Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(3)

“So,” Grant said, rolling her onto her back, “where were we? I don’t think it was discussing my sheets.” He nuzzled behind her ear again.

“The light’s still on,” she said over his shoulder. She squiggled free and leapt from the bed. “I’ll be right back.” She flicked off the switch by the door and remembered the scented candles she’d brought over just for tonight.

“I’m getting chilly here all alone,” Grant cooed from the bed.

“I’m just lighting the candles,” she cooed back.

“I don’t need candles.”

“It’ll put us in the mood,” Liz said, blowing lightly on the last candle until a neatly flickering flame appeared. There. Perfect. She let out a smooth exhale and turned.

Grant lay on his back, his face in shadow. “I’m already in the mood,” he said, reaching for her hand.

Liz smiled down at him and gave his hand a squeeze. “I just want our first time together to be absolutely perfect.”

“I know.” Her heart gave a delighted lurch as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. So sweet! “But you don’t have to try so hard, Liz. It’s just sex.” He gave her arm a tug, pulling her on top of him, then he growled—growled?—and rolled her beneath him.

“It’s more than just sex,” she insisted, catching her breath.

“You know what I mean,” he said against her lips.

She kissed him, once, then pressed her palms to his chest, thinking. “Actually, I don’t. What do you mean?”

“I mean, just enjoy it. It doesn’t have to be this Big Event.”

“It’s our first time!”

“Not unless we actually do it.”

She gave him a little shove, annoyed at the silky feel of his chest under her palms. “Meaning?”

Grant rolled to his side. “Meaning, I’ve been ready since you walked in the door, but you insisted you needed time to make things perfect. So I took a shower. Now we have to do the whole music and candles thing? Will we have to jump through these hoops every time we have sex?”

Liz scooted to a sitting position. “I was making an effort to make things romantic.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just… I’m a sure thing, Liz. I appreciate the effort, but you don’t have to work this hard.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Listen, I know this night is important to you. You don’t have to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“I understand if you are. I know you don’t have a lot of experience.”

Liz bit her lip as his fingertips stroked her hair from her face. Okay. So maybe she’d misrepresented that aspect of her personal history a teensy bit when he’d first asked, but who wants to leap into bed with a coworker on the third date? Everyone knows it’s corporate suicide to have a disastrous office affair. She wanted to be sure he was a keeper before getting that, um, involved. But now… “I trust you,” she said, stroking his hair in return.

“I don’t want to fight,” he said.

“Neither do I.”

Yes. Back on track. Liz smiled and closed her eyes as Grant leaned in for a kiss. Could life be more perfect? The merger was nearly complete, she was within spitting distance of her goal weight and she had Grant in her arms. She sighed as his hand slid over her breast and…

Dum. Dum. De-dum. Dum-de-dum-de-dum-de-DUM…

Liz’s eyes burst open as her cell phone vibrated atop Grant’s dresser, the funereal tune like a black fog seeping under the door in a B-movie.

Oh. Dear. God. In. Heaven. Could she have worse timing?

“I’m so sorry,” Liz said, mentally kicking herself from here to Tuesday for forgetting to mute her cell phone. How could she have been so careless?! “Ignore it. I’ll call her later.” Liz pressed Grant back against the sheets again and kissed him with gusto. She would not let anything distract her from…

Dum. Dum. De-dum…

Grant’s hands stilled. “You can take it,” he said against her lips, trying to sit up despite her better efforts to keep him right where he was.

Liz slid her hands down his chest, reveling in the feel of his rock-hard abs. My God, you could actually see the man’s six-pack. “I’m sure it’s not important,” she said.

He grabbed her hand before it slid further south. She reluctantly met his eyes. “You know she’ll keep calling unless you answer.”

“I’ll turn off the ringer,” Liz said a little desperately. Not now! No more interruptions! Grant arched an eyebrow. “We’ll turn off your ringer, too!” she added.

Grant disentangled himself, no small feat, and stood up. “Answer it, Liz. I’ll wait.”

Liz let out a long frustrated exhale—four months!—and hurried to the dresser. “I promise I’ll make it quick.”

Grant stooped to pick up his towel.

Liz picked up her phone. “Hi, Mom.”

“Elizabeth!” her mother yelled. Liz winced, having forgotten to hold the phone a safe distance from her ear. Her mother harbored a deep distrust of modern technology and was convinced any phone not connected by a physical wire must have poor reception. “Honey! I’m so glad I caught you!”