she excelled at. She lost herself a little, her hands waving enthusiastically, her face open and expressive. This was the woman he met back at the convention, a woman full of self-assurance and pride. She was beautiful like this, passionate about her job and her life. When she finally stopped talking, Ethan was beaming with pride, and Grant’s mouth was hanging open.
He wanted her to keep talking, and it was painful to watch her take a sip of her wine and then begin her retreat back into herself. He wanted to dig a nail in and pull her back out.
“She’s also an excellent cook,” Ethan added.
Chloe smiled at her brother, and Grant saw the love in her expression. Man, what would it feel like for her to look at Grant like that? The thought surprised him, and he filed it away to deal with later. Maybe. Right now, Chloe wouldn’t even meet his eyes. Grant raised his eyebrows. “Really? Do you bake?”
Chloe shrugged. Her eyes met his briefly, then skittered back to her plate. “A little.”
This was painful, watching her struggle to engage in conversation with him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say this was a different woman, but no, even in that short time they’d been together, he’d mapped this woman’s body, studied her eyes. This was his princess, all right. His princess with all the fight knocked out of her.
Ethan dropped his napkin on the table beside his empty plate. “I need to use the restroom.”
Grant watched his back as he made his way to the front of the restaurant where the restrooms were. When he turned to Chloe, he met her wide-eyed, terrified gaze. He was pretty sure his look mirrored hers.
Grant was fucked.
…
Chloe’d had a lot of nightmares in her life. Some weren’t real. Some were.
And this… Well, this rated near the top, she was confident in confirming.
Breck was Grant. Grant was Breck.
And she was mortified.
She’d heard a little bit about Grant through Ethan. He was a smart businessman, and he loved his women. Women plural. The guy got around, apparently, and while she knew that she had just been another notch on Breck’s bedpost, it rubbed her the wrong way to think she was a mark on Grant’s.
This was why she didn’t like to date, or socialize at all really. Because of awkward situations like the one she was in now, the one where Grant’s blue eyes were glowing in the candlelight of the restaurant.
She had to admit that, during their meal, her mind had drifted to that night in the hotel room more times than she could count. He’d played her body like no man had ever done before. She’d experienced her first internal orgasm with him, for God’s sake. She’d run home and researched it, because what he’d done to her had been beyond intense. Now that she was again in Grant’s presence, her body tugged toward him, like he was gravity. She’d been so happy knowing that the last impression Breck/Grant had of her was the way she was as Sari. Knowing that Grant saw her now, as plain, simple, shy Chloe, was embarrassing. Of course they both knew they’d been playing parts. But it was under the assumption they’d never have to see each other without the armor. It was amazing how she’d taken her clothes off in front of this man and yet now—fully clothed—was when she’d never felt more naked.
Grant cleared his throat and opened his mouth and Chloe groaned. Because she didn’t want to do this. She prayed silently that Ethan would hurry the hell up.
“I… It’s good to see you again.” Grant’s hand drifted up and she would have flinched away if it was any other man. But she remembered his touch, and her body wanted to rub against him and purr like a cat. He brushed the bottom edge of her hair, and the movement of the strands tickled her scalp. “You cut your hair,” he said softly, almost reverently. It was a simple way of acknowledging what they’d done.
She tucked it behind her ear. “It was really long.”
Captain Obvious, reporting for duty.
He smiled. “I liked it long, but this suits you, too. You look really nice, Chloe.”
Her name fell from his lips like dark chocolate. Seductive and sweet.
She took a large gulp of her wine. “So do you.” She managed to make eye contact, watched as the candlelight gleamed on his golden hair, and she remembered his thick strands in her fingers. She clutched