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“Sure,” she said.
He closed the door behind him. He wore a pair of dark dress pants and a blue shirt that really brought out his eyes.
“Please leave the door open.”
“What?”
“Sue-Ellen thinks I’m spending too much time with you behind closed doors. You know she goes straight to Malcolm with her concerns, so I really don’t want to give her any more fodder.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and made no move to open the door. She didn’t want to force the issue. Worrying about a closed door seemed kind of silly to her, but she was willing to do whatever was needed to keep the school open.
“Is that why you’ve been too busy to have dinner with me the last two weeks?” he asked.
“No. I have a life. I wasn’t just sitting alone in my house waiting for you to start asking me out.” She hoped he’d never know how many nights she’d spent sitting alone in her house thinking of him. Fantasizing about what it would be like to be in his arms. Her dreams had now become fevered remembrances of his mouth on her body. Her hands on him. She squirmed a little in her chair just at the thought of the intimacies they’d shared.
“Too bad for me,” he said with a self-deprecating grin that made her smile back at him.
“What did you want to discuss?” she asked, knowing if she didn’t change the subject she was going to do something she’d regret, like tell him to lock the door then seduce him on her desk.
“The gym needs a new floor. And that’s not in your budget,” he said, leaning back against the still-closed door.
“What do you suggest we do?” she asked. The school needed a lot of repairs. The tuitions that they’d had to refund after the scandal broke had left them in a sticky place.
“Coach Jarrett and the boys’ team suggested a charity basketball game to raise money. We’d use the outdoor courts for play.”
That was a great idea, but she wondered how many games they’d have to play to earn enough money to resurface the floor. “Okay. But I don’t think we’re going to raise enough with just our team. Attendance at the games hasn’t been that high.”
“I’m going to contact a few of the musicians on my label and get them to come and play.”
“I approve that idea. When were you thinking of having the event?”
“The weekend prior to spring break. I think that will give us some high-profile press coverage and we can maximize it to bring our enrollment numbers up.”
“Sounds good. I have some local media contacts we can use. And Barbara Langdon would be a great parent to coordinate this. She’s super-organized. Do you want me to set that up?”
“Yes. I’ve given Bruce all the information on the artists I think will participate.”
She made a few notes on her computer calendar. Adam came farther into her office, leaning one hip on the side of her desk right next to her.
“Now that we’ve got school business out of the way….”
She pushed her chair away from the desk to put more space between them. “Yes?”
“I’ve got tickets to the Stars. Want to join me?” he asked.
She wanted to say yes. She’d never been to a professional sports game. Ever. And the Dallas Stars were a really good hockey team. She knew they were going for the Stanley Cup.
But more than any interest in sports, she wanted to spend time with Adam. To feed the obsession that had grown in the weeks when they’d been dealing with each other only for the school’s business. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What will the board think?”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s easy for you to say. If the school closes down, you still have a job.”
“Do you think I’m that callous?”
“No,” she said. “But I do think you’re used to everyone doing what you want them to.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Why do I have to be afraid? Malcolm is just looking for an excuse to get the board to fire me.”
“Going to a hockey game with me isn’t going to affect your job.”
He had a point. She knew it. But she was starting to care for him and she was afraid if they got any closer that she was never going to recover when he moved on. And he would move on, because there wasn’t anything to hold him here in Plano. She wasn’t the kind of woman that made a man stop roaming around. Much as she wanted to be.
“Okay,” she said, realizing that she was running from herself again. She had to stop running away if she really wanted to find herself.
Adam was surprised by how challenging he found the work at Tremmel-Bowen. The school was one of those connections to his parents that he’d distanced himself from. They’d been very involved in the running of the school and, at twenty-five, when he’d learned the truth about himself, he’d been angry. Carrying on his family’s traditions hadn’t seemed important.
But without intending to, Grace was giving him a chance to see the pride that his father must have felt in the school. Talking to the students and seeing the campus, he felt a connection to the Bowens that he’d lost when he’d heard a few sentences uttered from a distant relative. A relative who had made the loving family he’d always taken for granted a big lie.
It was why he was a stickler about the truth.
Tonight he promised himself that he would bring up the subject of Grace’s erotic story. He’d find a way to make her tell him about it and then admit he’d read it.
He knew they’d both retreated after the intimacy they’d shared on his pool deck. And he’d come to some strange conclusions about himself and Grace. No matter why he’d first become attracted to her, the need to know her and bind her to him had grown.
He rang the doorbell at her house a few minutes early. Grace lived in a neatly kept townhome community. A small, wrought-iron bench sat to the left on her small porch and a Welcome wreath hung on the door. The scene felt welcoming in a way he associated only with Grace.
He heard her footsteps on some kind of hardwood or tile floor before the door opened. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore a pair of baggy jeans and a cute pink T-shirt. He smiled to himself at the way she carefully concealed her curvy body.
He didn’t like that she hid that part of herself. She had the kind of body that he’d always dreamed of holding. And she was embarrassed by it. Her words—that she was made for sin—still lingered in the back of his mind.
Even if he left Grace with nothing other than the school, he’d first make her see herself through his eyes. To see that she was so much more than that long-ago image she had of herself.
“I just need to put on my shoes and change my purse. Do you want to come in for a drink?”
“That would be nice,” he said, catching a glimpse of her decor over her shoulder. The floor was a dark hardwood, probably oak. A coat tree stood to one side, hung with Grace’s coats, and a brightly colored scarf lay draped over a small table.
She led the way through her house. It was elegantly decorated with some homey touches—photos on the mantel, antiques in the hallways. As he glanced around her private sanctuary he realized he was seeing another layer of that private woman. The house suited her.
“I’ve got iced tea, beer and some white wine,” she said, opening the refrigerator and glancing inside it.
“Tea would be great.”
“It’s not sweet.”
“Perfect.” He realized she was nervous about having him here. And he liked that. She was always so confident of herself, moving through life as though nothing really bothered her, that he liked shaking her up.
She got a glass with ice and poured the tea. She set it on the breakfast bar and moved to the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the counter next to the refrigerator and watching him as if she wasn’t sure what to do with him.
“I’m not going to pounce on you now that we’re finally alone again.” Though he wanted to. His arms were empty without her in them. He wanted to kiss and caress her, to keep their relationship on a level that he easily understood, and fit the mold of what he expected from the women in his life, instead of dealing with all the other things that she brought to the surface. The longings for home and permanency that he’d thought he’d shed a long time ago.
“I didn’t think you would,” she said with a tart note in her voice.
“Then what’s up?” he asked, after taking a sip of his iced tea.
She shrugged. “My house is so much smaller than yours.”
He was coming to realize that one of Grace’s major hang-ups was the fact that she was conscious of what other people had and measured herself against them. Why would she think he’d be judging her by the size of her house?
If she knew the truth about him—the fact that he was a fake Bowen—she might not care that his house was bigger than hers. But he knew it was his money, the money he’d earned on his own, that provided the basis for his wealth. He’d taken his parents’ entire fortune and donated it to charities that he knew his mother would have supported.
“I like your house, Gracie. It’s a lot like you.”
“How?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her waist. He had the feeling that if he said the wrong thing she was going to retreat even further into herself and disappear completely.
“Well, this kitchen is bright and welcoming. Your house if filled with photos and antiques, stuff that has a lasting feeling to it.”
She nodded and her arms dropped to her sides. “I always wanted roots. When I was growing up, my father served in a lot of different communities in Texas. We were constantly moving.”
“And you’ve put them down.” He knew she had. The way she spoke about moving made it very clear exactly what she thought of it. He realized that, if there was going to be any real lasting relationship between the two of them, he’d have to change his ways. And he wondered if she would be worth staying for.
She nodded. “The antiques aren’t heirlooms. I bought them at auctions and estate sales.”
“That doesn’t change what they represent about you.”
She bit her lower lip. “I’ll be quick getting ready.”
“Take your time. Do you mind if I explore your house?”
She released a long breath. “Okay.”
Grace enjoyed having Adam in her house. He was the missing piece of the puzzle that she’d created of a picture-perfect life. He’d been the fantasy in her head for a long time, the man who’d make this little empty house feel more like home—and now he was here.
Her fear was that she only liked him because he did fill the hole in her life. That she wasn’t infatuated with a real man. It was complicated and she wanted it to be simple. For a relationship with Adam to be easier than it was.
She’d wasted some time when she’d gotten home, writing down her latest fantasy about him. In her dream relationship, he was completely enthralled with her and her body.
She finished getting ready and then went to find Adam. To her dismay, he was in her home office, sitting at her desk. She knew that her handwritten notes on “Adam’s Mistress” were there. The printed copy of her story was still at work, but she’d been editing a handwritten version of it earlier that day, adding in details from the night at his home.
She noticed he was studying something on her desk. For a second, she couldn’t breathe. She’d die if he’d found that story. In fact, tomorrow she was going to shred the thing at work and destroy this copy.
“You like Viper?” he asked.
For a minute it was as if he were speaking a different language. Then she realized her mouse pad featured the heavy metal alternative band.
“Yes. I do. Their music is different.”
“You know they’re one of my artists. Actually, the first band I signed.”
“I did know that,” she said. She’d checked them out originally because she knew that Adam liked them.
“I can get you an autograph,” he said, with one of those silly grins of his.
“Really. Then maybe I’ll like you.”
He laughed, a full-bodied one that made her feel good. “All the girls say that, but as soon as they get their autograph …”
“I’m not like other girls, Adam.”
He pushed to his feet and came around the front of her desk. It was a cheap one that she’d gotten at a scratch-and-dent sale. He leaned against the front of it, legs crossed at the ankles, arms resting on either side of his hips.
“I know that.”
“Why are you here? I mean really. I’m not your usual type of date.”
She’d tried not to think about him. Had focused on the school and keeping it going. But in the back of her mind she’d been looking for excuses to keep him at arm’s length. Not because she didn’t want him closer but because she feared what would happen if she did and it turned out he wasn’t as interested in her.
“I think we’ve discussed this before.”
She envied him his ease and self-confidence in this situation. She’d handled herself with aplomb when she’d had to confront two teachers having sex in a classroom but this was simply beyond the scope of her experience. Adam was beyond that scope, and she hoped he’d never realize by how much.
“I think you’re right, but I still don’t get it. It seems like this is some sort of dream and that I’m going to wake up and you’ll still be treating me like a stranger.”
“Am I your dream man?” he asked.
She slid her gaze down his body. Dressed in an oxford shirt with the collar open and a pair of faded, tight jeans, he looked like every woman’s dream man. But it was way more than just his sexy, muscular body that made him her fantasy.
She shrugged, afraid of saying something and revealing too much to him. Afraid of increasing the very real chance that he might see her as a pathetic woman who’d somehow gotten hold of him and wouldn’t let go. Afraid that he’d realize she wasn’t the kind of woman who could hold his attention.
“Am I, Grace?” he asked, pushing away from the desk and walking toward her.
“Yes.”
“For how long?” he asked.
“Why? Why does that matter?”
“Because I want to know every one of your secrets,” he said, stopping with just an inch of space between them.
He was in her personal space but she didn’t care. She wanted him closer. It had been two long weeks since she’d felt his arms around her, and it had been too easy to convince herself that she’d simply dreamed the way he’d felt in her arms.
“My secrets?” He could never know her secrets. She didn’t like the fact that he’d even guessed that there was more to her than what she presented to the people she worked with.
But at the same time, that was what drew her even closer to him. She liked that he was the only man who saw beyond her facade. And if there was some safe way to let him in and still protect her tender heart, she’d do it.
“Yes, Gracie, your secrets,” he said. He cupped her jaw and tipped her head back, his fingers supporting the back of her neck as he kissed her.
“Do you have secrets, Adam?” she whispered.
“We all do.”
She clenched her hands together and stood still in his embrace. She didn’t know if she trusted him enough. If she’d ever trust him enough—because even after spending time in his arms, she still didn’t think he was real. He was still just a fantasy, and if they were ever going to get to a point of trust she was going to have to let him be real.
And the real man was complicated. He had problems and issues just like she did. He moved on. He always moved on. What kind of secrets did he have that he was always searching for something but never finding it?
She realized in that instant with his mouth on hers and his hand on her neck that she wanted to be the keeper of his secrets. That she wanted to find a way to understand the complex man who had been her fantasy for too long and that she now wanted to be her reality.
But he couldn’t be as long as their relationship remained hidden. She knew what happened to secrets like this. Forbidden desires were forbidden for a reason. A relationship that started in lies would never survive.
She had the uneasy feeling that she was going to be forced to choose between the safe place she’d made for herself at Tremmel-Bowen and Adam. The tightening in her gut told her the day was closer than she wanted it to be.
Seven
“I don’t know why we have to hide from the world,” he said.
He wouldn’t understand. But she wasn’t one of the glamorous women he was always seen with. Everyone would take one look at them and know she wasn’t meant to be on his arm.
“Please, Adam. I don’t want to share what we have found together. They’ll think I’m your mistress.” And she was, wasn’t she?
“Okay, Grace. For you.”
The voices moved on down the hallway and he stared down at her. She knew that something had changed between them in those few moments.
Excerpt from “Adam’s Mistress” by Stephanie Grace
Adam had never enjoyed a hockey game more. Though Grace knew little about the sport, she learned quickly. Normally he would have been annoyed but wasn’t surprised to find that with Grace he wasn’t.
They were sitting alone in the luxury box that Adam shared. The box had a wet bar staffed by an arena worker plus two TV monitors so they wouldn’t miss any of the action they might not catch from the bird’s-eye view through the huge bay window that overlooked the arena. Adam had asked that one TV be tuned to CNN so he could keep track of Viper lead singer Stevie Taylor, who was Larry King’s guest for the evening.
“I’ve never really gotten into professional sports,” Grace said as the game reached the end of the second quarter.
“My dad was a huge hockey fan. We went to every Stars game, even the away ones.”
“What was he like? I know he was big on community involvement, and the community-service program he established at Tremmel-Bowen is one of the things that really makes us stand out from other schools.”
Adam noticed that Grace never forgot about the school or her commitment to it. He wished there was a way for Malcolm to see this side of Grace. So he’d understand that just because Dawn had made him look like a chump, the school didn’t need to be closed down.
“He was a good man like you said, big on community involvement, but he also made sure that he had time for me. My folks were in their forties and well established before I came along.”
“I didn’t realize that. Were you a very spoiled only child?”
“To some extent. Not in material things.” It had been a long time since he’d really thought about his parents and his childhood. He’d pushed those memories away at twenty-five and had been afraid to look back and see if he’d fooled himself into believing that the love they’d showered on him had been a lie.
“I never had a lot of material things, either,” she said quietly.
“Are you an only child? I thought there were some pictures on your mantel of some other people your age. I assumed they were siblings.”
She flushed and looked away, reaching over to pick up her soda cup she took a long swallow. What was she hiding about her family?
He already had the impression that she hadn’t had a very nice upbringing. He sensed that the key to figuring this woman out lay in her past. After all, the things he was hiding all stemmed from that one incident. That one comment that had shaped his life from twenty-five forward and made him question everything that had gone on before.
“Tell me,” he said, wanting her to trust him. He didn’t question why gaining her trust was so important. He only knew that with Grace it was one of the things he wouldn’t compromise on.
“Tell you what?”
“Whatever it is about those pictures that made you turn several interesting shades of red.”
“I’m going to sound like a loser,” she said.
He cupped the back of her neck and drew her toward him, leaning down to kiss her. To tell her with his embrace that he believed in her. “Never.”
“I don’t know what to do with you,” she said. The words sounded like a confession and he knew to some extent they were.
Because he’d read the words she’d written. He’d returned her story to her office and noticed it had disappeared from her desk. He’d sat in her chair in her home office and imagined her writing there, having sexy dreams about him.
He lifted his head and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. Touching her was an addiction. A craving that never really left him.
“Tell me,” he said again.
She wrapped her small hand around his wrist, turned her face into his hand, breathing deeply and keeping her eyes closed.
“They are pictures of … Well, I don’t spend a lot of holidays with my father and those are photos taken with other people’s families.”
He felt a punch in his gut. She had more hidden depths than he’d realized and he had no idea if he knew how to sort them out. Why did he even want to?
The answer was simple and easy. He wanted to be her hero. He wanted to be worthy of the fantasies she’d weaved about him. He wanted to be the kind of man she’d still look up to when she knew him well.
Instead, he was stuck with being the man he’d always been. Someone who took one look around him when the going got rough and then packed his bags and looked for a different challenge. One that wasn’t personal. One that didn’t really affect him.
But it was too late where Grace was concerned. He liked the personal connection they had.
She watched him with her wide, sad eyes, waiting for him to say something.
“No one’s life is picture perfect,” he said, trying to share with her what he’d learned in the last fifteen years. How he’d struggled to come to terms with having his entire life turn out to be a lie. Not a malicious one, but a lie nonetheless.
“I don’t want perfection,” she said. She shifted away from him, wrapping her arms around her own waist.
He didn’t want her to soothe herself when he was right there and more than willing to offer her comfort. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his body.
“I’ve got to go to the restroom,” she said.
He guessed she was just using it as an excuse but got to his feet. “I’ll show you where they are.”
Adam was easy to follow as they moved through the arena hallway toward the restrooms. Since this was a Platinum Club floor there wasn’t a lot of foot traffic. She knew asking to go to the bathroom was lame and had avoidance written all over it, but Adam had been pushing too hard and she was about to just give in and tell him another one of her secrets. Peel away another layer of her carefully crafted facade and bare her soul.
She didn’t want to get into a heavy conversation. She’d been having fun. Having a normal date and, somehow, she’d blundered and ruined it.
“You don’t have to wait for me. I can find my way back to the box.”
“I don’t mind.”
She ducked into the ladies’ room. When she came back out she glanced around for him. The hallway was a little more crowded now. For a second she couldn’t find him and wondered if he’d gone back without her. She started that way when she felt his heavy hand on her shoulder. He drew her to a stop.
“I’m not going to stop asking you questions about those pictures.”
“I’m making it into too big a deal. Really it’s nothing. A group of teachers and I have a wine and supper club. There are twelve of us and we take turns hosting the monthly dinner. The last time they were at my place someone commented on the fact that I had no family snapshots anywhere.”
“So you started displaying photos taken with other people’s families?”
“Yes. Until then, I never noticed that I didn’t have any photos and other people had them. I’m not one for looking back.”
“Yet you crave roots.”
“That’s different. I just want to have a place I belong. I don’t need decades of ancestry for that.”
A couple brushed past them, oblivious to the world. They had their arms around each other. She realized it would be easy to look at them and assume life was simple for them—and maybe it was.