Grace Under Fire

by Beverly Barton

  Jed reached down and slipped her hand into his. "It's all right. I understand. I didn't think you were inviting me into your bed."

  A relieved sigh escaped her lips. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so weak, so utterly exhausted. Emotional stress could quickly deplete the body's physical energy.

  Leaving the horrible photos where they had cascaded onto the brick driveway, Grace and Jed walked up the steps, onto the veranda and into the house. He held her hand securely, but didn't touch her in any other way; nor did he say a word. His silent strength supported her, the touch of his hand comforting beyond measure. Jed paused in the foyer to reactivate the security system and close the gates, but he accomplished both with one hand, not breaking the physical contact with Grace. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she felt as if she'd be lost, as if she'd drift away into nothingness, were Jed to let go of her.

  Side by side, hand in hand, they made their way up the spiral staircase. When they reached the open landing, Grace glanced downstairs and caught a glimpse of Laverna and Nolan standing together in the foyer, both with concerned looks on their faces. She offered them a weak smile. No explanations. Not now. All she wanted was to forget. Forget the photographs. Forget the pain that tore her apart inside when she remembered lying in Dean's arms, knowing the security and love he provided. Forget how difficult life was each day without her husband, without her wonderful father … without the hope of a child. Instinctively her hand went to her belly, to that spot where Emma Lynn had lain, nurtured and protected from the outside world. Until one deadly night…

  Jed looked directly at Nolan and said, "Would you mind picking up some photographs Grace left in the driveway."

  "No, sir, I don't mind."

  "Just put them away for safekeeping tonight and I'll collect them from you later."

  "Yes, sir. I'll take care of it immediately."

  Realizing Jed was simply doing his job—making sure any evidence of the threat against her life was retained and at the same time taking care of her—Grace sighed. While she wanted nothing more than to forget those photographs, she understood that Jed couldn't leave them lying outside where they could be stolen or blown away in the wind.

  Trusting Nolan to carry out Jed's instructions, Grace led her bodyguard into her bedroom and closed the door, then reluctantly released his hand. "I don't think I'll sleep a wink tonight. Would you mind staying up with me? We can talk or play cards or listen to music or…" Fueled by nervous agitation, she paced around the room. "God, I feel as if I'm losing my mind."

  Jed came up behind her and stopped her in mid-stride by placing his arms around her and pulling her back against his chest. After crossing his arms to encompass her, he lowered his head just enough so that his chin rested on the top of her head.

  For half a second she thought about breaking free, but instead she melted against him, surrendering to the pleasure of being held. His was not her father's protective embrace nor was it Dean's loving embrace, but rather it was comfort. The comfort of another human being, of another warm body, on a night when the worst thing for her was to be alone.

  "What were you like as a little girl?" Jed asked.

  She breathed in the unique scent that was Jed Tyree. Soap and water. Sunshine. A hint of some subtle aftershave. No expensive colognes. Nothing to mask the pure masculinity he exuded.

  Her head lolled back to rest comfortably against him as she lifted her chin. "I was spoiled rotten because I was an only child. I was Daddy's little darling. What about you—what were you like as a little boy?" She felt him tense and wondered if she'd mentioned a sensitive subject.

  "My father died when I was small. And my mother…" Jed lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against her temple. "My mother was sick and spent most of my life in an institution. I lived with my uncle."

  "Oh, Jed, how terrible for you." Grace gazed at him sympathetically. "I thought losing my mother when I was sixteen was tragic, but at least I had both her and my father while I was growing up. You must have been a very sad little boy without a mother."

  "Yeah, I think every little kid needs a mama. Probably more than anything else, even a father or brothers and sisters. But I survived."

  Sensing Jed's uneasiness at discussing his childhood, at appearing vulnerable to her, Grace changed the subject.

  "I always wanted a brother or a sister. What about you? Did you have brothers or sisters?" Jed was so close, his arms surrounding her, capturing her with his gentleness.

  "I was an only child, too. I had a buddy who had a younger sister and she looked up to him. They were very close. I guess I envied that, would like to have had it for myself."

  "I mostly wanted a brother," Grace admitted. "A sister would have been too much competition. You know how we spoiled little rich girls are."

  Jed chuckled. "Did you always get everything you wanted?"

  "Most of the time, but not always. Believe it or not, Daddy did expect me to behave myself, even though I usually had a difficult time sharing. What was mine was mine … that sort of thing."

  When Jed nuzzled the side of her face, tingles of awareness radiated through her. Her nipples peaked. No, she couldn't allow this to happen. She jerked away from him, desperately needing to put some distance between them. When she crossed the room and stood by the double French doors that led out onto the upstairs porch circling the entire house, Jed didn't follow her. Not at first. She opened both doors and stepped outside into the moist nighttime air. Although the temperature had dropped, the humidity remained, making it feel warmer than the thermostat indicated.

  "Come back inside, Grace," Jed told her. "You'd make a perfect target standing out there on the porch with the bedroom light silhouetting your body."

  She whirled around and stared at him. "You think someone could be on the grounds with a rifle right now, that I'm a target?" She came back inside and closed the doors.

  "I doubt there's anyone on the grounds, but an expert marksman with a high-powered rifle could be outside Belle Foret and still hit a target here at the house."

  "I see. I suppose I didn't realize how easy it would be for a professional to kill me." A chill of fear shuddered through her.

  "Booth Fortier has sent you a warning," Jed told her. "He'll send one or two more before he attempts to kill you. At least that's his usual MO. Two or three warnings, then go in for the kill."

  "I hate to even think about that type of life, a criminal's life, where killing comes so easily and revenge is counted in dead bodies."

  "Then don't think about it. Not tonight." Jed glanced around the room, his gaze lingering over the huge armoire that housed her bedroom entertainment center. "We could watch TV, maybe find a movie. Or listen to music. Or play cards. It's your call. What do you want to do to pass away the time?"

  What did she want to do? She wanted to lie down in her bed … with Jed. She wanted to lie in his arms all night and know she was safe. But she could hardly ask him for that. After all, he was a man, not some sort of robot. He had feelings, desires. And so do you, Grace, she told herself.

  "Music," she said, then crossed the room, opened the entertainment center and punched the buttons on her CD player. A light, bluesy tune filled her bedroom suite. She closed her eyes, allowing the instrumental rendition of a cool jazz standard to caress her senses. She hummed softly along with the music and began to sway with the rhythm. "I haven't danced in years." Lifting her head, she focused her gaze on Jed, then held out her hand to him. "Will you dance with me, Jed Tyree?"

  "It's been a while since I danced the night away," he told her as he came forward, a lazy, sexy grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "But I can't think of a better way to kill some time."

  His arms went around her with gentle ease, his movements non-threatening and not sexual in nature. He kept several inches between their bodies as he took charge of their first dance. Surprisingly he was a good dancer. Some big men seemed to have two left feet. But not Jed. He moved her about the room in a slow, sweet
flow. She felt light and free. But the comfort of being close wasn't there; and a part of her desperately needed that closeness.

  The first tune ended and another began. A silky clarinet mourned as the brush of drums accented the song's melancholy. Inadvertently Grace leaned toward Jed, her body seeking contact with his. As if sensing her need, he pulled her closer, just close enough for their bodies to touch. But not close enough. Grace made the move on her own when she laid her head on his shoulder and pressed herself against him. She felt a slight pause … a hesitation … but he kept moving to the music. After several minutes, he leaned down and pressed his cheek against her temple.

  "You're very good at this," she told him.

  "At dancing?"

  She sighed. "Yes, at dancing. And at giving comfort."

  "Grace…" He spoke her name as if it were a prelude to a comment, but he didn't continue.

  "Do you know what I want?"

  "What?" His hand at her waist glided downward and splayed across the base of her spine.

  "I want to stop thinking." She snuggled against him. "I want to forget about those damn photographs and I want to stop thinking about Daddy and Dean and…"

  Jed slowed, released her hand and cupped her chin, urging her to look up at him. The minute she did, he lowered his head and planted a light, elusive kiss on her mouth. Her lips parted on an indrawn breath as tingles of awareness shot through her nerve endings. It had been such a long time since she'd felt sexual excitement, since she'd felt anything except pain and grief and loneliness. Even on the best of days, she existed, never actually lived.

  "I want to stop thinking," she repeated. "All I want to do is feel alive. Alive with good feelings and not bad. For just a little while. Is that too much to ask?"

  Standing there in the middle of her bedroom suite, soft music playing in the background, Jed gazed longingly into her eyes. "I've never become personally involved with a client. And it's probably not a good idea for us … for me … to…" He ran the back of his hand over her cheek. "But I can help you stop thinking. I can help you feel alive." His big hands cupped her face. "Is that what you want? Be very sure, Grace."

  She knew what he was asking her. Was it what she wanted? If she said yes, he wouldn't stop with comfort, with tender loving care. He would expect more. "Yes, it's what I want." It's what I need!

  Her permission sent him into action. He forked his fingers through her hair and gripped the back of her head, then took her mouth in a ravenous yet remarkably tender kiss. Every muscle, every nerve … the very essence of her being reacted, loving the way he made her feel. When he deepened the kiss, she whimpered and her lips parted to allow him entrance. Her body arched and stretched, lifting up to meet his kiss, giving itself over to the passion. Jed cupped one hip, then rubbed his hand over her buttocks. He pushed her closer so that she felt his obvious arousal.

  Her nipples hardened, her femininity moistened. It had been years since she'd felt anything like this. And if she were honest with herself, she'd have to admit that no other man's kiss had ever aroused her so intensely or so quickly. Not even Dean's and she had loved Dean dearly.

  Desire swept over her like a tidal wave, obliterating everything but pure physical hunger. Her body clenched and unclenched; a sexual ache pulsed between her legs. She wanted … oh, how she wanted…

  Jed eased his tongue from her mouth and slid his lips away from hers. Before she could tell him not to stop kissing her, his tongue drew a spiraling line from her chin to her throat. He pushed aside the collar of her pajama top then licked and mouthed her collarbone. Grace clung to him, aware that tonight this man was her lifeline; and for a few brief hours he would be her lover.

  Easily, gradually, Jed began touching her. A caress on her shoulder, down her arm. His hands petting her hips and buttocks. Gentle. Non-threatening. And yet so very sensual.

  He took her hand in his and began a slow, leisurely dance, keeping their bodies pressed intimately together. Odd, Grace's dazed mind thought, very odd that he should start dancing again instead of taking her straight to bed. When his hand slipped between them to fondle first one breast and then the other, she accepted his touch with pleasure. Working quickly, he undid all the pearl buttons on her silk top, then tugged it free from her pajama bottoms and guided it down her shoulders, down her arms and off. The garment dropped to the floor in one swift, fluid move.

  He lifted her hand and laid it on his chest. "Your turn."

  Her turn? Oh, yes, of course, he expected her to remove his shirt now. When she tried to undo the first button, her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't. Jed grasped her hands and held them between their bodies.

  "Here, Blondie, let me help you."

  He unbuttoned his shirt, then took her hands and placed them on his naked chest. She spread her palms out over his chest, loving the firm, masculine feel of his pectoral muscles and the thick curling hair that formed a T shape from nipples to down inside his jeans.

  He danced her across the room, then turned the dimmer switch that lowered the lighting to a romantic glow. He stroked her naked back, first with the entire palm of his hand and then with his fingertips. Her skin tingled. Her body begged for more. When he reached out and cupped her breasts in his big hands, she tensed for a moment, a hint of uncertainty making her question her sanity.

  She'd been sane and sensible for over three years now. Always in control, never indulging in lengthy bouts of self-pity. But the depth of her despair lay just below that cool, aloof surface she presented to the world. Inside she was still grieving, still tormented by what had been and could never be again. And once she'd learned the truth about the night her husband and father had been killed, all the pain and anguish she'd pushed deep down inside had come rushing to the surface.

  Let Jed help you forget. Just for tonight. Don't be sane and sensible. Don't be the woman of steel.

  She closed her eyes and sighed as he gently massaged her flesh. His thumbs skimmed across her nipples. He lowered his head and flicked his tongue over the puckered tip; she sucked in a deep breath as sensation radiated from her breasts to the core of her body. He took turns, giving each breast equal attention. And just when Grace thought she couldn't bear another second of his arousing fondling, he lifted his head, clutched her hips and brought her up against him, her breasts to his chest. Then he rubbed their bodies together intimately and began dancing again.

  Was he trying to drive her mad? she wondered. He was seducing her with every touch. Didn't he realize she wanted him now? He didn't have to continue the seduction.

  "Jed?" She tilted her head just enough so she could see his face. He was so handsome, in a very rugged way.

  He gazed down at her, desire bright in his hazel eyes. "Yes, Grace?"

  How did she tell him that she wanted him to make love to her now? Show him. That's the best way. She inched one hand between them and struggled to unbuckle his belt. Failing at that, she glided the palm of her hand over his erection which strained against the zipper of his jeans.

  He reached between them and grasped her hand. "Not yet."

  "But—"

  He brought her hand to his mouth, turned it palm up and licked a circle in the center with the tip of his tongue. Grace shivered.

  "I'm not going to rush … we have all night," he told her.

  All night?

  He paused, unbuckled his belt and removed it, then said, "That should make it easier for you."

  She responded with action, not words, and undid his zipper. He shimmed his hips as she pulled his jeans down his legs. When they hung on his boots, he dragged her across the room, then sat on the edge of her bed and held up one foot. She stared at his boot, then took hold of it. yanked it off, and followed up with the other. Jed kicked off his socks and removed his jeans. When he stood, he wore nothing but a pair of low-riding navy blue briefs. Grace stared at him, her gaze focused on his bulging sex pulsating beneath the scrap of material.

  Jed quickly removed her pajama bottoms. No
w, she thought, now he's going to make love to me. But she was wrong. He pulled her into his arms and began dancing again. His hairy legs rubbed against her smoother legs, the friction unbearably erotic. Her aching breasts flattened against his hard chest. Without any barriers separating their sexes, they practically made love as they danced.

  Grace didn't know how much more of this she could endure. She was already wild for him, wanting him more than she could remember ever wanting a man. Such overwhelming passion was new to her, this raging hunger so powerful it frightened her. And for a man who was little more than a stranger to her. How was it possible?

  He knew he was prolonging her agony, was doing it on purpose. She could tell by the way he watched her, the way he studied her. He was waiting until she was begging him for it.

  Jed nuzzled her ear, then whispered, "I want you hotter than you've ever been. I want you hurting so bad for release that you'll do anything for it." He slipped his hand between her thighs and fondled her mound.

  She gasped for air. "Can't you tell I'm already at that point."

  He eased his fingers between her feminine lips and rubbed back and forth, touching just the right spot. She undulated against his fingers.

  "Tell me," Jed said. "Tell me what you want."

  "I … I want you to take me. Now. Please … please…"

  He inserted his finger inside her. Moisture gushed around his hand. "You're wet … and hot. Very hot."

  She grabbed his forearms and tried to pull him with her toward her bed. "Now, Jed."

  He scooped her up in his arms, carried her across the room and laid her on her bed, then gently spread her legs apart. She held her breath, crazy with anticipation.

  And then he did the unexpected. He kissed the inside of each thigh. Suddenly she realized his intent. Yes, yes, yes, her body screamed. Do it. Give me relief.

  His mouth came down over her as he held her legs apart. He kissed, then sucked, then licked, his tongue working magic. She thrust her hips forward, exposing herself completely as he continued putting pressure on her most sensitive spot. When she complied without reservation, spearing her fingers through his hair to hold his head in place, he reached up to her breasts. The moment he pinched her nipples, she moaned. She was on the verge, so very close. Tension wound tighter and tighter inside her. And then with one final stroke of his talented tongue, Jed sent her over the edge, into complete and utter fulfillment. Her climax splintered her into a million shards of pure pleasure.