by Mallory Rush
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know you better than anyone else. Sometimes, I think, better than you know yourself. And because when I hold you, your body gives me the very promises you're fighting so hard to deny."
It was true, and she knew it. She was losing the battle. It was only a matter of time before she could no longer hide—from him, or herself. Grant had opened a door long shut. She had dared to peek, and had quickly retreated.
But now it would haunt her, the ghosts she'd glimpsed and the knowledge of what could be, if only she was strong and courageous enough to take the risk.
She looked into his face, a face of honesty, of depth, and character. She looked into the face of a man she was falling in love with, a man she was only now coming to know.
"Kiss me, Grant." The words came naturally, with a rightness that surprised her. Just to make sure, she gathered her courage and said again, "Kiss me now... hard and long and deep."
Chapter 8
"Thank you for joining us. We hope to see you again tomorrow at six and ten. This is Cammie Walker..."
"And this is Russ Aberdeen, saying—"
"Good night," they said in unison.
Cammie kept her professional smile firmly in place until the floor manager signaled they were off the air.
"Whew," she breathed, letting her mouth relax. "What a night, huh, big guy?"
"You can say that again," Russ agreed readily. "What say we wrap up and blow this pop stand?"
"Sounds good to me." Pushing her chair back she got up and stretched. "Sure you don't mind giving me a lift home?"
"Hey, are you kidding? This is the closest I've gotten to making points with you."
She laughed. "Get outta here. I swear, if I have one more problem with that car, I'm in the market for a new one. The repairs would have been finished today except they had to scrounge for prehistoric parts. But at least the mechanic promised I'd have my wheels back by tomorrow."
"Darn," Russ said, grinning. "Maybe I can shove some bribe money under the table and get that extended a few days."
"Save your money, Russ, and spend it on one of your many fans."
"Which unfortunately doesn't include you," he said wryly.
While they finished up, Cammie reflected that she missed this kind of lighthearted banter with Grant. Was it possible they could recapture an essence of the old days once they were alone at the cottage?
They were making the short trip together—not that she hadn't had second thoughts. After picking up the phone twice, she'd dialed their parents' number, then hung up before it could ring. Not only had she decided she couldn't get out of the situation without making waves, in her heart of hearts, she knew she didn't want to.
She was making progress, she told herself. At least she'd been honest enough to admit she wanted this time alone with him. Unwise as it was, as much as it still terrified her, she wanted it.
"What've you got planned for your vacation, Cammie?" Russ asked as they walked through the parking lot together.
"Some much-needed R&R, Russ," she answered, knowing rest and relaxation was probably the last purpose this vacation would serve. Her mind immediately shied away from the possibilities that awaited her.
"Cammie. Stop."
She turned at the sound of Grant's voice while Russ unlocked the passenger side of his car. It coincided with a loud thud as Grant nearly slammed his own door shut.
"Grant! What are you doing here?" Her heart went into double time while her stomach decided to catch butterflies.
His towering presence loomed over her and Russ, who was shorter by several inches and a good fifty pounds lighter. Grant stared from one to the other until Cammie reached up self-consciously to smooth down her hair, while last night's parting kiss shot sparks through her memory.
"I thought you might need a ride home," he said in a tight voice.
"That's okay," Russ said. "I promised Cammie a ride home already. You're Grant Kennedy, Cammie's brother, aren't you? I think we met at a station party last Christmas. Nice seeing you again." He offered his hand.
Grant stared at it with ill-disguised antagonism before gripping it in a bone-crushing shake. Russ's smile wavered uncertainly while he tried to disengage himself from the overt warning.
Cammie stared speechless as several tense seconds ticked by. Grant was jealous! She'd never seen him glare at someone with open hostility before. The realization was oddly flattering. Just as his behavior toward her co-worker was totally out of line.
"My car wasn't fixed yet, so Russ offered me a ride home," she explained quickly, trying to defuse the situation.
"How kind." Grant released Russ's hand and draped a proprietary arm over her shoulders. "I'll take Cammie home. We have vacation plans to discuss."
Russ stared long and consideringly, absorbing the implicit intimacy in Grant's gesture. Anxiety coiled tight inside Cammie.
After a moment, Russ shrugged. "Sorry. I didn't realize it was a family affair."
"It's not!" she automatically denied, desperate to end the awkward scene. Grant's hand slid down to her waist and pulled her close; Russ's eyes followed the movement. Good heavens, she thought, what kind of conclusions was he drawing?
The obvious ones, of course, she admitted to herself.
"Um, Russ? Grant's not exactly my brother," she said hastily. She could almost feel Grant's smile of satisfaction with the admission. "I mean... I'm adopted and—"
"Enough said." Russ took a step back. "I don't mean to stare. I just wasn't expecting my competition to be so close to home."
Cammie clenched and unclenched the fabric of her skirt, forcing herself not to make any more flustered excuses. Without warning her private life had just become public knowledge. It made her uneasy, wondering what kind of gossip might now spread behind her back.
"Then I'm glad to set the record straight." Grant parted on that note, pulling her in the direction of his parked car. Cammie hazarded a nervous backward glance at Russ, who was openly scrutinizing them.
"See you tomorrow night, Russ," she managed to say around the knot of anxiety in her throat. Then she quickened her pace to keep up with Grant's lengthening strides.
Once they were mercifully alone in his car, Cammie leaned her head back and took several deep breaths, trying to still the awful sense of fatality welling within her. Facing Grant as he revved the engine, she gazed reproachfully at him.
"What in heaven's name got into you?" she demanded. "You managed quite a scene in front of someone I have to work with daily, Grant."
"Damn right," he said tautly as he peeled out of the parking lot and made fast tracks down the road. "And I'd like to know what got into you. Twenty-four hours ago I was the only man on your agenda, and tonight I catch you getting into a car with some jerk who's got the hots for you."
"He's my co-anchor, for heaven's sake!"
"Who also happens to have other things on his mind besides the news."
"Quit being ridiculous."
"You told me a month ago he was hitting on you."
Cammie said nothing since she couldn't retract what she had indeed told Grant. Several miles slid past while she squirmed and Grant remained silent. When he spoke it was with the finalized sound of nails sinking into hard wood.
"If you think I'm about to let some pretty boy like Russ or anyone else move in on my territory, you'd better think again."
Cammie reflexively pressed her foot into the floorboard as he rounded a sharp curve.
"That doesn't give you the right to make my work relations strained," she said. "What am I supposed to say when the secret's out?"
"Then it's no longer a secret, which suits me fine. I doubt we'll rate a headline on your broadcast, so I suggest you simply tell them it's none of their business, or better yet, tell them the truth. They can like it or lump it, and let it go at that."
"Easy for you to say. The only person you have to work around is yourself."
"You're right," he said as the
Porsche came to an abrupt halt in her driveway. He turned to her and pinned her with a steely gaze. "It is easy for me to say. Cammie Walker is the only woman in my life and in no way is she my sister. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to announce that to the whole world. I'm proud to be with you, Cammie. It hurts me to think that you're ashamed to be with me."
"I'm not ashamed of you, Grant!"
"No? You could've fooled me."
She held his unwavering gaze for several seconds before she was compelled to look away. Grant was right. She had implied by her words, her actions, that she was ashamed of their relationship.
Now she felt ashamed of herself.
Staring at her clasped hands, she said quietly, "I'm still struggling to come to terms with all the changes we've gone through. I don't know where we're headed yet, Grant. Until I do, I think it's best to be discreet."
"I know," he said slowly, and just like that they were through arguing. She had extended the olive branch first; he would extend one in turn. That's how they worked. "I keep reminding myself I've had a lot longer to think about this than you have. It's not easy, but I promise to try to be more patient."
He hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face into the dappled moonlight. His smile was tender.
"I'll call you the next time I need a ride." She knew her simple statement was yet another step forward.
"You'd better. Otherwise I'm apt to throw another jealous fit."
They laughed quietly together, and oh, it felt so good. To laugh with Grant was a part of life she needed. Especially now.
He kissed her good night, and it was rich.
She fell asleep with the memory, a smile of happiness still clinging to her lips.
* * *
Cammie laid an extra pair of jeans into the suitcase, next to a few sweaters and T-shirts. The weather was still too uncertain to know if the cold spell would hold or give way to a final blast of heat.
Going to her dresser, she debated over lingerie. Usually she slept in an oversized dorm shirt Grant had given her several Christmases ago, and she'd packed that. What she was staring at now was a sheer red nightgown she'd bought for a honeymoon that had never come to pass.
To take it was to admit she intended to sleep with him.
Not to take it was to salve her conscience and feed herself a line of tripe that she was going to control the escalating desire.
"Ready, Cammie?"
She jumped and spun around to face him. Grant framed the doorway of her bedroom. He hadn't been in since that fateful morning.
"I didn't hear you knock."
"Obviously. I let myself in. But as agreed, I'm waiting for an invitation before I come any farther."
He chuckled and grinned seductively, his gaze trailing to the bed.
Her heart pounded. She nervously wet her lips.
"Some groceries are in the kitchen," she said. "You get those while I finish packing."
"Done," he said agreeably before pushing away from the door frame. Just as she turned back to the dresser, he poked his head around the corner. "Don't forget your red nightie, Cammie."
She snatched back the hand that hovered over the nightgown and whirled to face him, but saw only his retreating back. His laughter echoed in the hallway.
"Ohhh, that man," she grumbled, even as an unbidden smiled tugged at her lips.
Before she let herself think too hard, she grabbed the nightgown and added it to the suitcase. The silk was appropriately scarlet, she thought. With her cheeks competing in color scheme, she quickly stuffed the gown beneath more respectable attire.
It wasn't that she was going to bed with him, she told herself as she clicked the latches shut. It was just that she'd paid an arm and a leg for the thing and she might as well get some use out of it.
Right.
Outside, she set her bag next to his car and waited while he put aside the groceries and opened the trunk.
"I could have gotten that for you, Cammie."
"So you could take a peek?" She shifted, still uneasy about her dubious motives.
He chuckled while he hoisted the suitcase into the trunk.
When he was through loading up, she turned toward the passenger door, but he stopped her with a firm grip on both arms.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing. Just... nothing."
"Is it Russ? Is it still strained at work?"
"No. He's fine. He told us to have a good time. Work's almost normal again."
"But you're nervous. How come?"
"I'm not nervous. I'm just ready to hit the road."
"Is that why you've hardly looked at me since I got here?" He tilted his head until she couldn't avoid meeting his questioning gaze. "We're not hitting the road until you spill it."
"Okay," she sighed in exasperation. "I'm nervous. Now can we go?"
"What do you think I've got planned, Cammie? An attack the minute we get there?"
"I—I—" She stuttered to a halt. For heaven's sake, she was a grown woman, she thought. She should start acting like one. "I honestly don't know what to expect, Grant," she admitted, relieved to get her doubts into the open. "And I'm afraid I'm making a big mistake by going through with this."
"By this, you mean taking a vacation together?"
"You know that's not what I mean."
"You're right. I know that's not what you mean. Look, Cammie, we both realize there's a possibility we'll sleep together. I pray that we do. But that's not going to happen unless you want it as much as I do. So relax. We'll take it one day at a time. Okay?"
He gave her an encouraging smile, then tweaked her nose in a familiar, affectionate gesture. Cammie felt the tenseness in her shoulders ebb away, along with her guard.
"Okay," she agreed. "Ready to go fishin', partner?"
"Partner," he repeated, pleased he'd derailed her early retreat. It was important to keep her defenses down so he could solidify his hold. "I like the sound of that," he added in a deceptively benign voice, meant to lure her deeper into a sense of security.
"Bet I can catch more than you," she challenged.
"You always catch more than me." He laughed easily and studied her in the early-morning light, imagining what she'd look like at daybreak snuggled up to him in one of the cottage beds. "Of course, if I didn't spend so much time baiting your hook, I might give you a run for your money."
"Worms." She made a face, as she slipped into her seat. "Yech. Slimy little suckers. They give me the creeps."
Grant leaned into her side of the car as she looked down to fasten her seat belt.
"What say we trade jobs this year? I'll fry the fish if you'll gut them."
"What!" Cammie swung around, her face instantly a breath away from his.
Her eyes widened; her breath caught sharp and fast.
Grant smiled, elated by her response. He lingered, holding the closeness until he was sure she expected a kiss.
Straightening back up, he winked mischievously.
"Okay," he said, "I'll gut and scale. But we both do the dishes and split the chores."
He strode around to the driver's side, whistling. Judging from Cammie's expression, she was eager for that kiss. Good thing, because within two weeks he intended to add making up the same bed to their domestic routine.
Chapter 9
Grant stared up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to storm into the next room, where he could hear Cammie tossing in bed.
One day at a time, he'd said. The first day had been easy enough, airing out the small cedar cottage, putting up groceries, wandering down to the lake. He'd kept his hands in check, determined to woo Cammie slowly, purposefully.
After all, they had two weeks, and she seemed to be happy with the lack of pressure. He'd promised patience, knowing she deserved it... but, hell, he was only human.
By the time day two rolled into day three, he was taking cold swims. Being this close with no one around was too tempting, straining his passions to the breaking point. He
felt like he deserved a gold medal for self-restraint.
Holding hands, taking walks, having long conversations, sharing silences and lingering gazes were wonderful, needed. But they weren't nearly enough. He'd taken great pains to guide them on a path meant to lead to the altar. Apparently, in all his good thinking, he'd miscalculated somewhere.
He'd abstained from pushing Cammie into intimacy, hoping she would become impatient and take some initiative. She hadn't. Neither had their heart-to-heart talks led to any confessions about the unbroached subject that pulsed between them. The subject that pulsed even now between his legs and that she had yet to touch.
Today was day seven and his patience was out. He was starved for kisses—hot and wet. Keeping them almost chaste had been self-induced torture, but he knew he couldn't trust himself to stop there forever.
He was driving himself crazy just thinking about it. Since it was too late to go for a swim, he dropped to the floor and began a brisk set of push-ups.
"Eighty... ninety... one hundred."
He groaned and lay flat on the floor, letting the cool wood cushion his cheek. But all he could think of was her skin, just as smooth, only soft and warm.
A lot of good the push-ups had done. He was so hard he was hurting. Every time he'd pressed down he'd imagined entering her with the same rhythmic thrust.
Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow he would take the reins and guide them in a more intimate direction. In the meantime he wasn't getting any sleep.
He reached for a pair of jeans. Not bothering to zip them up, he padded toward the kitchen. He stopped at Cammie's bedroom door, which was cracked open.
An invitation? Not likely. He took it as a sign of the trust he had built over the past week. All was quiet and he assumed Cammie had found the sleep that eluded him.
For several moments he stood there, debating. Could he look and not touch? She wouldn't know, and what would be the harm in watching her a few minutes, filling his senses with the sight of her in the bed he longed to be in?
He quietly pushed the door open, then slowly, soundlessly, walked to the bed. Moonlight spilled over her, and a cool breeze filtered into the room from the open window.