by Helen Lacey
What had happened between them at Evie’s wedding should have knocked the truth into her. But she’d spent a week in a kind of hazy denial. And now, all of a sudden, she knew it, felt it, and could almost taste the reality of it. And it scared her. She feared losing control. Of being vulnerable. Because Cameron could do that to her. He’d always made her feel that way. He’d always had a secret, almost seductive power over her.
Grace checked her hair in the mirror and saw it was doing a faux impression of being straight as it fought for release from its ponytail. She tucked some stray pieces behind her ears and grabbed her toiletry bag before she headed from the room.
She dropped her things off in the bedroom and walked through the house. Jed was in the small living room, spread out in front of the fireplace, his deep snoring sounding as if he needed an inhaler. She grimaced at the sight of his pink-and-fleshy gums and then left him to his nap.
In the kitchen she noticed an aluminum tray on the countertop and immediately popped the lid, inhaling the scent of delicious-looking pasta. Obviously from Pat, Grace found the other woman’s consideration heartwarming. The clock on the wall read a quarter past seven and her grumbling stomach figured it was soon time for dinner. She popped the tray in the oven and set it to a low heat.
“Hey.”
She pivoted on one heel. “I see Pat prepared dinner for us,” she said easily. “I’ve just starting reheating but it shouldn’t take long. I thought I would—”
“Grace?”
She took a breath. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, seeming like he had something to say but wasn’t quite sure how to say it. Still wearing the paint-splattered T-shirt and ridiculously sexy jeans he looked so good her traitorous belly flipped over. “What?”
He shrugged. “About before...I want to apologize.”
Grace fiddled with a tea towel to do something with her hands. “It was my fault. I should have made sure the door was shut properly.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Grace cursed the color she knew rose up over her collar. “Oh, well I—”
“Things have changed between us,” he said, cutting her off. He ran a hand through his hair and she watched him without taking a breath. “For years we’ve been skirting around it, avoiding it, pretending that what happened between us when we were young didn’t matter. But it does matter, Grace, and it’s stopped us from being anything to each other, if that makes sense. We’re not friends, we’re not enemies...we’re not lovers...we’re just stuck somewhere in between.”
“I can’t—”
“I won’t pretend I don’t want you, Grace. Not anymore.”
She stilled instantly. In another time, another life, she would have shot him down immediately. Because now, despite the voice in her head telling her that her life was about to get way more complicated, she wanted him, too.
Even though she knew it wouldn’t be enough. She was going back to New York in two weeks. Starting something with Cameron would be madness. It might be mind-blowing. It might be exactly what she needed to help ease the dreadful grief and guilt that clung to her every pore.
But when she opened her mouth, prudence foolishly disappeared and something else altogether came out. “Is that why I’m here?” she asked. “Because you want to get me into bed?”
He took a moment to respond. “Not...entirely.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Another man might have denied it. But Cameron was too honest to play games. “If that’s the case, then I guess we’ll just see what happens.”
His brows shot up. “And let nature take its course, you mean?”
She dropped the tea towel on the counter. “In a way. I don’t see the point in either of us getting worked up over something that hasn’t happened—or might never happen.”
He stared at her. “So, it is mutual?”
She made a job of looking for plates and cutlery to avoid the question. When she’d unearthed both she turned back around and found Cameron still watching her. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “I’m hardly the type of woman who lets just anyone put his...I mean...his hand...up my dress.” The heat got her then, flaming her cheeks, and she gripped the plates until her fingers were white.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked at her though—that look she’d suddenly come to think of as the sexiest look in history. “Okay, Grace. We’ll take things slowly, if that’s what you want.” He muttered something about taking a shower and turned on his heels, and Grace got back to her task before he’d even left the room.
* * *
Cameron took a cold shower and did his best to clear the chaos raging through his thoughts. Of course, it didn’t work. And by the time he’d dressed, lingered in his room for what seemed like an eternity, and then finally headed back to the kitchen, Grace was still behind the counter, chopping and dicing vegetables for a salad.
He fed the dog and set the table, trying to ignore how absurdly domestic it seemed, moving around the kitchen together, not speaking, but feeling as though they had been doing it this way for years.
They ate dinner and even opened the bottle of wine Pat had left in the refrigerator. Once their plates were empty and the dishes cleared, they were left at the table, lingering over the remainder of their wine.
She looked different, he thought, then realized it was probably one of the few times he’d seen her without makeup. He liked it. She looked younger and less uptight. She smiled and it ignited something inside him. There’d been a kind of easy camaraderie between them over dinner and he didn’t want that to change, but she looked so fetching with her clean face and bright smile, he could hardly think of anything other than hauling her into his arms and kissing her madly.
“You’re great with the kids,” she said and he got his mind back on track.
“Thank you,” he said. “They’re easy to like.”
“You’ll make a good dad.”
Cameron’s heart suddenly pounded behind his ribs. Could she know that’s what he wanted? That he was aching for a family of his own? “One day, I hope so. You know, you’re not bad with kids yourself.”
She made a scoffing sound. “I’m a train wreck.”
“Emily doesn’t think so,” he said quietly. “She told me you’ve been patient and understanding, but also firm when she loses concentration.”
“Well, she’s a good student, despite her lack of confidence. Did you know she wants to go to college?”
He nodded. “She’s got ambition.”
“Which isn’t a bad thing.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
She fingered the stem of her wineglass. “No, you didn’t. But...”
“But what?” he prompted.
“You didn’t always feel that way.”
He pushed back in his chair. “You mean about your ambition? I was young and had ideas about the kind of future I wanted. Just like you did, Grace. Only mine were small-town and yours were big-city.”
She looked at him. “You were angry.”
“I was dumped,” he said bluntly. “What did you expect? Roses and violins?”
“I guess not. I didn’t deliberately set out to...to hurt you.” She drew in a tight breath. “In hindsight I shouldn’t have started anything knowing how I felt about wanting a career. But I was young and starry-eyed. Even career girls get swept away sometimes.”
His heart pumped. “By what?”
Her shoulders rose fractionally. “By romance, I guess. By that first kiss when I was sixteen. By the way you didn’t rush me to sleep with you, even though we were dating for a few months.”
“I thought we had...” He stopped, remembering how much he’d wanted her back then. “Time.”
She looked into her glass for a moment, and then glanced upward. “Well, for what it’s worth�
�I’m sorry for the way I behaved back then. These past couple of months I’ve had a lot of time to think. It sounds cliché, but there’s something life-altering about facing your own mortality. When the car crashed I had about thirty seconds to consider all the mistakes I’ve made, all the people I’ve hurt in one way or another. It was a sobering half minute.”
“Apology accepted.”
She offered a bittersweet smile and stood, scraping the chair back. “We did have a nice three months, though. Life was way less complicated then. Do you think anyone ever suspected?”
Cameron stood and moved around the small table and took hold of her hands. “My mother figured it out. I’m not sure about anyone else. Noah’s never said anything to me.”
“I told Evie a long time ago,” she confessed. “Did you know you were my first kiss?”
He rubbed her hands with his thumbs. “I kinda guessed.”
“Was I that bad?”
“Not at all,” he said gently. “But you seemed a little surprised.”
“I was,” she admitted. “At school I was into books and not boys. It didn’t exactly make me Miss Popularity. And you’d never shown any interest...I mean, before that night of my birthday.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I was interested. But you were too young and my best friend’s sister.”
“So what changed that night?”
“Seeing you standing in the doorway,” he said and reached up to twirl a lock of her hair. “When I arrived everyone else was by the pool, but you were inside, and alone. You looked beautiful in that little blue dress. Before that I just...” He shrugged and smiled. “I just wanted you to grow up quick so I could kiss you like I’d imagined doing so many times.”
He bent his head and kissed her softly. It wasn’t like the night on the beach. This kiss was gentler, sweeter somehow. He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that—just kissing, just holding the back of her neck tenderly with his one hand while the other lay against her hip. Grace gripped his arms and held on, and he enjoyed the feel of her mouth against his own and the soft slide of her tongue.
When the kiss ended Cameron laid his forehead against her. “Well,” he whispered hoarsely. “That seems pretty natural to me. Good night, Grace,” he said softly and released her. “Go and get some sleep. I’ll lock up.”
She rocked on her heels. He knew sleep wasn’t what either of them wanted. But he was offering her an out and he knew she’d take it.
She said good-night and walked from the room without saying another word.
Chapter Seven
Cameron didn’t sleep more than two hours. With Grace only meters away down the hall he lay awake most of the night and stared at the ceiling. When he’d finally had enough of fighting the sheets he swung out of bed and got dressed. It was just after seven and he could hear Dylan in the yard with his little sister. Cameron looked out of the window and spotted Isabel racing around her brother as he snuck out from the chicken pen clutching a basket in his hands. His sister gave him no peace as he crossed to the house and it made Cameron smile. Lauren had been like that, he remembered fondly. Six years younger, his sister had hung from his every word when they were growing up.
He was still smiling as he left the room, then headed for the kitchen once he’d let Jed outside. Cameron made coffee, drank a cup and was just rinsing off the utensils when he heard a curse. A very loud curse. He stood still and waited. Then it came again.
Grace’s voice was unmistakable. But the words coming out of her mouth were unlike any he’d heard from her before. He took off past the living room and headed for the hall. The profanity started again and he stalled outside her bedroom.
“Grace,” he said quietly as he tapped on the door. “Are you all right?”
Nothing for a moment, then a clipped, “Yes...fine.”
“You sound like you’re in—”
“I’m fine, like I said,” she insisted. “I’m just having a little trouble with my... I forgot to bring something to this forsaken place, that’s all. Can you please leave me alone?”
“Sure,” he said, grinning to himself. “I’ve made coffee.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled and he heard the frustrated banging from behind the shut door.
Something was up, but he didn’t press the issue. He walked back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, mulling over the contents. When nothing took his fancy he shut the door and reached for a glass, and then stopped dead in his tracks. Grace stood in the doorway.
And she looked thunderous. “Don’t say a word,” she warned.
Cameron bit back the urge to smile. “About what?” he asked innocently.
Both her hands snapped up to frame her head. “About this!”
Now he smiled, because he couldn’t help himself. Her hair, usually so straight and severe, bounced around her face in a mass of wild curls. Untamed and out of control, she’d never seemed more beautiful in her life. “It looks—”
“I forgot my straightener,” she said with a sniff.
“What?”
“Hair straightener,” she replied. “My flatiron. And now I have to deal with this mess.”
He laughed then and she didn’t like that one bit. “Your hair looks fine,” he assured her. “It looks pretty.”
She plucked at a few strands. “It’s not pretty. It’s not fine,” she retorted, then let out a long breath. “You think I’m overreacting?”
Cameron raised a hand. “Don’t accuse me of thinking.”
That made her laugh and she clutched her fingers together. “No one has seen me like this since...well, I can’t remember the last time.”
“You look good,” he said and passed her a cup. “Drink up. We’ve got work to do.”
She took the coffee and patted her stomach. He noticed she was wearing his shirt again. He liked that. “I’m hungry. Feed me first.”
Cameron’s libido did a leap. The mood between them seemed oddly playful and it made him think about fisting a handful of that glorious hair and kissing her neck. “I make a mean batch of scrambled eggs,” he said and begrudgingly pushed back the idea of kissing her. “Feel like risking it?”
She nodded, perched on a bar stool and sipped her coffee. “I’m game.”
He got what he needed from the refrigerator and began cooking while Grace quietly drank her coffee and stared at the linoleum countertop. She looked like she had something on her mind and he wondered if she’d spent the night staring at the ceiling like he had. After a while she put the cup down and linked her hands together.
“Why did you kiss me last night?”
Cameron stopped whisking eggs and stared at her. His chest tightened. “Because I wanted to. Because you’re beautiful.” He smiled. “The usual reasons.”
“You know I’m leaving in two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“And you know I’d never move back?”
Cameron put the eggs aside. “You wouldn’t?”
Grace shrugged. “I don’t belong in this world, Cameron. I don’t belong in your world.”
“Is that your way of letting me down gently?” he asked, and noticed her green eyes were suddenly luminous as she looked at him. “Even though you’re not denying there’s an attraction here?”
“But when a relationship is only based on strong physical—”
“Were you in love with the suit?” he asked quickly. “Or the doctor?”
“No.”
“Have you ever had an intimate relationship just for the sheer fun of it?”
Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t believe in casual sex.”
“I’m not talking about something casual, Grace. I’m talking about having a relationship without laying down a whole lot of ground rules.”
“I don’t do that,” she said hotly.
/>
Cameron’s brows shot up. “You don’t?”
“Okay, maybe I do,” she replied. “I like to be in—”
“In control,” he said, cutting her off. “Yeah, I get that about you, Grace. But sex shouldn’t be about control. It should be fun.”
She glared at him. “Just because I take things seriously, that doesn’t make me an uptight prig. I know how to have fun. Maybe my relationships with Dennis and Erik weren’t all fireworks and passion. And maybe I did insist on separate apartments and avoided having them stay over because I’m too independent about have to be in control of everything. Maybe I’m all that and more...but it doesn’t mean I’m sex-starved or frustrated or that I’m going to jump into the nearest bed I can find.”
If I had any sense I’d forget all about her.
But he was all out of sense when it came to Grace.
“I wasn’t suggesting you should,” he said and bit back a grin. “Just, to not dismiss the idea entirely.”
She shrugged. “I’m not good at relationships. I’m not good with people. With men. I always seem to make them leave.” Her hands came to her chest and she held them there. “Do you know that I’ve only ever trusted three men in my whole life,” she said softly and with such rawness his insides constricted. “My father, my brother...” She let out a long sigh. “And you. I know it probably hasn’t seemed that way.”
“No,” he said. “But things often aren’t what they seem.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Like the way I’ve always felt about you, Grace.”
The words hung in the room. She didn’t say anything else as they sat down for breakfast. They ate the eggs in a kind of forced silence. Grace offered to wash up and he didn’t argue as he headed off. He’d said too much. Admitted too much. Her silence was like a swift slap in the face. It was a rejection. Again.
He was accustomed to it.
Don’t you ever learn, Jakowski?
He left the room, mumbling something about paintbrushes and getting started on the painting.
* * *
By eight-thirty Grace headed for the main house. Pat was in the kitchen and greeted her with a broad smile.