by Becky McGraw
“Why are you here?” Grace volleyed, her heart squeezing at the hero-worshiping look on Callie’s face as she continued to stare up at him. She watched her niece’s hands as she asked him if he brought ice cream.
“She asked if you brought ice cream,” Grace informed, stupefied at the power of ice cream and a little attention.
“I know,” he replied, leaning back outside to pick up two plastic bags. Grace’s eyebrows shot up, and not because of the ice cream.
“How do you know?” she asked with disbelief.
“I read her lips and I’ve been studying sign language. It’s tougher than I thought it would be—I’d almost rather re-take quantum physics.” He smiled at Callie, then tried to sign. “She’s a smart cookie,” he sort of said to her, as well as Grace.
What he actually said was he wanted to cook her brain.
Callie giggled, and put her hand over her mouth. Laughter tickled Grace’s sternum too, which failed to protect the heart he’d just melted because he was trying to learn sign language to communicate with Callie.
“That’s impressive,” Grace said with a sigh as she took one of the bags from him to look inside. In the sack were three pints of ice cream, strawberry, chocolate and vanilla, a bottle of chocolate syrup and a container of candy sprinkles. She looked back up to find him staring at her with something akin to puppy dog eyes. He shook his head and cleared his throat.
“I thought we needed some ice cream to celebrate…” he said.
“What are we celebrating?” she asked, falling into his amazing green eyes, just noticing that he was wearing a suit instead of his normal t-shirt and jeans. She was definitely glad to see he wasn’t wearing anything remotely resembling bondage attire. A wave of need swept through her when the fact that he was actually standing here sank in.
“The fact that I had my head surgically removed from my ass,” he replied, and his face finally relaxed with his smile.
“That is definitely something to celebrate,” she replied with a laugh, her own tension easing a bit. “But it will have to wait because I have to leave.”
Why in the hell was he here?
“Where are you going?” he asked, his smile fading as his eyes slid down her body slowly until he reached her toes. “I’ve never found a sailor sexy before, but good God that uniform does something for me…you do something for me,” he said, the intensity in his eyes taking her breath when they met hers again. “You look beautiful, Grace.”
A knock sounded at her door, the light flashed with the doorbell, but it didn’t break her focus on his handsome face. He’d shaved his beard stubble, and that disappointed her. The light flashed again and she sighed as she handed him back the bag to open it.
“Hi, Grace,” the sitter said verbally and in sign. “Are we going to have a tea party tonight, pretty girl?” She smiled at Callie.
Callie’s hair swished as she shook her head. “No, we’re having an ice cream social with Aunt Grace and Brennan.” The sitter cast a curious look at Brennan.
Grace stepped forward to put her arm though his, because she didn’t have time for introductions right now. “I have to go now, or I’ll be late for the ceremony. Brennan, you’ll have to come back later, or tomorrow. I’ll probably be late getting home.”
“Where are you going?” he asked again, putting on the brakes, definitely not smiling.
He pulled his arm from hers to open the second bag and stuff his hand inside. When his hand came back out holding a bouquet of red and yellow roses, her insides quivered.
“I had this whole speech prepared,” he said, handing the dewy flowers to her. “But I guess it will have to wait too.”
“Yes, because I have a speech of my own to give in about forty minutes,” Grace said, burying her face in the blooms, inhaling their calming scent. She sighed as she pulled them away from her nose to hand them to Brandy. “Thank you, Brennan, they’re beautiful.”
“Can I go with you?” he asked, his smile returning. He handed the second bag to Brandy, who stood there studying him with almost the same expression as Callie’s. “If you’ll remember from our limo excursion, I’m pretty good at offensive driving, so I’ll drive and you can navigate.”
Grace knew she was making a mistake by letting him stay for even a minute, but she couldn’t ask him to leave. She didn’t have time to argue, and she didn’t want to. The thought of having his support tonight was a huge relief and too enticing to resist. She knew what the price of her agreement would be, but she accepted that.
“Yes, please,” she replied, turning to walk to the coffee table to grab her hat, briefcase and purse. She quickly kissed Callie, thanked Brandy, then put on her hat and opened the door. “But get a move on Poindexter, because I can’t be late.”
Inside the small rental car, anxiety returned as Brennan put his foot to the floorboard and she tightened her seat belt as the scenery outside zoomed by. As soon as she rested her left hand on the center console, he covered it with his and his heat filtered into her body.
“Take I-70 east instead of 95. It’s two minutes faster,” she informed, gripping the armrest on the door with her right hand. Those two minutes could give her at least the time to take out her notes for her speech before she started speaking. He drove, no raced, down the interstate for five minutes or so, then he cleared his throat.
“Now that I have you alone, tell me why you sent me away in Boston, Grace,” he said, seeming cool as a cucumber as he whipped in and out of the slow and fast lanes to get around slower traffic with one hand. Her fingers of her right hand dug deeper into the cushioned armrest and her stomach clenched.
“I really can’t talk about that right now, Brennan. I’m agitated enough.”
More than agitated. Inside this tin can of a car, his delicious, dark and spicy cologne, which she noticed in the house was magnified by his body heat. The desire to lean over and bury her face in his neck to lick him was strong.
She couldn’t get away from it, felt trapped.
Between the scent and the steady stream of electricity pulsing up her arm from their connected hands, if she didn’t find relief, by the time she got to the auditorium she’d be a lot more than a little agitated.
“Why are you agitated?” he asked calmly, with a glance in her direction.
“Can you turn on the air conditioner?” she requested, instead of rolling down the window like she wanted to because it would mess up her hair. She hoped the air would both help cool the heat simmering inside of her and dissipate the scent.
“It’s sixty-five degrees outside, baby,” he said, reaching out to flip the knob. “You having a hot flash?” His laugh trickled through her, bumping on every erotic nerve, upping the heat factor ten degrees. You have no idea.
“Or something,” she replied, cracking the window to lift her face and inhale the clean, fresh air that rushed in. “Exit 25B and take a right at the bottom of the ramp,” she said, with a sigh of relief. Ten minutes later, when he pulled into the parking lot, instead of finding a parking spot at the back of the lot, he dropped her off outside the front door.
“I’ll park and be inside in a second. Do I need a ticket or something?” he asked.
“No—but you’ll probably have to sit in the back row.”
His thoughtfulness only increased her tension, as Grace pulled her hand from his, opened the door, grabbed her briefcase then sprinted for the double doors. Something was different about Brennan, and it wasn’t just the suit. His eyes were more intense, his mood more serious, and that amplified her anxiety because she wondered what was on his mind. But she didn’t have time to consider what was up with him at the moment.
Dex watched Grace disappear inside the arena and sighed. This was not going the way he planned, but he was not giving up. Lowells don’t quit, Son. No, Dad, they don’t, he thought, with frustration as he whipped the car around to find a parking spot.
By the time he found a spot at the back of the lot and trekked to the front door, Dex was sweati
ng in the suit and his tie felt like a noose. But he felt like an adult as he pushed through the doors and looked around for a sign to point him in the right direction.
Adult was the new him, and the suit was a good start. During the two weeks he spent packing up his apartment, his cranial-anal extraction had begun. When he put his last graphic t-shirt on top of the pile in his suitcase, he realized something. He’d graduated college, but he’d never left that mentality behind him, because of his age and insecurities.
He had all the trimmings of adulthood, an advanced degree, a great job, an apartment and a nice car, but he wasn’t an adult yet.
If he had been, he wouldn’t have been hiding in Texas. He’d have gone to Boston, come clean with his family long ago, maybe even stepped forward to offer himself up to the feds so Sheridan could be prosecuted—no convicted—of his evil-doing. If he’d have done that, Grace and her sister may not have ever been put in the position of having to face that evil bastard.
That realization was only the first, though. There were many more, that followed, and they weren’t pleasant to admit either. The fact that he was in love with Grace Wentworth, had been since he met her, was the last but most important discovery.
She thought she was nervous tonight? He felt like he was sitting bare-assed on a cactus right now, wearing nothing more than those leather chaps. But at least he wasn’t handcuffed by his fears anymore.
Before this night was over, he was going to tell Grace Wentworth how he felt about her. Regardless of her reaction, he was also going a step further. Because he’d found his courage to do that too, in all that self-analysis.
Adults weren’t afraid of commitment, or taking relationships to the next level. Look at Slade, Logan, and Cade Winters. They weren’t afraid to step out on a shaky limb to do that, and he wouldn’t be either. If he got shot down, he’d just go somewhere and lick his wounds in broad daylight. He wasn’t hiding from anything anymore, especially life.
Dex heard her a deep male voice echo down the wide corridor and followed the sound. He rounded corner and the National Anthem began to play over the sound system. He stopped in his tracks, placed his hand over his heart, and let each note soak into his heart. Pride filled him like it always did, because of his family’s deep sense of duty, the fact that some of his ancestors had even served in the battle which inspired the song.
When it ended, he walked into the auditorium and took a red velvet seat on the second row from the back. His eyes fixed on the stage to scan the sea of white Navy uniforms, ice cream suits, as Patton called them, for Grace.
He found her at the far end of the row of chairs on the stage, which had to be a place of honor, because the rest of the large group stood behind the chairs, and the other men and women in the chairs had so many medals pinned to their uniforms, he didn’t know how they could stand under the weight.
The officer at the podium gave a short little morale speech, which also included a restatement of the mission of the Commissioned Corps, then began calling names, handing out awards and certificates and shaking hands. After an hour, Dex got bored, his body sank lower in the chair and his eyes drooped.
Twenty more minutes passed, and he thought for sure everyone on that stage had received an award, except Grace. He wondered if maybe her speech was just a keynote or something, that she wasn’t up there to receive a medal. That could explain why she was seated, instead of standing too. But then the man at the podium finally glanced at her and smiled. Dex sat up in his chair and opened his eyes.
“I saved our most prestigious award for last,” he announced, then looked back to the crowd. “Lieutenant Commander Grace Wentworth, it is with great pride that I award you the Meritorious Service Medal for your excellence in research outside of your assigned duties. Because you chose to go above and beyond ma’am, our children will be safer.”
Grace rose and swayed on her feet as she smoothed her skirt, then a tremulous smile appeared on her beautiful face as she walked to the podium with a notecard in her hand. Dex had to get closer, he thought, standing when he saw a couple rise and head for the back. He wanted front row seats for this. As casually as he could, he left his seat and hurried to the seats vacated by the couple.
He sat just as the officer finished pinning the medal to her chest and shook her hand. She turned toward the podium and smiled, but when she stood behind it, her eyes raked the crowd and it disappeared. She looked so nervous he thought she might bolt, but she didn’t. She laid her notecard down on the dais, laced her fingers together and lifted her chin.
“Thank you so much, Commander. It’s an honor and a privilege to serve with you, sir. I’d also like to thank the Surgeon General, who I will never be able to thank enough for his efforts to have my niece included in the gene therapy trial study at Boston Children’s Hospital.”
Dex’s body tensed and he sat closer to the edge of his seat and alarm flowed through him. Was Grace moving back to Boston? He knew for sure she wouldn’t be turning over care of Callie to her mother, so she had to be.
She blew out a breath, then looked at her notecard. “I’d like to tell you about a little girl very precious to me, my niece Callie,” she started, her eyes sweeping up to the crowd. “She’s six-years-old and just about the smartest kid I know…but that determination could be prejudicial.” She smiled and the crowd laughed.
“She’s also profoundly deaf. She can’t hear at all, not even with hearing aids. After she was born deaf, I set out to find out why. After an exhaustive battery of tests, it was determined not to be genetic. I was told it was probably just something that happened, but I’m a physician so that answer wasn’t acceptable.”
Her eye roll and tone produced more laughter. For someone afraid of public speaking as she obviously was, Grace was killing it. Because she was passionate about what she was speaking about, he thought, listening intently. Everything Grace did, she did with passion. It was one thing he loved about her. Yes, loved—he loved her more with every second he knew her, every new thing he discovered about her.
“My sister wasn’t a drug user, had no pre-disposition to any pregnancy or obstetrical complications. Hers wasn’t a high-risk pregnancy, in fact it was perfectly normal, a breeze even, as was her easy four-hour labor and delivery. The only thing different about her pregnancy at all was the intensity of her morning sickness during the first trimester, and the fact her infant was born deaf. I’ve spent six years reviewing the drugs the Medicaid-approved doctor she was seeing during her pregnancy prescribed to her to help with her nausea.”
Grace paused, swallowed hard then puffed a breath.
“Had that doctor done his research, like I did after the fact, he would’ve known the potential hazards those drugs posed to her unborn baby. In fact, if he’d have just Googled them he would have found many similar cases, lawsuits that were quickly settled with hush money, which should have sent up red flags to him at the very least.”
She cleared her throat, looked down at her notecard then continued.
“The reason those red flags never appeared at the FDA or the Surgeon General before now is that, after receiving approval ten years ago, the pharmaceutical company moved their lab to Mexico where there are less stringent manufacturing controls and regulation, barely any oversight. Importing the drugs back into the United States where their corporate headquarters are located, passing those drugs off as being manufactured at their much smaller facility in the United States was very easy—too easy for them. Why do you think they did that?” she asked, and hesitated when the crowd gasped.
“For money—pure and simple greed. And because of their greed, my niece was born with a disability she wouldn’t have otherwise suffered. It’s pathetic, it’s wrong, and the Surgeon General and FDA have assured me they are pushing for emergency legislation to fix this problem and I thank them for their quick action. I’m very honored to receive this medal, and thankful to be able to work for an agency who cares so much about keeping everyone in our country safe by waging wa
r against these kind of predators.”
Two loud claps turned into thunderous applause, and pride filled Dex to overflowing as he joined in, then stood to clap louder. He was surprised when others stood at his prompting. Grace picked up her notecard, their eyes met and she looked relieved as she smiled.
Way to go Lieutenant Commander. I love you, baby. Without thinking, Dex lifted his hand high and bent his fingers into the sign to tell her he loved her. Her body stiffened, her eyes widened and she swallowed hard. Looking like a scared rabbit, she turned to walk swiftly to her chair where she jerked up her briefcase then disappeared down the steps at the side of the stage.
Dex’s heart twisted painfully, but he wasn’t beaten yet.
Lowells don’t fucking quit.
He was going to say the fucking words to her, tell her everything that he needed to say, and only then would he let her walk away. He stepped into the aisle, but a mass exodus occurred. People pushed and shoved their way down the aisle toward the exit, and he didn’t walk there, he was carried in the flow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
In full-out panic mode, her heart in her throat, Grace pushed through the crowd, trying to claw her way to the front door. She couldn’t hear anything other than the irregular beat of her heart in her ears.
Brennan Lowell had just told her he loved her, or she thought he had.
But he’d told Callie he wanted to cook her brain, when he attempted to call her a smart cookie, hadn’t he? As strung out as she was at that podium, she might be hallucinating too.
Grace could not see him right now, not until she got herself under control. If she saw him, she knew she’d throw herself at him and, if she’d been wrong about his message, she’d look like the lovesick fool that she was.
But he is in Baltimore, isn’t he? And he came bearing roses and ice cream. That had to be a sign of his intentions, didn’t it? She slowed down and dragged in deep breaths, then stopped to lean against the wall.