Ladies' Night by Andrews, Kay (popular books of all time .TXT) 📕

“It’s just a little dip pool,” he said. “Nothing like you had at your last address. Nothing big enough to drown a convertible,” he added impishly.

Grace gave him the side eye, and then giggled despite herself. She took another sip of wine.

“The backyard is so big at Mandevilla, it would be a shame not to take advantage of it, eventually,” he said. “Everything on here could be done in phases. So, phase one is the front yard and trimming and defining the shrubbery on the sides of the house. Phase two would be getting the citrus grove in the backyard looking good. Paint that barn-slash-garage thing, plant some vines to grow on a trellis to try to minimize the scale of it. Phase three would be the dip pool. And the garage-barn is so big, you could section off part of it for a guest house. The side that faces the proposed dip pool, you’d put in French doors or maybe a cool, industrial-looking roll-up bay door to a space that becomes your pool house. At the same time, you’d probably want to put a pair of French doors in that bedroom that becomes the master, so you have access to your little private patio out to the pool courtyard.”

“You are really, really good at this,” Grace marveled, looking from the plan to him. “Everything you’ve drawn here, it just perfectly fits the scale and sensibility of that little Florida cottage. Nothing too grandiose, just right, so appropriate. I can actually picture all of it.”

Wyatt’s face shone with pleasure. “It’s cool, you know? Creating something out of nothing? I miss the design aspect of landscaping. The rest of the park”—he gestured around—“it’s pretty much a done deal. All I can do is try to keep the wheels on the bus.”

Grace leaned her head back against Wyatt’s arm and stared up at the deepening night sky. The rain drummed softly on the tin roof. “What if money were no object? What would you do here then?”

“If wishes were horses?” He snorted derisively. She nudged him with her elbow.

“Okay, well, I’d do more to emphasize the specimen plants my grandparents brought here from all over the world. I’d eventually phase out the bird show, but not Cookie, of course. She’s part of the family. I’d maybe have a big demonstration garden, showing all the fruits and vegetables that we grow well in this climate. I’d love to work with local chefs, have an outdoor kitchen here and do cooking demonstrations using locally harvested produce and seafood and meat. I’d make the park less about tourism and more of a community resource. And, maybe, I’d even enlarge the nursery, make some of the plants we’ve grown here available to the public.”

Grace sat up. “Those are wonderful ideas! Truly.”

Wyatt shrugged. “It’ll never happen. Not in my lifetime. But yeah, I’ve got my plans.”

She gave him a level look. “Do I fit into any of those plans? Or am I just another complication?”

“You? You’re not a complication. You’re … ah, hell, Grace.”

He turned and gathered her into his arms and kissed her softly.

“Mmm,” she said after a while. “I do like your plans.” Wyatt’s arms tightened around her. His tongue tickled hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened herself to his chest. A moment later, his warm hands slipped under her T-shirt, and then under the white camisole she wore instead of a bra. He grazed her nipples with his thumbs and she inhaled sharply and twined her hands through his hair.

“Is this okay?” he whispered in her ear. “Should I stop?”

“Never,” she breathed.

His kisses grew more urgent as he pushed the fabric of her T-shirt upward. Grace let her hands slide slowly down his chest, to his waist; then, working them under his polo shirt, she flattened her palms on his bare chest, feeling the warmth, sliding her hands upward, brushing her fingertips across his nipples.

A moment later, by mutual, silent agreement, they were both shirtless. Wyatt pulled her onto his lap, kissing the nape of her neck, the hollow of her throat, cupping her breasts with both hands, teasing his tongue across her tightened nipples while she kneaded his shoulders, raking her nails across his bare back. Her breathing grew ragged as he kissed and caressed and, slowly, pushed her backward onto the picnic bench.

“Mmm,” she protested, between kisses. “This isn’t going to work, this bench is too skinny. We’ll both end up in the mud.”

He stopped what he was doing, then pulled her to her feet and, without warning, picked her up and plunked her atop the picnic table. She laughed but scooted back on her behind, and soon he was right there beside her, stretched out on top of the picnic table. He worked one thigh between hers, fumbling for the zipper of her shorts. She found his zipper easily, slid it down, and traced his erection with her thumb, while she pushed his shorts down. He was still groping with the button on the waistband of her shorts when she heard a soft buzzing and then a ringtone that sounded like “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” coming from the pocket of his shorts.

“Dammit!” he muttered.

She laughed. “Can’t it wait?”

He sat up abruptly, pulling at his shorts. “That’s Bo’s ringtone,” he said, grabbing the phone. “I gotta answer.”

41

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?” Wyatt said softly, turning so that his back was to Grace. She rested her head on his bare shoulder.

The child whispered something incoherent.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you, Bo.”

“I said, Mom called and she sounded really mad,” Bo said, his whisper hoarse.

“Why are you whispering?” Wyatt asked.

“I don’t want Granddad to hear,” Bo said. “He told me not to call you, but I can tell he’s all upset.”

Wyatt held the phone away from his face and swore softly.

“What did your mom want?”

“She was yelling at me because she said you didn’t