Read Online Seeing Stars by Vanessa Grant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vanessa Grant
Tags: Fiction, Short Stories
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about this guy? I was joking when I... well, I wasn't exactly joking. You do need an affair, something to shake you out of you pleasant rut of stars and solitude, but be careful."
"Jenn, he's a pillar of the community. He builds ships and works with delinquent boys, and he's nice to ex-girlfriends who try to cling to him after a divorce. There's nothing to worry about. I spent the day with him, tied up like a pretzel sanding the inside of a boat he's building."
Jenn sighed dramatically. "I knew it. You've signed on as slave labor. For goodness sakes, Claire, you're on vacation. Have some fun."
"I enjoyed it. A lot." The feel of the satin-smooth teak under her hands, the smell of oil from the wood, the reluctant surprise on Tim's face, and the discomfort on Blake's. Add the motorcycle ride this morning, and she'd had more fun in the last twenty-four hours than she'd had in a long time. As for the kiss...
It was the kiss she remembered as she showered away the massage oil, replacing it afterward with body lotion. Tonight, he would kiss her again.
Blake rang her bell at three minutes to seven. When she opened the door to him, she found the sight of him dressed in a silk shirt and dress slacks oddly disconcerting. She'd become comfortable with the man in coveralls and preservative this afternoon, hadn't been prepared to feel so self-consciously uncertain in the presence of the formal version.
"Come in. I'll get my purse."
When he stepped inside, the sound of the door clicking closed shivered over her nerves. She made herself ignore the disconcerting sensation and hurried into the bedroom for her purse.
Actually, it was Jennifer's purse, a small silver bag that matched the trim on the dress. The dress was Jenn's too, and more revealing than she'd realized when she'd tried it on back in Arizona. The thin straps and low back made it impossible to wear a bra under it—something that hadn't seemed a problem back on the mountain because the dress itself provided quite a bit of support. But the lack of foundation garments was suddenly an issue now.
Walking down the stairs to join Blake, who'd waited in the foyer, she saw his eyes take in every detail, and she figured he knew exactly how much she had on under the dress.
She swallowed nervousness and kept her movements steady down the stairs, although she knew she was also showing quite a bit more leg than she was accustomed to. Lydia would probably think of this as a modest dress, but Lydia wasn't sitting in Claire's skin.
"Will I do?"
"Oh, yeah." His low voice that made her even more self-conscious, then he took her arm and opened the door. "We'd better get out of here now if you want to get to the dance."
She was glad he wasn't looking at her now or she'd show her inexperience in the flaming heat of her face.
Outside, she stopped in confusion. She had wondered if he would bring the bike, had wondered how she could sit on a motorcycle without this skirt riding all the way up to her hips. But there was no bike... no truck either.
"Where—"
He opened the passenger door of a low sports car and gestured her in. "I thought this was more suited to the occasion."
When she stepped close to the car, he touched her face and she froze. She stared into his eyes and couldn't tell what he intended, what he wanted.
"I'm a bit nervous."
"Yeah." He brushed her cheek with his thumb, but didn't give her the kiss she half-expected. "Me too. It's been a while since I've done this, but I figure I'll just hang on and hope the storm doesn't turn out to be a hurricane."
She couldn't stop a smile. "What are you talking about?"
"Nonsense," he said lightly, brushing her lips with his. "Climb in, Cinderella. We're going dancing, and some time this evening I'll pull you into the shadows and kiss you as if I couldn't get enough of you."
Inside the car she busied herself with the seat belt and tried not to watch the way he walked around the front of the car... like a dangerous animal,
"Jenn, he's a pillar of the community. He builds ships and works with delinquent boys, and he's nice to ex-girlfriends who try to cling to him after a divorce. There's nothing to worry about. I spent the day with him, tied up like a pretzel sanding the inside of a boat he's building."
Jenn sighed dramatically. "I knew it. You've signed on as slave labor. For goodness sakes, Claire, you're on vacation. Have some fun."
"I enjoyed it. A lot." The feel of the satin-smooth teak under her hands, the smell of oil from the wood, the reluctant surprise on Tim's face, and the discomfort on Blake's. Add the motorcycle ride this morning, and she'd had more fun in the last twenty-four hours than she'd had in a long time. As for the kiss...
It was the kiss she remembered as she showered away the massage oil, replacing it afterward with body lotion. Tonight, he would kiss her again.
Blake rang her bell at three minutes to seven. When she opened the door to him, she found the sight of him dressed in a silk shirt and dress slacks oddly disconcerting. She'd become comfortable with the man in coveralls and preservative this afternoon, hadn't been prepared to feel so self-consciously uncertain in the presence of the formal version.
"Come in. I'll get my purse."
When he stepped inside, the sound of the door clicking closed shivered over her nerves. She made herself ignore the disconcerting sensation and hurried into the bedroom for her purse.
Actually, it was Jennifer's purse, a small silver bag that matched the trim on the dress. The dress was Jenn's too, and more revealing than she'd realized when she'd tried it on back in Arizona. The thin straps and low back made it impossible to wear a bra under it—something that hadn't seemed a problem back on the mountain because the dress itself provided quite a bit of support. But the lack of foundation garments was suddenly an issue now.
Walking down the stairs to join Blake, who'd waited in the foyer, she saw his eyes take in every detail, and she figured he knew exactly how much she had on under the dress.
She swallowed nervousness and kept her movements steady down the stairs, although she knew she was also showing quite a bit more leg than she was accustomed to. Lydia would probably think of this as a modest dress, but Lydia wasn't sitting in Claire's skin.
"Will I do?"
"Oh, yeah." His low voice that made her even more self-conscious, then he took her arm and opened the door. "We'd better get out of here now if you want to get to the dance."
She was glad he wasn't looking at her now or she'd show her inexperience in the flaming heat of her face.
Outside, she stopped in confusion. She had wondered if he would bring the bike, had wondered how she could sit on a motorcycle without this skirt riding all the way up to her hips. But there was no bike... no truck either.
"Where—"
He opened the passenger door of a low sports car and gestured her in. "I thought this was more suited to the occasion."
When she stepped close to the car, he touched her face and she froze. She stared into his eyes and couldn't tell what he intended, what he wanted.
"I'm a bit nervous."
"Yeah." He brushed her cheek with his thumb, but didn't give her the kiss she half-expected. "Me too. It's been a while since I've done this, but I figure I'll just hang on and hope the storm doesn't turn out to be a hurricane."
She couldn't stop a smile. "What are you talking about?"
"Nonsense," he said lightly, brushing her lips with his. "Climb in, Cinderella. We're going dancing, and some time this evening I'll pull you into the shadows and kiss you as if I couldn't get enough of you."
Inside the car she busied herself with the seat belt and tried not to watch the way he walked around the front of the car... like a dangerous animal,
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