Page 37 of A Man After Midnight

She nodded. “Yes. The cops got him and he pled guilty.”

“Wow. That must have been awful.” He took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” she replied, smiling.

Caroline nursed her beer and relaxed, letting the moment wash over her. She studied Grant as he laughed and talked, and decided he would be the perfect boyfriend. Pretty soon, he had her by the hand, dancing to the jazzy strains, and she relaxed in his arms.

They left around midnight, driving the hour back to Baton Rouge. Both were pretty quiet and Caroline had her head resting on the back of her seat. She stared out the window, not exactly seeing the highway lights and dark woodland beyond. Her mind was full of Wren, the memories of their lovemaking and their last goodbye. The ache in her heart hurt so much sometimes it was hard to breathe.

“Almost there,” Grant said quietly, breaking into her thoughts.

She straightened as they turned onto her street. She lived at the end of her apartment complex, and so late at night everything was quiet.

“Thanks, Grant,” she said and looked over at him. She took a deep breath and pushed thoughts of Wren firmly down. “I had a great time.”

“So did I,” he answered.

He came around the cab and opened her door, helping her down. They stood facing each other, and then he leaned down and kissed her. Softly at first, a mere brush of his lips against hers. But then a second later he pressed harder and his tongue came out to brush against the seam. And before she could think twice, she forced her own mouth to open. He immediately deepened the kiss.

Caroline had to admit, the kiss wasn’t a bad kiss. In fact, it was very pleasant. Though no fire licked her skin and no tingles danced up her spine, she had to admit that if she hadn’t met Wren Calder, she would have been happy with how Grant Dardeau made her feel, warm and safe.

He pulled back and they stood in the moonlight staring at each other. Caroline couldn’t help but compare this man to Wren, though she knew that wasn’t fair. She knew that no man would ever compare to Wren, but she also knew that time of her life was over. He had done his part for her and helped her move on.

And it was time to move on.

She took a deep breath. “Would you like to come in?”

“I would,” he answered.

She took his hand and led him into her apartment.

****

Grant took her gently into his arms, sliding his hands up her shoulders to curve around her back. His body was hard, muscled. He stood about a foot over her so he had to lean down as he possessed her mouth again. She brought him in closer to her body. Not because she really wanted to, but because she wanted to force herself to respond. While pleasant, Grant’s passion didn’t jump start her heart. No electricity zinged across her skin. Her stomach didn’t bottom out with excitement.

Not like when Wren held her.

For a moment, Caroline let her mind wander. She imagined Wren holding her. Taking her. Loving her. It became easy to replace Grant with Wren’s image, the seeking hands transforming into longer fingers, a bigger palm. It would be easy to be swept away if she just let her imagination do all the work. She might even be able to achieve orgasm based off a memory. Fantasy was beautiful, but not when using someone to hide love and longing.

Caroline bent her head, tears leaking from under her lashes. Her arms dropped away from Grant’s body. It took him only a moment to recognize the change in her.

“Caroline?”

She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Grant took his hands from her breasts and replaced them on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Really. Please, don’t cry.”

“I can’t do this. I want to, but my mind is screaming not yet.”

“Your ex-husband?”

She shook her head. “No, the divorce was finalized last week. I actually met someone in New York. I just … can’t forget him.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

Grant shook his head. “Hey, don’t be sorry.”

---