“Untangling herself from him and the covers, she stumbled out of bed, grabbed her robe from the connecting bathroom, and thrust her hands inside the sleeves, her disoriented mind whirring with a hundred thoughts. Mainly, who in the world could be here?
One glance at her reflection in the bathroom mirror made her cringe—she glowed, no doubt, but she looked like a tousled mess! Her hair tumbled around her face and shoulders in a wild disarray, her lips looked pink and swollen from Ford’s ardent kisses, and there was even a red chafe mark on her neck from his stubble. Since the person pummeling her front door sounded extremely persistent, not to mention impatient, she had no time to make herself presentable.
She passed through the bedroom, her gaze pausing briefly on the gorgeous man sprawled on his back on her bed. The covers swathed around his hips, leaving his chest gloriously bare. A sexy, lazy smile canted the corners of his mouth.
Ignoring the renewed awareness tickling her belly, she tightened the sash of her robe. “Stay in here,” she ordered in a hushed voice.
“Don’t worry, Grace,” he murmured huskily. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
The invitation in his hazy violet eyes was clear, and her breasts tightened at the thought of spending a lazy Sunday morning in bed with Ford—just as soon as she got rid of her unexpected visitor.
The incessant knocking spurred her into action. Exiting the bedroom, she closed the door behind her, which put her right in the living room. “I’ll be right there,” she called in an attempt to inform the other person she was on her way.
Seeing Ford’s suit jacket on her sofa, she stuffed the masculine article of clothing into the coat closet. With her still sleepy head struggling for wide-awake cognizance, she unlocked her front door, opened it . . . and came fully alert when she encountered her father standing on her porch, his face red with outrage.
“Dad,” she said in a voice that was so tight it squeaked. “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer her question, but barged past her and into her cottage without an invitation. Her father wasn’t a tall man, but what he lacked in height he more than made up for in a physically fit body and sheer stubbornness. It was that head-strong will that sent a ripple of alarm through Grace.
His gold/brown gaze took in her disheveled appearance, and a scowl of disapproval darkened his expression. “It’s after ten in the morning, Grace. What are you still doing in bed?”
Enjoying myself. Pleasing myself. Falling in love all over again.
Biting back the private comments, she casually clutched her robe at her neck, too aware of the fact that she was naked beneath. Very aware, as well, that her father was too close to her bedroom door for comfort. “It’s Sunday, Dad,” she said, heading into the kitchen, knowing he’d follow. “I don’t have to work, so I can be as lazy as I want to be, which means sleeping in till noon, if I’d like.”
“Hrmph,” The sound of disgust erupted from somewhere behind Grace—a typical sound from her father. Ellis Holbrook believed in rising early and making the most of a day. Grace did too, but she’d wanted to make the most of her day with Ford—in bed. Especially since he was leaving today.
Filling her coffee carafe with water, she glanced over her shoulder at her dad. “Why didn’t you call before coming out here like you normally do?”
“What, I’m not allowed to stop by and see my daughter any time I want?”
Refusing to give into his guilt tactics, she gave him a sweet smile as she scooped coffee grounds into the basket. “I’m just surprised to see you, is all. Didn’t you go golfing this morning with Gene and Emmett?” Rain or shine, her father had a standing reservation with his two old friends to play eighteen holes at the Whitaker Country Club on Sunday mornings. Only a medical emergency or some other life threatening crisis could drag him away from the sport—which was what worried Grace.
“I was golfing, when we came across Sheldon and his golfing buddies out on the ninth hole. He imparted some disturbing news that ruined my game.””