“I expected something,” he said. “But not that.”
The door to the balcony pushed open and some boisterous partiers spilled onto the balcony. Grace jumped off Simon’s lap as if he were poison and looked toward the ocean, too embarrassed to face anyone at the moment.
“Hey, this is a private party,” yelled Simon. The screeching of the chair let Grace know he stood to deliver the message.
A few women laughed at his message, and she knew everyone knew exactly what she and Simon had been doing. “Sorry, dude,” said a male voice. “The door was unlocked.”
“You have to talk to Jason if you want to come out here,” said Simon.
A chorus of sorrys echoed as the footsteps retreated until the silence settled back in.
“Who’s Jason?” She wrapped her arms around herself. Damn, it was cold without having Simon wrapped around her.
“He owns this place. I asked if we could have the balcony to ourselves for a bit and he said no problem. They have to have it closed if there’s no bouncer on duty to make sure patrons don’t decide to go sand diving.”
Grace glanced down and grimaced at the thirty-foot drop down. “I knew it. You planned this.”
“You knew I wanted you.” He stood beside her.
“No,” she breathed, refusing to look at him. “You’re playing me.”
She shuddered as his fingers brushed the side of her face and pulled her hair over one of her shoulders to leave one side of her neck bare and exposed.
“Is me playing you really so bad?” he asked softly from behind her. He moved in close enough so that his heat seemed to reach out and envelop her without any touch needed. Even so, she had to fight the urge to lean into his strength and get lost in the same sensual tornado he’d just swept her away in.
For the first time, it occurred to her that she might not be able to escape Simon West with her sanity intact.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grace pulled away from him and Simon finally admitted defeat. At least temporary defeat. He probably could convince her to give him another chance if there wasn’t still the fifteen-minute drive back to the cottage to factor in. By then, any lingering pleasure would’ve worn off and he’d be starting from ground zero again.
Shit. The night wasn’t supposed to go like this. To be honest, he’d never expected to do anything more than kiss her, but somehow everything had gotten out of control.
He shouldn’t even be pressuring her for more. It was too likely to push her further away, yet somehow he found himself getting sucked into her. She’d laughed with Andre and bounced around on the dance floor in her ridiculous shirt that practically blinded him when she turned just so to face the lights. But every once in a while, she’d given him a subtle glance that told him she knew exactly how ludicrous he found her and dared him to say something.
He’d kept his mouth shut, but once he noticed her tripping over her feet and laughing exceptionally loud at Andre’s less funny jokes, he’d arranged their private moment on the balcony.
He made a mental note to send Jason a thank-you basket, or some other way to show his appreciation of the balcony time.
“Why don’t we head back in? Andre will be wondering where we are by now,” he offered, reminding her of the real life waiting inside.
Grace nodded. “That’s probably a good id—”
The balcony door opened again and Simon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “This is private.”
“Dean?” asked Grace.
Simon twisted around and grimaced at the man who approached them. “Andre was looking for you,” he said with a smile. “You must be Simon. Dean Carey. Nice to meet you.”
Dean gave Simon a firm handshake and Simon looked the man over. He was probably early to mid-thirties, and he wasn’t dressed for clubbing or partying. His black T-shirt and worn jeans had seen better days, and he had the dusting of stubble of a man who didn’t care about his appearance. “Nice to meet you, Dean. How do you and Grace know each other?”
Grace moved to stand closer to Dean. “We work together.”
“I’m her carpenter,” said Dean with a crooked grin.
“Please.” Grace rolled her eyes. “Dean is my carpenter, electrician, architect, and overall mastermind.”
Simon glanced between the two, sensing the deep friendship between them, and, for reasons he couldn’t quite pin down, the realization of how close they were pissed him off. “I thought you and Andre were the masterminds.”
“Trust me. If I could afford Dean full-time, I’d hire him in a second. But I take whatever help I can get in the meantime.” She smiled up at Dean, and Simon clenched his fists.
“So you’re an expensive handyman?” he asked.
Dean’s smile stayed firmly in place, but his eyes darkened enough to let Simon know he caught the bite in the question. “Money’s tight. My sister is starting college in a few years, and I’m trying to save as much as possible.”
Fuck. Now Simon liked the bastard and that somehow made him hate Dean more. “I think Grace and I were about to leave.” He wished he could go back to five minutes ago when he had Grace moaning on top of him.
They collectively moved back to the door, but Grace still stayed close to Dean. “I really can’t stay late.”
Simon wrapped his hand around Grace’s arm and pulled her back to him as gently as possible.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.
He leaned in close. “For the duration we’re in public, at least pretend you like me.” Even he couldn’t deny the jealousy that dripped off the words. But he wasn’t going to apologize for the order. It was for her own good anyway.
She seemed to understand that too, as her agitated expression softened. “Right.” She pulled free from his grasp and put an arm around his waist. “Better?” Her bright eyes turned to his, and he tried to determine whether she was mocking him or actually asking his opinion.
“Better,” he said with a forced grin, and the laughter in her eyes answered his previous question.
Dean stared at them with narrowed eyes. He could be a serious problem. A man who needed money was always unpredictable, but Grace seemed to trust him. Simon filed it away in his list of things to deal with tomorrow.
For now, his sole focus was to make sure Grace stayed reasonably sober and avoided cursing him out in public.
“Okay then. I’ve got a full day tomorrow, so let’s soak in all the fun we can tonight, boys!” With that, she pulled Simon forward and back into the crowded bar and booming music.
CHAPTER NINE
Simon rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. Five a.m. Who the hell was up and running around at five in the damn morning?
He pushed the covers down. He didn’t drink more than two glasses of whiskey and they’d gotten back to the cottage by eleven thirty, but even on his more strenuous workdays, he didn’t go to client sites until eight or later.
Groaning, he stood up and padded to the door. He debated pulling on a T-shirt, but decided against it. He worked his ass off to get a chest he could show off. Might as well make sure the woman he wanted to sleep with got a good view.