Unless she already had. His silence was beginning to scare her. Sophie’s heart began to crumple. Too little, too late. She’d taken too long to realize what she had.
“You were right—no good ever comes out of tunnel vision. If you’re willing to give us a second chance, I swear I’ll remember and never—”
That’s as far as she got because Grant leaped up the last few stairs and pulled her tight, his mouth claiming hers in one swift movement. They stumbled sideways, arms wrapped around one another, until they found the wall. There they grasped and clung to one another, neither able to get close enough. It was a kiss of mutual possession, of mutual need, of mutual surrender.
Eventually Grant broke away to breathe and Sophie found herself looking into hooded eyes that glowed with an emotion she was too nervous to name. She needed to hear the words said aloud.
“I love you, too, Sophie. That’s why I was banging on your door. I was so focused on not repeating my mistakes, I made the same ones again. I forgot to fight for the person I cared about.”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Grant…”
“No, no, let me say this.” He kissed her fingertips. “I should never have walked away from you that night. I should have grabbed you and told you what I was feeling then and there. You were right, it was my ego. And fear.”
“We were both scared, Grant. I still am,” she admitted, a shiver running down her spine.
“Me, too. But I’m not avoiding it anymore.”
He smiled and Sophie warmed from the inside out. “And I’m going to take the risk,” she said, sealing the promise with a long intimate kiss.
Grant brushed his nose against hers. “I really do love you, Sophie Messina. I think I have from the second you accused me of stealing your water.”
“I promise I’ll never accuse you of that again.”
“Hope not, since I plan to be sharing that water with you.”
He kissed her again. Gentler this time, with a promise of all the time in the world. Sophie lost herself in the moment, so much so she gasped when she felt her feet leave the ground.
“What are you doing?” she asked, only to realize Grant had swept her in his arms.
“Shh. I’m going for a romantic gesture. Don’t ruin the moment.”
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Carry on.” She laid her hand on his shoulder, amazed at how happy she was. Happier than she could ever remember. She really had come a long way from Pond Street after all, hadn’t she? Of course, they still had a lot of issues to deal with. His job in Philadelphia. Her job in New York. Their age difference. What if he wanted kids? Not that she wouldn’t mind carrying Grant’s child. In fact, the thought actually made her heart jump a little.
“Sophie.” Grant was looking down at her and reading her thoughts. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”
Seeing the love reflected in his eyes, Sophie suddenly realized that, yes, they would. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek against his heart, and let the man she loved carry her home.
EPILOGUE
“ARE you sure you want to do this?” Grant asked.
Sophie nodded. She sat on the kitchen counter, where Grant had dropped her following his arrival home. Her stocking feet swung shoeless against the cabinet. She’d left her shoes somewhere along the way; it was so hard to keep track when you’re being carried and kissed senseless at the same time. Absence did make the heart grow fonder after all.
Although they weren’t spending all that much time apart anymore, were they? “We don’t have to do this,” Grant continued. “You still have time to think about it.”
“Nope. I have thought about it, and I love everything. Besides, I’m done with making plans, remember?”
“Really? I seem to recall a new master plan?”
Sophie rolled her eyes. He would tease her about that. A couple of weeks after their reunion, she’d decided that spending her weeknights in different hotel rooms was not satisfactory, particularly when Twamley Greenwood had an office in Philadelphia. And so, amid much teasing from Grant she embarked on creating a new master plan. This one had her marching into Allen Breckinridge’s office and demanding a transfer. Turns out, Allen, king of the demands, actually responded to ones made of him, as well. Either that or Sophie really was his go-to gal because after some initial grumbling, he capitulated. Now, instead of jetting back and forth to Boston, she jetted back and forth to Philadelphia, and spent many more nights wrapped in peppermint-scented bliss.
“Just get the sledgehammer,” she ordered him.
“As you wish.” Opening the pantry door a little wider, he picked up the hammer and headed inside, only to poke his head out again. “You know that designwise, we are breaking all sorts of rules.”
“Stop it. This was your idea.”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “It was, wasn’t it?” He disappeared into the pantry. A few moments later, Sophie heard a giant bang, followed by another, and then a loud crack.
“Did you break through?” she called out. Eager to see, she hopped down off the counter.
“Careful, there’s splinters on the floor,” Grant cautioned her when she peeked through the doorway. He was covered with white dust, and peeling away bits of plaster. “There you go,” he said, grabbing a flashlight. “One secret passage.”
Sophie followed the flashlight beam. Faintly, through the hole, she could make out the shape of the stairs. They were rickety and old, but they were intact.
“With a little bit of work, we’ll have a real working staircase,” Grant said, his smile glowing white in the dark space. “Our apartments will officially be connected.”
Sophie smiled. “The way they should be,” she told him. “The way they should be.”
* * * * *
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CHAPTER ONE
CLARA HAD HEARD A LOT about Tyson Diamond. Some of it good, a lot of it questionable. But none of the reports had warned her that he was over six feet of sexy cowboy with a break-your-heart smile and a devilish gleam in his eye.
And now he was striding this way as Angela, still resplendent in her wedding dress, waved him over.
Clara wondered if she could say her final congratulations to Sam and Angela and escape before Tyson reached them. She’d managed to avoid him u
p to this point, after all. She’d been helping his father, Virgil, with his rehab after his stroke, and her off-duty hours were spent helping Angela plan the wedding from the safety of Butterfly House, the transition shelter Angela managed and where Clara currently lived. And Ty had been wrapping up his business up north and spending time with Sam as they worked together running the ranch. Somehow she and Tyson had failed to cross paths in the weeks leading up to the wedding.
Until today.
This afternoon he’d turned up spit-polished in his black suit with his hair just a little messy. Her mouth had gone dry just looking at him. Ty was exactly the sort of man she tried to avoid. Tall, sexy, confident and careless. The kind that ate shy girls like her for breakfast. The kind that girls like her could never resist.
Her heart had taken a little jump and she’d caught her breath before she could even put a thought together. But Ty had sauntered in, all long legs and crooked grins, and there it had been. Whomp. Attraction, pure and simple. Nothing in the world could have surprised her more.
He was still several feet away but closing the gap fast, and Clara felt panic start to bubble, making her chest cramp and her breath shorten. She wasn’t ready to handle this. She felt as tongue-tied as a schoolgirl only with the sobering wisdom of a woman who’d been through hell. Putting the two together only created chaos in her mind. A quick exit was in order. She turned to Sam and Angela and forced a smile.
“I’m going to take Virgil in now, but I wanted to say happy wedding day to you both.” She gave Angela a brief hug. “I’m going to miss you around the house, but you’re going to have a wonderful time on your honeymoon.”
Sam hugged Clara as well. She didn’t feel the unholy urge to pull away and run the way she usually did when faced with someone intruding on her personal space. She’d learned to trust Sam in the weeks leading up to the wedding, especially after he’d stood beside Angela as she faced her own demons.
“You did great today,” he said quietly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “And you look beautiful.”
Heat infused her cheeks at the compliment and at the knowledge that Tyson was nearly upon their little group. “Thank you. Now I’d better get Virgil inside, he was looking tired….”
Sam’s voice cut her off as he looked over her shoulder. “Have you met Ty yet?” he asked. “Ty, this is Clara Ferguson, Dad’s nurse. You’ll be seeing a lot of each other from now on.”
Too late. Clara closed her eyes and took a steady breath. She really wished she wasn’t blushing as she turned around, but she could feel the heat centered in her cheeks. Dammit.
Tyson’s jaw sported a faint shadow of stubble and the suit coat hung awkwardly on his rangy frame. But the style worked for him and his dark eyes held a gleam of approval as he looked down at her. His appraising gaze made something curl inside her uncomfortably. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of comfy jeans and a baggy sweater right about now. The sage-green bridesmaid’s dress was far too fitted to her figure and made her feel conspicuous. Compliments were well and good, but she was far more confident when she was in her comfort zone.
“Mr. Diamond,” she said, setting her jaw defiantly as she held out her hand. She could set the tone between them right here and now. Businesslike—exactly the way it should be between her and Virgil’s adopted son.
But it was an utter flop of an attempt. His warm fingers enveloped hers in a strong, lingering grip. A hint of a smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. “It’s just Ty,” he replied, with a voice as smooth and chocolaty as the dark depths of his eyes. “Or Tyson if I’m on your bad side.”
Bad side? Right now she felt as though she might swallow her tongue as she looked into his face. She liked the feel of her hand in his. Where was the old reliable revulsion she’d become accustomed to? The instinctive need to pull away and keep her distance? She knew how to deal with that. This was all new territory, and she was momentarily at a loss for words.
His smile widened and she pulled her hand away, hiding her fingers within the clasp of her left hand. “Right,” she said, her voice shaking. “Well, I’d better get your dad inside. Good night, everyone.”
She couldn’t meet his gaze as she scuttled away, but she heard Sam’s voice and it made her burn with humiliation.
“Go easy,” Sam warned Ty.
“Did I do anything?” There was a hint of defensiveness in Ty’s voice that fit with what she’d heard through the grapevine. That things weren’t as smooth sailing between the brothers as they seemed.
She quickened her steps so she wouldn’t hear Sam’s answer. Everything she’d heard around town was right, then. She hadn’t been able to tune out the snatches of conversation that had reached her ears today. The return of the prodigal Tyson was a hot topic. Unfortunately so was his track record with the ladies.
Tyson Diamond was gorgeous and he knew it. He was also a wild card and Sam’s illegitimate cousin who’d been adopted by Virgil and Molly as a baby. Trouble. He was the last person who should make Clara blush and stammer. She was smarter than that, wasn’t she?
Now he’d hung up his rodeo spurs and was coming home to run the ranch with Sam. With Virgil still recovering and needing regular care, they were going to see each other all the time.
Great. Just wonderful.
Clara helped Virgil get settled, but once she was alone in the quiet house her unease came back with a vengeance, sending tingles shooting up the backs of her legs and making an all-too-familiar weight settle in her chest. It had been a long, tiring day and her defenses were down. That had to be the reason why Ty’s simple handshake had made her react in such an uncharacteristic way. Or maybe it was just weddings. Weddings did tend to make people sentimental and romantic, right? She twisted her fingers. Or stupid.
Either way, it was one day. It didn’t matter a bit if she found Tyson attractive. She had no interest in romance. Not after all that had been taken away from her in the name of “love.” She had her eye set on her goal and nothing was going to divert her from it.
She escaped into the first-floor powder room, sat down on the closed toilet and focused on breathing deeply for a few minutes. Once she’d regrouped she got up, ran some cold water over her hands and carefully touched them to her cheeks, soothing the heat there without marring her makeup. She could do this. She’d come too far to go back to hiding away at the first whiff of discomfort. Goodness, a year ago she would never have made it through a day like today. She shouldn’t let something like this rattle her.
She stared into the mirror. “Living in fear is not living. I will not live in fear.”
The words soothed, both from sentiment and habit. She let out a breath and straightened her shoulders. She opened the door and nearly ran straight into Tyson’s chest.
His hands gripped her arms, steadying her from toppling over in the heels she wasn’t used to wearing.
“Whoa,” he said, his low voice rippling over her nerve endings.
Her faced flamed anew, his word choice making her feel decidedly klutzy and horsy. And he was touching her again. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t know anyone was waiting for the bathroom.”
“I was waiting for you,” he replied easily. He squatted down slightly so that he was closer to her height and peered into her face. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. As though he was trying to figure her out. The less he knew about her the better. And she planned to keep it that way, no matter how often their paths crossed in the coming
weeks.
“Waiting for me?”
“You ran off quite a while ago. I wanted to be sure you’re all right.”
“Of course I am.” His hands seemed to burn through the soft fabric of her dress to the skin beneath. She conjured up the polite smile she’d practiced all week in the mirror. “It took me a while to get your dad settled, that’s all.”
Liar, her brain protested, but she ignored it. A warmth ran through her at his concern. Usually she managed to fly under the radar, blending into her surroundings like a chameleon. People usually didn’t notice if she came or went. But Ty had.
Despite her assurances, Tyson didn’t budge from blocking the hallway. His lips curled up in the most alluring manner. Lordy, with a smile like that she bet he didn’t even have to try with the ladies. They’d all fall in his lap, wouldn’t they?
She stepped around him and he dropped his fingers from her arms. She breathed a little easier once he wasn’t touching her anymore. “If you’ll excuse me…”
“What’s your hurry?” he asked, his soft voice humming over her already raw nerves, making her pause, making her realize once more that they were very alone here in the house while the party went on outside.
“I should get back to Angela, make sure…”
“Angela and Sam have gone. You missed the throwing of the bouquet.”
Clara’s heart sank. Had she truly been gone so very long? Not that she’d wanted to catch the bouquet by any means, but she’d disappeared into a corner exactly the way she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. Once again she’d missed out on good things because she was too busy hiding herself away from something awkward or uncomfortable.
“I thought all the single women fought over catching it.” He raised his eyebrows. “You are single, aren’t you?”
The question was so ludicrous that Clara almost laughed. Single? Absolutely. For now and forever.
Mr. Right, Next Door! Page 17