Be Mine Page 8

  "Shit." He stood up and made his way to the kitchen to get five bottles to take with him back to the couch. It was only after the third bottle that he felt the buzz.

  What the hell was happening to him? He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. Soon Gracie's face appeared, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed at something that Terrence had said in the office. His body heated up, remembering how soft she was against his hard chest when he slid his fingers into her pussy in her office. God, the smell of her arousal notched up the ache of wanting to be inside her. Her slickness around him, her taste....

  Gracie already said no, but he found it hard to accept her refusal. He should find it easy to move on, and he couldn't understand why he was willing to be flayed alive by her rejection and stay. Yet, she had allowed him to touch her.

  His mobile phone buzzed inside his pocket. He answered it, not looking at the caller.

  "Bryce."

  "Hello, Luke."

  Luke's face hardened. Anger replaced bewilderment and frustration regarding the woman who was driving him insane with need.

  "I thought I told you not to call me anymore," he replied. "You were not welcome before. You're not welcome now."

  The voice on the other end sighed. "After all this time, is that the way to speak to me?"

  "You were a happenstance, my lord. It will remain that way."

  "You are my heir. I am your father." The voice on the other side of the line hardened.

  "One of your many heirs," Luke corrected.

  "But I've chosen you," his father replied smoothly. "Have you thought about my offer?"

  "Where the fuck do you get off?" Luke thundered, standing up.

  "Luke—"

  "I don't want to have anything to do with you. Get that through your bloody skull! Your family doesn't want to have anything to do with me either. At least on that point we agree." Luke didn't wait for his father to reply before he ended the call. He cursed, his shout echoing through the empty house. This was his place of refuge, and he wasn't going to soil it with his father's call. He dialled Terrence's number.

  "Luke!"

  "I want to know how his fucking lordship got my number," he snapped.

  "Calm down, mate," Terrence shot back. "Where are you?"

  "At home."

  "I'll talk with my connections and ring you back." Terrence ended the call. That was what he liked about his best friend. Happy go lucky? Yes. But Terrence was also a man who got the job done.

  It was no use. He needed to keep his mind preoccupied. Taking a break from work was not how he envisioned it to be. Rising from the sofa, he took the rest of the bottles with him to his office and switched on his computer. Soon he was deep in work, the call forgotten.

  Chapter Ten

  "Ugh! I'm glad I wore wellies today. Mother Nature must be having her menses," Noreen mumbled. She and Gracie slowly made their way to the stall allotted to them at the fair. There was a cold nip in the early autumn air, and as the two women walked carrying the crate of pottery between them, their breaths puffed with exertion.

  "Careful you don't slip, Noreen. And don't walk too fast. We won't get any sales if any of the ceramics break." Gracie held tightly to the rope handle. She parked the car by the road inside the Maple Heath Manor instead of going over the nearly water clogged lawn lest they get stuck later on when the fare was over. The temperature had dropped during the night and the rains followed thereafter. Finally, they reached the stall's table and slowly placed the crate on top. Both women sighed as they flexed their arms to ease the discomfort. Knowing they would have to leave early to get things ready, Theresa agreed to stay with Flynn at home.

  "Look at that douche bag," Noreen said. "His car will be mired in mud."

  Gracie paused from opening the crate to spare a glance at the subject of Noreen's criticism. The car dislodged a portly man wearing clothes better suited for a day at Ascot. As soon as his expensive shoes hit the soggy ground, he cursed. She chuckled. "He probably thinks his Bentley can swim or he must have lost his way."

  Noreen snorted. "He's definitely lost his way." She shivered. "I'm going to grab the rest of the items from the car."

  "I'll help."

  "No, you stay and set up." Noreen looked at the sky. "I hope the rains stop for the day or we won't be able to sell as much as we'd like."

  Minutes later sunshine replaced the grey clouds, a precursor for better things to come. Gracie and Noreen had just put the finishing touches to their table when cars started coming inside the manor's grounds. Children waited inside the cars before parents and grandparents opened their doors to let them out. Colourful jackets, coats, and parkas made for a rainbow that decided to take a break from arcing over the skies. Smells of sausages and grilled hamburgers with a pinch of strong coffee soon wafted through the fare. People queued for food. Others perused the items on sale, from pottery and glass jewellery to different cheeses made in several parts of the country. Tasting trays of small breads and crackers with dollops of jam or cheese made their way on food stall tables for people to sample. Some crowded a few booths while other booths waited for people to gather around them. By noon, the swell of chatting groups and shouts of butchers selling fresh slabs of meat mixed with the shrieks, laughter, and whining of children.

  "Thank you." Gracie smiled at a buyer, while Noreen handed over the change for another purchase.

  "Oh my God, Gracie, can you believe it?" Noreen's face had a happy smile. "The fair isn't closing for a few hours yet and we're down to just one crate."

  "And I should say well done, you." Gracie enveloped her friend in a warm hug.

  "Girl, they didn't just buy my stuff. They also bought yours." The lilt in Noreen's voice belied her serious face. "Well done, apprentice."

  Gracie laughed. "Thank you. I have a wonderful teacher."

  A dusky blush coloured Noreen's caramel skin. She was the epitome of elegance no matter even if she was in dungarees. Her braided hair was tied with a piece of cloth at the nape of her neck, where several necklaces with tiny ceramic beads clicked against each other whenever she moved. Her softly kohl rimmed eyes sparkled with excitement and could be liberally laced with mischief, but not this time. Pure joy radiated through her in the way her mouth lifted in the biggest of smiles and the way she engaged potential buyers in conversation. Her enthusiasm, contagious.

  Noreen waved her hand dismissively at Gracie's compliment. "We will start trading compliments very soon."

  Gracie grinned, shaking her head. She bent down to get more ceramic bowls from the crate, gently taking them out from the bed of bubble wrap, unmindful of the quiet behind her. "We'll need to take out this blue and grey set of salad bowls, Noreen." She straightened up, turning towards her friend. "Where should I put..." Surprise slammed into her like a freight train. "These..."

  "Hello, Gracie." Whatever chill she felt abated in the banked fire in his blue eyes.

  "What are you doing here?"

  His eyes gleamed with amusement. "It is the weekend fair. People come to enjoy it."

  Colour flooded her cheeks. Dumb, Gracie. Just dumb. "Yes. Right. Well...enjoy the day then." She turned to Noreen, who watched the exchange with curiosity. "I'm going to get coffee. Do you want anything?"

  "I'll get it," Luke interjected. Noreen had just opened her mouth to speak and kept it open as she turned to Luke before she pursed her lips.

  "It's not necessary," Gracie said.

  "Gracie, please let me."

  "Why don't you both go and get me coffee," Noreen retorted wryly. "Better yet get me the huge cafetière because seriously I feel like I'm watching a table tennis match."

  Gracie scowled. Luke chuckled.

  "Good idea," he said. "Gracie?"

  Not wanting to belabour the point, Gracie turned to get her small purse and slung it diagonally across her chest. She refused to acknowledge of the sudden loud thudding of her heart and the turmoil that seemed to be usurping the calm inside her belly. She could also feel Noree
n's gaze on her, but she refused to look at her friend, opting to make her way out of their stall to join Luke.

  "Luke! Baby!"

  The strong cloud of perfume arrived first before a woman flung herself at Luke, capturing his mouth in a kiss that had a few passers-by gawk, glance with surprise, and snicker. Gracie stopped mid-stride, sighing and shaking her head.

  She gave Noreen a curt smile. "I'll be back with the coffee."

  "Gracie!"

  She continued walking, her wellies splashing over puddles that hadn't been dried by the sun. The warmth she felt at the sight of Luke became colder than the fall weather. She ground her teeth at his girlfriend's shrill laughter.

  She was such a fool. She felt used. Degraded.

  Betrayed.

  She swallowed against the lump lodged in her throat. She wasn't going back to the stall. Noreen would understand her need for silence. For solace. Knowing Luke's penchant for following her, Gracie allowed herself to be lost in the crowd, choosing to weave her way through the thickest group of people. Not even the obnoxious dressed for the Ascot races man sputtering his importance at a group of rowdy teenagers made her stop. She stole a glance back. Luke was nowhere in sight. Relieved, she made her way to the stall from where the aroma of rich, strong coffee came from. She groaned in frustration. A lot of people seemed to have the same idea as the queue formed a straight line perpendicular to the stall. If she went to the end of the waiting line, Luke would no doubt see her and that was the last thing she wanted. She nearly stomped her foot in annoyance.

  "Bloody nuisance," she gritted before she abandoned her mission and opted to leave the fair for the quieter part of the manor grounds. Fishing out her mobile, she typed a quick text to Noreen.

  Just needed to get away. Will be back in half an hour.

  A few minutes later, her phone vibrated. Okay, but you owe me an explanation. And who the hell is the woman nearly clinging around your guy like a boa constrictor?

  Gracie's thumbs flew over the QWERTY board. He's not my guy!

  Noreen texted back. Uh huh.

  Gracie huffed, not bothering to reply.

  Maple Heath Manor was set in the middle of an expanse of green in the heart of Cheshire. A former home to one of the minor aristocrats, it fell into disrepair when the last baron died without an heir. It was taken over by a charity that restored it to its present state. The grounds became a regular place for weekend markets and fairs, where some of the proceeds went to its upkeep.

  Gracie walked towards the entrance of the manor, paid and thanked the elderly volunteer before mingling with the rest of the crowd inside the bailey. She looked to the left at a group of bridesmaids and best men chatting animatedly while waiting for the bride and groom. She gave a wistful smile that immediately disappeared. There was also a tour group that was entering the main hall, but instead of joining them, which she had done so many times before, she made her way to the gardens at the back of the manor. She was relieved that it was empty save for a few birds whose nests precariously rested on the near bare branches of some of the trees that surrounded the enclave. The rains earlier brought about a profusion of copper, greens, ochres, and reds with dots of water twinkling on the remaining leaves and flowers under the autumn sun. Some of the trees, however, had started to shed their leaves. The floral hedgerows were also beginning to dry up but still fighting a valiant battle against the nearing cold. Still, their blooms threw splotches of colour, warming up the place. Gracie found an empty wrought iron bench, took out some of the table napkins she had left in her coat, wiped the seat of the water spots and sat down, squinting against the sun that flickered against one particular branch. The sun's rays gently fell upon her face while watching several leaves rustle against the wind, struggling to remain attached to the branch. Attempting to be stationary against an invisible force.

  "Story of my life," she murmured.

  Life with Jonathan had just been like that. He was the branch and she the leaf in a marriage that already the cracks from the start which she refused to see. She had gone out of her way to make things work until the only thing left for her to do was to give in to the invisible force, this time hoping to be blown away.

  Suddenly, her taste buds salivated at the smell of coffee. God, either that was really strong coffee for the brew to waft to the manor or someone had just come into the gardens carrying the elixir while they strolled. She turned to look at the garden's entrance and rolled her eyes in irritation. Yet her heart leapt with the thrill that ran down her spine. The ceramic mug was held out to her, but she didn't smell its rich contents. Her nose was more attuned to the dangerously sexy cologne he wore that made her want to purr.

  "Is your girlfriend hiding in the bushes ready to spill that coffee over me?" Gracie quipped. "Because I have nothing to wear if I get soaked."

  He came nearer, boxing her in, causing her senses to tingle. "Cilla isn't here and she isn't my girlfriend. I don't mind you naked and soaked, especially between your thighs. Now that's the kind of drink I'd like to have.”

  As though on cue, Gracie’s sex moistened, bringing an ache inside her that would need release very soon.

  "So." Luke's gaze devoured her. "Will you take this mug? Or will you wait for Cilla to appear?"

  She pierced him with a glare.

  He gazed at her with desire and amusement that could easily consume her where she sat. “I’m game if you still want to banter.”

  Sighing, Gracie reached out for the mug, their fingers brushing. He smirked when she gasped. Did he feel the same sharp current that sizzled in their fingers? Oh God, she was feeling the pangs of wanting release. After so long, why did it have to be now? She concentrated on her mug to keep her body's yearnings at bay but when the coffee touched her lips and the flavour exploded in her mouth, she closed her eyes, sighing and humming with pleasure.

  "I envy that mug," Luke murmured beside her. "It has felt your lips, savoured your tongue, and placed that look of ecstasy on your face." He breathed sharply when Gracie's eyelids opened, the remnants of bliss lighting up her eyes. "I wish you could look at me that way."

  "Try turning into coffee and you just might get your wish." Her mouth quirked.

  His mouth lifted. "Flirting, are we, Mrs. Sinclair?"

  "No," she said on an exhale, making herself comfortable on the bench despite the cold seeping through her denims on to her thighs and derriere. "I just don't want to waste good coffee."

  "Ouch." Luke gave a resigned sigh before leaning back on the seat. Gracie closed her eyes not because of the coffee, but because of the heat that emanated from Luke's body when he moved closer to her. Their thighs touched, the sleeve of his jacket brushed against hers, the close intimacy nearly undoing her. She sat straighter on the bench, trying as much as possible not to even come in contact with his clothes that seemed to be a physical extension of him, tempting her to do things to him that couldn't be done in the open air. Only because it was too cold. But maybe if it was warm enough...

  Dammit!

  "Are you offering something for me to nibble?" Luke's voice became deeper, gravelly enough to cause tiny delicious shudders to spark inside her. His eyes lowered to her chest. "Sitting ramrod straight is pushing your breasts up, Gracie. All I have to do is bend down and kiss them." His dark lust-filled eyes bored into hers. "I can also cup them in my hands and harden your nipples with my thumbs."

  Gracie sucked in her breath as his words caused a flood of liquid heat to sweetly flow out of her. She exhaled, her breath swirling in front of her mouth. "Pervert."

  Luke chuckled, unfazed. "First, I'm a stalker. Now, I'm a pervert. Mrs. Sinclair, you amaze me. How can you possibly know that?"

  "Because you've already touched me." The words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Oh God! A blush fanned across her cheeks, hot against her skin. She had a sudden urge to close her eyes when Luke leaned to whisper in her ear.

  "Yes, I have. And I want to do it over and over again."


  Chapter Eleven

  Luke's breath against her neck made her angle her head, longing for his lips to caress her skin. Squirming on the bench only made her too aware of the liquid, signalling her arousal between her thighs. Wet. Needy. Wanting.

  "Hell, Gracie, I can smell your nectar through your skin. I'm remembering its taste now. Sweet, tangy, delicious. Too bad I only tasted it on my fingers when my tongue should have been fucking your pussy."

  "Luke, there are people," she pleaded huskily. "Stop this." She brought her trembling hands down, relieved that the coffee inside her mug only rippled, not sloshed.

  "There isn't anyone here, Gracie." He gave a cursory glance at their surroundings. "They're all at the fair." Just then, they heard steps crunching on the gravel walk and an elderly couple, probably in their eighties, came into view. They looked as though they came from the wedding that Gracie noticed on her way to the gardens. The woman wore a dress of white lace. The man wore a beige suit. Luke sighed and moved slightly away.

  Gracie couldn't stop the nervous giggle that bubbled up in her throat.

  "You should get some lessons from them." She nudged her chin towards the couple, smiling at the devotion and adoration that passed between them.

  Luke leaned back, his legs crossed at the ankles, his coffee mug resting on his thighs.

  "So should you," he said quietly before taking another sip.

  Gracie's retort died on her lips to watch the couple instead. They shuffled slowly, their arms entwined. The man walked straight, his glasses low on the bridge of his nose. He constantly looked at his wife, who walked slowly, relying on her walker. They spoke gently, laughed softly, as if they didn't have a care in the world. The man whispered something to his wife. Suddenly the woman blushed, swatted his arm, giggling like a schoolgirl. The man chuckled, his face adoring. They soon reached the iron bench across and directly opposite from where Gracie and Luke sat.