Robyn Grady - One Night, Second Chance

She remembered his raspy cheek grazing her flesh...the magic of his mouth on her thigh...his muscular frame bearing down again and again to meet her hips. And then he was standing in front of her and speaking in that deep, dreamy voice.

“You’re on your way out?”

Willing her thumping heartbeat to slow, Grace nodded. “And you? Here on business?”

“Your father mentioned you were staying here for a few days.” He waved an envelope. “I have tickets for a show. We could catch a bite first.”

He was here to see her?

“Wynn, I’d really like to, but—”

“You have another date?”

She shook her head.

“You’ve already eaten?”

No, but suddenly she could taste the rich fudge ice-cream they’d devoured, eating off the same spoon that night when they had both needed to cool down.

Grace pushed the image aside. “I’m sorry. This doesn’t work for me.”

“Because it’s not a good time.”

For a relationship of any kind. She nodded. “That’s right.”

He seemed to weigh that up before asking, “When are you leaving New York?”

“I’m not sure. Soon.”

“So, worst case scenario—we have a dog-awful time tonight and you won’t need to bump into me again for another twenty years.”

It sounded so harmless. And maybe it was.

Brock Munroe was a devoted father to all three of his daughters. He’d always been there, watching out for their best interests—doing what he could to help. Did that include organizing some male company to help divert her from unpleasant memories while she was back in town?

And if her father had gone so far as to suggest this get-together, what else had Wynn and her dad discussed? Had Sam been mentioned at all? To what extent? If Wynn had spoken with her mother, the subject of her past boyfriend would definitely have come up. Suzanne Munroe had thought of Sam as a son—always would—and she took every opportunity to let others know it.

There’ll never be another Sam.

“Wynn, did my father put you up to this?” she asked.

Wynn’s chin kicked up a notch. “Brock did mention it might be nice for us to catch up again while you were in town.”

Grace sighed.

“I like to think of my father’s smile if he found out his plan here had worked, but—”

“Grace, I’m not here because your father suggested it.”

“It’s okay. Honest. I—”

He laughed. “Come on now. I’m here because I want to be.” When she hesitated, he went on. “We don’t have to go to the show. But you have to eat. I know a great place on Forty-second.”

She paused. “What place?”

He named a restaurant that she knew and loved.

“Great food,” he added.

She agreed. “I remember.”

“Their chocolate panna cotta is sensational.”

“The mushroom risotto, too.”

Wincing, he held his stomach. “Personally, I’m starved. I skipped lunch.”

“I grabbed an apple-pie melt off a truck.”

“I love apple-pie melts.”

When he sent her a slanted smile, her heart gave a kick and, next thing she knew, she was nodding.

“All right,” she said.

“So, that’s a yes? To dinner, or dinner and the show? It’s an opening night musical. The scores are supposed to be amazing.”

Then he mentioned the name of the lead actor. Who said no to that? Only she wasn’t exactly dressed for the theater.

“I need to go up and change first,” she said.

But then, his gaze sharpened—almost gleamed—and Grace took stock again. Was he debating whether or not to suggest a drink in her room before heading out? Given the conflagration the last time they’d been alone together, no matter how great the songs or the food, she guessed he wouldn’t complain if they ordered room service and bunked down in her bedroom for the night.

She was reconsidering the whole deal when his expression cleared and he waved the envelope toward a lounge adjoining the lobby.

“I’ll wait over there,” he said. “Take your time.”

As he headed off, Grace blinked and then eased into a smile. No inviting himself up or flirty innuendoes. Perfect. Except...

If Wynn wasn’t here at her father’s behest, or to test the air for some no-strings-attached sex, that made tonight about a mutually attracted couple who wanted to enjoy some time together. In other words, a date.

Her first in a year.

* * *

“Some like it steamy.” As he walked alongside her, Wynn gave her a puzzled look. Grace indicated a billboard across the street. “There,” she explained. “It’s the name of a new movie.”

Wynn grinned. “Sounds like something my brother would dream up.”

She and Wynn were heading back to the hotel. They’d enjoyed their meal and the show had been fantastic.

During dinner, she’d caught up on all the Hunter news. Apparently Cole and Dex had been at loggerheads for years. When their father had decided to split the company among the kids, workaholic Cole had expected more from Dex than he’d thought Mr. Casual could give. Dex had been happy to get away on his own to California to head Hunter Productions, which, after some challenges, was now doing well. Teagan had got out of the family business altogether. She’d followed brother Dex to the States and had forged a successful health and fitness business in Seattle. Grace decided she really ought to get in touch with her old friend again.

As for the show, the staging had been spectacular and singing amazing; more than once, Grace had had to swallow past the lump in her throat. And Wynn’s company had been as intoxicating as ever. Despite her reservations, she was glad he’d convinced her to go out.

“I know Cole’s getting married,” she said as her attention shifted from the billboard to take in Wynn’s classic profile. “But isn’t Dex engaged, too? I’m sure I saw an announcement somewhere.”

“I get to meet both Dex’s and Cole’s love interests in a couple of weeks. Cole’s wedding’s back home in Sydney.”

In Australia? She remembered wondering about his accent that first night; she’d thought possibly English but hadn’t wanted to get into backgrounds. “A Hunter wedding. Set to be the social event of the season, I bet.”

Grunting, he flipped his jacket’s hem back to slot both hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

The Hunters were wealthy, well connected. When Guthrie had remarried a few years ago, her parents had attended. Grace’s mother had come home gushing over the extravagance of the reception as well as the invitation list—sporting legends, business magnates, some of the biggest names in Hollywood today. But it sounded as if Cole and his bride-to-be might be planning a more private affair.

Grace was about to ask more when a raindrop landed on her nose. She checked out the sky. A second and third raindrop smacked her forehead and her chin. Then the starless sky seemed to split wide apart.

As the deluge hit, Grace yelped. Wynn caught her hand, hauling her out of the downpour and into the cozy alcove of a handy shopfront.

“It’ll pass soon,” he said with an authoritative voice that sounded as if he could command the weather rather than predict it.

With his hair dripping and features cast in soft-edged shadows, he looked so assured. So handsome. Was it possible for a man to be too masculine? Too take-me-now sexy?

As he flicked water from his hands, his focus shifted from the rain onto her. As if he’d read her thoughts, his gaze searched hers before he carefully reached for her cheek. But he only swept away the wet hair that was plastered over her nose, around her chin.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

She thought for a moment then feigned a shiver and nodded.

He maneuvered her to stand with her back to him. He held open his silk-lined, wool-blend jacket and cocooned her against a wall of muscle and heat. Heavenly. Then his strong arms folded across her and tugged her in super close.