Grant

  “It ain’t hard to be!” a male voice shouted from the back.

  More laughter. Grant went on in a louder voice. “The best-looking and the biggest-hearted. I love you guys.”

  “To Adam and Bailey!” The toast rang out, most enthusiastically from Christina. She sent Grant a smile—he really could be sweet.

  Grant caught her look, flushed dark red, and sat down.

  ***

  As the party went on and dancing began, Christina figured she had two choices. She could hide her pain and make sure Bailey had the best day ever, or she could get drunk with the other girls, make a big fool of herself, and maybe try to get laid.

  Christina picked option one. She wasn’t much of a drinker and this was Bailey’s day. It wasn’t about Christina and her stupid, messed-up life.

  Everyone in town was there, and a few from out of town Christina didn’t know. Adam had invited some of his stuntman friends who were being admired by all the ladies, including Lucy. Carter was walking around with a stranger—a well-groomed woman in a subdued beige silk dress that set off her slender limbs and pretty face. She watched the crowd with interest but stayed with Carter and Olivia, talking quietly to them. Christina noticed other guests eyeing her curiously—they didn’t know who she was either.

  Ray was there, but he wouldn’t look at Christina. He’d avoided her at the church and then at the reception, dancing with everyone but her.

  Kyle Malory took Christina to the dance floor once, but mostly he wanted to know what was up between her and Ray. Christina said, “Nothing we really want to talk about,” and refused to discuss it. If Ray wanted his brother to know his business, he’d tell him.

  By the time the night was well advanced, Christina’s head hurt and her throat ached. No, she realized, her entire body hurt, even her face, from keeping up all this damned smiling. She was happy for Bailey, but also exhausted and heartsore.

  Grant was ignoring her, which was fine, but did he have to flirt with every woman in the tent? Christina felt guilty about angering Ray, which made her heart ache even more.

  She ended up outside in the dark, under the cluster of live oaks not far from the house. The tall trees rustled in the night breeze, the music and laughter from the tent muted in the distance.

  Christina took a few breaths of the soft air, letting it calm her. She could do this. She could make it until Bailey and Adam drove off to New Orleans for their honeymoon. She’d kiss her sister good-bye, wish her well, and wave her off.

  Then she, her mother, Olivia, and anyone else who could be recruited, would start cleaning up. Put away the party, and go back to real life. Bailey was starting a new journey—Christina had to keep on going with the old.

  She sighed. No use standing around being maudlin and depressed. Bailey didn’t deserve that.

  Christina straightened up and took a step toward the path to the tent … and was brought to an abrupt halt. Branches of scrub around the trees had tangled in the big pink tulle bow on the back of her dress, and now they held her fast.

  “Great,” she muttered.

  She tugged. Nothing. She tugged harder, and froze when she heard fabric rip.

  If she tore the dress trying to get away, Bailey and her mom would not be happy. Not only that, Christina would have to walk around the party with the back half of her dress gone, because all of her clothes were at Bailey’s.

  “Shit,” she whispered.

  Christina heard a step on last year’s fallen leaves, saw the silhouette of a man backlit against the distant tent. She recognized him in a heartbeat, could never forget his broad-shouldered form, his easy stance.

  He must have recognized her in return, because he turned on his heel and started back the way he’d come.

  “Grant!” Christina called softly. “Don’t walk away. Help me!”

  Grant paused, turned, and peered into the shadows. “Christina, what the hell are you doing?”

  He stepped beneath the trees, out of the moonlight. Now he was a smudge of white where his tux shirt was, his blue eyes rendered black.

  “I’m not doing anything,” Christina said. “I’m stuck.”

  “In the mud?”

  “No, to the tree.”

  It sounded stupid as it came out of her mouth. Grant snorted a laugh.

  “What were you doing?” he asked. “Climbing it?”

  Christina made a noise of frustration. “I came out here for a breath of fresh air. I’ve got twigs or something tangled up in the dress.”

  “Climbing it,” Grant said with conviction. “Or climbing someone else. Where’s Ray?”

  “I came out here by myself. Damn it, Grant. Just help me.”

  Grant chuckled. “Grace under pressure.”

  “I suck at that, and you know it. You going to help or just laugh at me?”

  “Laughing at you is more fun,” Grant said as he came closer. “Hold still.”

  He worked at the twigs woven through the tulle. Christina didn’t move, the warmth of him holding her in place more securely than the branches.

  Grant tugged harder, his sleeve brushing her bare back. “You are well and truly stuck.”

  “I know that.”

  Grant pulled at the big wad of tulle sewed to the satin. “Maybe I can just remove the bow. Oh, wait, some of the back of the dress is tangled too. You might have to rip the whole thing.”

  Christina let out an exasperated breath. “Geez, Bailey will kill me. She and Mom spent so much time on the dresses.”

  “You can always take it off.” Grant’s tone moved from laughing to sensual as his blunt fingers flicked the tab of the zipper.

  Christina stilled as heat rocketed through her. Fire moved from his finger on the zipper down between her legs and up again to her breasts.

  An image flashed through her head of Grant skimming the dress from her, his arms around her, she lifting to him, their bodies coming together in the darkness under the trees.

  She cleared her throat. “Right,” she said, her jaw tight. “And run around in my underwear? I’d look like a fool.”

  “No,” Grant said in a low voice. “That’s not what you’d look like.”

  Christina held her breath. Moonlight caressed Grant’s face as he gazed at her for a long moment.

  The moment broke and he bent to concentrate on loosening the twigs from the dress.

  Christina turned her head to study his jaw, brushed with dark whiskers, the dark hair smoothed around his ear. All she had to do was lean a little farther, and she could take his earlobe between her teeth.

  Grant’s hand brushed her bare scoop of back, his touch hot and strong. Christina couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. A breeze swirled around her and she shivered.

  “Ah. Got it.”

  The dress went slack as the twigs loosened their hold. Christina stepped away from both the tree and Grant.

  “Thanks,” she said quickly.

  He said nothing, so she nodded at him, and started to walk away.

  “You got crap all over you,” Grant said behind her. “Might want to do something about that.”

  Christina balled her fists, her heart sinking. She wanted to get away from him before she did something stupid, but she marched back to him as well as her high heels let her. “Brush it off. Please?”

  Grant went silent as his warm hands started down the dress, picking things out of the tulle, smoothing the satin.

  After a moment, his hands slowed. Grant was standing almost on top of her, his feet alongside hers. Christina’s hip moved against his thighs, and then against what was between his legs.

  Hard and thick, his cock pressed the fabric of his tux pants, telling her he wasn’t immune to their closeness, the intimacy of being alone together in the dark.

  Grant’s chest moved with his intake of breath. His touch stilled on her back, only to come around her waist as he turned her, pulling her against him.

  Christina’s hands landed on his chest, fingers curling.

  For one
heartbeat, two, they looked at each other. The breeze swirled around them, bringing the laughter from the tent, the acrid smoke of the barbecue mixed with the mellow scent of spring wildflowers.

  “Aw, fuck,” Grant said in a hoarse whisper.

  Christina couldn’t breathe as Grant’s hold tightened on her, and he came down to cover her mouth in a raw, desperate kiss.

  Chapter Four

  Christina tasted like champagne and smelled like roses. Grant opened her mouth with his, their tongues tangling, seeking, hands dragging each other closer.

  Christina’s dress molded perfectly to her body, the satin letting Grant run his palms up her waist, under her breasts. Only the tulle got in the way, a huge lump of it where her ass was. But screw it. He could kiss her fine like this, cupping her breast in his hand.

  Any second one of them would come to their senses and push the other away. Any moment now.

  Christina clutched at his jacket, and damned if she didn’t start pushing it open. Her hands landed on his cummerbund then moved quickly up the thin shirt. Fingertips found his flat nipples and she started to caress them.

  She must remember how much he loved that. Tingling started in Grant’s chest and rushed to meet the fire in his already hard cock.

  He broke the kiss long enough to slide his confining coat from his arms, letting it fall into the mud—who cared? Christina was already coming up to him as Grant brought his mouth down on hers again.

  He kissed her swiftly, needing her. Too long, too long without her.

  Grant slid his hands to her thighs as they frantically kissed and shoved her skirt upward. She wore stockings with elastic tops, not pantyhose. Nice. Her underwear was a thin band of satin and lace, easy to move.

  Grant’s fingers found her heat. Warm liquid flowed over his hand, and Christina made a soft sound against his mouth.

  The alcohol Grant had consumed floated around in his brain, combining with his loneliness and need for this woman. He slid his fingers inside her and was rewarded with the jerk of her body, the growl in her throat.

  “Christina,” he whispered against her mouth. “I love how you’re always wet for me.”

  Her answer was to renew the kiss, a crush of lips, her mouth seeking his.

  Christina’s questing fingers found the latch of the cummerbund and it followed the jacket to the ground. The button and zipper of his tux pants opened next. Christina shoved her way in, and then she was locking her hands around his cock.

  “Damn, woman.”

  Christina was sweet and hot, and what the hell had he been thinking, walking away from her?

  They were hungry for each other. They always had been.

  Christina knew exactly how to make Grant come alive. She knew how to stroke him, how to flick her thumb over his tip, which made him jerk.

  He rubbed her in response, and she rocked against his hand, the two of them both giving and taking.

  Their kisses were frenetic. Teeth scraped lips, mouths bruised. Christina suckled his tongue. Grant groaned against her as Christina’s hands moved on him, exactly matching the rhythm of his fingers inside her.

  He was going to come standing up. But what did he expect with this hot, sexy woman in his arms, who knew exactly how to work him?

  “You’re sweet, baby,” he said. “It’s always so good, you and me.”

  Christina was moving against him, her excitement rising. Grant loved how she came—exuberant, totally into it, letting herself go without shame. The anticipation of seeing that again ramped his own excitement high.

  “Grant!” The bellowing voice of Carter floated up the hill from the tent. “You out here?”

  Shit.

  Christina tore herself away from Grant, stumbling back before he could catch her. Her hand was gone from his cock, chill wind taking place of her warmth.

  Christina shimmied her skirt down and took another step back, breathing hard.

  “Damn it.” Grant choked on the words, coughed. “My brothers are so effing good at timing.”

  His pants were sagging around his thighs. He did not need Carter jogging up here, finding him with his slacks falling down and his cock hanging out. Grant pulled up, zipped, buttoned, and then groped on the ground for his cummerbund.

  Carter was heading this way, and he had someone with him.

  “Christina,” Grant said, moving to her. He didn’t know if this had been a crazy one-off or a prelude to make-up sex, or the first step at reconciliation. All Grant knew was that he didn’t want to let her go. Not if there was a chance for them.

  “Go on,” Christina said, her voice grating. “Go—he’s not going to wait.”

  Grant stared at her a moment, trying to read her. Her stance said pissed off, her breathing and her tone said scared. Of what?

  Grant lifted his coat, tried to brush it off, gave up, and folded it over his arm. When he looked up to tell Christina to come with him, she was gone.

  Where she’d stood was empty moonlight, only a few scraps of pink tulle floating on the grass to say she’d ever been there at all.

  “Fuck,” Grant said softly, and went to meet Carter.

  ***

  Carter was with a woman Grant had not met, though he’d seen her at the reception. Not a date, he concluded—the woman wore a rather plain beige sheath dress, had blond hair tamed into a soft, pulled-back bun, and wore only a smattering of jewelry on ears and fingers. She was in her thirties, brown-eyed, pretty in that successful-woman kind of way.

  Probably a new client, wanting trick riders for some show or one of her horses trained. Carter obviously had invited her to the reception, but Carter was ready to talk business with anyone at any time. He rarely let down his walls.

  Besides, Carter didn’t date. He’d hook up with a woman, have sex with her, maybe see her a few more times, and that was it. He didn’t go chasing them, and never mixed business with sex.

  “Grant Campbell?” the woman asked before Carter could speak. “I’m Karen Marvin.” She opened her small purse and held out a card. “Casting director for Weldwood Studios. We shoot commercials. I need a cowboy. Maybe three. And someone to put together the riding stunts.”

  So, a client. Grant rolled the card around his fingers and stepped back so she wouldn’t try to shake his hand. With what he’d just been doing, probably not a good idea.

  Commercials were usually cast through an agency, who’d contact the Campbells and ask them to come in for an audition. But sometimes people sought out the brothers directly and asked them to set up the whole shoot, plan the stunts, do the riding, and hire extra riders if necessary.

  At any other time, Grant would be happy to start working out a new show. Right now, however, with Christina’s kisses burning his lips, the imprint of her fingers on his cock, he didn’t give a shit about anything but her.

  “We were thinking—train robbery,” Karen was saying. “A couple of bandits robbing a train, all in a hard day’s work.”

  Grant kept the card going around. Karen looked him up and down, noting his coat over his arm, his rumpled shirt. His hair was probably a mess as well, and if Christina had been wearing lipstick …

  Karen’s eyes glinted. She knew damn well what Grant had been doing out there in the dark, and that they’d interrupted him. And she thought it was funny.

  “What is this commercial for?” Grant asked abruptly.

  Carter answered. “Laundry detergent. Don’t ask. I said we could probably do it, but I had to talk about it with you first, since you’d be lead rider.”

  Carter rode as well, but he spent most of his time making deals, following up with clients, and talking to people who owed the business money. People forked out what they owed quick when they saw Carter coming to talk to them. Though no longer the degenerate teen, Carter could be damn scary.

  “A train robbery,” Grant said. “Means we’ll need a train.”

  “Taken care of,” Karen answered, one hand on her hip. “There’s a historical society that restores trains n
earby and we’ll be hiring one, plus an engineer to drive it.”

  Grant had heard of them, but he’d never been out there. “Then I’ll need to take a look at the place.” Grant ran his hand through his hair, hoping to tame it down. “Talk to them, figure out what kinds of things we can do, make sure we can do everything safely. The whole bit.”

  “I’ll leave that to you,” Karen said. “Do we have a deal?”

  Grant looked at Carter, and Carter gave him the faintest nod. Meant the money was good enough to go for it, and that they’d have plenty of control.

  Grant knew Carter had already decided before bringing Karen to meet Grant. He was just being polite.

  “Sure,” Grant said, shrugging. “I don’t see why not. Leave the stunt set-up to me. Tyler is one of the best riders there is, and I can bring in a couple other guys, depending on how many you need.”

  “Good.” Karen put warmth in the word. She looked at Carter, then at Grant again, and repeated, “Good,” with a hint of sensual interest.

  She was enjoying standing between two cowboys, Grant realized. Liked having men around her, especially ones in good shape who might be interested in taking her to bed. Grant should tell her not to pin her hopes on Carter, and she shouldn’t pin her hopes on Grant either. Now that he’d had another taste of Christina, Grant wasn’t about to move on to anyone else.

  “Nice reception,” Karen said, as though she had nothing else on her mind. “Thanks for letting me come, Carter. I hope I didn’t intrude.” She shot Grant another knowing look.

  “Nah,” Grant said. “Our mom invited the whole town. Couldn’t have you be the only one sitting alone in the motel.”

  “I’m staying in Fredericksburg,” Karen said. “Cute place, so historic.”

  She was a city girl, Grant surmised. They didn’t like being out in the country unless it was tamed and manicured and close to a metropolis.

  “Long way to drive, this late,” Grant said.

  Carter nodded. “Maybe you should stay at the house.” Generous, for Carter, who didn’t like strangers anywhere near his family.