Page 25 of You Complicate Me

Grace needed some serious time to think after her encounter with Nick in the elevator, so she slammed her door in his face after promising to talk to him before dinner.

And now, after a nap on truly fabulous 600-thread count sheets and a shower in a bathroom fit for a queen, she was finally ready to face the fact that she’d agreed to date her future brother-in-law, even if only for the week. She’d also have to learn to cope with the fact that she’d mauled him in the elevator like a drunken, horny teenager.

One step at a time, Grace. Baby steps.

On a one-to-ten embarrassment scale, this barely rated, right? Certainly not, considering she’d puked on him at 30,000 feet.

Ugh, who was she kidding? This had disaster written all over it. They had so much to talk through before this went any further.

“Nick,” she said as she scrunched some frizz-tamer into her hair.

“Yeah?”

Just the sound of his voice in the next room caused a little flutter in her stomach. How pathetic was that?

The fact that they were given adjoining rooms was both a blessing and a curse. With that adjoining door open, as it was now, she could easily carry on a conversation with Nick while they were in their respective bathrooms getting ready for dinner. But with only an open door between them, what would stop her from crossing into his room and finishing their kiss? That amazing, toe-curling, melt-your-clothes-off kiss they’d started in the elevator?

“If we’re going to be together this week, I think we should agree to some ground rules.”

There was a loaded pause before he said, “There are rules to being together?”

Grace slicked some gloss over her lips. “Absolutely. The first would be that we can’t let this get too serious. I meant what I said about not looking for a relationship.”

There was another pause before he chuckled, then said, “This must be what people mean when they say karma is a bitch.”

Grace frowned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “What do you mean?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve said that same thing to every girl I’ve ever dated. This is the first time I’ve been on the other end of the conversation.”

Her heart flipped over. Did that mean he wanted more than a casual affair with her? “And that’s funny to you?”

“No. Not at all. But you’re the boss, Grace. I said I’d take whatever you were willing to give, and I meant it.”

That reminded her of her other ground rule, since the things her body was willing to give Nick and the things her heart and head were willing to give him were very different.

“That’s the other thing,” she said. “Anything…physical that happens with us…I need it to be on my terms.”

“I would never pressure you or make you do anything you didn’t want to do, Grace,” he said, sounding offended.

“I know that,” she said, surprised to realize she meant it. Nick wasn’t the sort to pressure or cajole her into anything. He was the anti-Brad. “I just want to take it slow.”

He laughed, and she conceded, “From here on out.”

“That’s fair enough,” he said. “Whatever you want, angel.”

She finished swiping blush over her cheekbones and wandered into his room. “Why do you call me…”

All thought evaporated as she took in the sight of him in front of the bathroom mirror, shaving. Shirtless.

Dear God, there was miles and miles of taut skin stretched over muscles that rippled in places she hadn’t known could ripple. And there were—two, four, six—eight abdominal muscles visible to her questing eyes. She hadn’t even realized that was possible outside of the movie 300 and Photoshop.

He had just the right amount of chest hair, too. Not so much that it looked like he was wearing a sweater (like her uncle Mort), and not so little that rubbing against him would feel like being on a Slip-N-Slide (like Brad). No, Nick’s perfect chest had a light dusting of dark hair that narrowed over his abs and arrowed down in a perfect happy trail to his…

He cleared his throat and caught her mortified gaze in the mirror with a knowing one of his own.

Stupid smug Adonis-like man.

“You were going to ask why I call you angel?” he prompted, wiping the remnants of shaving cream from his face with a hand towel.

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