Anywhere You Are (13 page)

But then Crystal shifted and moaned. Grace froze, and so did the bear. When Crystal didn't make any other motions, the bear immediately went back to eating.

Okay, that was way too close.
She needed to get this animal out of here before Crystal woke up.

The bear had decimated the cheese and crackers and was now licking the plate clean. It was doubtful it would go for the wine, so after this, it would be done. Then it would go searching for more. It was time to act.

She was going to leap up on the sofa and start yelling. Best-case scenario, the bear would go running. Worst-case scenario, she'd be bear snack.

Breathe, Grace.
And ready…set…

But before she could move, two things happened in rapid succession.

Crystal lifted her head, opened her eyes, and saw the bear.

Then she screamed.

Crystal's scream wasn't just loud. It was crazy loud. Like hear-it-in-the-next-county loud. And coupled with the arm movements, well, that just kicked it up yet another level.

The bear, shocked by the noise and sudden movements of a flailing, rail-thin human being with a serious case of bed head, backed up.

“Don't make eye contact!” Grace yelled. “Stay calm!”

But there was no calm with Crystal.

The next few moments were a blur. Crystal was still screaming and now she was swearing and all the noise attracted Big Blue, who came bounding back in from wherever he'd gotten off to earlier in the morning. He raced into the room through the hole in the screen, barking that deep, loud bark.

“Holy shit!” Crystal was yelling.

“Stop screaming!” Grace hollered, almost as loud.

“Why should I stop screaming?” Crystal screamed. “There's a fucking bear in here!”

“He's freaking out, too! Just look at him!”

Obviously confused by the hysterical females and the giant barking dog, the bear had wedged itself up against a bookshelf, which was now in danger of toppling over.

As if on cue, there was a soft cracking sound from the bookshelf as the wood creaked, and then, in the face of all the craziness, the bear backed up more. The bookshelf cracked louder.

Big Blue was still bounding around, racing back and forth in front of the couch, freaking the bear out even more.

“Quiet, Blue!” Grace ordered. The dog ignored her, and if anything, started barking louder. Which made the bear back up just one more inch, and
crack
!

Books rained down from the split shelf on top of the poor creature, who by this point was so frightened it leapt away, loped across the room, and mercifully squeezed out through the hole in the screen door.

As soon as it was gone, Grace raced over and slid the glass door shut behind the ruined screen, watching the bear's rear as it lumbered across the grass before disappearing into the underbrush at the meadow's edge.

“Jesus!” Heart racing at lightning speed, she leaned back against the door and sank to the ground. Blue came over, wagging his tail and nuzzling her neck. “Good boy,” she said, rubbing his head. “You sure scared it. Good boy.”

She looked up to see if Crystal was okay. Her friend was just standing there, her eyes blank. She'd stopped screaming, but looked as though she was in shock.

“Crys?” Grace asked.

“Wine,” Crystal said, licking her lips. “Now.”

“How about you drink some water fi—”

But Crystal simply reached out, snared the half-empty bottle, and tipped it to her lips. She drank the entire rest of the bottle in one long swallow.

Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, sat down on the couch, and began to laugh. It started as a giggle, which morphed into hysteria.

“I need more wine,” she said.

“I can get that for you,” Grace said with a calmness she didn't feel. Her only concern now was keeping Crys from losing her mind.

“And Blake's number,” she added.

“What? Why would you call him now?”

“We need law enforcement!”

“Uh, Blake's a fireman, not a cop.”

Crystal gave her a level look. “I was almost mauled by a ravenous bear and I need a hot fireman for comfort. And after that, I need more wine.” She held out her hand. “Babe.”

Grace went and got the phone number.

And a fresh bottle of wine.

Cellphone plastered to his ear, Marc strode down the hallway on the eighteenth floor of the high-rise in Mumbai where he'd taken up residence for the past few days. It wasn't his first choice, but Rajeev, a friend from business school with whom he typically stayed, was traveling in Hong Kong. Rajeev had offered up his place anyway, but Marc felt guilty about imposing.

Grace was in the middle of telling him a story about a fire and Big Blue and her friend and a bear and maybe it was because he was becoming used to her ways or because he was so tired, but her crazy was actually starting to make sense to him.

“So let me try to summarize,” Marc said, sliding his key card into his hotel room door and waiting for the click. “The pineapple exploded because of an electrical short in the wiring, which set the fixture on fire. You put the fire out yourself but the fire department came anyway?”

“Correct!” Grace's voice was shockingly clear on the other end of the line, thanks to voice-over IP technology.

Marc pushed his way into his room and shut the door behind him. “And the very next night a bear busted through the screen door of your house and terrorized you and your friend.”

“After eating all our food,” Grace supplied.

“You're joking.”

“No. But Big Blue helped to scare him away. He was magnificent, Marc. You would have been so proud of him.”

“Magnificent. Riiight.” He tossed his wallet and key card onto the small desk near the window. There was little view, and what existed was depressing. Gray skies and gray buildings. Grace, however, her sexy accent somehow amplified, was cheering him up immeasurably.

“The bear, of course, meant another visit from the fire department.”

“The fire department?” he said, loosening his tie. “Why wouldn't you have called the Department of Energy and Environmental Protection? Aren't they the ones who usually deal with bear sightings in Connecticut?”

“Oh, they are,” Grace said. “But they also told us to check in with our local law enforcement, which I took to mean the police, but Crystal insisted was the fire department.”

“Why would she think that?”

“Because of Blake,” she responded without hesitation.

He was almost afraid to ask. “Who's Blake?”

“A hot, redheaded fireman.”

“Of course.”

“With big hands.”

“Jesus.”

“He
definitely
rang Crystal's bell. Or should I say, Crystal rang his.”

“I don't want to know,” Marc groaned, as he took off his jacket and threw it over the back of a small chair. His tie followed.

“No, I'd imagine not,” Grace agreed cheerfully. “But he was definitely a very happy man after Crystal asked him out.”

“I've only been gone for a week,” Marc said. How could one woman get into this much trouble?

“Oh, things like this happen to me all the time,” Grace said.

“Why am I not surprised?” He sat down on the bed and kicked off his shoes, one at a time, not even bothering to untie them.

“You know me,” she said, her voice blithe. “Anything that can go completely crazy totally will.”

He laughed, feeling some of the tension dogging him dissipate. “So what are you going to do about getting the electricity repaired and the screen fixed?”

“I have the perfect plan. So you know my friend Jane Pringle? She knows a man whose cousin is friends with a bloke who runs a junkyard and—”

“Just stop right there,” he told her. “You are not going to get some cut-rate electrician to rewire your kitchen.”

“Of course not,” she said, sounding indignant. “I hired Al from the hardware store for that. I was talking about the screen door.”

“Yes, well,” he said, coughing. “I deal with stuff like this all the time.”

“I know,” she said, but he could hear the mirth in her voice.

Good grief, he'd missed her. A week of agitation and aggravation without Grace made him realize how much fun he'd had whenever he was with her.

“Want to hear something funny?”

“God, yes,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. Lord knew he could use something funny right about now.

“George actually asked for another one of my paintings. I'm not sure he actually wanted one, but I think he felt guilty, you know, for accidentally setting my house on fire.”

“Nice.” He eased back so he was leaning on the headboard. “Sounds like you have everything under control, now that there's no fire or bear.”

“I sure do. And I have to say, having Blue here was a huge help. Especially with the bear. He saved us, Marc.”

“So you mentioned.”

“I wish you'd been here, too,” she said quietly.

“Trust me, you were better off with the dog.” He'd never had a bear encounter, but something told him Blue had been and would always be the smarter choice. His head was still throbbing, but less so. It had been replaced by a bone-tired ache that wouldn't let up. “What time is it there?”

“Ten in the morning. I slept late. What time is it where you are?”

“Seven thirty in the evening,” he said with a sigh.

“You sound tired.”

“I just spent nine hours in meetings.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“You asked for it. So far, I've spoken with five different local government officials about the project, none of whom seem to know or care what the others are doing. They each want something different from me, and when I agree, they tell me it'll violate some other law. My contractor just bowed out of the project, because it's taking too long to get off the ground. And in the eight months I've been battling with the permits, the price of steel has skyrocketed, blowing my budget all to hell. So yes, I think you could say that I'm tired.”

“You're not going to quit, are you?” she said quietly.

“Never,” he vowed.

“Stubborn man,” she said, but he could hear the grudging admiration in her voice. “Why don't you order room service, take a nice, hot shower and get into bed?”

“I'm already halfway there,” he told her.

She inhaled sharply. “So…you're naked?”

Marc looked down. “I've got my pants on, but otherwise, I suppose so.”

There was a long pause and when she spoke again, her voice was husky. “Don't you want to know what I'm wearing?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It was so clichéd, but it didn't matter. Instantly, he went hard, swelling against the zipper of his slacks.

“Grace—” he started.

“Marc, please. Do this with me.”

He'd never indulged in phone sex before. Never had the time or inclination. But suddenly, he wanted very much to experience this. With her.

“Are you lying down?”

“Yes—I'm…I'm in my bed.”

“So am I,” she told him. “Remember what my room looked like?”

He remembered. Lots of color. Her own art on the walls. Gauzy fabric hanging from the windows. And a decadently large bed right in the center—way too big for Grace but just right for a man of his size. He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Do you remember what we did the last time you were there?”

He'd splayed her out on that giant bed, then taken her hard and fast. He'd wanted to touch, taste, and explore to his heart's content, but as usual, she'd urged him to go faster. Grace had climaxed so hard she'd actually screamed.

“Yes.” His voice came out as a half-groan and she laughed, a rich, low sound that curled around his cock.

“I remember that, too. In fact, I haven't stopped thinking about it since.”

His head swam. He'd never had anyone make him feel like this before—a jumble of emotions and sensations that kept him off-kilter and wanting more. Much more.

“I want you to imagine me there, just as I am now, waiting for you, my hair a little messy, my eyes still half-closed, my skin warm from sleep, my sheets sliding around my body. You come in and find me like that. Slowly, you slide the sheets down so you can see every part of me.”

Damn, she was way too good at this. A vision of her luscious bare form immediately popped into his mind, so vivid he could see her chest rising and falling with her breath, the flush of her cheeks, the tiny beauty mark on her shoulder, all the curves and valleys of her body that were so wild and so wanton and his. All his.

He was hard as a rock now. He unbuttoned his slacks and eased himself out into his palm. She was still quiet, waiting for him to say something.

He swallowed hard, afraid of making a mistake. Afraid of disappointing her. “What do I do?”

“Whatever you want.”

“That sounds…promising.”

“Oh, it is,” she said, her voice a little breathy. “But I'm impatient, so I unbuckle your belt and tug your dress slacks down.”

“How do you know I'm wearing dress slacks?”

“You're always wearing dress slacks,” she said.

“Fair point.”

She cleared her throat. “I wrap my hand around you. You're hard.”

“You're beautiful. Of course I'm hard.”

“But you're not ready for me. Not yet. I have to get up on my knees and kiss your mouth and stroke you a few times. Good, hard strokes to get you primed for me.” His hand moved, riding his cock the way he imagined Grace doing. “Mmm, yes. And doing that makes me want you more.”

“Do you do this often?”

“As often as you'll let me.”

“I meant this. This—sexy talking on the phone.”

“Phone sex? Never.” A pause. “Do you?”

He stroked harder. “Technically, it's not phone sex. It's voice-over IP sex. And no. I've never done this before, either.”

Her delighted laugh was an aphrodisiac. “God, Marc, that is just hot.”

He wasn't sure if she meant his lack of experience or his demand for precise linguistics. But he loved hearing her talk and laugh and moan on the other end of the line. It was the most fun he'd had in days. Since he'd last seen her, in point of fact, and he wanted to continue. “If we do this, am I allowed to touch you, too? Figuratively, that is.”

“Yes. What do you want to do to me?” she purred.

Marc paused. He wasn't a dirty talker in bed. He wasn't a talker in bed, period. And once again, Grace was pushing him far out of his comfort zone, but he wanted to do this. For her. Drawing in a breath, he envisioned her luscious form, naked, waiting, ready for him. Going back to her question: What would he do?
Everything.

“I cup your breast in my hand and squeeze—gently.”

“That's good,” she said. “That's really good, Marc. Now what?”

“I rub my thumb over your nipple back and forth, making it nice and hard.”

She let out a little moan, which he took as a sign he was on the right track. “Then I wrap my lips around it and suck it into my mouth.”

“Mmm,” she said, and then he realized she was doing the same thing he was—touching herself on the other end of the line while he fed her suggestions. He stroked himself a little harder, a little faster.

“I keep my other hand busy, too. I spread your legs and ease a finger inside you. You're hot and wet, but I need you hotter and wetter, so I circle your clit with my thumb, nice and slow, gliding over it and around the way you like it.”

“Yes, Marc.” Her voice was liquid honey now, and thinking about her doing that to his words, getting hotter for him, with him, was unbearably erotic.

“Then, when you're good and ready, I'd slide into you. You're so wet, it'd be easy.” Yes. He could see it now: her breath hitched, her eyes big with surprise and pleasure.

“God,” she choked out.

“You like that, don't you? You like me inside you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I pull out slowly. You're clenching around me, desperate to have me back in, but I want to torture you a little bit. So I go back in just as slowly, making sure you feel every inch of me sliding deep inside you.” She made a sort of strangled sound, so he kept going. “I breathe on your neck right behind your ear—the spot that makes your toes curl. I wrap your legs around my waist and angle your hips so I can get deeper.”

She groaned. He smiled.

Then he proceeded to describe in devastating detail, down to the last lick, nibble, and thrust, exactly what else he would do to her, all the while stroking himself with abandon. He never thought sex without another person present could be like this—fun and wild and crazy and, above all, connected.

She was panting in his ear now, the sweetest thing he'd ever heard.

“I want to come,” she demanded.

“No,” he said sharply. “Not yet. You wait for me.” He jerked himself harder.

“
Please,
Marc.”

“Hold it,” he ordered, his hand practically a blur on his cock. “Hold it…Come now!”

“Ohmigod, Marc!” she gasped, and he barely had time to grab a tissue before he destroyed his slacks, not to mention the bedspread, as he came so hard a bright light flashed behind his eyes.

When his brain became unfogged, he was left with a damp tissue and a smile a mile wide.

There was a long silence.

“Marc?” she finally said.

“Yes, Grace?”

“Are…are you sure you haven't done this before?”

“I'm sure.” She was his first, his one. His only. And he had a clawing desire to see her. Now. “I'm coming home tomorrow. No…Saturday.” He'd had tomorrow's meeting on his calendar for months, and only the thought of the headache he'd give to his assistant kept him from cancelling it on the spot and hopping on the next plane back to New York.

“Really? I thought you had another week there.”

“Change of plans,” he said. Truth was, he did have another week's worth of work—more, even—but he wanted to be with her.

“That's wonderful!” Grace said. “I can't wait to see you!”