the air making her hot, but expectation.

Chord was walking the last guest out, and then he’d be back. Would they go at it on the kitchen counter? The floor? She glanced down. The cleaning company had mopped earlier, but there were dirty footprints all over it now. Back to the counter. She ran her hand across it making sure it was clean. The granite was cold and hard. She leaned against the cabinet. That was okay, if she were on top.

His bedroom then? She made a face. It was still pink because the contractor was focusing on the pool house and hadn’t started the master bedroom.

Her room? She did have a queen-sized bed and a large oval jetted-tub. That might be interesting.

“All the concentrating you’re doing better be on what I look like naked.” Chord had a bottle of champagne and two glasses in one hand and a giant box of condoms in the other.

She nodded toward the box. “A box of one hundred? You have a very high opinion of yourself.”

“If you’d read the survey filled out by all of my former girlfriends, you’d know that a mere hundred isn’t enough. I coach football for a living. I’m a man’s man.” His gaze went to her breasts and stayed there.

Grace felt all the heat tingling through her body migrate north to her face. “Good God, I hope you’re not a man’s man. No wonder gay attendance is up.”

He thought about it for a second. “That came out wrong.”

“I know what you meant.” Grace’s shoulders shook. He looked honestly scandalized.

His expression turned downright naughty. “Now back to you undressing me with your eyes.”

“That’s not what’s on my mind.”

They both knew she was lying, so she smiled. She’d spent a fair amount of time picturing him naked. Usually it was right before she fell asleep.

“Honey, your face is practically a blinking red Christmas light. It’s okay. I’ve spent a good portion of the last month picturing you in the buff as well. It’s only fair I got some mental play.” He set the glasses down and worked on the foil champagne wrapper. He popped the cork, poured champagne into the glasses, shrugged off his suit jacket, and then tugged his shirt off. “Thought I’ll give your imagination a head start.”

Man, oh man, he was pretty to look at.

He flexed his pecs.

Years of exercise had chiseled his chest into some interesting peaks and valleys. He was lean muscle and beautiful to look at…unfortunately, he knew it.

Grace slipped her hand into her cleavage, pulled out her phone, and clicked a picture.

“What was that for?” Again with the scandalized expression.

“Nothing. Just capturing the moments that makeup our lives.” She winked. “I’m totally not going to tweet this out…ever. It’s just for personal consumption.”

Could she discreetly tweet it out? He’d probably notice her thumbs typing.

“It better be.” He flexed his pecs some more. “You could take some more pictures…you know, it might help my low self-esteem.”

He started in on the body-builder poses.

“I can see you have a self-image problem. It’s amazing you’re able to make direct eye contact with me.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad.” He turned around and flexed his back muscles.

She yawned dramatically. “I’m bored.”

She touched the music icon, and scrolled for Def Leppard’s
Pour Some Sugar on Me
. “I’m going to need a show. If you do a good job, maybe I’ll return the favor.”

True, it was his birthday, but she was hoping he’d unwrap himself nice and slowly so she could enjoy it.

She eased up onto the counter, crossed her legs, and hit play. She held the phone out in front of her, focused the camera, and clicked the video button. She definitely needed to tape this.

“What?” He looked lost. “Huh?”

“Take it off.” She said over the music. “Take it all off.”

A naughty twinkle replaced his confusion. He turned around and his hips started to move back and forth to the beat of the music. “You’re not taping this are you?”

“Absolutely not. I’m holding the phone up so you can hear the music.” She zoomed in on his tight butt. Years from now after they parted ways, she’d have this video to remind her of how much fun he was.

He unzipped his trousers and looked over his right shoulder as he slowly lowered them to the floor. Black cotton boxer brief and black socks were the only thing between him and the world. He turned to the side and did some pelvic thrusts. Seeing the apples in the new kitchen table fruit bowl, he grabbed three and added juggling to the pelvic thrusts. Next came some high kicks. With his left leg extended, he tried to remove his sock, but his toes got caught, and he lost his balance. Man down. In a split-second, he was back up and pelvic thrusting some more. One finger shot up, John Travolta style, and then he was at the rodeo roping some steers. The grand finale came in the form of an enthusiastic, if not coordinated tap dance.

Grace clicked stop and put the phone down. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. She wiped the tears from her eyes and paused the music on her phone before it changed songs. “How come you didn’t take off the boxers?”

“You were laughing. I vowed to never remove my shorts in front of a giggling woman.” He shrugged. “It’s a self-confidence thing.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop the laughter. It took a full minute and the taste of blood, but she pulled it off. “I’m not laughing now.”

He leaned against the counter next to her. “You first.”

His cocky smile said he didn’t think she’d do it.

He really didn’t know her at all.

Still sitting on the counter. Grace rolled onto her knees, slid her hands under her hemline, hooked her thumbs in the elastic straps of her panties, and slowly pulled them down her thighs, past her knees, and kicked them off. “Done.”

“Wow.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m not going to even pretend that wasn’t hotter than hell.”

He stepped in front of her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her to him. His mouth came down on hers in a soft, deep kiss. He pulled her even closer, slid his hands down her hips, spread her legs wide, and then wrapped them around him.

The cold granite chilled her backside, but she didn’t care because his tongue darted in and out of her mouth as his hand worked its way to her inner thigh. Slowly his fingers drew tiny circles up her thigh until they found her opening. One finger dipped in, and she arched her hips taking him in. His finger danced around, stroking while his thumb rubbed just the right spot.

She pressed herself into him, and his fingers picked up speed. Delicious tingles zipped through her system as he slid in two more fingers and his palm replaced his thumb.

The orgasm started building, but the cold biting into her backside was hard to ignore.

She broke off from the kiss. “That feels really good, but this counter is cold. Can we take this upstairs?”

His mouth tickled her ear. “I was thinking the same thing.”

He lifted her off the counter, wrapped his arms tightly around her, grabbed the condoms off of the kitchen table, and carried her upstairs.

She kissed her way across his jaw, down his neck, and all the way to his collarbone. One hand fisted in his golden blonde hair while the other scraped across his back. He kicked open the door to her room, tossed her on the bed, stepped out of his boxers and the one remaining sock. Gently, he picked up her right foot and starting at the ankle, licked his way to her thigh.