When Sparks Fly (82 page)

“My parents love him. In their minds, it’s a given that we’ll marry.”

“Do they know you broke up with him?”

“Oh, yes, but they’re convinced this is just some final rebelliousness on my part.”

Grant runs his finger up and down my arm, his eyes tracking the movement. Avoiding mine. “So, are they right? Maybe you’re getting cold feet and want to have some fun before you settle down.”

“God, you sound like my family,” I mutter, inadvertently rolling my eyes. I’ve heard this song and dance since I first told my parents I wasn’t going to have any relationship with control-freak. “Jeremy and my family want to use me. I can’t do anything about my family, but I do have a say in who I marry. And there is no way I will
ever
marry Jeremy.”

Grant smiles, and something flickers in his eyes. Does my denial of Jeremy make him happy? Is it possible that he wants more from this weekend than just sex?

I can’t think that way. I can’t let my heart get wrapped up in this guy.
Think, Jordyn, think! You don’t do this. You don’t give your heart away. Just ask Jeremy. In all the years you were with him, he never truly owned your heart.

His lips find mine and silence the voices screaming in my head.

“We better get moving,” he says against my lips. “Fireworks will be starting soon, and we have to find a spot on the beach.”

“Oh yeah… fireworks…” I kiss him harder, sliding my tongue over his. He growls and his fingers dig into my arms.

“So not fair, Jordyn.”

“What?” I ask as he stands and offers me his hand.

“Well, if you’re turned on, no one will know. The tenting of my shorts, however, is a dead giveaway that I’m sporting some significant wood.”

“Hmmm… Perhaps I can help with that.” I lean close to his ear, breathing softly, seductive, and then pull the rug out. “Beavis’s naked, hairy ass.”

“Yep, that did it,” he groans, opening the door and waiting for me to pass. “Hey, uh, how do you know Beavis has a hairy ass?”

“Girls talk, unfortunately, and that was about the best part of the story on Beavis.” Laughing, Grant grabs my hand and we walked to the elevator.

We cross the crowded beach. Grant’s buddies have swarmed my friends and picked up a few other women along the way. Grant squeezes my hand and heads in the opposite direction from the group. My smile stretches into a grin. I just hope they won’t see us and make a big scene about us wanting to be alone.

The sun is just barely below the horizon, and the orchestra set up on the pool deck is warming up. We lay out the blanket and Grant rolls up two beach towels to use as pillows.

My eyes travel over his profile; strong jaw, hint of dark, five o’clock shadow. The man is so sexy and confident. My eyes follow the length of his neck, admiring the contours. I want to lean in and kiss it so much. Soft, tender kisses that will make him swallow hard with desire.

“This is not how I envisioned this night going. Or this weekend,” he says with a sigh.

“What did you think was going to happen?” I take a drink from my water bottle.

“My ex is getting married this weekend, so I figured I’d be drunk off my ass and probably passed out.”

“And that’s cause for getting drunk – why? Celebration for dodging that bullet?” I snort, but he just gazes out at the lake. “Or are you pining for a lost love?” A tremor hits my heart, and I wish I hadn’t asked the question. I don’t want to know. I want to be blissfully ignorant for a few more hours, believing Grant only has eyes for me.

“Avoidance of sitting around mulling over every detail of our relationship to figure out what went wrong.”

“That sounds like a waste of time.”

He shrugs. “It’s what I do.”

“I’m guessing you weren’t the one to break up with her?” Grant shakes his head. “Did she give you a reason?”

“
It’s not you, it’s me. We want different things
. Blah, blah, bullshit. I found out later that she slept with her ex-boyfriend while I was deployed.”

“And so you’re trying to figure out what went wrong?”

“What
I
did wrong.” He pokes his finger into his chest.

“What if
you
weren’t the problem?” I poke his chest in the same spot. “What if it’s actually her problem, and nothing you could’ve done would’ve made a difference?”

“Can’t be,” he murmurs.

“Why?”

“Because she’s happy, and I’m alone. It has to be something wrong with me.”

“Maybe she wasn’t the one for you. It’s her moment, but not yours. Did you ever stop to think that your moment is yet to come? Sometimes you have to discover what it is you don’t want, and go through hurt and heartache, so that you can recognize and appreciate what you do want when it comes into your life.”

“So, the right girl for me is out there somewhere, waiting for me?”

I nod, choking on the lump in my throat. “As cliché as it sounds – yes. Hoping you will recognize her when you see her. You’re an incredible man, Grant. Any woman who would throw your love away, is insane, and therefore, not worth wasting a minute of regret over. Trust me, real women who know about crappy men and have had to deal with them, would never let a guy like you go.”

Grant is quiet. We just stare at each other, and I’m hoping with everything I have that he will see that I am that woman. I will appreciate him and never let him go. I should just say it. I shouldn’t leave it to chance that he knows my feelings for him.

But I chicken out.

The orchestra starts playing behind us and the sky starts to fill with bright lights. Grant’s hand caresses my face and he pulls me to his lips. It’s soft and sweet and I know in that moment that I’ve touched his heart. That he has opened it up for me to wiggle my way into and find a home.

I have no idea if we can make it work, but I’m determined not to give up on him.

*

Grant

Jordyn’s eyes are closed, but she’s not sleeping.
Damn, she’s gorgeous.
I could look at her all day. All night. All the time.

I brush a few strands of hair from her cheek. She smiles, her eyes opening and stealing every bit of my breath. She giggles, and it’s so unlike her, that it takes me back a bit.

“That tickles,” she murmurs.

“Well, consider it payback.”

“Mmm, okay.” Her voice has this sultry-sleepiness to it. It levels me, and all I can think about is how to make this girl mine. There is no way I will ever get over her.

“So, tell me, what is it you do?” I ask.

“What’s expected of me.” There’s not an ounce of happiness in her voice as she speaks.

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

A long, drawn out sigh escapes her. “I graduated from college with a business degree and immediately went to work in my family’s business.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool. Lots of college graduates don’t have ready-made positions for them when they graduate.”

“You did.”

“True, but I’m sort of special.” I’m full of false bravado.

“And modest…” A crooked little grin graces her face.

“What kind of business is it?” I ask, bringing the conversation back around. I really want to learn everything I can about this girl so I know what I’m up against trying to convince her to continue this relationship.

“Shipping materials to corporations in the US and some overseas, who then take those materials and turn them into goods. Mostly textiles.” She sounds as if she is reciting from a brochure. “I handle the long-haul traffic division. Trucks, trains – shipping across the country over land. My cousin handles the domestic air freight, and my brother-in-law handles the international exports. My dad is President, and my brother is the VP and heir apparent. Viola, family business.”

“Well, that sounds… interesting.” I have nothing. I never really gave much thought to someone having to actually coordinate things like trucks and trains to get materials to the people that make clothing. It just shows up in the stores and I’m happy it’s there for me to purchase.

She snorts. “No it doesn’t. It sounds as boring as it is. I hate my job, but what are ya gonna do, right? I make good money, have job security… facts my father and brother like to remind me of frequently.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

Her eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“When you were a kid, what did you dream about being?”

She just stares at me for a moment, her face slightly contorted, and I wonder if I’ve grown a third eye in the middle of my forehead.

“I don’t know. I never wasted time thinking about what I wanted. It was drilled into me at a very young age that I’d work in the family business. There was never any other option. My only way of avoiding the business is to do what my mother and sister-in-law did – marry rich and become a stay-at-home mom and hostess-with-the-mostest.”

My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. I can’t imagine a childhood of not having lofty aspirations and pretending to be things that weren’t even real, but wanting to do them anyway because – well, the skies the limit when you’re a kid.

“Why?” she asks. “Are you doing what you always wanted to do?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I mean, from the time I was very young and my dad and grandfather would take me to airshows, I knew I wanted to fly jets. I did everything I needed to do to get into the Naval Academy, and, here I am.”

Her eyes widen as I’m talking, and by the time I finish, they are bright and alive. “Is it everything you thought it would be?”

I nod. “And more. Way more.”

“That’s amazing.” Her eyes tell a duel tale of awe and loss, happiness and regret. I wish I could take her back in time, let her have a real childhood of hopes and unattainable dreams.

I take her hand in mine and kiss it. “Do me a favor. When you get home, loosen the reins on all the expectations, and let your mind take off. Dream – about anything – no matter how silly or unorthodox or impractical. Follow your heart. Find what it is you want and go after it. And do not let anyone stand in your way.”

“Easier said than done.” It’s almost a whisper.

“Life is too short, Jordyn. You deserve to have your own, not the one your parents have dictated. Just be you – a pretty awesome person, from what I’ve seen.”

“You’re a pretty awesome person, Cary Grant. No wonder all the women fall for you.” She leans in and kisses me, and heat flows through me like a river of lava. I don’t want to tell her that I have a knack for getting women, but they never seem to want to stay.

None of that matters now. There is only one person I want in my life. She’s snuggling into my chest, clinging to me like I’m her life jacket in a tumultuous sea.

The only problem is – I’m drowning in her.

I have to tell her. I have to ask her if there is a future for us. Make her see that we are worth taking a chance on.

She draws in a deep breath and exhales, her eyes dulling a bit.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, running my thumb over her delicate cheek.

“I don’t want to leave here – leave you. I really don’t want to go back to my life back in California.”

“Then don’t.” Her eyes narrow a bit, but brighten. “Come home with me,” I say.

My chest seizes and my stomach rolls. Part of me wants this so badly I half consider kidnapping her. Part of me – albeit a very small part – is scared shitless she might actually take me up on the offer.

“Very tempting…” A glint appears in her eyes and I swear I can see the wheels turning.

That’s all the reassurance I need. “Then do it.”

She smiles. “I can’t just go home with you, Grant.”

“Sure you can. We’ll change your tickets. Have someone send your stuff out to you. Problem solved.”

“You’re very impulsive, Mr. Bad Influence.”

I shrug. “Maybe I am…”

“You seriously don’t see an issue with this plan?”

“No. What’s the problem?”

“Um, I don’t know, we’ve only known each other for three days? What if you find out you can’t stand me in a couple of months?”

“I’ll be deployed and will forget how I feel. By the time I get back, I’ll have forgotten all the things I dislike about you, and we can start over.”

Jordyn laughs. “I can’t.” Her voice drops to a near whisper. “I have responsibilities. And we need to see if this is more than just a weekend fling before I up and move across the country.”

“So you want to date? That’s going to be challenging when I live on the east coast and you on the west.”

“We’ll have to date in other ways, then. Talk on the phone. Text. Email. We can Skype. I can visit when you’re not deployed.”

“When?” I ask.

“When what?”

“When will you visit me?”

She chuckles. “When do you want me to visit you?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Grant…”

“Two weeks, then.”

“That might be difficult.”

“See, you’re already making excuses. You should just come home with me now.”

“I said difficult, not impossible. Let me get back there and see if I can take the time off.” She pulls my head around so that we’re practically nose-to-nose. “Work with me here. Meet me halfway. You’re asking me to give up my life, and I’m asking you to give me a little time.”

I exhale. It’s not too much to ask, I guess. “Okay, I can do that. I’m just nervous that you’ll get back home and decide this will never work, and file it away as a weekend affair.”