Page 65 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
I look good.
I’d never thought of myself as particularly pretty or sexy. It was clear that Gray saw me that way.
Pride and pleasure swelled inside my chest. Other parts of me were becoming swollen again as well.
Though the sketch was in black and white—except for the red pencil he’d used for my hooded robe—he seemed to have captured the flush of my skin, the shine of my hair, the curves of my calves and hips and breasts.
There was emotion in this drawing. There was desire. There waslust—his for me and mine for him. It was emanating from the page in waves.
If I could have gone home—right then—and not had to see him again, hear his voice, smell his mind-scrambling scent, thenmaybeI could have pulled it off.
But while I was in the same town with him—in the samestateeven—I simply wasn’t going to be able to resist him.
So considering the inevitability of it all, here was how it was going to go—we were going to have the flingiest fling anyone had ever flung, andthenI would go back home and be a sensible person again.
* * *
When Gray arrived at the mansion the next evening, he worked on Vivi’s art collection stuff for a while then the three of us had dinner in the kitchen with Stephanie.
Afterward, Vivi said, “I’m going to watch my shows now. Why don’t you two take a nice walk?”
She was just plainobviousabout it now, pushing Gray and me together as hard as she could.
“That’s a good idea.” Gray stood from the table and looked at me. “Want to?”
“The sun’s already set. It’s dark out,” I said.
He gave me a slow, devastating grin. “I’m not afraid of the dark. Are you little Red Riding Hood?”
Mortified by his reference to my red robe, I shot him a warning look and giggled. “No, I guess not.”
“We’ll walk on the Bluff Walk,” he said. “Just the paved part. It’s nice and wide and smooth, and the moon is pretty bright tonight.”
We said goodnight to Vivi and left the house, crossing the vast back lawn of the estate and unlocking the gate that led directly onto the oceanfront walking trail. I was glad I’d grabbed a light sweater because the ocean breeze cooled the summer temperature considerably.
I’d explored parts of the Cliff Walk during the day. The three-and-a-half-mile National Recreation Trail ran along the top of the bluff where Eastport Bay’s famous Oceanview Avenue mansions sat looking out over First Beach and the open Atlantic Ocean.
The walk offered a breathtaking view of the water on one side and on the other, the back side of the mansions, those owned by the historical society and open for tours as well as some of the private homes.
Many of the private homeowners had planted tall hedge shrubs for privacy, so those properties were harder to see.
During the day, the Bluff Walk was crowded with tourists. Tonight, it was deserted. Though the sound of the ocean’s movement was a steady pulse, I could still hear our footfalls. A giddy sense of freedom and anticipation swept over me.
As a kid in Florida, I’d always loved taking walks at night. It was a little tougher in Minnesota where the weather prevented it during most of the year—unless you enjoyed bundling up and feeling like a marshmallow waddling down the street.
Being outside in the dark had always seemed a little… illicit. Tonight, it probably was.
“Are we even supposed to be on the Bluff Walk at night?” I asked.
“Technically it’s open sunrise to sunset. Are you afraid there are cops lying in wait behind the rocks to jump out and arrest us?” he teased.
“I guess you’re right.” I smiled and took the hand he offered. Once again, Gray was leading me into adventure and excitement, which seemed to be his specialty.
As we walked, I was conscious of the feel of his fingers intertwined with mine. Strong, warm, gentle in spite of their rough texture.
It was such a simple thing, holding hands. I did it with my mom, my grandmother, my niece Trina. But this was something completely different.
With Gray, holding hands felt… intimate, like a precursor to something evenmoreintimate.
