Saving Grace

by RaeAnne Thayne

  And not once, after that long, glittering moment when their eyes had met had she looked at him again.

  She wouldn’t welcome him here. He had no doubt about that. He couldn’t blame her. When he found out about the investigation, he had lashed out at her like an injured dog and he had no doubt his angry words had hurt her. But he had to talk to her. Too many things had been left unsaid between them.

  Screwing up his nerve, he finally reached across the passenger seat for the canvas bag there and climbed out of the car. Rain sifted down in fine sheets, coating him immediately. He should have brought an umbrella, he thought, but he hadn’t been thinking of anything but seeing her again.

  He tucked the bag under his coat and walked to the front door, then stood on the porch and rang the doorbell.

  Unlike that first time at her apartment, she answered the door after only a moment or two. As soon as she saw him, surprise and wariness and something else he couldn’t quite recognize flickered in her gaze.

  Had it only been four days since he had seen her? It seemed like longer. Much, much longer. He had forgotten the stunning impact of those huge dark eyes, the delicate structure of her features, the way her skin stretched so perfectly over her bones.

  They stood and stared at each other for several seconds. She was the first to speak. “Jack. This is a surprise. How did you know I was staying here?”

  “Riley gave you up.”

  Her mouth flattened in disgust. “That big rat. If you can’t trust a cop to keep his big mouth shut, who can you trust?”

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy to get it out of him, believe me.” He shifted, uncomfortable remembering his encounter with the detective. Riley had flat-out refused to surrender any information to him at first, until Jack had swallowed his pride and told him exactly why he needed to see her.

  Riley had finally given him the address, along with a snake-eyed glare and an ominous, warning about knowing exactly where Jack lived if he hurt her.

  He jerked his mind from the memory. “Mind if I come in? It’s a little soggy out here.”

  She looked as if she wanted to shut the door in his face but after a pause she held it open. Rain dripped from his coat onto the wood floor of the entry but she didn’t offer to take it from him. Probably hoping he would catch the hint and leave soon, he thought.

  He decided not to wait for permission she might not grant. He removed the coat and hung it on a gleaming brass rack by the door, earning a narrowed glance from her but nothing more.

  “So why are you staying here instead of that dive of yours?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to sound nonchalant, like her answer didn’t matter to him.

  She shrugged. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my lease on the apartment was up and I…I didn’t want to renew it. I didn’t want to stay there anymore. Besides that, Beau is going to need somebody to look after him when he gets out of the hospital, at least for a little while.”

  “Does it have to be you?” he asked, then could have bitten his tongue off when she raised her eyebrows at him.

  He raised his hands in a gesture of apology. “You’re right. Sorry I asked. None of my business.”

  “What are you doing here, Jack?” she asked bluntly.

  “I brought your things. Your suitcase is in the car. Oh, and Lily asked me to give you this.”

  He pulled the quilted square from the canvas bag where Lily had carefully stored it.

  Grace felt her heart give a little flutter at the sight of the blue-and-white fabric in his fingers, those big, strong hands that could work such magic on her skin.

  She had thought about the quilt many times in the last four days and had tried to figure out how she would possibly be able to retrieve it from his house without having to see any of the people who lived there. She finally decided she was going to have to see if Lily would mail it to her, but she hadn’t yet summoned the courage to call her.

  She still wanted to finish the thing, if only to prove to herself that she could, but the compulsion that had driven her to work on it so frenetically in Hawaii was gone.

  Lily had been right. In some strange, mystical way she didn’t fully understand, working on the quilt—creating something of beauty and worth to memorialize her daughter’s life—had helped her work through her grief over Marisa’s death.

  But somewhere between their return from his Hawaii home and that terrible afternoon at GSI, she had come to a stunning realization.

  Like the dolphins on the pattern—leaping in their eternal, joyous circle—her life had to go on.

  She had spent the last year trapped in the icy world of her grief, but Jack and Emma had changed that. They had thawed all the frozen corners of her heart and now she had no choice. She had to go on, even if it meant making a life for herself without the two people she had grown to love so dearly.

  She pulled the quilted square from him and rubbed a thumb over the material, focusing on the raised pattern and the nubby ridge of the stitches instead of the sudden ache in her chest.

  “The clothes and other things I didn’t care about,” she finally said. “But I…I’m glad you brought this. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The silence stretched between them, taut and awkward. Again, she was the first to break it, willing him away before she gave in to the tears that had welled in her throat at just the sight of him, looking strong and vibrant and forever out of reach. “Was there something else you wanted?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, there is.” He shoved his hands in his pockets again. “I came to thank you for what you did the other day. For risking your life to save Em’s—again. It was crazy and reckless and if I’d had the chance, I would have wrung your neck for it. But thank you.”

  She glanced away from him, suddenly fascinated with the diamond pattern on the area rug beneath her feet. She didn’t want his gratitude. She hadn’t wanted it before and she definitely didn’t want it now.

  Now she only wanted his love.

  “Haven’t we done this before?” she murmured.

  “Yeah. I’m starting to lose track of all the times you’ve put your life on the line for my daughter’s.”

  When she said nothing, he stepped forward and lifted her chin up so he could see her eyes. “Why, Grace? That’s what I’ve spent the last four days trying my damnedest to figure out. Why did you do it?”

  She hitched in a breath, praying he couldn’t read the raw emotion she knew must be shimmering in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I talked to Piper the other day. He told me that when he came to the house to get Emma, you insisted he take you along with him. He didn’t want to, but you finally talked him into it.”

  “It didn’t take much talking.”

  “But why would you even try to convince him at all? You knew what was going on, that Piper was involved in the smuggling and wanted to flee prosecution. You had to know. Yet you went with him willingly, knowing exactly what you were walking into.”

  She flushed. Why did he sound so angry with her? She jerked her chin away from him. “I’m trained to be a cop. To protect and serve. What else could I do?”

  “I don’t buy that. What kind of maniac cop chooses to turn herself into a hostage, then tries to draw the fire of a crazy woman with a gun?”

  “This one, I guess.”

  “No, it was more than that. Don’t try to deny it. Besides, you aren’t a cop anymore.”

  “You’re right. I was your employee, hired to protect your daughter.”

  “Come on, Grace. We both know the real reason you took the job and it had nothing whatsoever to do with protecting Emma. You took it because you wanted someone to pay for Marisa’s death and you decided it would be me.”

  She opened her mouth to argue with him, then clamped it shut again and looked back at the floor. How could she argue with the truth? He was right. That was exactly why she took the job.

  “Tell me,” he pressed. “I’m trying to understand he
re. Why would you flaunt death that way? Is it because you don’t care what happens to you? Whether you live or die?”

  She lifted wide, startled eyes to his and he watched emotions flash through their dark depths, one after another. First shock, then guilt, then shame, all in quick succession. Her gaze dropped and she twisted her fingers together tightly.

  “I care,” she said quietly. “I care very much.”

  “But that’s the reason you risked your life the first time, wasn’t it? Because you didn’t give a damn what happened to you. That’s the reason you don’t like it when anyone calls you a hero for what you did for Emma.”

  Her fingers were clenched together so tightly they were beginning to turn white. “Yes. That’s why. I was so overwhelmed with grief that night I wouldn’t have cared if the car exploded, taking me along with it. I would have welcomed it then. I had nothing left to lose, nothing to keep me here.”

  “And what about the other day? Why did you risk your life, Grace?” He asked again, and he could hear his pulse pumping loudly in his ears, feel his breath catch in his lungs.

  This was the true reason he had come looking for her, he realized. To hear her answer. He needed to hear it, with a fierce urgency that stunned him.

  She was quiet for a long time and the only sound in the little house was the rain’s soft drumming outside. He didn’t think she would answer him, but she finally spoke in a low whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the rain.

  “That night on the highway I had nothing to lose.” She paused, then lifted her gaze to his. “The other day, it was different. So different. I realized as I crouched over Emma with gunshots firing all around that this time I had everything to lose.”

  His heart did a long, slow roll in his chest. There were tears in her eyes, he realized with shock.

  His strong, brave Grace was weeping those terrible silent tears.

  “All I could think about was keeping her safe,” she went on. “Keeping you safe. I realized I wouldn’t survive if something happened to the two of you.”

  At her words, he surrendered to the aching need that had haunted him since she opened the door to him. He pulled her into his arms.

  She came willingly with a breathy sigh. Her arms slipped around his waist, her cheek nestled into the thick cotton of his shirt. She was warm and soft and belonged exactly here.

  And he was a thousand kinds of fool to have let her go.

  “Ah, Grace,” he murmured into her hair. “I love you so much I can’t think straight.”

  She yanked her head away from his chest. Her mouth gaped open and she blinked at him. “What… What did you just say?”

  “I said I love you,” he repeated in a low, fervent voice. “With everything I have—with everything I am—I love you, Grace Solarez.”

  At his words, her lashes fluttered against her cheeks and her head swayed as if her neck couldn’t support the weight of it for a moment.

  When she opened her eyes, he hoped to see softness or tenderness or at least mild affection. Instead they crackled with righteous indignation. She stepped out of his arms just far enough to bring a fist up and pound hard on his chest.

  “Hey!” He grabbed her fist. “What was that for?”

  “For putting me through the misery of the last four days. For leaving me to think I would never see either one of you again. For making me so frightened I would have to live the rest of my life alone, without Emma’s silly jokes or Lily’s cooking or your sweet smile.”

  She paused and the indignation in her eyes softened. Everything he had hoped to see was there and more. So much more. “For making me so afraid I would have to live without ever being able to hold you again or kiss you or tell you what’s in my heart.”

  Her mouth flattened into a tight line and she pounded his chest again for good measure. “What took you so long?”

  Joy exploded within him like a Roman candle. It shot straight through his heart and burst through him with glittering, sparkling color.

  He laughed and lifted her clenched fist to his mouth so he could press a gentle kiss to the skin of her knuckles. “I don’t have your kind of courage, Grace. It took me a few days to work up to stripping my soul naked for you, especially when I didn’t know how you feel.” He frowned. “Although if we want to be technical here, I still don’t know how you feel.”

  That trace of vulnerability in the eyes of the arrogant, beautiful Jack Dugan touched a deep, hidden place inside her. She smiled softly, then lifted her hands to caress his cheeks. With their gazes locked, she spoke solemnly, vehemently. “I love you, Jack. More than I ever dreamed possible.”

  “Do you love me enough for this?”

  He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the small, square satiny box. He opened it, to reveal a gold ring with a circle of sparkling gems that perfectly matched his eyes. “I had this with me that day when I found you in my office. I knew you weren’t ready for it then, but I hoped someday you would be.”

  Despite her words to him, for an instant, her heart clutched in panic as she looked at the ring. He was asking her for far more than just marriage. He was asking her to risk her heart, her soul, everything.

  Could she do it? Knowing that on the other side of that love was the hell she had existed in for the last year? Giving her heart to Jack and Emma—tying her life to theirs—would make her vulnerable again to the kind of pain she was just barely climbing out of, and how could she survive it again?

  As her silence dragged on, that edge of insecurity returned to his eyes. “You don’t have to answer now. I swore to myself I wouldn’t pressure you. I just wanted you to know where I stand. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life trying to make you smile, but I’ll wait until you’re ready. Forever, if I have to.”

  A sweet, pulsing warmth poured over her as she studied him, giving her all the courage she would ever need. Marrying him—becoming a mother to Emma, would mean risking great pain.

  But the alternative—living without them—was much, much worse.

  With tears coursing down her cheeks, she lifted her shoulders and faced him. “You said something before about the reason I don’t like anyone praising me or thanking me for pulling Emma from that car,” she said quietly. “The truth is, I didn’t do anything.”

  He opened his mouth to argue but she held up a hand to stop him. “I didn’t rescue Emma that night, Jack. She saved me. Both of you did. The two of you found me in that dark, terrible place where I lived, grabbed me by the hand and forced me out into a world of joy and light.”

  “Grace—”

  “Yes, Jack. My answer is yes.” A tremulous smile captured her mouth. “I love this world you’ve shown me and I don’t ever want to go back.”

  Fierce emotion filled his green eyes, and then she was in his arms. As he bent his head to kiss her, she knew her heart had found peace at last.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the latest entry in

  New York Times bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne’s

  HAVEN POINT series,

  THE COTTAGES ON SILVER BEACH,

  the story of a disgraced FBI agent, his best friend’s sister

  and the loss that effected the trajectory of both their lives,

  available July 2018

  wherever HQN books and ebooks are sold!

  CHAPTER ONE

  SOMEONE WAS TRYING to bust into the cottages next door.

  Only minutes earlier, Megan Hamilton had been minding her own business, sitting on her front porch, gazing out at the stars and enjoying the peculiar quiet sweetness of a late-May evening on Lake Haven. She had earned this moment of peace after working all day at the inn’s front desk then spending the last four hours at her computer, editing photographs from Joe and Lucy White’s 50th anniversary party the weekend before.

  Her neck was sore, her shoulders tight, and she simply wanted to savor the purity of the evening with her dog at her feet. Her moment of Zen had lasted
only sixty seconds before her little ancient pug Cyrus sat up, gazed out into the darkness and gave one small harrumphing noise before settling back down again to watch as a vehicle pulled up to the cottage next door.

  Cyrus had become used to the comings and goings of their guests in the two years since he and Megan moved into the cottage after the inn’s renovations were finished. She would venture to say her pudgy little dog seemed to actually enjoy the parade of strangers who invariably stopped to greet him.

  The man next door wasn’t aware of her presence, though, or that of her little pug. He was too busy trying to work the finicky lock—not an easy feat as the task typically took two hands and one of his appeared to be attached to an arm tucked into a sling.

  She should probably go help him. He was obviously struggling one-handed, unable to turn the key and twist the knob at the same time.

  Beyond common courtesy, there was another compelling reason she should probably get off her porch swing and assist him. He was a guest of the inn, which meant he was yet one more responsibility on her shoulders. She knew the foibles of that door handle well, since she owned the door, the porch, the house and the land that it sat on, here at Silver Beach on Lake Haven, part of the extensive grounds of the Inn at Haven Point.

  She didn’t want to help him. She wanted to stay right here hidden in shadows, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. Maybe this was all a bad dream and she wouldn’t be stuck with him for the next three weeks.

  Megan closed her eyes, wishing she could open them again and find the whole thing was a figment of her imagination.

  Unfortunately, it was all entirely too real. Elliot Bailey. Living next door.

  She didn’t want him here. Stupid online bookings. If he had called in person about renting the cottage next to hers—one of five small, charming two-bedroom vacation rentals along the lakeshore—she might have been able to concoct some excuse.

  With her imagination, surely she could have come up with something good. All the cottages were being painted. A plumbing issue meant none of them had water. The entire place had to be fumigated for tarantulas.