Simply Sensual (Simply 3)

He let out a deep breath and refocused on Grace. “You need to forget the Montgomery issues and put them behind you.”

She curled into him and her warmth seeped inside him. “It’s gotten easier with you around.” She yawned and he leaned over to flick off the light.

Seconds passed in silence, turning into long minutes. Had he ever thought he’d find such peace with a woman by his side? And Grace Montgomery, of all women—a client’s granddaughter, from a family so different from his own. He swallowed a laugh.

Though a part of him still believed Grace would miss the luxuries one day, he dismiss

ed that part as prejudiced—as the part of him who’d disdained wealth as a kid. Not the man who knew Grace Montgomery.

No doubt about it, he’d fallen too hard to walk away. But if he chose to fight, he had one hell of an uphill battle ahead of him.

* * *

Grace awoke with a jolt. She wasn’t sure what had startled her, but once up, she tossed and turned, unable to fall back to sleep. She glanced over at the man sleeping by her side. His body heated her bed just as he melted her heart. How had she gotten used to his presence so quickly? And how would she get used to being alone again once he was gone?

She flicked on a small lamp in the corner of the room. She wasn’t surprised that Ben didn’t stir. When the mighty P.I. crashed, ten thousand drummers couldn’t wake him.

And she’d worn him out. She felt the corners of her mouth turn upward at the memory. His lips had touched places she’d considered private, branding her and marking her his own. And she’d let him. Because nothing had been more sacred than her heart, and he’d stolen that without even trying.

In sleep, his hair fell over his forehead, making him lose some of the tough facade he exuded during the day. But none of the sexiness vanished. Sensuality was too much a part of him. He lay on his back, one arm over his head, the sheet dipping low at his waist. The dark hair on his chest trailed in an enticing line down his abdomen, disappearing beneath the covers. And what lay beneath…

She trembled at the memory. Her heart beat faster and arousal set her body throbbing. Grace didn’t need to see what lay beneath the covers because she’d memorized him in intimate detail. Not only the sight of his erection, hard and ready just for her, but also the feel of him beneath her hand, and inside her body. For the first time, she understood the mixed metaphor that described that body part, velvet and steel. His skin felt smooth to the touch yet hard and strong with ridges able to arouse her in an instant.

If only it ended there. If only sex and desire were all she felt for Ben. Life would be so much easier. She eased herself beside him on the mattress. Buried deep inside the tough private investigator was a softness he let few people see. A childhood of hard work and deprivation had shaped him, but Grace had seen a more vulnerable side: his love for his ailing mother, dedication to the poorer kids of the world, and his concern for Grace and the lengths to which he would go to look out for her welfare. Beneath the tough guy exterior which drew her was the man Grace Montgomery loved.

Quietly, she stood and crossed the room. She lifted her camera and raised it, focusing in on Ben. She’d snapped photos of him involved in various activities, but the man in her bed was the man of her dreams, and if she missed this opportunity, she might never have another one. And Grace had a hunch these photos would be all she’d have to sustain her heart and soul in the lonely nights ahead.

Swallowing over the lump in her throat, she began to take pictures, walking around the room and capturing him from different angles. In her heart, she knew these were the best pictures she’d ever taken. Because they held so much a part of her in each shot.

With each click of the shutter or flash of light, Grace cringed, not wanting him to wake up before she was through. But even if he rose now, she’d still have her treasured photos. And soon, that might be all she had left of Ben Callahan.

Chapter Twelve

Giving Grace the freedom to go to work the next day and then to the park by herself was one of the hardest things Ben had ever done. Not because he worried about her safety but because it represented the end.

The end of the case for Emma was a mixed blessing. By definition, he’d accomplished all the older woman had asked, and his job here was complete. He’d tried to call her all morning and into late afternoon to let her know, but according to the help at the mansion, she wasn’t available for calls. He didn’t know what the hell that meant exactly except he’d have to stall his final report—a report he no longer wanted to give. And she didn’t answer her cell phone.

He glanced at his watch. It was nearing five and he still had to bring the massage gear downstairs and leave it with the doorman, so he pulled the key Grace had given him out of his pocket and let himself inside her apartment.

As he walked through the living room and entered her bedroom, the scent of coconut oil assaulted his senses. The musky fragrance would never remind him of the beach again. Instead, he’d forever associate the scent with Grace lying nude, arms loosely bound, eyes wide and hazy with desire, waiting for him to possess her. The trust she’d given him would be in his heart forever. He just hoped that once Grace found out the truth, he’d have a chance at forever.

He paused at the nightstand to collect the bottles of oil when his gaze fell upon the bed. Her computer lay open and he touched the laptop, intending to close it when the motion jiggled the screen to life.

Grace had obviously been busy today, but not just at the photography studio where she worked. Now that he thought about it, they’d parted this morning and he’d only assumed she was going to there for the day. Apparently, she’d had other things to do, including taking photos of him.

Although he was snooping, he sat down and scrolled through the photos. Of him. Unloading his truck, shooting hoops in the park, washing his vehicle… and sleeping in her bed last night.

Shock held him still. For the first time in his career, he got a glimpse of what it felt like to be the subject and not the investigator. Of being observed without knowing it. He’d never considered his subjects’ feelings before, but now he had his own to contend with. He ought to feel violated—and would have if the person on the other side of the camera were anyone other than Grace.

He remembered the prickling feeling of being watched the day he washed his truck and how quickly he’d shrugged off his unease. Some private investigator he was, Ben thought wryly. The P.I. had been set up, and a part of him admired Grace’s ability to catch him unaware.

Easing himself onto the bed, he scrolled through the photos one at a time, examining them through a detached eye. As a photographer, Grace was good. He’d already seen her more precious pictures and knew how well she captured life. She’d definitely do an incredible job on the CHANCES brochure and bring in substantial money for the charity. Everything stopped in that one second Grace caught, but the vivid, vibrant scenes were powerful and perfect.

As he pored over these shots, Ben realized she hadn’t just taken pictures of him. She’d captured his soul. Every facet of his personality, from the bad-boy attempting to be one with the kids from the street, to the relaxed man hosing down his truck on a Saturday morning, to the man sated by her lovemaking. She’d seen and savored them all.

He broke into a sweat, realizing just how well this woman knew him. She’d said her photos were a reflection of her feelings for the world around her and he had proof in his hands. Emotion showed in every picture, and as he saw himself through her eyes, he realized she was in deep.

As deep as Ben, and he was in love.