Rogue's Reform

by Marilyn Pappano

  Even with her glasses, Grace couldn’t see for the tears that flooded her eyes. How could he follow that careless, teasing proposal with a speech like that? How could he make her feel that marrying her was no more important to him than the movie they’d seen, and then bring her to tears with his next words?

  Maybe because he relied on his careless, teasing manner for protection when something was important to him. Because then, if he got the wrong response, he could shrug it off as if it were no big deal. All his life he’d been charming, flippant, careless or cocky about things that mattered so no one would guess exactly how much they mattered. She would bet Guthrie didn’t have a clue how much of the adoring kid brother remained in Ethan, that he couldn’t begin to guess how much influence he had in Ethan’s life. Even his mother had probably never guessed how much he loved her and needed her love and acceptance in return.

  So maybe the baby really did matter to him.

  Maybe she really did matter.

  If you’ll just give me a chance. There were people in town who said he’d been given too many chances and had messed up every one. They said he was just like his worthless father, that he would never grow up and never settle down, that he would never be half the man his brother was.

  Well, Guthrie was so perfect that half the man he was was more than she would ever need. Half of Guthrie’s honor, half his responsibility, half his decency, added up to one hell of a man.

  “Gracie?” With more tenderness than she’d ever known, he dried a tear from her cheek.

  “Just one chance?” she whispered.

  “That’s all I’m asking for.”

  Good, because one chance was all she had to give. One disappointment, one letdown, one broken heart, and she would have nothing left. But that one chance…

  She put tremendous effort into a smile that was almost as cocky as some of his and whispered, “I’ll think about it.”

  After removing her glasses, Ethan gave her a kiss that was sweet, hot, hungry, greedy, then whispered his own response. “I hope you won’t be sorry.”

  God help them, so did she.

  By Monday morning, the storm that had dumped nearly four feet of snow on Heartbreak had moved on, and in one of the quirks that made Oklahoma weather so interesting, the sun had warmed the temperature to fifty degrees by eleven o’clock. Ethan awakened to the steady sound of water dripping from the eaves and to a room warm enough to make any cover heavier than a sheet unnecessary.

  Before moving so much as a muscle, he knew Grace was no longer beside him. How far had she found it necessary to go this morning? Last time she’d run out of his life completely. But this time, he thought with a humorless smile, he knew where to find her.

  But it wasn’t necessary. When he finally opened his eyes to throw back the heavy layer of blankets that had gotten them through the unheated night, he saw her sitting in the glider in front of the west window. That was his first surprise. The second was that she hadn’t gotten dressed yet. She still wore the deep purple sweater and nothing else. Her feet were drawn onto the chair cushion, her left hand curled loosely around an oversize coffee mug, and her gaze was directed outside. She looked… Not beautiful. She would never be beautiful except to someone whose love blinded him to reality. But she wasn’t plain, either, not anymore. Lovely. Yes, that was a good word. She looked incredibly lovely and maybe, maybe, just the littlest bit beautiful.

  He plumped the pillows behind his back and waited for her to notice him. What was she thinking about that kept her so still, her expression so serious? Was she considering whether to give him that one chance he’d asked for last night? Guthrie would scoff that he’d had a hundred one-more-chances followed by a thousand last-chances; what made him think that this one would be any different?

  But it would be, because the odds were different. The stakes were higher. Screwing up all those other chances had hurt only him for the most part, but screwing up this one chance would hurt Grace, who had already been hurt enough. He’d be damned for hurting her once. He’d be doubly damned if he’d do it twice.

  One chance. No mistakes, no foul-ups—and he was the king of mistakes and foul-ups. Maybe he should save them all the heartache and leave now. He’d faced much better odds and still lost—and this time he had so damn much to lose. If he left now…

  Grace would be alone again, believing that no man would ever want her. He would never know his child. And he would have indisputable proof that he was no better than his father—worse, even. Gordon had left Nadine to raise Guthrie and Ethan alone, but Nadine had never needed Gordon. Grace did need him. She needed him to help take care of this old house, to introduce her to all the other firsts missing from her life, to make her smile.

  She needed him to love her.

  And he needed to try, he admitted, his throat growing tight as he watched her. But even loving her couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t hurt her.

  God, he’d never been so scared in his life! He didn’t have the courage to make all this work…but he couldn’t not try. He couldn’t run far enough or fast enough to be free of her, and if he failed this one chance, there would be no place to run to where he could forget her.

  So he couldn’t fail. Whatever it took, however long, he had to make this work.

  Something caught her attention. Looking his way, she smiled shyly. “The heat’s back on,” she said unnecessarily.

  “And here I thought that was just me looking at you.”

  Her smiled deepened. “The snow’s melting. The roads will be clear by midafternoon.”

  “Too bad. But until then, why don’t you come over here and seduce me?”

  Color flooded into her cheeks—embarrassment, he thought, though he wouldn’t rule out arousal. Just the idea was enough to make him start getting hard. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  The innocence of her reply made him laugh. “You’ve already begun, sweetheart. Just sitting where I can see you makes for a damn fine start. Come here.”

  He extended his hand, and after one long moment, she set her cup aside, carefully stood up and started toward the bed. The sweater clung to the curves of her breasts and her belly, then skimmed over to her hips to mid-thigh, leaving the rest of her long, lean legs exposed. It was an erotic combination—the long-sleeved, high-necked sweater, about as concealing as a garment could get, and the lush, responsive naked body it covered.

  She stopped beside him, clasped her hands together, dropped them to her sides, then protectively hugged her arms to her chest. “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed.

  “I’ll show you.” He held his hand out for hers. When she hesitantly took it, he drew her onto the bed. He was lying at the near edge, so she had no choice but to move over him—no choice at all once he stopped her in mid-slide so that she straddled him.

  Through the sheet that was all that separated them, he could feel her heat. Combined with the shifting of her body as she sought a comfortable—and, he suspected, less intimate—position, the sensations made him harder, hotter, than ever.

  “Let me lie down.”

  “Just sit here. I’m enjoying this,” he teased, making her blush.

  “But I’m too heavy.”

  “Oh, yeah, babe. Why, you must weigh… What? A hundred and forty pounds?” He placed his hands on her hips to subtly reposition her, then let one slide across her stomach, where the movement beneath his palm startled him. His first response was to snatch his hand away as if it burned. The second was to touch Grace again, seeking it out again. When it came, it was a solid kick, directly beneath his fingers. “Oh, my God… I didn’t think… It didn’t occur to me… She’s moving. Like a real baby.”

  Grace’s smile was sweet. “I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve felt it. She can be pretty active.”

  On cue the baby kicked again, bringing a big, goofy grin to Ethan’s face. It was amazing. He knew, of course, that babies kicked, but she’d never mentioned it and he’d never realized that his baby wa
s kicking. It was incredible—and frightening. It made the whole prospect of becoming a father so much more real. Up until now, the baby had been a symbol, more or less, of something that didn’t yet exist, that wouldn’t actually exist for six more weeks.

  But she did exist. She was as real now as she would ever be. He had proof. He could feel her.

  “Are you ever afraid?” he asked, cradling both hands to her stomach, feeling a few settling-in sort of tremors, then nothing.

  “Of what?”

  “All this. Being pregnant. Giving birth. Being responsible for another human being. Do you ever worry that you won’t be a good mother, or that you won’t know what to do? Does the responsibility ever intimidate you?”

  “Everything intimidates me,” she said with a faint smile. Then she shrugged, and he felt it in the most sensitive part of his anatomy. “I admit, I’m a little afraid about giving birth, but Callie says there’s nothing to worry about, that it’s as natural as breathing. Of course, she’s just a midwife. She’s never given birth herself.” She said the last with another little smile before turning serious. “I don’t worry about being a good mother. I want this baby. I love her, and I’ll do anything for her.”

  “But you didn’t have a good mother yourself. You have no role model.” He knew what he was actually saying and suspected she did, too. He had no role model. How could he ever be a good father when the only father he’d ever had was lousy?

  “You’re right. My mother was a bad mother. I’ll get no help from her. But I remember the things I needed from her. I know what I thought, as a child, a good mother was.” She fell silent for a moment, and an uneasy look came into her eyes. “You have Guthrie. He can be your role model.”

  Ethan stared at her. That was the first time she’d acknowledged that he would have a place in the baby’s life. He was more touched than he could say…and it made him want her more than words could express.

  Pulling her to him, he kissed her, lifted her, yanked the sheet out from beneath her. “You’re going to be on top this time, babe,” he murmured as he grasped the hem of her sweater. “And this time I get to see you naked.”

  She started to protest, but he got the sweater halfway up and got distracted by her breasts, and for a time, talking was the last thing on her mind.

  When he finally managed to discard the sweater, when, with her clumsy help, he pushed inside her, filled her and felt her tightly gloving him, when she let her head fall back as her eyes glazed over with sensation, he took a good long look at her and knew he’d been wrong earlier when he’d said she was lovely. With the delicate porcelain of her skin, the baby-owl seriousness of her dark eyes, the shy smile that could easily go from innocent to smug, from sweet to sweetly satisfied, there was no doubt about it.

  She was beautiful.

  And he was damn lucky to have her.

  By the end of the week, the temperature was in the seventies and the snow was just a memory. But not all that it had brought. Grace had had the most wonderful week of her life. Ethan had spent most of the days and all of the nights with her. He’d taught her things she hadn’t even heard whispers about, and he made her feel alive in ways she couldn’t explain. He had changed everything.

  And nothing.

  Though he spent time at the store, helping her out, everyone who saw him seemed to assume that he was working for her. No one, not even Reese Barnett, suspected there was anything between them. Of course, Ethan gave them no reason to suspect a thing. He kept his distance whenever there were customers around. He was friendly, reasonably polite, reasonably wary. He was so good that at times he could almost fool her into wondering whether their relationship really was strictly business. But that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? No suspicion, no gossip, no speculation that could come back to haunt her baby. Wasn’t it?

  Or did some foolish part of her want him to publicly stake a claim? To acknowledge to one and all that he was having an affair with her, was maybe even—please, God—learning to care about her. Surely he must care. Surely he couldn’t kiss her so gently, hold her so tenderly, make love to her so passionately, if he didn’t care just a little.

  Of course he could. Men did it all the time. He’d done a wonderful job of it last summer when they were strangers, when he’d felt nothing for her but lust.

  Besides, the secrecy was her idea, remember? It was one of her terms that Ethan had agreed to uphold until she decided differently. And she was being pulled in so many directions by so many conflicting needs that she couldn’t decide anything.

  With a sigh, she forced her attention back to the open books on the desk. Ethan was finishing the inventory she’d barely started then forgotten when he’d come home, and she was supposed to be working on accounts, but she couldn’t concentrate. When he came around the counter, turned up the volume on the radio, then claimed her hand and pulled her to her feet, she gave up trying. “What are you doing?” she asked with a laugh.

  “I’m dancing with my girl.”

  “Dancing? In the hardware store? My father would have a fit.”

  “But your father’s not here, and we are.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her firmly enough that she couldn’t get away if she tried…not that she had any intention of trying. She’d learned well that in his arms was where she wanted to be. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek against his chest to enjoy the moment.

  The song was slow, the lyrics romantic, about making love and the world standing still. She could relate to that. In those wonderfully intense moments, it was as if time stopped and nothing in the world existed but the two of them. It was incredible.

  When the music ended and a commercial began, their movements slowly stopped, too. But Ethan continued to hold her, and she continued to let him, until a voice boomed across the counter.

  “Well, I’ll be. Gordon James’s boy and Jed Prescott’s girl dancin’ in the hardware store in the middle of the day,” Pete Davis said with a cackling laugh. “Now I’ve seen everythin’.”

  With a flush heating her entire body, Grace would have jerked away from Ethan, but he didn’t let go so easily. As a scowl tightened his features, he slowly released her, holding on to her hand until she forcibly pulled it away. “Pete,” he said stiffly. “I figured you’d died years ago.”

  “Funny. I figured the same thing about you, son. Too much booze, too much cheatin’, another man’s wife…” Pete laughed again, then reached out one bony hand. “How long you back for?”

  “Don’t know.” Ethan shook hands with him before giving Grace a sidelong look. “I’m thinking about staying this time.”

  Pete looked at her, too. “It’s a good thing none of us ever put our money where our mouth is, son, ’cause you weren’t even on the list. You never fail to surprise us, do you, boy?”

  “You need something today?” Ethan asked levelly. “Or did you just come in here looking for gossip?”

  “I actually did need something, but durned if it hasn’t plumb escaped me what it was. I’ll be back when I remember.”

  For a long moment after he left, Grace couldn’t even look at Ethan. She didn’t know where to look, how to stand, what to say. She’d even forgotten what to do with her hands, and so they just fluttered nervously, helplessly, before she laced her fingers tightly together. Of all the people who could have walked in on them, Pete Davis was the worst. Along with the old men who hung out at the café, Pete was the biggest gossip around. Within an hour, it would be all over town that he’d caught them dancing in the store—an even sillier notion now than it had seemed when Ethan had first suggested it. For their inventive minds, it was only a leap from the dance to the idea that there might be something going on between them, and a tiny jump to the possibility that he could be the father of her baby. Everyone would know by sundown.

  Ethan turned the radio down again, then grimly faced her across the desk. “Your secret’s out now.”

  She clenched her fingers tighter to keep from gasping in dismay. “Do you thin
k he guessed…?”

  “Guessed what?”

  “That you…that this…about the baby?”

  A puzzled look crossed his face. “Sweetheart, he didn’t guess. He knows. Didn’t you hear him?” When she blankly shook her head, he grimaced. “‘It’s a good thing that none of us put our money where our mouth is, because you weren’t even on the list.’ He was talking about bets. They were making bets on who the father is, but they hadn’t considered me. Darlin’, if ol’ Pete talks like he used to, everybody’s gonna know by closing time at the café.”

  Grace numbly shook her head from side to side. “It was one stupid dance. It doesn’t mean anything. All they can do is guess, and we’ll tell them they’re wrong.”

  Now Ethan shook his head. “I know I told you I would keep your secret, Gracie, and I’ve already done it once, but I won’t do it again. When Reese Barnett asked if I was the father, I told him no, and I felt like the worst bastard that ever lived. It was wrong, Gracie. It was wrong then, and it would be unforgivably wrong now. I won’t publicly disagree with you. I won’t tell anyone you’re lying, but I won’t lie myself, not again, not about that.”

  She thought about facing everyone once the truth was known—about the pitying looks she would get from some, about the looks Ethan would get from others. She thought about the gossip, the whispers, the disapproval and the scorn—thought about her baby being subjected to all that—and she felt sick inside.

  And there would be gossip and scorn. She had no doubt about that. What had Pete’s first words been? Gordon James’s boy and Jed Prescott’s girl dancin’ in the hardware store. His tone had been mocking, teasing, just a little disdainful. That was kindness compared to what others would offer.

  Damn it, for seven and a half months, she’d kept her secret without any problem, and in just a couple of minutes, with one stupid dance, Ethan had ruined it. Sure, she could insist that he wasn’t the father, but she was a lousy liar, and when he was standing there refusing to confirm or deny her story, who would believe her?