9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  He stretched out beside her, wishing he could pull her into his arms and cradle her while she slept. No sooner had he given that thought credence than she followed the dip in the mattress from his weight and snuggled close to his side. She was warm, malleable and sexy as hell and it took all the control he possessed to curb his desires.

  He slid his left arm under her head, settling his right arm across her middle beneath her breasts. When he flexed his fingers, a soft sigh escaped her lips and her nipples pebbled. He knew he should get up right now and leave her alone. He had, after all, promised her that she'd be safe.

  When she turned to face him, eyes closed, plump lips slightly parted, he battled for control but lost. The strain of his erection won over the protest of his chest and shoulder muscles and he lowered his head to tease her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She rewarded his attention with a light kiss catching him off guard. He dipped further into their kiss, created a heated rhythm then wrapped his lips around her tongue, drawing deeply.

  In turn, she captured the tip of his tongue with her teeth and drew it into her mouth with sweet suction. For moments they danced back and forth - his lips on her tongue or his tongue in her mouth. Both of them greedy. He tugged her shirt upwards to expose her breasts for his touch. To his surprise, she sat up and tossed her tee to the foot of the bed, straddled his hips, and pushed his tee shirt towards his shoulders. He grunted with the effort to remove it and, as he peeled it over his head, Maggie gasped audibly.

  "Oh my God, Graeme!"

  He struggled with the conflicting physical discomfort and mental confusion as she shot off him and the bed, grabbing her shirt in practically the same movement. It took a few seconds for him to register that she stared at the bruising on his chest from the accident.

  "I'm okay, Maggie," he consoled, sitting up against the headboard. "I'm better than I was last night."

  "Maybe, but it's still a shock. I'm so sorry."

  "It could've been worse, you know."

  Her green eyes floated in unshed tears. "Yeah, you could've been killed."

  He reached for her hand and pulled her down on the bed beside him. Cupping her jaw, his thumb caught a spilled tear. "No, it could've been you."

  * * *

  Graeme became her undoing and Maggie let the tears flow. She even allowed him to envelope her in a close embrace, his strong arms holding her while she cried herself out. So much had happened in the past year, yet she hadn't broken down one time. Graeme's here 5 days and the flood gates open.

  Slowly she pushed away from him, careful not to touch anywhere near his chest. She'd dealt with physical trauma before, but the reality of seeing a battered body never lessened in impact. Especially someone she cared for. Using the hem of her shirt, she dabbed her eyes and nose then lightly caressed his upper body with her fingers. She shuddered again at what might've happened to him. He tightened his grip on her hand when she would've stood and moved away.

  "We did nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of."

  The heat radiated from her core and she half-grinned at him. "I do know that, but . . ."

  He started to say something, she knew to try and make her feel better, but she stopped him.

  "Let me finish, please."

  "Okay."

  "I want you to know I don't intend to apologize for my behavior this morning." He nodded and visibly relaxed. "You weren't here before, so I don't know how much you were aware of when Wyatt's plane went down. I was on duty when they brought him to the ER. Hake Jackson worked for what seemed like eons to save him.

  "Burns covered ninety percent of his body -- there was so much damage . . . and just before he died he grabbed my hand."

  Graeme leaned forward and ran his fingertips up her arm. "Shit, are you . . .?"

  "I'm okay," she reassured him. "I've worked through that part, but you scare me. You stir emotions in me I thought dead and buried. I have no idea where we go from here, but I want you to understand where I'm coming from."

  Sliding his hand down to cup her elbow, he said, "I don't know what's happening between us either. There are three things, however, that I am sure of. One - I've been acutely aware of you since we first met, two - you elicit some sort of response in me every time I'm near you and three – I miss you more each time we're separated. What do you say we take things as they come along and see what happens?"

  Her heart beat faster when he leaned in to kiss her.

  She kissed him back then looked deeply into his fathomless blue eyes certain for the first time in a long time of what she wanted. With a grin, she said, "I'm game."

  * * *

  He examined the SD card he'd pulled out of the game player. Something was hinky about the way it'd been jammed into the slot. The card slots were a snug fit with little-to-no wiggle room. Curious, he retrieved the game card from the coffee table to examine it closer. The outer casing on the back had been scraped off essentially rendering the card useless for its original purpose. While it was true Andy could be the culprit, Graeme had doubts about that. Even Maggie thought it odd that Andy would deliberately destroy one of his games.

  And what the hell was Riordon doing with Wyatt's computer? Did he have the password? If so, did he find what he was looking for? Graeme's mind cart wheeled with more questions than he wanted to pursue at this juncture.

  Maggie joined him in the living room fresh from her shower.

  "I'm almost ready, are you?" She fastened on her watch then grabbed a clip off the floor by the couch to hold her hair up off her neck.

  "I am," he answered while shoving the cards into his hip pocket. "Say, can I take Wyatt's computer with me to the ranch? I'd like to check it out."

  "Sure, did you change your mind about me asking Trevor for the password?"

  "We don't need to bother him right now. I can get it later if need be."

  "Okay." Maggie shrugged and walked out ahead of him.

  Graeme followed her out to the car, computer in hand along with his extra clothes. His mind raced with possibilities and he needed to talk to Joe Webster and Elliott concerning his theories. With any luck, the reports he wanted to see would be in his email and his computer could read the information on that card

  Chapter 10

  "Joe, you busy?" Graeme hated to interrupt the head of INTERCEPT but he needed those reports. He hoped Joe had a valid reason for dragging his feet.

  "Hold on while I clear the room." Muffled voices filtered through the obviously covered mouthpiece. "Okay, I'm back. I've run into a couple of roadblocks on that info you're looking for. Got anything else you want to share that'll make my search easier?"

  "Nothing yet but a --"

  "A gut feeling, I know," Joe interrupted. "If I had a nickel every time one of you muscle bound, know-it-alls had a "gut feeling", I'd be driving a Maserati."

  "Something turned up last night that I plan to look into today. You'll know as soon as I do."

  "My curiosity's piqued, stay in touch."

  The call with Joe Webster left him frustrated at best but only because of the situation. He expected the NTSB investigation to take a while since that organization took its time and examined every integral piece of information. They had at least six months to complete an investigation, sometimes longer. The background checks he'd asked for had turned up zilch. So far he had zip.

  He picked up the SD card turned it over front-to back-to front again. This had to be the key, the next piece of this ongoing puzzle. He'd promised Maggie he would go with her to Harlan Garrity's shop for the initial estimate on the truck, but she had errands to run first. He decided to take Wyatt's computer and the card to Elliott's office. With any luck, they'd sleuth something out and he'd be back before Maggie returned.

  * * *

  Maggie pulled to a stop at the railroad crossing that ran on the north side of town. The train must be long and pulling a lot of weight because the cars crawled by at a snail's pace. She put the gear in park and reviewed what she'd gotten accomplished today.
>
  She'd dropped Graeme off at the ranch to do his computer thing, then driven to the hospital where she learned her start date would be in two weeks. After purchasing new uniforms, she'd stopped by Jack and Jill Sprouts, a local children's store for the curtains and bed linens for Andy's room. Her last stop had been lunch with Hake getting brought up to speed on hospital protocols, regulations, etc.

  Now here she sat listening to the slow clackity-clack of the train's wheels on the rails, her eyes heavy-lidded with the lullaby. So much had happened in the last few days that she found it hard to assimilate everything. And then, this morning . . . what had she been thinking? Sprawled on top of him, the bulge of his sex nestled snuggly between her thighs, the only barriers between them being his cotton underwear and the wispy strip of nylon - -

  Honk! Honk! Honk!

  She jumped, startled out of her reverie from the horn blast behind her. Blinking, she saw only open road stretching out in front of her. No train and no signal crossing arm. As she drove across the tracks and pulled off to the side of the road, an elderly woman in an old sedan passed her with another honk of her horn. Holding on to the steering wheel, she tried to steady herself. Heat radiated from her core as she fought those intimate feelings she'd denied for so long. She gave herself a mental shake and turned the AC up full blast, vents aimed at her face. Pulling back onto the road headed toward the ranch and Graeme, she whispered, Maggie, you are seven kinds of screwed.

  * * *

  Graeme walked with Maggie around the pickup parked out back of Harlan's garage. The old girl had taken a beating that's for sure. He rubbed his hand across his chest to the back of his neck, remembering the flip out of the bar ditch and three-point landing. He stopped at the driver's side door, peered in at the burned out interior. Maggie gasped and he turned around to face her.

  "They say everything looks better in the light of day." She sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand as a tear slipped down her cheek. "But they're wrong, it looks worse."

  "Not always," he said to comfort her, to assure her in some way.

  "You do." Smiling sadly, she punched lightly at his arm then glanced up at him with a look of dismay. "Oh lord, I just noticed your eyes are bruised. They'll be black tomorrow."

  "And then they'll be purple-yellowish-green." He took her hand, smiled and winked. "It happens when your nose meets with an immoveable object. It's not my first encounter and probably won't be the last."

  "Come on, let's go," she said. Removing her hand, she headed back toward the SUV, bypassing the garage office.

  "What do you want Harlan to do with the truck?"

  She waved her in dismissal. "Whatever, I don't care."

  Graeme stepped into the office that resembled a small closet. Harlan sat behind a postage stamp-sized desk in a chair patched with duct tape and covered in grease. He greeted Graeme with a grimy hand he'd just wiped off on even grimier overalls.

  "Hey, Harlan, Maggie's still shaken up over last night, can we get back to you in a few days on what she wants done with her truck?"

  Harlan spit a stream of tobacco juice onto the floor and chuckled. "Yeah, the old girl's not in the way. Just give me a call."

  Graeme slid into the passenger seat next to Maggie and she started the engine. He turned to face her, then fastened his seat belt. "I'll understand if you want to drop me off at the ranch."

  She met his gaze with a directness he admired. "I probably should, but I'd appreciate it if you'd stay with me."

  "I can't think of any place I'd rather be."

  * * *

  He awoke the next morning a little worse for wear. Parts of him were stiff due to the after-effects of the wreck, but the stiffness below his waistband remained for only one reason -- Maggie. She's why he woke up in a recliner and not in bed beside – or inside – her, to alleviate his discomfort.

  He ached from wanting her, but wouldn't force the issue of making love until she was ready. Her asking him to stay last night spoke volumes. She had to trust him for anything further and they had a ways to go for that. He heard her feet on the bare wood floor and looked up as she entered the living room carrying a mug of the coffee he'd made.

  She still wore the long cotton shirt she'd worn to bed last night, except it was now rumpled from sleep. Her whole demeanor said, "I'm not ready to get up", from her sleep-laden eyes, to her face free of make-up, all soft and dewy, to her riot of red hair falling in soft curls around her face. Sexy as hell.

  She took a sip, closed her eyes and tipped her head back. "Mmmm. Coffee. Good. Thanks for making it this morning."

  "You're welcome."

  "When did you come in here?"

  "Sometime in the middle of the night, around three, I guess. I woke up stiff and couldn't go back to sleep." He flipped the lever forward to lower the foot rest. "Besides, you snore."

  "I don't," she insisted, her cheeks turning the prettiest pink he'd ever seen. Quickly she followed with, "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be, I'm not." What he wouldn't give to kiss that blush or her enticing mouth, but his monster of a hard-on precluded him moving out of this chair anytime soon.

  "You never said if you were successful with the computer yesterday."

  "Nothing yet. Elliott's going to see if his geek can tell us something."

  They sat in silence, Maggie sipping her coffee, him watching her, looking at the outline of her breasts beneath the tee shirt, her bare legs pulled up under her. All of her so tempting. He simultaneously thanked and cursed her when she pulled the afghan across her lap.

  "So, what do you plan to do until you hear from him?"

  Manual labor or a cold shower came to mind, but he said, "Don't know, yet."

  "Want to help me?"

  "Sure, what do you need?"

  "Your height for one thing and your brawn for another if you're up to it." She reached behind the couch and pulled the shopping bags over, then drug out bedding with an Angry Birds print. "I only have today to get Andy's room put together. He'll be home day after tomorrow."

  "Already?"

  "Yes, and yet, it seems like he's been gone for months." He watched her stare into her cup, swirl whatever remained, then down it in one last swallow. She pinned him with her gaze and asked, "Are you in?"

  He liked the idea. Spending time with her, helping her work in the house, give them time to get to know each other better. Elliott or Joe would call when they had information for him. In the mean time, hard work would help to redirect his sexual thoughts, and there's no other place he had to be today.

  Finally able to stand without embarrassing either one of them, he reached for her hand to help her up. With a grin and a waggle of his brow, he said, "Waitin' on you, darlin'."

  * * *

  Maggie and Graeme worked together shoulder to shoulder until late afternoon. He hung curtain rods, affixed the book case/toy shelves to the wall, and updated the ceiling fan by adding a light kit. She emptied boxes, washed all Andy's clothes and bed linens, put everything away in closets and drawers, and made the bed. When she attached the last tie-back around the curtain, she stepped back to the door to admire their work.

  "Wow, he's going to love this."

  "Yeah?"

  "If he doesn't, I'll grab the little toot around the neck and give him a noogie." She readjusted the small desk chair then brushed at a wrinkle in the comforter. After giving the room a minute's more thought, she said, "Perfect."

  "What're you putting along that wall opposite the bed?"

  "Eventually, I want to get him an aquarium. He's as crazy about sea life as he is flying." She picked up the snack bag holding the assortment of sharks, dolphins and sea turtles he'd left behind. "These were his favorites before he left, I can hardly wait to see what's taken their place."

  "His choices limited only by your mother's credit card, I'm sure."

  "I know that's right."

  She followed him through the hall to the front of the house, noticing not for the first time today the width o
f his shoulders and the way his muscles rippled under his shirt. She'd seen him stretch a couple of times when he thought she wasn't looking but he'd worked right alongside her until the room looked like an ad for Jack and Jill Sprouts. She'd kept her thoughts, for the most part, to working in the room, not how his skin felt under her fingers yesterday morning, warm to the touch, the way the light dusting of chest hair teased her finger tips with tiny pricks of electrical current.

  He tempted her even now, so much so, that as her thoughts heated, she almost ran into him when he turned to face her. "Oh, geez, I'm s-s-sorry," she stammered. "I guess I wasn't looking."

  "No problem, I was just wondering if you had any more of those steaks?"

  "Yeah, I do."

  "Want a lesson on using the grill?"

  "Yes." She latched onto his hand and pulled him along behind her. "Let's go see what's in the kitchen to make a meal."

  "I'm going to need more than a salad."

  "Awww, did I work you too hard?"

  "Yeah," he chuckled. "I'm pretty fragile."

  Maggie pulled out the steaks and a few seasonings, two potatoes and a can of asparagus spears. She found a loaf of garlic bread in the freezer and a bottle of merlot in the pantry. "There, how does this look?"

  "Like a feast, let's get started."

  They decided to enjoy their dinner inside due to the heat. She set the table in the breakfast nook, one of her favorite rooms in the house. Windows on three sides gave them an unobstructed view of the pasture, which right now was nothing more than brown grass, but in the spring became an ocean of bluebonnets and other colorful wild flowers. Underneath them, glass-fronted cabinets stored glasses, dishes and other special serving pieces.

  Their plates held nothing but a memory of their meal when Maggie pushed hers to the middle of the table and refilled their wine glasses.

  "I am stuffed."

  "Same here." He raised his glass to her. "I'd have to say, ma'am, that I have dined sufficiently."