by Melody Anne
“I am feeling a little better. And for real, thank you,” she said as she sipped her tea and then began nibbling on the second sandwich.
“Medicine?” he repeated.
“I wouldn’t mind some NyQuil,” she practically whispered. “It’s on the kitchen counter.” She had no doubt she was going to have to repay his kindness, but it was so nice to have someone taking care of her, even if only for a little while. A truce was acceptable under the circumstances.
Cam jumped up again and retrieved the capsules, along with some water to wash it down. When she finished her meal, he set the tray on her coffee table before giving her a look that made her instantly nervous.
“We still need to chat, but since you’re sick, and slightly stinky at the moment . . .” he said with a chuckle.
“I do not stink!” she snarled.
“Okay, I made that up, but I’m sure now that you have a little energy, you would love a hot bath.”
Oh, that did sound like heaven, but it was far too much effort. “I’m fine,” she told him, although it pained her to say it.
“You forget that I know you, Grace. We may have been apart most of the last ten years, but before that we were inseparable.”
“That was a very long time ago, Cam. People change.”
“Yes, but not that much, and if I remember correctly, you can sit in a tub until your entire body is a mass of wrinkles—if you have a good book.”
With that, he leapt up again, and soon her ears pricked up at the heavenly sound of running water. Her slight food buzz was already diminishing, and she wasn’t at all sure she’d have the energy to get up, undress, and bathe, but even though he had retracted his “stinky” comment, she felt disgusting. The cold had left her either shivering or stewing in her own juices, and washing off the sweat sounded better than a million dollars right now.
Ten minutes later Cam came back in the room. “Okay, up you go,” he said, and then her cover was being flung aside, and before she knew what he intended, his arms went beneath her and he was lifting her up, holding her securely against his solid chest.
“Mmm, I remember this,” he whispered.
Grace felt her chest restrict. Yeah, she remembered it too well herself. He marched into her room, then to the bathroom, and only stopped when he reached the tub. He set her down on the side. “Need help undressing?”
“No! I’ve got this,” she told him.
The adrenaline from being pressed up against him had given her back her lost energy, and she felt her cheeks grow hot at the thought of him stripping her clothes away.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before,” he reminded her softly, temptingly.
“That was in the Dark Ages, Cam.” Thankfully he didn’t remind her of their naked reunion a few months ago.
“Okay, I’m going to leave the door cracked in case you need me,” he told her, and disappeared.
Grace undressed, then sighed in complete contentment as she slid into the deep bubble bath and leaned her head against the bath pillow he’d blown up and attached to the back of the tub. Cam had even left a book on the side of the tub, but she couldn’t even imagine holding her arms out of the hot water long enough to take it.
With a blissful sigh, comforting food in her stomach now, she closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep.
Cam’s determination to make Grace listen to him had died the second he panicked at her front door, imagining all sort of horrible things that could have happened to her when she didn’t answer, especially since Sage had said she hadn’t heard from her in a few days.
When he’d walked inside and found her curled up on the couch, her nose red, her breathing uneven and scratchy, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and take care of her.
Since her return last year, he’d tried telling himself it was time to move on, that it was more than obvious she wasn’t interested in rekindling their romance. If only it were that easy. She’d been his first real love, the source of his best childhood memories, and the girl he’d let slip through his fingers. Their chemistry was undeniable even today.
Now that she was in trouble, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to protect her. Right now, though, the only thought running through his mind was the fact that she was less than fifty feet from him, soaking naked in a tub full of water and slippery soap.
He groaned as he scrubbed her sandwich plate a little too hard, nearly breaking it when he set it on the towel he’d laid out on her counter. His brothers would really enjoy watching this—Cam cooking, making tea, and then doing dishes. He’d never be able to live that one down.
But what else was he supposed to do? She was sick. And some things really never did change. Grace just wasn’t the sort to ask for help, even if her life were in jeopardy. That was just who she was.
Well, Cam had been raised quite differently. He’d been brought up by a man who still believed in helping his neighbors, who wouldn’t stand idly by while an elderly person in the parking lot loaded their own groceries, and who would never abandon a friend in a time of need. And whether Grace wanted to admit it or not, she was in need at the moment. Now, if Cam could just convince his body that she was only his friend, and that he wasn’t going to be doing anything with her naked body, he would be all good.
When half an hour passed, he decided he’d better check on her. “Grace . . .” No answer. “Grace?” he called again. Still nothing.
Peeking in through the door, he found her with her head resting against the bath pillow, her mouth partially open, and quiet snores drifting from between her slightly swollen, very reddened lips. Even when she was sick, he wanted to capture her mouth with his.
Nope. Shaking his head, he stepped into the bathroom, either very thankful for or maddened by the miracle of bubbles. Although they weren’t nearly as high as when the bath had first been drawn, they still managed to conceal all his favorite places on her magnificent body.
“Grace . . .” He leaned in and shook her shoulder.
She didn’t stir so much as an inch; she just mumbled and then tried to turn, her head almost slipping beneath the surface of the bathwater. “How much am I going to be tested?” he asked no one in particular.
Grabbing a towel from the rack, he draped it across his chest, then pulled the plug on the bath, and reached into the tub, letting his hands slide against her slick flesh until he got a good hold on her before pulling her straight into his arms.
She immediately began shivering. He covered her as much as he could, then grabbed another towel and draped that over her, too, before quickly stepping into her bedroom, where her bed was a mess of tangled blankets.
Setting her down on one side of the bed, one towel beneath her, the other on top, he then threw her comforter over her. Grace reached out—he imagined it was for him—grabbed a pillow, and snuggled into it.
Camden stood there for a moment trying to figure out what to do next. There was no way he had the willpower to dry her off and dress her. That was asking way too much of him. He’d done his best not to peek while pulling her out of the tub, but a man could be held responsible for only so much.
Turning away to reduce the brutal waves of temptation, he went off to search her linen closet and was thrilled when he found another thick comforter along with clean sheets and spare blankets.
She was curled up in a ball on one side of the bed, so he pulled the sheets off the mattress on the other side, slid the new bedding into place, and tucked it in by her. Then he faced Grace again. He still had the problem of her state of undress. He was sure she was dry now, what with the towels and the thick comforter, but she’d want to wear at least a nightie in case she woke up and needed the bathroom.
He found an indecently short gown hanging behind the door in the bathroom, with spaghetti straps on top and lace around the hem. “Dammit!” Of course she slept in sexy nightclothes. When they’d dated, they’d stolen moments together, never being able to stay a whole night in the same place. He wondered
if she’d worn the same sexy undergarments back then.
“Give me strength,” he said, looking upward.
Moving back into her room, he draped the gown over her head without moving the blankets, then reached beneath them and pulled it down her body, his knuckles grazing her flesh. Cam was sweating by the time he was done, and it wasn’t from overexertion.
Biting his lip, he pulled her from beneath the now-damp comforter, and she immediately snuggled against him, her breath warming his neck and making his lower body throb in time to the pulsing of his heart.
Laying her on the fresh linens, he quickly covered her up, then moved to the other side of the bed, where he stripped the rest of the old bedding off and quickly fixed the new.
More exhausted than if he’d been herding cattle all day, Cam practically stumbled from her bedroom and made a beeline for her fridge. “Please, please, please,” he said repeatedly, then almost felt a tear in his eye when he opened the refrigerator door and found a six-pack of Corona.
Pulling one out, he popped the cap and downed half the bottle in one gulp.
No, he wouldn’t be talking to her about anything regarding the file tonight. But because she was feeling so poorly, he also couldn’t leave her alone. If something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
After finishing the beer, he grabbed another one, then checked to make sure Grace was still sleeping before he settled in on her couch, her mango scent drifting all around him, and his lower brain growling at him for being such a fool. Man, that hurt.
Clicking on the television, he decided to settle in for one very, very long night. And yet, before the first half hour was up, his head was lolling to one side and he was drifting off.
Cam was startled awake by a scratching noise. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then he heard the noise again. He was instantly awake. It sounded as if someone were trying to pry open the window.
But they were in Sterling. Who in the hell would break into Grace’s apartment? He’d just been ribbing her earlier about her door being unlocked. In this town everyone left their doors unlocked until they went to bed.
When the noise continued, Cam jumped up and moved toward the front door. He went in stealth mode, but the squeaky floors in her apartment probably couldn’t help but betray him. He unlocked the door as quickly as possible and thrust it open.
No one was there, and for a moment he thought maybe he’d been imagining the whole thing. But when he looked again, he saw a flat-head screwdriver beneath her window. With narrowed eyes, he looked both ways on the balcony before he stepped up to the tool and bent down.
There were scratch marks on the outside of her window, as if someone had indeed been trying to break in. What the hell? Taking off his shirt, he used it to pick up the screwdriver. With luck, some prints could be lifted from the handle. But the whole idea was absurd. It had to just be neighborhood kids thinking they were being funny. Crime never really happened in Sterling. That’s why people chose to live here.
Not able to shed his sense of unease, though, Cam moved back inside the apartment, his rest for the night ruined. When she woke up, Grace was going to answer his questions. This time, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
If someone was after her, he wanted to know why.
Her brain fuzzy and her vision unfocused, Grace woke up to the smell of fresh coffee, bacon, and something delicious that she couldn’t identify. Sage had to be making breakfast. Grace lay there a moment longer, her lips turning up and her stomach growling.
When she took in a big breath of air, she nearly laughed aloud for pure joy when she realized her nose was no longer stuffy. Wiggling her legs, she still felt aches and pains, but they weren’t as debilitating as they’d been the past few days.
Then her eyes snapped back open. Wait a freaking minute. Sage had moved out six months ago. She was married to Spence now—Cam’s brother. Cam! He’d been at her house the night before. Thinking hard, Grace tried to call up the last thing she remembered. The tub!
She’d been in the tub and had obviously fallen asleep. Her hand shot to her chest and touched the silky smoothness of her nightie. Slowly lifting the blanket, she peeked underneath. That nightie was all she had on. Her face went crimson as she realized that Cam must have pulled her from the tub, dried her off, and dressed her.
She racked her brain for any other memories, and came up blank. She knew there was no way they’d done anything. As much as she wanted to “monsterize” Cam, he wasn’t a bad guy and he would never take advantage of a sleeping woman, not even if the two of them were in a relationship. So her horror was strictly at knowing he’d seen her naked—again.
Then, with the morning light streaming in through her blinds, she noticed her bedding had been changed. Had he done all of this for her? Why? Since she’d come back to town, not a single conversation had ended without one or both of them either yelling or the one time at her best friend’s wedding with them ripping each other’s clothes off, she thought in shame. So why in the world was he taking care of her now?
“Good morning, Grace. You look much better than you did last night.”
Grace froze as she looked to her doorway and found Cam leaning against the jamb with a cup in his hand, smiling at her.
“What are you doing, Cam?”
She clutched at her comforter, pulling it to her chin as she stared at him. Age had only made him better. He’d been so dang handsome when he was in his late teens and early twenties. She’d been in love with him from the time he was sixteen and she was only twelve, and he’d thought of her as nothing but a child.
He was all man now, his cheeks still chiseled but filled out nicely, his shoulders wide and making the perfect upside-down A-frame, and his arms . . . oh, his arms were solid, and looking at them led her gaze down to his stomach and beyond.
Shaking her head, she snapped her eyes back to his, which were, of course, twinkling. “Like the view, darlin’? Need me to turn around?”
“I asked you a question, Camden.” She was growing grumpier by the minute.
“I stayed the night. You were so sick and out of it that I was worried about you. And now I just finished making breakfast. You hungry?”
Her stomach growled her answer and he chuckled. She wished she could be stubborn enough to insist he get out, but she really was starving, although she didn’t see how she could be after pigging out the night before.
“Would you leave so I can get up?”
“Why? I saw plenty last night,” he said with an exaggerated wink.
“That’s just plain rude, Cam!” she snapped, sending him a look that should have shaken his confidence, if only a little.
“You weren’t thinking I was rude last night.”
“I was drugged and out of it. A real man wouldn’t have taken advantage of that fact.”
He stepped into the room and her heart thudded as she wondered what he was going to do. Slowly, so slowly, he approached the bed, set his coffee cup down on her nightstand, and then leaned down, his face now only inches from hers.
“I showed more restraint last night than could be expected of any mortal man. Now, if you want to thank me properly . . .” he said, with enough of a growl that her stomach was now flipping for reasons that had nothing to do with food.
“I need privacy,” she managed to squeak out, but was afraid to move even an inch as his scent enveloped her, making her realize if he were to touch her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep from grabbing him.
“As you wish,” he said, backing off immediately, picking up his cup, and sauntering out of her room.
Breathing deeply, she lay there until she felt that her body was safely under control, then finally flipped back the covers and climbed out of bed. She couldn’t wake up to Cam. It was far too hard on her hormones.
Stepping into her bathroom, she decided a shower was in order. As hungry as she was, she hadn’t washed her hair in a while, and until she scrubbed every inch of her
poor body, she wasn’t going to feel as if she’d beaten the cold that had dragged her down for days.
After she dried off, she peeked in her bedroom—no, Cam wasn’t there—then walked over to her closet and selected a warm outfit. Style, for once, wasn’t on her mind.
Now clean, clothed, and craving food, she couldn’t put off seeing Cam any longer. She emerged from her bedroom and found him sitting at the table, reading her newspaper.
The phone rang before she could say anything. Stepping over, she picked it up and then immediately regretted that decision.
“What can I do for you, Kitty?” she said, trying to have patience. The woman had been her client only for a few days and already Grace was wondering how she was going to get through this wedding. At least she wasn’t drawing the event out for a year.
“What did you just say?” Grace wasn’t sure she’d heard the woman correctly. But when she repeated it, Grace wanted to slap her.
After a few moments she finally hung up the phone and then was even more grouchy than when she’d come down the stairs, therefore poor Cam was about to get the brunt of her anger.
“Make yourself right at home,” she said with a scowl before moving to the coffeepot and pouring herself a fresh cup.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he murmured, unaffected by her ill mood.
She sat down, refusing to serve herself yet. That would excuse his behavior. Where in the world had all the groceries come from? She was really a boxed-food kind of gal—who had the time or the energy to cook whole meals? Boring . . . Baking, on the other hand, she absolutely loved to do.
“What was that phone call about? You seem upset,” he finally said.
“That was my client from hell,” she murmured.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said.
“Really?” she gasped. “She was just telling me that her grandmother just had the gall to die on her and so now her seating chart was all messed up. She’s demanded a meeting this afternoon to get it fixed.”