From what Iâve heard,â Grace went on, âCole was the workaholic, Dex, the playboy. Arenât you supposed to be the Hunter brother with a conscience?â
âI grew up,â Wynn replied.
âHardened up.â
âAnd yet youâre captivated by my charm.â
Her lips twitched. âI wouldnât say that.â
âSo I dreamed that you came home with me three nights ago?â
âI was feeling self-indulgent. Guess we connected.â
âIn case you hadnât noticed, we still do.â
âI canât regret the other night.â She let out a breath. âBut, Iâm not interested in pursuing anything ⦠rekindling any flames. Itâs not a good time.â
Wynn felt his smile waver before firming back up. âI donât recall asking.â
âSo, that hand sliding toward my behind, pressing me against you ⦠I kind of took that as a hint.â
* * *
One Night, Second Chance is part of The Hunter Pact series: One powerful family, countless dark secrets
ROBYN GRADY was first contracted by Mills & Boon in 2006. Her books feature regularly on bestsellers lists and at award ceremonies, including the National Readersâ Choice Awards, the Booksellersâ Best Awards, CataRomance Reviewersâ Choice Awards and Australiaâs prestigious Romantic Book of the Year.
Robyn lives on Australiaâs gorgeous Sunshine Coast where she met and married her real-life hero. When sheâs not tapping out her next story, she enjoys the challenges of raising three very different daughters, going to the theater, reading on the beach and dreaming about bumping into Stephen King during a month-long Mediterranean cruise.
Robyn knows that writing romance is the best job on the planet and she loves to hear from her readers! You can keep up with news on her latest releases at www.robyngrady.com.
Prologue
Turning her back on the wall-to-wall mirror, Grace Munroe unzipped and stepped out of her dress. She slipped off her heelsâmatching bra and briefs, tooâbefore wrapping herself in a soft, scented towel. But when she reached the bathroom door, a chill rippled through her, pulling her up with a start.
She sucked down a breathâtried to get enough air.
Iâm an adult. I want this.
So relax.
Let it go.
A moment later, she entered a room that was awash with the glow from a tall corner lamp. She crossed to the bed, drew back the covers and let the towel drop to her feet. She was slipping between the sheets when a silhouette filled the doorway and a different sensation took hold. She hadnât been in this kind of situation beforeâand never would be again. But right now, how she wanted this.
How she wanted him.
Moving forward, he shucked off his shirt, undid his belt. When he curled over her, the tip of his tongue rimmed one nipple and her senses flew into a spin.
His stubble grazed her as he murmured, âIâd like to know your name.â
She didnât winceâonly smiled.
âAnd Iâd like us under this sheet.â
This evening had begun with a walk to clear her thoughts; since returning to New York, sheâd been plagued by memories and regrets.
Passing a piano bar, she was drawn by the strains of a baby grand and wandered in to take a seat. A man stopped beside her. Distinctly handsome, he filled out his tailored jacket in a way that turned womenâs heads. Still, Grace was ready to flick him off. She hadnât wanted company tonight.
To her surprise, he only shared an interesting detail about the tune being played before sipping his drink and moving on. But something curious about his smile left its mark on her. She felt a shift beneath her ribsâa pleasant tugâand her thinking did a one-eighty.
Calling him back, she asked if heâd like to join her. Ten minutes. She wasnât staying long. Slanting his head, he began to introduce himself, but quickly she held up a hand; if it was all the same to him, sheâd rather not get into each otherâs stories. Each otherâs lives. She saw a faint line form between his brows before he agreed with a salute of his glass.
For twenty minutes or so, they each lost themselves in the piano manâs music. At the end of the break, when she roused herself and bid him good-night, her stranger said he ought to leave, too. It seemed natural for them to walk together, discussing songs and sports, and then food and the theater. He was so easy to talk to and laugh with...There was almost something familiar about his smile, his voice. Then they were passing his building and, as if theyâd known each other for years, he asked if sheâd like to come up. Grace didnât feel obliged. Nor did she feel uncertain.
Now, in this bedroom with his mouth finding hers, she wasnât sorry, either. But this experience was so far from her norm. Was it progress or simply escape?