Grabbing her hands, Grant sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. Move your hands from there. I’m serious—ouch. Careful. It’s very sensitive. Come on, honey, we’ve got to—”
“Ye-es?” Laura said, snuggling up to him, rubbing herself against him. “We have to what, Grant?”
He stared at her. “Get you out of these wet clothes.”
Laura burst out laughing. God, how she loved him. Impetuously, she reached for the neck of his sweatshirt and pulled him down to her. “Come here, you big sexy thing, you.” And then, gripping the back of his neck with one hand, her other still fisted around his shirt, she kissed the ability to do higher math right out of the man.
When she finally took pity on him and broke off the kiss, allowing him to come up for air, Grant was blinking, gasping. “Damn. I don’t…know what I…said or did to warrant that. But…whoopee for me.”
“Yeah. I know. My toes are curled. How about yours?”
“Oh, yeah. Everything. My hair, my toes, my—”
Laughing, Laura put a hand over his mouth, stopping his words. “I think I know where you’re going with that thought.” Grant smiled. Then he licked her palm.
Startled, Laura screeched, jerking her hand away. Laughing, Grant caught her and rained kisses down on her face, her jaw, her neck…Reaching under the wet sweatshirt, his hands on her bare skin, he took hold of the lumpy material, and in one smooth move it was over her head.
The rush of air against her damp skin made Laura shiver and hardened her nipples into tight buds. Grant’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath.
“Oh, Grant,” Laura murmured, feeling hot and drugged, her limbs liquid with desire as she tugged his sweatshirt off and stared at his chest. “Dear God, you’re gorgeous.” She focused on his square-jawed and handsome face. “But what about Mother and Tucker?”
He smirked. “I think they’re gorgeous, too.”
Laura had to laugh. “Not that. I mean, they haven’t even left yet. They haven’t had time to get dressed.”
Grant jerked his hands to his hair, raked them through it. Laura almost died at the sight of his hard and contracting abdominal muscles, at the dark line of hair that thinned at his waist and…“Laura Elizabeth Sloan, what is your point? I am on fire here. If they haven’t left, they will. Your mother’s intention was to give us this time together, right?”
No longer able to blink, much less think, Laura looked at him. “Right. So why are you standing there talking?” She reached behind her back, worked the snaps and then—ta-dah—her bra came away from her body and went sailing.
Which made Grant catch his breath. “You are stunning. Wow.”
Laura grinned, bare and proud, staring at him with want in her eyes. Grant returned her hot look until the distant sound of the front door opening and then closing captured their passion-drugged senses. “They’re gone,” Laura whispered, biting her bottom lip. “That means we’re alone.”
“Like you said, why are we standing here talking? You in?”
Was she in? Was he kidding? Faced with that chest? Those muscles? The way she knew they felt against her naked skin? “Oh, yeah. I’m in,” Laura said, launching herself into his arms.
Grant caught her handily. Laura’s legs went around his waist, her arms around his neck, and then, as one, they made their way, kissing, moaning, tasting, feeling, toward the big, already mussed sleigh bed behind them.
10
WHEN GRANT FINALLY, happily emerged from the bedroom with Laura, they were again wearing their wet—well, damp clothes. What choice did they have? The only clothes he had here were the ones he’d worn last night. And all her clothes were on the other side of the loft And she wasn’t prepared, she said, to go skittering naked across the open spaces to get to her wardrobe and risk getting caught by her mother, who’d most definitely give her a lecture on safe sex that would put Laura off sex for the next twenty years.
Grant wasn’t willing to risk that, either. No sex for twenty years? No way! But for Vivian—with five marriages and five kids—hell, she needed to lay off the sex, as far as he was concerned. So here they were, dressed. Both of them barefoot. Laura braless. Him in his jeans and T-shirt. Her in her jeans and sweatshirt. Which she held out in front of her with her fingertips and a grimace so it didn’t lay against her skin.
No, they weren’t perfect. But they were happy, lovesated and ready to face the world. Or more precisely Vivian. Who should be back from her stroll with Tucker by now. But the apartment seemed disconcerting quiet. Surely Vivian hadn’t kept the baby outside for over an hour. Maybe he was napping and Vivian was reading. Grant liked that picture. As he adjusted his damp clothing, he whispered, “You ready?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “To be a circus sideshow freak, the way I’m chafing in these jeans.”
Grant chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”
She wasn’t buying it. “Oh? Then you step out there first.”
Now he wasn’t buying it. “I’m not going out there first. You go out there first.” He nudged her forward.
She balked. “I am not. My mother already thinks we’re nutcases.”
“We are. But this is Vivian we’re talking about As if she can judge.”
“I know. But still—for God’s sake, it’s my mother out there. And she’ll ask us again about protection and safe sex and talk about movie stars. I don’t think I can listen—”
Grant spun Laura to face him and steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. His heart picked up its pace, his mouth felt dry, his palms wet What she’d just said. Laura blinked, swiped a lock of strawberry-blond hair out of her eyes and stared at him. “Laura, just now, we didn’t…well, use any protection. Oh, hell.”
Laura put her fingers to her mouth. “Oh, hell is right This is my fertile time of the month, Grant I think. Not that I keep up with it I’ve never had reason to. Well, until now.” She stopped, stared at him. “Oh, my God. What if I’m pregnant?”
Suddenly, Grant hoped like hell she was. He was ready. Ready to settle down. Ready to commit To Laura. To Tucker. To future babies. Somehow the images in his head only made his heart sing all the more. “I hope you are—” That made Laura frown. “I mean, we are getting married, right? I did ask you…didn’t I?” She shook her head. “I didn’t? Well, will you?” She nodded. He exhaled in relief. “Good. Then, about a baby. It’s your decision—”
“I want it. I do.” As if to prove it, she raised her arms and put them around his neck. “I am a modern woman. I can have it all. Work. A family. And I’ll make their daddy very happy he’s a man.”
Grant laughed. “Their daddy already is. And I bet Tucker would love a baby sister or brother, don’t you?”
Suddenly, in a lightning-fast switch of mood, Laura stepped back from Grant. She looked stricken, lost. Grant’s singing heart hit a sour note and began thudding with dread. “What? What’s wrong? Second thoughts already?”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t going to run away and cry again, was she? He didn’t think he could take that. But then she stepped up to him and placed her hands against his chest, looking into his eyes. Grant noted the fears, doubts and concerns edging out the gray of her pupils. And wanted to die. “What is it, honey?”
“Grant, I love you. With all my heart and soul. I do. The fact that I want to marry you, that I want to have your babies, that I want us to make a life together only proves it. Until the last three days, I’ve told myself I wanted none of those things. And I didn’t. Not then. But now I do. And I want them with you.”
She’d just said everything he’d ever wanted to hear. But he wasn’t happy. Because she wasn’t. “Then what’s the problem? I don’t understand. Why aren’t you laughing and booking a bridal consultant?”
“It’s Tucker, Grant. See what you do? First you tell me you love me and then you say your father has a heart condition. I don’t know how to feel. And now you ask me to marry you—” She stopped, looking stunned. “Oh, my God, you asked me t
o marry you.” She blinked. “And then you bring up Tucker. It’s like a roller coaster out of control. I’m so scared.”
She put a hand over her mouth, swallowed a couple of times, then rushed on. “I can’t give him up, Grant. I can’t I feel like he’s ours. I want to keep him.”
“I do, too.”
She smiled quickly at him. “I know you do. And I’m glad. But I’m afraid our being who we’ll be—I mean, come on, you’re practically royalty in America—just think of the endless publicity. The photographers. The stories. We’ll have so much to deal with. What will the courts think? I mean, will we seem stable? And oh, my God, your folks. They’ll be thrilled.”
Seeing the panic in her eyes, Grant had to stop her. “Laura, I understand your concerns. We’ll deal with them. Even my parents. I keep telling you, I don’t think they will be the problem you think they will. Because right now, more than anything else, they want to lighten up and be grandparents.”
She wasn’t convinced. “You’ve said that. But I’ll be the mother of their grandchildren. They hate me. Grant, I don’t want you to cram me down their throats. And I don’t want to come between you and them. I never did. But now, especially with your father’s—”
He gripped her shoulders. “Laura, do you love me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then marry me and make me the happiest man on Earth. What my parents will or won’t accept is on their heads, their souls. You come first with me. I think they’ll follow. But if they don’t…well, I can’t help that. And neither can you. All we can do is keep the door open and see if they walk through.”
Laura’s expression softened. So did her rigid stance. She stepped into his arms. “When did you get so wise, Grant Maguire?”
Grant folded her in his embrace, holding her damp and slender body as close to his as he could without actually absorbing her. “It was a slow process, honey. It took me ten years without you to come to my senses. Ten years I’m sorry I let go past. I’ve been a fool, running from you, from my heritage. Or my destiny, really, as silly as that sounds. But I’m here now, Laura. And I want things to be right between us. I want that more than anything else.”
In that quiet moment, probably the only one they would have for a long time, Grant felt the need to add, “My family will come around, Laura. Because they’re family. But Tucker’s situation is going to be tougher. We’ve talked about keeping him. But…well, he may have a family out there. One that wants him back.”
A wordless moment ticked by. Then another one. And another one. “Oh, Grant, could this be worse? Or better? I don’t know,” Laura whispered.
A sense of urgency suddenly seized Grant. He pulled back, holding Laura by her arms. “Honey, look at me. We will take each day, each problem as it comes. Together. We’ll do this. I swear it. If Tucker can’t be ours, we’ll stay close to him. We will. I told you I have an idea. And I have the money to make it happen. You’ll see. Tucker will be a part of our lives. Do you believe me?”
Laura stared at him, her gaze searching his face, seeming to delve right into his heart Then she smiled faintly. “I do. But it’s so hard…about Tucker, I mean.”
“The real world is a tough place, isn’t it? All we can do is butt heads with it.”
“You’re right.” She exhaled. “Nothing worth having is ever easy. Or goes smoothly. So let’s get started.”
Now Grant patted her on the shoulder. “Okay. And hey, it’s just your mother out there. Hell, she’ll be thrilled for us. And as far as I’m concerned, whatever happens from here on out, we can face it. If we’re together.”
Laura squeezed his arm and returned his smile, her gray eyes shining. “I agree. I love you. And whatever the flak, bring it on.”
INSTEAD OF T-shirts and sweatshirts, they should have had flak jackets. Heavy-metal flak jackets, was Laura’s stunned and panicky thought as she stood in her living room and faced her mother, who sat in one of the two overstuffed and upholstered chairs that faced the sofa. Across from Vivian were…Grant’s parents. Sitting next to each other. On the sofa.
That’s right Stanton and Muriel. The elder Magnificent Maguires. Whose eyebrows rose when she and Grant stepped into view. Yep. Dressed to the nines, the Maguires were. Chic and elegant and smooth. And staring at her and their son. Who was barefoot and garbed in a wet T-shirt and damp, clingy jeans. And standing next to the one woman in the whole world they hated. Her. Laura. In her own living room.
Which Vivian, now that she’d pivoted to see what had captured the Maguires’ attention, obviously felt a need to point out. “Look who’s here, Laura. The Maguires.”
Sick to her stomach, Laura turned her gaze on her outlandish mother and croaked, “Yes. I see.”
But Vivian wasn’t done pointing out the obvious. “Your clothes still look damp. I’d think they’d be dry by now. After all, you two’ve been back there for more than an hour.”
Heat exploded in Laura’s cheeks. At her side, she felt Grant shift his weight. No doubt, he fought a strong urge to flee. She knew she wanted to. But before he could, she grabbed his sleeve and held on, never looking away from her mother. “Um, Mother, can we talk about this later?” And the fact that you didn’t let us know the second the Maguires showed up, you traitor?
Vivian sniffed. “Well, I would’ve told you when they got here. But I didn’t want to disturb what you were doing. And besides, I thought you’d hear the intercom buzzing. But I guess you didn’t, seeing as how you were…busy.”
The embarrassed heat in Laura’s cheeks increased, surpassing her shock that her mother had apparently read her mind. She was not psychic, dammit. “Um, yes. We were busy—” She felt Grant trying to pull away from her. She held on tight. “We were busy…discussing the future.”
“That’s right.” Grant said as he tugged free of Laura’s grip and calmly strode across the room to bend over and kiss his mother’s cheek. “Hello, Mother,” he said warmly. “You’re looking well.”
Laura watched Muriel Stanton stroke her son’s cheek and murmur a greeting. She didn’t know whether to trust the warming of her heart or the guilt in her soul for possibly coming between them again. Grant straightened and looked at his father, who was now standing. “Dad.” Then he stepped back and said, “You may want to sit down, Dad.” Surprisingly, the older Maguire did. Then, sending Laura a this-is-it look, he addressed his parents. “Laura and I were discussing the future. Our future. Hers and mine. Together. I’ve asked Laura to marry me. And she’s said yes.”
Laura’s eyes widened. Here we go. And she was right. The Maguires gasped. Vivian cheered. And a wailing—of the baby sort—came from Laura’s elevated, open-railed bedroom. Everyone looked in that direction. But only until the intercom buzzed. Then everyone looked in that direction. Then, for some strange reason, everyone turned to Laura. Who couldn’t seem to move.
Again, Grant took over. “I’ll get the door, Laura. You get the baby.”
“Baby?” The elder Maguires catapulted to their feet. Their gaze found Laura’s and riveted her in place. And rendered her wordless.
But not Vivian. “Oh, yes. You’ll just love him. Tucker’s his name. He’s a doll. Didn’t I mention him yet?” Laura stared at her mother. This, the baby, she’d kept to herself? The doll screamed again. Vivian turned to Laura. The intercom buzzed. Vivian called, “Hold on. He’s coming.” As if whoever was downstairs could hear her. Then she turned to her shell-shocked daughter. “Get the baby, honey.” To the Maguires she said, “You are just going to love him. We all do.”
And that was enough to send Laura running—stiffly, in damp jeans—toward her bedroom. Behind her, she could hear Grant talking into the speaker but couldn’t make out his words. She couldn’t believe this. On the one day the entire city shut down, she suddenly had a houseful of company.
But when she heard Vivian telling the Maguires how nice it was to see them again even if they did break up their son and her daughter when the two kids were in college and so in lov
e…Laura nearly lost it She grabbed for the railing and put a hand over her heart. Because her mother wasn’t done yet Wasn’t it funny, Vivian continued, how things were working out now?
Laura wanted to die. Right there. But first, she had to see to Tucker—who was wearing the blue Tucker the Bear sleeper she’d found him in—as the sobbing little guy sat up in the deep drawer and held his arms to her, stuttering, “Mama.”
Laura melted. “Oh, yes, sweet little love, I’m right here,” she cooed. “Come to mama, darling. Don’t cry. I’m right here.” She picked him up and cuddled him close, inhaling the precious, warm baby scent of him. “I’ll never leave you.”
She realized what she’d said. And stiffened. Oh, my God, I can’t say that to him. She looked at Tucker. He was quietly hiccupping and clinging to her. Happily. Contented. Oh, my God. He didn’t hate her. He didn’t. She’d done it! She’d quieted him, and she wasn’t holding him upside down or anything. Laura swung around and hurried toward the steps that would take her into the living room. Grant and Vivian would be so happy for her. And shocked, no doubt.
But not as shocked as Laura was when she saw her newest guest. She stopped dead in her tracks. No.
Ms. Gibson. Tucker’s caseworker. Laura gripped the nestling baby tighter. His little fists closed around her damp sweatshirt. No. Tears stood in Laura’s eyes. No. But…yes. Even now, Grant, sober of expression but ever polite, was introducing her to his parents as he helped her off with her coat and invited her to sit She settled in the chair next to Vivian, who immediately and without preamble launched into the woman’s life history, telling the Maguires everything she apparently knew about the slender and now stunned and embarrassed woman.
“Now, Mrs. Gibson here—she’s a missus, not a miz. Well, a widow, actually—Anyway, her husband was a policeman. He was killed in the line of duty. It’s very sad. And she doesn’t have any kids. She can’t have them. But she loves her job. She just wishes there was more she could do for the children in her charge.” Vivian turned to Grant, and said, “Honey, isn’t there something you can do about that, with all your money?” Then she turned to the elder Maguires. “Oh, yeah—she has two sisters, too. And they could both use good jobs.”
From Here To Maternity Page 15