The Truth (3 page)

“Um?”

Grant leans in again just enough so I am the only one who can hear him when he continues, “You’re forbidden fruit. Everyone wants a taste of your sweetness. Tell me, what do you have between your legs that everyone so desperately wants a taste?”

“No one knows. That’s why they’re so interested,” I whisper. “Besides, I don’t believe giving in to temptation worked out too well for Adam and Eve, if I remember the story correctly,” I say getting up and lifting my coffee to my mouth. I take a sip and notice Whitney as she emerges from the restroom. “It was nice to see you again, Grant. Enjoy your coffee.”

I move to walk past him and feel a tug at my arm pull me back around unexpectedly. I look up from the broad chest in front of me into the deep-sea blues. As he continues to hold onto my arm, he reaches up his other hand and gently runs two fingers down the curve of my neck. Rubbing his two fingers with his thumb, he says, “This moisture isn’t from your workout. I make you nervous or turned on, maybe both.” Grant brings his lips close to mine as if he is going to kiss me. “I will have a taste of the forbidden fruit.” He lets go of my arm and steps back. “Not yet though. I have a feeling this is the kind of fruit you savor. One day,” he assures.

Before I can make a move to turn back around, I see him gently brush his fingertips across his lips, tasting the moisture from my skin as he does. My breath hitches at this move. I pause for a beat before retreating since my legs are betraying me and seem to be in a jelly-like state. I had heard the saying weak in the knees, but I never truly knew what it meant until this exact moment.

That was the last string—one more tug and I would be his.

“Hey, will you
grab me a cup, too? Please, and thank you. Oh! And a bagel, toasted with chive. You’re the best.” I smile sweetly at Whit as she walks out the door to run down to the corner for coffee and breakfast.

I snuggle into my favorite plush chair in the corner of the room with my enormous textbook. I need to do some serious studying today. I wrap myself in the throw since it’s a chilly morning and pull the chain to the reading lamp above me. Just as I’m about to dive into the exciting world of transvaginal mesh, someone buzzes my flat. Groaning, I push aside my blanket and book and trudge to the door.

“Who is it?” I bark at the intercom.

“Delivery for Ms. Silver, ma’am.”

What in the—I buzz them in and tap my nails on the door while I wait. When the delivery person knocks, I look through the peephole at a short, older gentleman wearing a gray, wool skull cap. He’s holding a large box. He seems to be struggling with its odd size so I swing open the door.

“What is this?” I ask confused. “I haven’t ordered anything.”

“A package from a one Mr. Grant Kennedy, ma’am.”

“Can you please just place it inside the door? I will get it from there.”

He puts it down and looks back up at me producing a clipboard and pen. “Sign here, please.”

When he leaves, I drag the box over to the kitchen and haul it awkwardly onto the counter. I plunk down on a stool at the counter and stare intently at the box. What the heck could he possibly have sent me? Why would he send me anything? I lean in and listen to the box. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but the good news is—it’s not ticking. Curiosity finally gets the better of me and I grab a pair of scissors from the drawer. I carefully slice the tape securing an envelope to the box. Foregoing actually reading it, I open the box.

Just as I slice through the tape, the door to the apartment swings open scaring me half to death. I jump, startled, and trip backward over one of the stools. Blowing a strand of hair out of my face, I look up at Whitney, who is barely holding on to our breakfast and doubled over laughing at me. What are best friends for, right?

“Bitch, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I didn’t pop out at you, I just walked in. You knew I was coming back. Why are you acting like such a spaz?” Whit walks over to the counter and puts coffees and a bag next to the huge box. “What’s that?” She nods her head at the box.

“Not sure. It was just delivered. Guy said it was from Grant Kennedy.”

“Holy shit, open it!”

“What do you think I was doing before you scared the wits out of me?” I reach the cardboard flaps and pull them back. Opening a white Styrofoam container inside the box, a fog of cold air seeps out. “What the hell?” I read a small warning paper about not handling the dry ice. Finally, I pull out a beautiful crystal vase with an arrangement of different fruits skewered to look like a floral arrangement. There is also something that looks like a small fountain.

“This has to be the most expensive edible arrangement I have ever seen. But I don’t get it.” Whitney scrunches up her nose and looks at me curiously.

I just shrug in response unable to take my eyes off the arrangement. The vase is probably the most expensive thing in my apartment. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Each skewer is supposed to look like a flower stem made of silver and at the ends are crystals replicating a flower center. There are strawberries, pineapple, star fruit, and some other exotic fruit I can’t even place. I reach for the envelope and pull out a note.

Even the rarest of fruits dipped in the finest chocolate, I’m sure still doesn’t compare to your sweetness. Meet me for coffee. Tomorrow morning, same time as last week. I can’t stop thinking about you…

—Grant

“Whoa.” I hear Whit gasp behind me reading the note over my shoulder. “That must have been some kiss.”

I am in complete and utter shock. I just stand there reading the note over and over again. A clicking noise brings me out of my zone. “What are you doing?”

She plugged in the little fountain looking contraption and turned it on. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m melting chocolate so we can dip this amazing looking fruit in it.” I’m still stunned silent. Whitney makes a sound that is usually reserved for sex as she takes a piece of the fruit from one of the skewers into her mouth. “This is not fruit. Lys, this is heaven.”

“Stop! Who does this? This has to be a few hundred dollar fruit arrangement complete with a chocolate fountain. A chocolate fountain! Who sends a girl a chocolate fountain? Who is this guy? I mean, seriously. Is he completely insane?”

“No, Alyssa. He’s completely rich and seems to be completely enamored. Can’t you just enjoy this? The note is so sweet, and he definitely gets points for originality.”

“Sweet? Kind of, but it’s about sex, right? He just wants to get in my pants.”

“Who are you? Alyssa, the girl who doesn’t do strings. The heartbreaker. The untouchable girl? Making it about sex is your thing. No relationships, remember? And hello? Have you seen Grant Kennedy? He’s like a walking orgasm. I think you could actually combust from just the right look from him!”

I don’t respond. I’m not even sure what to say because she’s one hundred percent on point.

“Wow. Alyssa Silver actually felt emotions toward a guy. This is why you’ve been totally weird since New Years. How did I not see this before now?”

I flinch at her words. “Crap. So now what?”

“Well, now you meet him for coffee tomorrow. Then, you have dinner, get married, and have the most beautiful, rich babies there ever were! Duh!”

I look at her in total panic. Heart palpitations—talking about marriage and kids gives me heart palpitations.

“Relax, I’m kidding. Kind of.” Whitney laughs.

“It’s not funny. Okay, it’s just coffee, but what if he wants more. Guys like Grant Kennedy don’t marry girls like me. I have no money or status. So let’s say we date. It can only end badly when I’m railroaded because he realizes why it can never work. Not like Mrs. Kennedy is going to be inviting me over for high tea anytime soon.”

“Wrong. You used to have no money or status. You’re about to be a self-made woman. Or have you forgotten, Dr. Silver? Truthfully, though, none of it matters. Just let him buy you coffee and take it from there. Maybe you’ll hate him. Maybe he has a third nipple or worse! A tiny prick!” She feigns a gasp and then explodes in giggles.

“Doubt it. But I’ll let you know.” I wink at her. Oddly, our crude banter has a calming effect on my nerves.

* * *

The next morning,
I wake up early to get ready, and by early, I mean I haven’t slept. I couldn’t stop the million and one panic-stricken thoughts coursing through my head at the thought of spending the morning with Grant. I finally got up and ran, which is unlike me without Whitney running behind me, cracking the whip. I’ve now spent about two hours getting ready for a coffee date. Yep, coffee. I have to look fabulous without looking like I’ve tried to look fabulous. These were exactly the kind of idiotic thoughts running through my head since I attempted to fall asleep last night.

I roll my eyes at myself one last time and then grab my purse to head to the coffee shop. Walking into the coffee shop a few minutes late, on purpose, I spot Grant at the same table the three of us sat at the week before. He already has two cups on the table in front of him.

He looks up as I walk toward the table and a huge smile takes over his face when he spots me. He stands up to pull the chair out for me. I have a seat and he is still smiling when he sits facing me. “Coffee, black, right? I wasn’t sure if I remembered right or not. I thought I remembered your coffee was black.”

I put him out of his rambling misery. “Yes, black is right. Thank you.” I give him a small smile. I’m rather amused at how this confident, almost arrogant heir to the town throne is falling over himself. I guess I wasn’t the only one nervous about coffee.

“Do you want a muffin or a bagel? They have great blueberry muffins here.”

“Nah, I’m good with coffee.”

“I’m glad you made it. I take it you received the fruit?” And just like that his cocky, confident smile returns.

“I did, thank you. It was… very thoughtful.”

“I hope it wasn’t too forward of me, and I hope this isn’t too forward of me but—I just haven’t been able to get you out of my head the past couple of weeks.” His voice is low and smooth and his words wash over me, leaving behind a glow.

“As much as it pains me to admit this, I know what you mean.”

“It’s sort of foreign to me to care whether I see a woman again. The truth is you were right. I am known as a sort of playboy, but it’s because I have never met anyone interesting enough to catch my attention for more than a minute. There is just something about you. You’re obviously beautiful, but that isn’t it. I don’t think it was the kiss either. Although, the kiss alone was enough to ruin me for life.”

I feel the gentle flutter of wings inside of my stomach. “It was some kiss,” I say biting my lip in, an attempt to hide the smile I’m trying to choke down.

For the briefest moment, we stare into each other’s eyes like a couple of lovesick teenagers, smiling sweetly. It’s so sweet I can’t take it. I pull my gaze from his. “What’s your family like, Grant?” I attempt casual conversation.

He noticeably flinches. “You sure know how to kill a moment, don’t you?” he teases. “I guess they’re like any other family—loving for the most part, but with just enough dysfunction to make the holidays interesting.” 

I can’t help but laugh at him. “Yeah, I have a little of that myself. How many siblings do you have?”

“Just one, a younger sister, Sara. One girl, one boy. The million dollar family as my mom calls it. Literally in our case.” He chuckles but seems like he is actually uncomfortable. I think being rich actually makes him uneasy. This intrigues me because, from what I know of his family, he should be used to it having had money his entire life.

“Are you and your sister close?”

“We get along when we’re together, sure. I don’t know if I would say we are close though. Sara is only twenty, so we are at different places in our lives. She’s innocent and naïve. I try to guide her, which only pisses her off because she is very headstrong. I’m struggling to let her learn on her own that not everyone is genuine.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “What about you? What does the Silver household look like?”

“Normal, I suppose.” He seems unconvinced. “I have an older sister, Megan, whom I never see. She got the hell out of dodge as soon as she turned eighteen. My parents and I get along now that I don’t live with them, but we aren’t very close. Mostly we just see each other at holidays and such.” Instead of elaborating any further, since I hate to talk about my family, I opt for a subject change. “What is your favorite position...” I ask as he pauses half way to taking a sip from his cup and looks at me with a sparkle of mischief twinkling in his eye, “...to read in?” I finish with a tinge of my own mischief surely showing in my own features.

He smiles a broad smile and then puts his hand to his chin as if to think about it. “Well, I mostly read the sports section of the newspaper, so I would have to say relaxed in my recliner. What about you?”

“Definitely snuggled in bed with my tablet.”

“Sounds… cozy.” He smirks. “Favorite sexual position?”

He’s expecting to shock me. I pull on my expert poker face and calmly respond. “Well, Mr. Kennedy, how would I know with being a virgin and all?”

He lets out a little, uncomfortable chuckle again. He’s trying to gauge whether I’m joking or being sincere. Finally, I let my face fall into a smile. “I’m teasing, although as far as you’re concerned, I am a virgin.” I knock his knee with my own. “What about you? Favorite position?”

Without even thinking about it, he responds. “It’s a tossup, either face-deep or reversed cowgirl.” He doesn’t elaborate, forcing me to ask.

“Face deep?”

He leans in slightly. Somehow, I don’t think he does this so that no one hears him, but rather for effect. He speaks quietly, his voice silky smooth, “As in face deep in a pillow, to muffle the moans as I take you from behind.” This is usually the point when I would slap a guy across the face. Usually—but somehow, coming from Grant Kennedy’s mouth—all I can do is clench my thighs together and try to keep from straddling him right here in this coffee shop.

I take a deep breath to steady myself. “And the other, why?”

“Because, once in a while it’s nice to give up control. Plus, the grand view is an added bonus.”

I sit back in my seat, not wanting to give anything away. I make a ‘hmm’ noise and take another sip of my coffee with a smile.

“What? Too far?” Suddenly, he looks apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’m used to women who I can read like a magazine. You’re a conundrum. I feel slightly out of my depth here, which I don’t think has ever happened to me with a woman before.”

“No, on the contrary. I just thought you might actually be able to keep up with me.” I smirk at him.

Clear relief washes over his face before his confident smile returns. “As sexy as you are, and as much as I would love to continue this conversation, I think we should save it for another time before I lose what little will I have left. I don’t want you to think this is just about sex. I want to know you.” He looked into my eyes as he said it. “Have dinner with me this week?” he asks placing his hand over mine, completely enveloping it on top of the table. My eyes travel down to our hands. His hands are soft and well-groomed, but I can feel calluses on my knuckles. Based on his body, they are probably from working out.