Picture Perfect (Butler Island) (9 page)

Grant slowly ambled in front of the
camera, rubbing the stubble along his jaw. “Here?” he asked.

“Uh-huh, now turn and face me.”

 She waited until he complied and
then began fidgeting with her camera lens. Grant stood in front of her,
shirtless, with his hands shoved into his front pockets, his faded denim jeans
sitting low on his hips. Her eyes swept along his sleeve tattoo, down his
broad, toned chest, his rippled six-pack abs and finally ended at the dark
trail of hair that disappeared behind the fly of his jeans.

Oh. My. God.

His body was certainly a temple—
one
that she was thoroughly worshiping at the moment.

“Can you back up a little…?” she
asked. “A little more.” Still facing the camera he stepped backward, his feet
only inches away from the water’s edge.

 And suddenly, she had an idea…

She turned on the camera’s time-lapse
feature, allowing her to automatically capture a picture every five seconds
over the course of one minute. Adjusting the focus one last time, she
instructed him to take one large step back…

Grant complied with her last request,
so mesmerized by how beautiful she looked in those tiny cut-off denim shorts
that he hadn’t noticed how close he’d been to the water’s edge. He’d taken a
large step back and had ended up in the ocean, the chilly gulf water saturating
his denim jeans midway up his lower legs.

“Whoops!” she called out
sarcastically.

Grant glanced at his submerged feet
and then focused his attention back on Olivia, who was guilt
lessly smiling back at him. “Oh, you think that’s
funny, do you?”

“Uh-huh”, she finally answered, biting
her bottom lip to suppress her mischievous grin.

“Oh—you’re gonna pay for that one!”
he shouted as he lunged toward her.

A playful squeal escaped as she tried
to dodge him, but he was too quick. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling the
back of her fleeing body against the hard plane of his chest and then lifted
her feet off the ground as though she weighed nothing. She struggled to set
herself free, but his grip was firm and she was weak from laughter.

Walking toward the shore, Grant waded
in the chilly water while Olivia playfully squirmed in his arms, the sound of
her laughter provoking his. He quickly repositioned her in his arms so that he
was supporting her upper body and the back of her legs.

“Grant!” she cried. “Put me down!”

With the waves gently colliding
against his knees, he met her gaze, mirroring the mischievous grin she’d given
him moments earlier.

“Oh, no!
Wait—
”

But it was too late. He’d loosened
his grip, carefully tossing her into the frigid gulf as though he was freeing a
fish he’d caught. A high-pitched scream escaped her lips, followed by a loud
gasp as her body sunk beneath the surface.

 “You made me all wet!” she shouted
breathlessly.

Smiling seductively, he offered her
his hand. “Ah, the words every man longs to hear…”

“Okay, first you torture me with a
Ferris wheel ride and now you throw me in the ocean—the
very cold
ocean.
I think I’m finally beginnin’ to understand why you’re still single!”

After accepting his hand, he helped
her up. “Boys always pick on the girls they like, you know.”

“Is that so?” she asked as she walked
behind him, her fingertips trailing up his tattooed arm, over his broad
shoulder, and eventually gliding down his muscular back.

Grant closed his eyes, relishing the
sensation. “Uh-huh”, he finally managed.

Satisfied that he was distracted, her
fingers continued exploring his back. “Are you ready, Grant?” she asked, her
voice filled with desire.

Hell yeah, he was ready; ready to use
his fingers on her—in her.

“Ready for what?” he questioned,
deciphering whether or not they were on the same page.

Olivia brushed her lips along his
back. “Ready to fall for me”, she mumbled.

 Finally in a position to seek
revenge, she swiftly shoved her foot along the back of his knee, causing his
six-foot muscular frame to collapse into the shivery water;
“falling”
as
she’d intended for him to do.

“Damn, that’s
cold!” he cried. His quick
reflexes landed him promptly back on his feet
again; pivoting, he met her gaze. “Alright, I guess we’re even now.”

“Y-yeah, I think s-so”, she managed
as she hugged herself for warmth. She watched in amazement as rivulets of
frigid salt water descended down his powerful chest and rippled torso. Good
heavens—the man was built like a Greek God!

Grant took a step toward her, placing
his large callused hands on her upper arms. “We need to get you warm. C’mon,
I’ll make a pot of coffee and get you a towel.”

Wading through the water toward the
shore, they gathered her equipment and then shuffled their bare feet through
the velvety sand. After reaching the beach house, they rinsed their feet and
then quickly covered themselves with two extra-large beach towels.

“Take off your clothes”, he demanded.

“Excuse me?” She asked in disbelief.

“I’ve got a dry change of clothes you
can put on. Unless, of course, you
want
to sit out here naked…”

Olivia smiled. “No, I don’t suppose
that would be a good idea.” After rising from the lounge chair she started
toward the sliding glass door.

“Down the hall, first door on your
left. By the time you get back the coffee should be ready.”

“Okay, thank you.”

While the coffee brewed, Grant
removed his wet clothes and changed into a dry pair of jeans and a plain white
t-shirt. Before heading back to the deck, he stopped in front of the guest
bathroom and knocked on the door. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine”, she responded from the
other side.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Plenty of cream; a lil’ sugar.”

Olivia took off her water-logged
wardrobe and lifted a flannel shirt off the counter that he’d left. She slipped
her arms into the soft material, inhaling the aroma from his laundry soap, and
then quickly fastened the garment.

What are you doing, girl?

Wasn’t
that
the million dollar
question? The truth was, she didn’t have a clue. Staying here was probably the
worst idea ever. She needed to go.
They’d
had their fun on the beach and now she
needed to get far, far away from
him. This friendship, this—whatever it was—was supposed to be all in the name
of
fun
.

An adventure. Something light and
easy and… well,
fun.
Watching him chase after her was fun.

But what would happen when he finally
caught her…?

 After glancing in the mirror, she
tousled her hair with her fingertips and then retraced her steps
back to the deck. Her intention: explain that she
really needed to head home. But one look at the arrangement he’d set-up changed
everything. Grant was standing with his back turned, tending to the fire in the
portable black fire pit. He’d already hauled the outdoor patio loveseat closer
to the flames, and had even draped a large Afghan over the cushion for added
warmth.

Okay, so maybe she could stay for
just one cup of coffee…

Olivia opened
the sliding glass door and
stepped onto the wooden deck. “I think somebody
has a guilty conscience.”

“Wow!” he uttered as he glanced over
his shoulder. The flannel shirt fell just below mid-thigh, revealing the
sexiest pair of legs he’d ever seen. “You look…
wow”,
he repeated. “I
had no idea a flannel shirt could look so good.”

Taking a seat, she covered her bare
legs with the Afghan and reached for the cup of coffee sitting next to her on
the adjacent table. “Flatterin’ will get you nowhere, Womack.”

Grant laughed softly, revealing that
trademark grin he’d perfected. After he was comfortable with the size of the
flames, he joined her on the loveseat.

“This is really nice. You sit out
here a lot?” she asked.

“Yeah, I spend most of my time out
here.”

“Well, I can see why.” Olivia palmed
the side of her coffee mug with both hands, her icy fingers slowly absorbing
the residual heat.

The wind was gaining momentum, gently
blowing her blonde locks and before he could stop himself, his fingers twirled
around a small segment near her ear. Shifting in his seat, he turned toward
her. It was still slightly damp from their earlier plunge. “Your hair is so
soft.”

Uh-oh.
“Thank you.”

“You’re so beautiful—everything about
you”,
he murmured, his gravelly voice
saturated with desire.

Olivia swallowed hard. “I’m sure you
say that to all the girls you bring home.”

“Huh-uh”, he uttered. “I don’t
usually bring dates back to my place.” He released her hair and cupped the back
of her neck, his other hand grazing the afghan over her lap. Pressing his warm
lips against the soft skin along her neck, he mumbled, “What are your plans
tomorrow night?”

God he felt good. It was like he
owned the instruction manual to her body. He knew where she wanted to be
touched; how she wanted to be touched. Her eyes drifted shut as his lips
migrated toward the sensitive area just below her ear. “I don’t know. It
depends, I guess”, she whispered.

“Depends on…”

Olivia tilted her head to the right
slightly, giving him better access. “What are ya offering?”

“Well, I had a good time the other
night. I was hoping we could do dinner again…
here.”

“I thought you were working
tomorrow.”

“I am.”

Olivia placed her hand against his
chest and gently pushed him back so that she could look at him. “I’m confused.
If you’re working tomorrow, how are we gonna have dinner here?”

Tucking a strand of hair behind one
of her ears, he answered, “I don’t work twenty-four hour shifts anymore.”

“I don’t understand—Ty does.”

“That’s because he’s a lieutenant.
Last year the city was having a budget crisis. They were looking to eliminate
four firefighter positions and three at the police station. So to prevent
lay-offs, we all bound together and came up with a solution: work twelve hour
shifts. Everyone pretty much agreed that cutting back our salary was better
than no salary at all.”

“Okay, so, what happens if there’s an
emergency after seven o’clock?” she challenged.

“Well, in the evenings I’m on call.”

“On call…”

“Yeah, we all
have an on-call phone. When we’re
needed, dispatch alerts us and then
we either head back to the station, or meet the fire engine at the determined
destination.”

“Oh. I guess that’s why the bunk room
looked
like a ghost town when I visited the
station last week.”

Grant nodded in
agreement. “So about dinner…”

Staring into her coffee cup, she
smiled. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

“Not when I see something I want…”

Olivia gnawed on her bottom lip for a
moment.

This is a bad idea, girl.

Yeah, she was aware of that—their
chemistry was on the verge of combusting. Having dinner wasn’t necessarily the
issue. Her concern was what came after. But somehow, telling him no didn’t sit
right with her either.

They had
fun.
So what if they
acted on their mutual attraction? She wasn’t going to sleep with
him—she didn’t participate in casual sex. Control
was her middle name.

No way was she going to lose it.

Surely she could stay in control
and
still have fun…

“What time?”

CHAPTER 7

Clutching a bottle of pinot noir,
Olivia raised her free hand and firmly knocked on the front door. She inhaled a
deep, calming breath and then slowly exhaled. She’d had reservations about
tonight. Yes, it was just dinner. But she was beginning to see a pattern: every
time she was around Grant she tended to
lose
her self-control. It was like the pleasure side of
her brain overpowered
the logical side.

She’d been so indecisive about
tonight. Numer
ous times she’d dialed his
number to cancel, but hesitated
.

Why?
Well,
unfortunately that was an easy question to answer: He showed a genuine interest
in getting to know her
—
the real her
.

And the fact
that his lips ignite an internal inferno had nothing to do with it?