Free The Closer by Rhonda Nelson

donned the white hotel robe, which gaped open enough to reveal a bit of mouthwatering cleavage and accentuated her small waist.
    She’d obviously caught the last bit of his conversation, because her ripe lips were curved into a slight smile and latent humor danced in her misty-gray gaze. She jerked a finger at her bag, indicating she’d forgotten some of her toiletries, then retrieved a wide-toothed comb and returned to the bathroom. She left the door open, presumably to let the room breathe, and he watched as she swung her hair over her shoulder and drew the comb down through the length. It shouldn’t have been the least bit erotic—she was merely detangling her hair—and yet the sight of her, of her long, slender hands performing such a mundane but strangely intimate act was somehow the most arousing thing he’d ever seen.
    He hardened to the point of pain, felt his throat close up, need and something else—something much more alarming—roared through him.
    â€œGriff? You still there?”
    He blinked, startled, the phone forgotten at his ear. “Er, yes. Yes, I’m here.”
    â€œSo you definitely think I should ask her out?”
    Jess pulled the comb through her hair again. “Yes, definitely.”
    â€œBut not until I’ve told Derrick that I’m going to?”
    Geez, he knew she had a lot of hair, but how long did this take? Sweat beaded his upper lip. “That’s right. The bro code, remember?”
    She shot him a look, mouthed “the bro code?” and arched a humorous brow.
    â€œI remember.” He blew out a relieved breath. “Right. Thanks, Griff. I knew you’d know what to do. Dad is useless at this kind of thing.”
    There was an undertone to his voice that Griff couldn’t quite place, but it sounded familiar. Like disappointment and resentment. But that didn’t make any sense—
    â€œSo where do you think I should take her? Should I do the classic dinner and a movie, or something else, something different?”
    â€œBe different,” Griff advised him. “But don’t ask me how, because I don’t know. It just needs to be something that you’ve thought of, that you’ve planned. She’ll appreciate the sentiment.”
    â€œDo you have a girlfriend?” Justin suddenly asked, startling him. “It’s just, you’ve never said.”
    â€œNot at the moment, no,” he told him.
    â€œA boyfriend then?” he queried, shocking Griff even further. “Because that’s cool,” he hastened to add. “Whatever makes you happy, bro—”
    â€œNo, not one of those either,” he said, choking on a laugh. Jesus, this kid...
    â€œRight. Well, I’ll keep you posted on how things go with Heather. And if, you know, um...you ever need any advice, then I’m here for you.”
    I’m here for you. Griff swallowed, touched. “Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “Thanks.”
    â€œTalk to you soon.”
    Against his better judgment, more than likely, but yes, no doubt he would. He sighed, muttered a goodbye and disconnected. His gaze tangled with Jess’s, sucking the air from the room, and the phrase “from the frying pan into the fire” suddenly sprang to mind.
    Either way, he suspected a burn was forthcoming.

6
    â€œW HO WAS THAT on the phone?”
    Justin started, his gaze swinging to the doorway where his mother stood. She’d lost more weight, he thought, noting the sharper cheekbones, the jeans hanging off her rail-thin frame. She always did this when his father left, lost her appetite, but it seemed worse this time. Like whatever food she did eat refused to stick to her bones.
    He set the phone aside, leaned back onto his bed and picked up his remote control. “Not Dad,” he said, knowing that was really the question she’d wanted to ask. “It was Griff.”
    â€œOh, that’s nice,”