“Here.” He darts over to his suitcase, unzipping it and riflingthrough until he withdraws a gray T-shirt. “You can wear this. It’s my favorite.”
Is this really happening?
“I’ll set my alarm for six, so we have plenty of time to get you to work and check on your car. And I’ll make sure it gets to you as soon as they have it ready.” His big blue eyes are practically pleading with me. Is it his guilt weighing in? Or has this been his plan? So he can make a move on me?
Yet, for some insane reason, I trust him. And what’s more, as much as I should get home to prepare to start tomorrow on better footing than today, I’m not ready for this crazy ride to end. It’s just one night, Grace. Think of the good karma coming your way for helping him.
Reaching for the T-shirt, I make my way to the bathroom. Carefully closing and locking the door behind me, I remove my beautiful outfit and kick off my shoes. “What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?” I repeat under my breath like a psycho. Because I must be to be entertaining this.
How have I let this happen? I barely know this guy, and now I’ve not only lied to a kind widower but am about to get in bed with this swindler. I pull his gray cotton T-shirt over my head. It’s soft and smells of laundry soapand him. There’s the slightest trace of his earthy cologne, mixed with citrus. On impulse, I lift the collar of the smooth fabric to my nose and inhale.
Jeez, Grace. You’ve lost it. He may be the hottest man you’ve ever been alone with, but so far, he’s shaping up to be just like your ex. Granted, I can’t recall ever seeing Brad work as hard at anything as Ben did to acquire this construction job. Heck, I’m not certain my ex actually went to work after I left each day. And he certainly never treated me with an ounce of the reverence that Ben had tonight.
It was all an act, Grace. Stop with the dreamy eyes and focus. No men, remember?
I wash my face and hands with the toiletries provided by the hotel before reaching for Ben’s toothpaste on the counter. Squirting a small dab onto the pad of my index finger, I attempt to rid my teeth of theevening’s meal and drinks before rinsing my mouth. My freckles are on full display now without the cover of makeup.
One glance at my freshly scrubbed skin in the mirror, and I begin having second thoughts. Not about sharing a bed with Ben like any sane woman. But about exiting this bathroom wearing only his T-shirt and a tiny pair of boy shorts.
My hands glide down the front of the shirt. “University of Cambridge. Hmm. Must be something he wears to impress the ladies,” I quip. I mean, how many men attend a prestigious London university to work in construction?
Taking a deep breath, I attempt to steady my nerves as I open the door and cross the threshold.
14
BEN
Holy fuck.
15
GRACE
To sayBen has been on his best behavior is an understatement. Nearly from the instant I opened the bathroom door, he’s been almost comically mute.
For the briefest instant, I considered if Ben might pull one of thoseFuck itmoments I love in a romance novel. Where the two main characters know it doesn’t make sense to cross the line, but one of them throws caution to the wind, crossing the room to pull the other into their arms. Then suddenly it’s on like Donkey Kong.
Ben’s lids had grown hooded as he stared at me with white hot fire burning in his gaze, our breathing the only sound between us. Yet he seemed to gather his senses, the moment passing as quickly as it had begun. I blinked wordlessly as he abruptly grabbed something from his duffel bag and swept by me in a rush.
Chewing on the tip of my fingernail, I glance over my shoulder at the closed door.I knew I should’ve kept my makeup on.
Stop, Grace. None of that. The last thing you want is for him to think you’re open to any monkey business. Okay, so maybemybody’s reaction to him is proof I’m subconsciously entertaining the idea. But he doesn’t need to know that.
Deciding to take control of this situation in whatever way I can, I pull back the covers on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom and climb in. At least if something happens, I can grab my phone from the nightstand and lock myself in there until the police arrive. Should I text Tuesday and let her know where I am? But how the hell would I explain any of this?
My ridiculous thoughts are cut short as the bathroom door abruptly swings wide, and Ben emerges wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs and the most glorious set of abs I’ve ever seen in the flesh. Covered in a light dusting of dark chest hair, his pecs arenothing to sneer at either. It’s not until our eyes connect that I realize I’m staring. With my mouth open.
“Sorry. Forgot my shirt.” He gives me a bashful grin, which actually makes him even more appealing.Gah. As if this joker needs any help. He probably left his shirt out here on purpose.
Disappointment blankets me as he locates a worn white tee embossed with some sort of sport logo. He slides it over his head and reaches for his phone. “Six o’clock okay?”
My gaze flicks from his shirt to his eyes before I do the mental math. “Yes. Thank you. I really can’t be late to work.”
Ben drops his cell on the nightstand and turns to me. “I won’t let that happen, Grace. I promise. If I have to, I’ll drop you off at your job and go back and make the arrangements for your car.”
Biting my lip, I turn away so he won’t read the worried expression. I’m not certain I’ve got enough credit remaining on my credit card to pay for whatever that car will need. There’s no way I want to have that conversation in front of him. This is embarrassing enough. Pulling the sheets to my chin, I lie on my side, turn off the bedside lamp, and will myself to sleep. “Goodnight,” I whisper into the dark.
“Goodnight, Grace.” I barely recognize his voice. The gregarious, playful man from earlier has gone. A reserved, almost shameful, dejected imposter in his place.
