“I’ll pretend I don’t notice.” He clasped his hand around hers.
“Then I lean into the table so I can use it as leverage. What I lack in arm strength I’ll make up for by using my core muscles.”
“And again this is something your opponent wouldn’t expect.”
“Exactly.”
“The key is to keep your arm close to your body.”
“Got it.”
“The next part is all about surprise. If I can bend your wrist forward it’ll weaken your grip. Your attention will go there. Then I use leverage to compensate for the strength difference. If I’m fast and you don’t know the move, your arm will hit the table before you’ve figured out how to counter.” With their hands clasped on the center of the small table and their stances in battle-ready form, she asked, “Do you want to try it?”
He seemed to consider it. “You’ve already given away your advantage.”
“Yes, but you could test the technique now that you know it.”
“You wouldn’t care that I’d win?”
“We’re not in competition with each other—are we?”
He smiled and used his thumb to caress the inside of her wrist. “No, we’re not. So, tell me, what did you need to prove in high school?”
She was only beginning to unravel that herself now. “I don’t know. That I was worthy? That I could take care of myself?”
“Your brothers didn’t protect you? From the way you describe them they sound like the type who would.”
“It’s complicated.” She went to pull her hand away, but he held it there.
“So uncomplicate it. Remove the emotion and give me the facts.”
She looked away before raising her eyes to his again. “I’ve never told anyone. I’m not the whiny, crying, weak type who gushes on about the past.”
“No, you’re not, but there is nothing inherently wrong with a good cry. Who told you there was?”
To answer him honestly she needed to face a secret shame she’d carried with her for a long time. Voicing it felt like a betrayal. “My father is good man.”
Grant’s hand tightened on hers. “But?”
She sat and he followed suit. Memories came surging forward and she clung to his hand as she was transported back in time. “I was devastated when my mother died. She was sick for a long time, but that didn’t make it easier. I cried so much at her funeral that my father walked away from me. He walked away from everyone. One of my uncles followed after him and so did I. I was so afraid to lose him, too. I hid behind a tree. He didn’t know I was there. He wouldn’t have ever said anything to hurt me. But I heard him say he wished they’d stopped at two children. He asked my uncle if he thought it would be best to place me with his sister. Boys were different, he said. They were easy. He didn’t know what to do with me. I didn’t realize it until I left Cairo, but I spent almost the next twenty years trying to prove to him that I was not a problem—that I was as capable, smart, and strong as my brothers. I love my father and my brothers, but I’ve never told them what I heard that day. Talking about it would hurt my father, and I know he loves me. In my head I know he didn’t mean what he said that day. He didn’t send me away.” Viviana didn’t need to wipe away tears because she’d taught herself not to cry. “I don’t want to be angry about something that happened so long ago, and I don’t want to let it control me anymore. I’m on a journey to find me, and I’m hoping that Boston is where that happens.” She sighed with relief. Voicing what she’d held in for so long released her from the weight of it.
“Thanks for sharing that with me. You truly are a remarkable woman.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently, a move that was almost her undoing. “Was last night part of that journey?”
She smiled. “Maybe.” She laced her fingers with his. “You’re a bad influence on me.”
He kissed her knuckles. “So bad I’m good, I hope.”
She had trouble maintaining eye contact as she admitted, “I wouldn’t be here now if you weren’t.”
His expression turned serious. “I should have been more careful last night. That won’t happen again. I’m prepared tonight.”
“I share equal responsibility. I am, too.”
His eyebrows rose. “You are?”
“I’m a grown woman. I can stop at a pharmacy and buy condoms. Anyone who can’t has no business having sex in the first place.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He leaned forward again and asked softly, “How many did you bring?”
“Excuse me?” she asked with a surprised laugh.
“I’m curious.”
She glanced at her purse. “I’m not sure. I didn’t exactly count them.”
A lusty smile spread across his face. “I did, but since your number is unknown let’s play a game.” There it was—the tone he used that shot desire through her, warming her skin and wetting her panties.
“What kind of game?”
“The one with the most condoms wins.”
She laughed, all tension from before forgotten. “Wins what?”
“Whatever they want tonight.”
Oh, yes.
Oh, no. This requires some ground rules. “As long as it’s something the other person is comfortable with.”
“Of course.”
Viviana reached for her purse then glanced around. “Right here?”
Grant answered without hesitation. “I don’t care if you don’t care.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless you’re embarrassed by how many you brought.”
She unzipped her bag. “I don’t embarrass that easily. Prepare to go down.”
He wiggled his eyebrows again. “That’s one option. I’ll decide after I win.”
His playful smile tugged at her heart. For a brief second she wished they had started differently. She wondered how she would have felt in that moment if this stage had come later—layered on something solid.
Stop. She warned herself. If I can’t appreciate this for the simplicity of what it is, then I should go home now.
He’s not making promises or professing feelings.
I’m not expecting this to end with a proposal.
I like how I feel when I’m with him, and I’m beginning to like who I see in the mirror. He is helping me find a path back to myself. Maybe that’s all this was meant to be.
And if so—isn’t it still pretty damn amazing?
She removed a foiled condom from her bag and placed it on the table between them. “One. Match it or lose.”
He made a show of reading the packaging. “Extra large. I’m flattered.” Then he dug into the front pocket of his jeans and placed one of his own similar condoms then added another. “I match your one and raise you one.”
He looked so damn proud of himself she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him across the table for a deep, lingering kiss. With her lips still hovering close to his, she murmured, “Two is conservative. Realistic.” She sat back, lined up a second condom next to his and added an additional one. “However, I can match that and raise you one.”
He chuckled. “I see we share the same optimism about tonight.” He ran a caressing hand down her neck and over her arm before reaching back into his front pocket. “I match your three and raise you another.”
The sound of a slap drew Viviana’s attention away from their game. A passing couple had paused and were momentarily taken in by the scene before them. At any other time, with any other man, Viviana would have been mortified, but with Grant she felt young, sexy, and shameless. She smiled at the couple and said, “Seven should be enough, don’t you think?”
The couple looked shocked to be included in something so intimate. They nodded and retreated. Viviana burst out laughing.
Chapter Five
‡
Grant laughed so hard his side cramped. Never. Never had he met a woman he enjoyed being with as much as Viviana. She was a delightful combination of shy and bold, soft and strong, sincere but also sassy. He had no idea what she would say
or do next, but he wanted to be there to experience it.
Of course she could win an arm wrestling match. He loved the idea of her taking on the entire male population of her high school one at a time—and winning.
He didn’t like the reason behind why she’d done it, but her ability to look back at what her father had said with sympathy and loyalty touched him deeply. Viviana Sutton was a good person. He wished he could have spared her from the pain she must have felt when she’d heard her father wished her gone, but he was old enough to understand that with pain came growth. Her decision to move to Boston was a reasonable one. He didn’t know why she’d only had fifty dollars for that douche she’d dated to steal, but the more he learned about her the less he believed it was because she was irresponsible. It wasn’t something he could ask her about without offending her, so for now it was on the backburner.
As he reflected on all she’d shared about her own family, he regretted that he’d restricted himself to names and ages. She had opened up to him with such heartfelt honesty that he’d again been tempted to tell her the truth. If he did, and she didn’t run off angrily, she’d see how much they had in common.
Loss had changed both of their families. He’d lost a brother. She’d lost a mother. Both families had struggled, stumbled, and were dealing with the aftermath. I know how it feels to hold my tongue because there is no winner when it comes to loss. Everyone suffers. Everyone makes mistakes and does their best to piece things back together.
I could tell her now.
Or I can tell her tomorrow.
It wasn’t simply the promise of a night of sex with her that he wasn’t ready to risk losing. Things would change the second she knew he was rich. She’d look at him differently—in a better or worse light. Money and power were two things that very rarely brought out the best in a person.
