Текст книги "About that Night"

Автор книги: Beth Andrews

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She’d been miserable. Had hated the merriment and smiling faces. Hated herself for pushing Clinton away. She’d thought for sure she’d never see him again, that he’d fade out of her life for good.

Until she’d arrived at work this morning and Fay had told her he was back. Back in Shady Grove and, despite being able to afford classier accommodations, back to Bradford House. Not only that, but he’d booked the room for every weekend from now until the end of the year.

Because of her.

She couldn’t stay away. Not when he was this close.

Not when she’d actually missed him.

She knocked again, harder this time, anxiety and anticipation warring inside her.

He wanted her to trust him, to turn to him, and she wanted to, but she was scared. But today, now, she was making an effort.

He’d better appreciate it.

He opened the door, his cell phone to his ear, his free hand covering the mouthpiece. Seeing her, he raised his eyebrows. “Hello, Ivy.”

Well, that was a cool, not-exactly-thrilled-to-see-her greeting. She reminded herself she deserved it, that she’d taken a job working for his brother, that she’d hurt his pride and made him doubt her commitment to at least trying to see where things could go between them.

“You came back,” she blurted, then winced. Crap. She hadn’t meant to say that.

“Is that why you’re here? To state the obvious?”

“I just... I thought maybe...after our disagreement you’d...”

“Walk away and not look back?”

“Something like that.” She wouldn’t blame him if he had. And she hated how grateful she was that he hadn’t.

The man was messing with her head, pure and simple.

Whoever was on the phone said something, drawing Clinton’s attention. “Of course I’m still here.” He gestured for Ivy to come in then turned and walked back into the room. She followed, shutting the door behind her.

“Now, don’t jump to any conclusions,” Clinton said into the phone, his back to Ivy. “For all we know this could just be a minor setback.” He paused, pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Aw, darlin’, don’t cry.” His voice was gruff, the look he shot Ivy a cross between terror and helplessness. “I’ll be back in Houston Sunday night.” During the pause, Ivy could hear the murmur of a female voice. “As soon as I get in. I promise. Try not to worry, okay?” Another pause. “I love you, too. Talk to you soon.”

He shut the phone off and rolled his head from side to side. Sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Ivy asked.

He tossed the phone onto the bed. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“Let’s just say I have an instinct about these things. And when a man tries to soothe a crying woman, something is wrong. At least to the woman.”

“That wasn’t a woman. It was my niece, Estelle. She’s worried about my father.”

“Is he all right?”

Clinton sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “His doctor is worried that his depression is worsening. He’s barely eating and he refuses to do his physical therapy. It’s like he’s given up and is just waiting to die.”

Ivy had no idea what it was like to watch someone she loved suffer like that, but she imagined it was horrible.

She sat next to Clinton, ignored how he stiffened when she laid her hand on his arm. She kept it there anyway, wanting to give him some small measure of comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded then stood. To get away from her? The thought stung, and she reminded herself that was what she’d wanted. To push him away.

She’d done the job too well.

“Estelle seems to think I can fix it,” Clinton said. “Somehow force Dad to get better.”

“And it’s killing you that you can’t,” Ivy guessed.

He sent her a sharp look that let her know she was right. “Even my ego’s not big enough to let me think I can save a dying man.”

“I don’t think it’s your ego pushing you. I think it’s respect, at the very least. Maybe even love for the man who raised you.”

She didn’t agree with Clinton butting into his family members’ business, didn’t like how they all turned to him to solve their problems. But she admired how he cared for them all.

She couldn’t imagine being that magnanimous. Wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

“Dad is a bastard,” Clinton said flatly. “Egotistical, arrogant and self-centered. But he isn’t all bad. And he doesn’t deserve to live the way he has been for the past fourteen months. No one deserves that. And you’re right. I hate that I can’t talk him into getting better.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Hell, maybe I made things worse by forcing Carrie to leave him.”

“From what I overheard that day at your apartment, she was on her way out. She was looking for an excuse.”

He lifted a shoulder. In agreement? Irritation? Ivy had no idea.

“If things are that bad with your father,” she said, needing to ask the question that was at the forefront of her mind, “why did you come back to Shady Grove this weekend?”

Clinton edged closer so that he towered over her, his gaze intense, his expression unyielding. “You know why.”

Her throat went dry. Yes, she knew.

He’d come back for her.

His words from that day at her apartment when he’d brought her champagne and flowers floated through her head.

I’m going to prove myself to you.

“The real question,” he continued, “is what are you doing here?”

“Fay told me you were back, and I...”

I missed you. I wanted to see you.

Except she couldn’t tell him that. Was afraid to be that open. That honest.

Was terrified he wouldn’t believe her. Not after what had happened at O’Riley’s.

“I need your help,” she blurted.

He laughed, but the sound held little humor. “I doubt that. You seem to thrive on doing things on your own.”

Ouch. But since it was true, she couldn’t argue. “I need your help,” she repeated, as she stood. “Fay is giving me the boys’ old crib, and I need help carrying it into my apartment and putting it together.”

Of course, she didn’t need it quite this soon, hadn’t planned on lugging it home for a few months. And she could think of about a dozen ways she’d rather spend a sunny Saturday afternoon than moving furniture. But he didn’t need to know any of that.

He wasn’t the only one who had something to prove. She was turning to him. Making the effort.

She just hoped it wasn’t too little, too late.

He stiffened. “I’ll buy you a new crib.”

She rolled her eyes. “The baby doesn’t care if two other babies have slept in the crib. We’ll get new sheets and everything, but there’s no point buying something when I have a perfectly good crib here that’s ready to be reassembled in my apartment.”

He studied her, his gaze wary. Questioning.

At her apartment last week, when they’d celebrated the baby, had their champagne and that amazing kiss and she’d told him about her mother, they’d grown closer. It had scared her to death. So she’d asserted her independence. He had a right to be pissed. She’d just hoped he’d be over it by now. With any other man, she wouldn’t worry about it. The only reason she was making an effort with Clinton was because of the baby. Or so she told herself.

Lies. Horrible lies she forced herself to believe because the truth was so much scarier.

She’d done this to herself. Had brought on his cool attitude by going to Kane. By not accepting Clinton’s help. By not trusting him when he’d said she could count on him.

She’d succeeded in putting distance between them and now she wished she hadn’t. And it wasn’t guilt. It was something more. Something deeper she didn’t want to explore.

“Well?” she asked, frustrated and getting mildly annoyed because she was making an effort and couldn’t he see that? “Are you going to help me or not?”

He straightened. “Where is it?”

She almost sagged in relief. “In the basement.” Fay had an entire household worth of items down there from the house she used to share with her ex-husband.

Clinton nodded. “Let me change. I’ll meet you in the foyer in five minutes.”

Ivy left, quietly shutting the door behind her. In the hall, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily.

And tried to tell herself she was making progress.

* * *

C.J. CARRIED THE last piece of the crib up the stairs and into Ivy’s apartment. Was greeted by the cat with a meow. He went into Ivy’s bedroom, where they’d put the rest, Ivy taking the small parts, him hauling the bigger ones.

He wiped sweat from his brow. Ivy had borrowed a pickup, so they’d been able to get it from the bed-and-breakfast to her apartment in one trip. One silent, tension-filled trip.

He wasn’t going to worry about it. Wasn’t going to be the one to break that tension. Not when he was still so angry with her.

“Here,” she said, coming in behind him with a glass of lemonade. “You look thirsty.”

“Thanks.” He took it, drained the liquid in several long gulps. Handed her the glass.

She looked nervous, standing there in her shorts and another tank top, this one the color of spring grass that clung to her rounded stomach. “I didn’t know you even owned regular jeans. I mean, the kind normal people buy.”

He glanced at his faded jeans. He’d changed into them and a T-shirt, had put on his running shoes. “Several pairs,” he said. She thought he was some snob who’d never done an honest day’s worth of work.

He had. It may not have been physical work, but he knew how to put in a full day, how to work until the job was done.

“Fay found the directions,” Ivy said, handing him a paper booklet opened to a diagram of parts and pieces.

He studied it. Nodded, though trepidation crept up his spine. “Got it. Tools?”

She gestured toward a pink toolbox in the corner. “Need help?”

“No, thanks,” he told her coolly. “I can handle it on my own.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she whirled on her heel and stormed off without a word.

A point for him, getting that last word in, but the victory felt hollow. He glanced at Jasper, who was looking at him reproachfully. “Yeah, yeah,” C.J. muttered. “I know. Cheap shot. But she deserved it.”

Telling himself that was the truth, he laid out the directions and went to work.

* * *

“HAVE YOU BEEN sleeping in here?” Ivy asked an hour later when she came back into the room. She frowned at him, looked at all the pieces and parts still scattered on the floor. “I thought you’d be done by now.”

C.J. ground his back teeth together and slowly got to his feet. He had one side of the crib up, and it wasn’t looking too steady. “You did this on purpose.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This.” He jabbed a finger at the half-assembled crib. “You asked me to put this damned thing together to prove I’m inept.”

She laughed. “You’re kidding.” Her laughter died as she took in his expression. “You’re not kidding. Look, this isn’t some trick or plan to make you look bad. I needed help, so I asked you.”

He wanted to fling the screwdriver he was holding. Instead he set it down, then threw up his hands. “It’s impossible. There’s no way these pieces make a crib.”

He was embarrassed and felt like an idiot for not being able to read directions, for not being able to do something as simple as assemble a bed for his baby.

“Hey,” she said, her tone soothing, her hand rubbing his arm. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

He exhaled heavily. Nodded. “Yeah. All right.” He picked up the directions. He wanted, desperately, to talk her into letting him just buy a damn crib, one already assembled that would be delivered straight to this room. But he couldn’t. “Guess I fail again.”

She looked at him sharply. “I told you, this isn’t a game or a plan. It’s not a test. Do you really think I care if you can assemble furniture? Because I can do that myself. I didn’t ask you here because I need your help. I asked you here because I want your help.”

“There’s a difference?”

She huffed out a breath. “Of course. I can do most things on my own. I’ve had to learn to be self-reliant, and I know that’s hard on you, but I can’t change who I am. Not completely. But I can try to accept help, to accept the fact that I’m not alone anymore.”

“Because of the baby,” he said.

“Because of the baby,” she agreed. “But also because of you. I’m not going to quit working at O’Riley’s, and I’m sorry if that bothers you, but I need the job there. I need to take care of myself. That doesn’t mean I don’t trust you or that I don’t want you to be a part of the baby’s life.” She swallowed. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be a part of my life,” she said softly.

He was stunned. Could only stare at her as he tried to understand what she was telling him. She wanted him in her life. She wanted to trust him.

All of the tension, the tightening in his gut, which he hadn’t been able to get rid of since leaving her in Kane’s bar last week, dissipated.

She was going to give him a chance. She was going to give them a chance.

Grinning, he leaned forward. Pressed a warm kiss on her mouth, one she reciprocated with such sweetness he couldn’t help wrapping an arm around her and kissing her again. And again. When he broke the kiss, she was smiling.

“I take it you’re done being mad at me?” she asked.

“For now. But don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll do something else to piss me off soon.”

She laughed. “You know me so well.”

He hoped that was true. Wanted it to be true. He handed her the screwdriver. “Now show me how to put together a crib.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“ARE YOU MAD AT ME?”

Gracie glanced at Luke as they walked down the sidewalk. He’d invited her to get a coffee after work, and she hadn’t been able to say no. Hadn’t wanted to say no. They’d barely spoken since she’d left his sister’s house last week, and though she knew it was stupid of her, she’d missed him.

“No,” she said. And she wasn’t mad. She was confused and so scared of falling for him when she had no idea what he thought of her. “I thought you were mad at me. You didn’t call or text me.”

“Yeah, I thought maybe you didn’t want to talk to me because of...because of the kiss.”

He blushed, and she wasn’t sure what he was embarrassed about.

“I do want to talk to you. I did,” she said.

“Good. That’s...good.”

He held the door for her, and they went into the coffee shop. Though it was Saturday afternoon, there were a few empty tables. Luke excused himself to use the restroom, and she sat near a large window overlooking Main Street. Gracie fiddled with the strap of her purse.

“Can I get you something?”

Gracie looked up and frowned to see Kennedy wearing a waitress uniform, a pad in one hand, pen in the other, her long, red hair pulled back. “Oh, Gracie. Hi,” she said with all the warmth and enthusiasm of someone greeting her own executioner. “I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Hello, Kennedy,” Gracie said, refusing to be rude just because Kennedy didn’t have any manners. “How are you?”

Kennedy rolled her eyes. “I’m just fine.” She flicked her gaze over Gracie’s hair. “I see your hair’s gotten bigger this summer.” She smiled, as if she was teasing, just being funny.

Gracie clenched her hands so she wouldn’t touch her curls. “Yes.” And Gracie saw that Kennedy was still a bitch. “I’ll have an iced coffee, please. Do you have soy milk?”

She shrugged. “Anything else?”

“That’s all for me, but the person I’m with will be right back.”

Kennedy’s eyes widened. “You’re not alone? That’s a surprise. Don’t tell me—one of your little friends from the band is joining you?”

A few of her friends were in the marching band at school, but that was nothing to be ashamed of. Though some popular kids like Kennedy thought it was. “Actually—”

“I’m joining her,” Luke said as he brushed past Kennedy and stood there as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to sit or not.

Kennedy’s fingers turned white on the pen. “Luke. You’re with...her?”

He nodded. Took his seat. Kept his gaze on the table. “I’ll have a blended caramel macchiato.”

“I know what your favorite drink is,” Kennedy said, looking like she was about to cry. “I know everything about you,” she whispered.

His hands fisted on top of the table and he kept silent until Kennedy finally left.

“I’m sorry,” he said tightly to Gracie. “I didn’t know she was working here.”

Gracie wasn’t sure she believed him, but she hated to think that he’d lie to her, especially about something like that. “It’s okay. Do you...do you want to go somewhere else?”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “No. I’m not going to let her get to me.”

But tension emanated from him, and whatever he’d wanted to talk to Gracie about would obviously have to wait. They sat in silence for ten minutes until Kennedy came back with their drinks. She set them down with more force than necessary.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, though her lips barely moved.

“No,” Luke said, still not looking at her, which Gracie could have told him only made it seem as if Kennedy was more important to him than he wanted to let on.

“Oh, Gracie,” Kennedy said, “I heard they’re having a bag sale at the thrift store this afternoon. I’m sure you’ll want to stock up on clothes.”

Gracie refused to let someone so mean and ugly on the inside get to her. She smiled. “Thank you, Kennedy. I would like that, and I’ll be sure to stop by there.”

She always found the best deals at thrift stores, though she preferred going to one in Pittsburgh where there was a bigger selection.

Kennedy made a huffing sound and left. “God,” Luke murmured, “she is such a bitch.”

“She’s just insecure.” Gracie often wondered why that gave someone a free pass to be mean, but Molly always had excuses for people’s behavior, and it had rubbed off on Gracie. “Though I can’t understand why other people don’t see her cattiness is really a cry for help. I mean, she’s nice enough to people’s faces, but behind their backs, she’s constantly bad-mouthing them. I think it’s because she’s pretty. No one wants to believe she’s not as beautiful on the inside, too.”

“No,” Luke said, after a moment, as if he’d been considering Gracie’s words and having some sort of inner debate. “She’s just a bitch.” He took a sip of his drink, then sat back in agitation. “Drew cornered me in the weight room yesterday, said Kennedy came on to him months ago.”

Gracie winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Luke.”

He shrugged. “Drew could have turned her down. Could have told me about it. Instead he hooked up with her. But I think he’s regretting that now.”

“Oh?” Gracie asked, wondering when she’d stopped being upset over Andrew being with Kennedy and worrying about Kennedy being free again. Free to get back with Luke. “What makes you say that?”

“He apologized to me. Said he made a mistake, picking a girl over a friend. I just...got the feeling he didn’t know what he was getting into with her and that he might be looking for a way out.”

She stirred her drink with her straw. “How does that make you feel?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Luke said with finality, but she wondered who he was trying to convince. Her. Or himself. “I just don’t want him to think we’re going to be friends again, you know?”

Nodding, Gracie took a sip of her drink, only to frown. Forced herself to swallow.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asked.

“Nothing.” But she pushed the drink aside.

“Gracie...”

“It’s no big deal,” she assured him. “They used real milk in my drink. I’m sure it was an accident. I’ll just get another.”

But before she could even lift her hand to get Kennedy’s attention, he was on his feet, motioning Kennedy over, his expression hard.

“Yes?” Kennedy asked in a snide tone.

“Gracie’s coffee has milk in it,” Luke said as if Kennedy had laced it with poison.

Kennedy cocked a hip. “So?”

“She’s vegan,” he ground out.

“It’s really not a problem,” Gracie hurried to say because people were starting to stare. Because she felt as if he was using this as an excuse to get into Kennedy’s face. “I’ll just send it back.”

He whirled on her. “Did you ask for soy milk?”

Gracie nodded. “Maybe she forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” Kennedy said, tossing her head. “The barista must have messed up.”

Luke shook his head. “You did it on purpose.”

Gracie had enough. “I think you two have some things to talk about, so I’m just going to go.” And because she was miffed at him for making a big deal out of something that wasn’t a big deal at all, she didn’t even offer to pay for her drink. Let him buy it for her. Maybe Kennedy could drink it, since Gracie wouldn’t.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait. Don’t go.”

“Oh, let her leave,” Kennedy said. “Can’t you see what she’s doing? It’s so pathetic.” Kennedy turned to Gracie. “Andrew told me how you threw yourself at him last fall.”

Gracie went cold. No matter what she’d thought about Andrew, she’d never expected he’d tell Kennedy about what had happened between them. “What?”

“I knew there was something weird going on when you were talking to him in school that one day,” Kennedy said. “The way you were begging him to sit with you at lunch. God, it was really sad. But he told you he wasn’t interested, and now you think you’re going to...what? Insert yourself into the popular group by getting with Luke?”

Gracie could only shake her head. “You’ve been watching way too many ’80s teen movies.”

Kennedy turned to Luke. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for this dork. I mean...God...look at her.”

Gracie couldn’t breathe. She waited for Luke to say something. Anything. Until he did.

“Gracie and I are friends,” he said, his cheeks red. He wouldn’t look at her. “Just friends.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice unsteady, because no matter how hard she tried to tell herself not to let his words hurt her, they did. “What else would we be?” She faced him, held his gaze. “You’re so much better suited for someone like Kennedy.”

He winced, obviously understanding that she didn’t think highly of Kennedy—or of him.

And then she walked out, her dignity wrapped around her. Her heart breaking once again.

* * *

CLINTON OPENED THE door to his room, his carry-on in one hand, laptop case in the other, only to pull up short when he found Ivy there, her hand lifted to knock.

“Hey,” he said, grinning, knowing it was ridiculous to be so happy to see her when he’d just left her apartment half an hour ago but unable to deny it nonetheless. “Everything all right?”

“Fine,” she said, but she was frowning slightly. “I don’t want to keep you from getting to the airport but...” She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s just...I could have sworn I passed Kane on my way here, riding his motorcycle.”

“That was him,” Clinton confirmed. He wondered how long before Charlotte put her foot down about him riding that thing.

“Kane was here?” Ivy asked.

“Surprised me, too.”

The whole weekend had been one shock after another. First, Ivy had come to him for help yesterday. He’d come back to Shady Grove to prove to her that she could count on him. After putting the crib together, she’d had to work at O’Riley’s. He’d gone with her, had eaten dinner there, then spent the rest of the night sitting at the bar with Charlotte, who’d had the night off.

This morning, he’d offered to take Ivy out to brunch, but she’d insisted she enjoyed cooking so they’d spent a lazy day at her place, eating, reading the paper and watching old movies on TV.

And when he’d left to pack before catching his flight back to Houston, she’d kissed him goodbye so sweetly, he’d wondered if she just might miss him while he was gone. Hoped she would.

“Kane was waiting on the porch when I got here,” C.J. told her. “He came to collect the favor I owed him.”

“Ooh, let me guess. He wants you to leave a horse’s head in his biggest enemy’s bed.”

“Nothing quite that bloodthirsty. He asked me to be his best man.”

“Yeah? I guess he likes you more than he lets on, huh?”

C.J. couldn’t help it. He laughed. “I doubt that. Probably Charlotte forced him into it. Kane’s never been the type to have many friends. I was probably the only person they could think of who would say yes.”

“I don’t know about that. You do have two other brothers. He could have asked either of them.”

True. Though C.J. doubted Zach would even show up for the wedding, let alone agree to stand up for one of his brothers.

A family of five walked down the hall and he and Ivy stepped aside to let them pass.

“I’m not sure why he asked,” C.J. said when they were alone again. “But I’m glad he did.”

He and Kane still had their issues, but being asked to be part of Kane’s wedding day made C.J. hopeful they could work through those issues. Eventually.

Though he knew it was going to take a hell of a lot of work on both their parts to get past two decades of resentment.

“Ah, brotherly love,” Ivy said with a cheeky grin. “There’s nothing else like it. Best friends one minute, wanting to eviscerate each other the next.”

“That’s a brutal description. But accurate.” He pulled his door shut. “Are you working tonight?”

She’d told him that she sometimes spent her nights off here doing prep work or trying new recipes.

“No. I was hoping to catch you before you left.”

Shifting his briefcase to the hand holding his carry-on, he laid his other one on the small of her back. Led her toward the stairs. “Why is that?”

“I felt the baby move.” She laughed. “I mean, I’ve felt it before, like a tiny fluttering, but I could never tell if it really was the baby or just indigestion. And this time I knew, for certain, it was the baby.”

He stopped, just...slammed to a stop at the top of the stairs. “What?”

She nodded, looking thrilled and slightly ill at the same time. “It was right after you left. It was this rolling sensation. Like he was doing a somersault. Here.” She took his hand and laid it against the soft swell of her stomach but C.J. didn’t feel any movement. “It was wonderful and scary and just made me realize how...real...this all is. We’re having a baby.” She looked up, smiled into his eyes. “I’m terrified and excited and I just... I wanted to tell you.”

She’d come to him so he could be included in this moment. So they could share it.

Like a real couple. A real family.

His fingers curled against her stomach and he leaned down to kiss her. “Thank you.”

She returned his kiss but then stepped back. Shrugged as if it was no big deal and cleared her throat. “You’d better get going. You don’t want to miss your flight.”

He bit back a sigh. He was coming to understand her more and more. When he got too close, or when things got too personal between them, she took those steps—figuratively or literally—to maintain control.

To guard her heart.

It was annoying as hell.

But he had to be patient. He wouldn’t let his frustration get the best of him again. If he wanted Ivy—in his life and in his bed—he had to be patient.

Even if it killed him.

Besides, he really did have a plane to catch.

“We’ll have to celebrate next weekend,” he said.

“We can’t pop champagne for every pregnancy milestone.”

“You’re right. We’ll switch to sparkling cider.”

“That’s not what I meant. Not every little thing needs a celebration. Look, this kid is going to have enough to deal with just being a Bartasavich. He or she doesn’t need the ego boost of you throwing a parade just for a new tooth or learning to walk.”

He nodded solemnly. “Good point. We’ll hold off on the parade until he or she is toilet trained.”

“Ha-ha. Oh, how I hope the baby has your razor-sharp wit.”

C.J. took her hand, started down the stairs, liking how her palm felt against his. “If he doesn’t, we’ll buy him a sense of humor.”

She laughed. Squeezed his hand. “You rich people and your snooty specialty stores.”

They reached the foyer, but instead of letting her go, he raised their joined hands to his lips and placed a warm kiss on her knuckles. “Have dinner with me next weekend.”

“I can’t. I’m working. Friday at King’s Crossing and Saturday at O’Riley’s.”

But for the first time, she actually seemed disappointed to turn him down.

Progress. Slow and steady, but still progress.

Maybe there was something to this patience thing.

“How about lunch on Saturday?” he asked, wanting to push for more of her time but holding back.

“We have a bridal shower scheduled here Saturday so I’ll be working that. I’ll have a few hours free on Sunday but by the time I get up, it’ll be late morning. You shouldn’t even bother coming. It’s stupid for you to fly all this way to spend three or four hours with me.”

“Stupid or not, I’ll be here Friday night.” He already had his flight booked.

She tugged free. “It’s a waste of time.”

“It’s my time. And being with you is never a waste of it.”

Before she could argue—which he knew damned well she was gearing up to do—he crushed his mouth to hers. He kissed her hungrily, wrapped his free arm around her to pull her close. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her breasts pressed against his torso.

By the time he tore his mouth from hers, they were both breathing hard and he was aching for her.

She licked her bottom lip and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again. “Think of me,” he whispered against her mouth. A demand. A plea.

He stepped out into the warm summer evening. And wondered if it was ever going to get easier to let her go.

* * *

THE BACK OF Gracie’s neck tingled, like her very own Spidey sense warning her that trouble was nearby.

Her fingers tightening on the toilet brush, she turned her head toward the bathroom door only to find Luke there watching her.

Obviously her sixth sense was defective. If it had been working properly, she would have known he was close by and could have slipped away before he’d trapped her in the Yellow Room’s bathroom.

“Gracie,” he said, then cleared his throat. Shoved his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk?”

“I’m sort of busy right now.” Okay, so maybe she didn’t have to sound that bitchy, but she’d managed to avoid him for the past few days—mainly because she hadn’t been scheduled to work—and she didn’t want that streak to end.

Plus, she really didn’t want to chat with him while she scrubbed a toilet. She did have some pride.

“I can wait until you’re done,” he said, but not in a patient way. He was more like...determined. And when she glanced at him, she easily recognized the stubborn “I’m not going anywhere and you can’t make me” look on his face.

Lord knew she’d seen that exact same expression on her brothers’ faces often enough.

“Fine,” she said, setting the toilet brush in the caddy along with the other cleaning supplies. She straightened, pulled off her rubber gloves and tossed them down before crossing her arms. “What shall we talk about?”