Worth the Risk

by Kay Lyons

  The door opened and she hurried inside.

  The condo was older, dated in its colors and furnishings, but the view made up for it. The space had a small kitchenette with built-in island and stools for meals, a couch, chair, and television. There were no knickknacks or clutter, but there was a basket with a few dog toys near the wall by a small computer desk.

  "Excuse me," she said, heading toward a door straight off the living room.

  He spotted a sink and shower curtain inside. "Mind if I look around?"

  "There's not much to look at, but sure."

  She shut the bathroom door, and Grayson turned to Tank. The dog watched him closely but seemed to accept the fact there was another male in the space. "Help me out here, buddy. How's she really doing?"

  Tank cocked his head at the question, and Grayson frowned since it seemed like the dog had understood him. Tank headed toward the bathroom door but turned left. Grayson followed, curious as to where the dog went.

  Tank hopped onto the bed and made himself comfortable.

  Frankie's bedroom looked like any other. Bed, dresser, nightstand. It was the lack of clothing and other womanly items that revealed so much. Her closet door was open, and while it wasn’t large by any means, her clothing still took up less than half the space. Frankie was not a materialistic woman or girly girl.

  A glance down left him grinning, though. A sparkly set of four-inch heels sat beside a pair of combat boots. That's my girl.

  Grayson turned away from the intriguing sight and paused to pet Tank. The dog sprawled atop a blanket, and something about it drew Grayson. He lifted the edge… weighted. The heavy beads inside shifted like noisy sand, but it went along with the episode he'd witnessed today. She wasn't in a group but she—or someone—knew the advantages of such a blanket. He studied the nightstand and spotted a medicine bottle tucked behind a lamp, almost out of sight. He wasn't someone who'd go through drawers or closets, but the items were in plain sight. And the bottle of sleeping pills looked to be full, despite the fill date. Ever the stubborn woman to not accept help where she could get it.

  He carefully tucked the bottle back into place and moved down the short hall to the living room. The balcony doors opened with a press of the latch, and he stepped out to breathe deeply of the salt air and sunshine. He wasn't sure how much time Frankie spent out here, but he hoped it helped her as it did so many, and he was quickly discovering that fall at the beach was just as beautiful as summer.

  Grayson heard the bathroom door open and turned to reenter the condo. Frankie had changed out of her sweat-dampened shirt into a tank top that revealed her tanned, toned arms. She'd also powdered her face in what was probably an attempt to hide the shadows under her eyes and added some mascara.

  She was beautiful sans makeup, but the little extra effort made her stunning. "Have I mentioned how amazing you look?"

  "Thanks. I…" She plucked at the shirt. "I'm sorry again. About what happened."

  "Stop apologizing. I'm glad I was there, though I'm well aware had I not kidnapped you, maybe it wouldn't have happened."

  "It's okay. I'm good now."

  He moved toward her slowly, not wanting to scare her off. When he was finally close enough to touch her, he lifted his hand to stroke his fingers over her silky cheek. "You want to tell me how often that happens?"

  "Not very. I'm serious."

  He accepted the statement at face value. "Good. You've got my number now. You can call or text anytime. I'll come over or listen. Whatever you need."

  She held his gaze a long moment before looking away and wetting her lips.

  "That's not necessary."

  "Maybe not but it's an option, and it's yours."

  "Thanks. But I mean it. It doesn't happen as much now. I think maybe it was the stress of traveling back from Florida and seeing y— uh, you know."

  "I do. Seeing me hasn't been easy for you, but Frankie?" He waited until she met his gaze once more. "I meant what I said. I know I can't undo what I did, but I am sorry. I think a part of me knew you'd walk away if you knew the truth. I respect that about you. Your integrity is… tangible. That’s one of the reasons I was trying to get free, because I didn't want to blow it. But here we are again, and that has to mean something, doesn't it?"

  Her lashes lowered over her beautiful eyes, and he used the hand at her cheek to cradle her as he moved closer. Lowered his head until his lips hovered a breath from hers.

  She smelled good. During her absence, she'd sprayed something on that made him think coconuts and fruity drinks. Maybe his combat girl was more of a girly girl after all.

  Frankie trembled, though he knew it wasn't from fear or left over from her PTSD episode. The chemistry between them had always been strong, and this kiss… their first…

  He savored the moment. Every inhalation, the way she looked at him, the feel of her hands gripping his arms, nails lightly digging into him. Finally he closed the distance and pressed his mouth to hers. He heard her gasp, captured her moan and the minty taste of her, pulled her closer and deepened the kiss until she broke away to gulp in a breath. She stared into his eyes a long moment before she tugged him low to kiss him again. And again.

  All the wondering, the time apart, the waiting, was over. Every breath, every taste. She was as fabulous as he’d known she would be. "Beautiful. You are so beautiful."

  The kissing continued, the contact and heat between them growing as each second passed, building to a level that had to be tempered. He wouldn't rush this. Not now. "Frankie, go out with me. Date me. Let's do this right," he murmured, kissing her neck, her jaw. Nipping the little lobe of her ear. "You can't kiss me like this, respond to me, and not want to know if more’s—"

  Frankie pushed at his shoulders, eyes wide as she stared up at him. She breathed as raggedly as he did, but while he was ready to do whatever it took to convince her to give him a chance, he could tell by her expression how she attempted to shore up the barriers again. "No. No, baby, don't back down from this. Frankie."

  He took a step toward her, but she turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

  “You lied to me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  "Maybe you are. But what if it's just… curiosity? Kind of that forbidden love thing?"

  "What?"

  "What if"—she waved a hand in the air—"we feel this way because we keep running into each other like we have? What if it's just chemistry? Not real?"

  "You know good and well that it's real, sweetheart. It's so real and powerful it scares you. It scares me, too, but I'm willing to see where it takes us because I have a feeling I already know."

  He winced at the words and the impact they had on her. Quickest way to push a skittish woman too fast? Talk about the future. "Frankie… Frankie, stop retreating."

  She'd backed up for each step he took toward her, stopping only when her back hit one of the stools at the island.

  "I'm not."

  He tried to read her expression but couldn't. "You kissed me back. If you're not as drawn to me and interested as I am, why did you do that?"

  "Like I said, maybe it's just curiosity."

  He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. "I'm not buying it. Tough girl Frankie is afraid. Why?" He watched her closely and could practically hear her mind cranking away, searching for every reasonable excuse.

  "I'll… We should check the feeds. I'll log in and pull up the security footage."

  "That can wait. I told you, Chris is at a party and accounted for. We need to settle this."

  "Why? Why the sudden rush when we've waited this long?"

  "I'm willing to wait as long as you need. I hurt you."

  "Yes, you did. So how do I ever trust you again? Why would I trust you again? What you want from me is big, Grayson. You've lied to me once, you could do it again, and maybe I'm not willing to take that risk. Did you ever consider that?"

  Grayson's arms tightened across his chest. She battled him at every turn and while he
understood why, that it was his fault, it frustrated him to no end. No matter how badly he wanted to fast-forward into whatever came next between them, he had to go slow. Let her trust rebuild so she'd feel secure. "The food's getting cold. You need to eat."

  She'd had a rough day and was dealing with far more than just him reappearing in her life.

  "So that's it? You'll accept what I said and… we can just be friends?"

  Friendship was a good base for the life he wanted with her, and it was time to call a truce. But no way was he conceding defeat when he wanted so much more. "Sure. For now."

  Chapter 9

  Spending the afternoon and evening with Grayson was not what she'd intended to do with her day. He'd ordered way too much food so there were plenty of leftovers, and after placing the containers in the fridge, he settled himself beside her on the couch and asked to watch a movie.

  "You don't strike me as a movie buff."

  "Ah, but I am. Pick one."

  "You seem to be under the impression you're invited to stay."

  "I thought we were friends? You'd kick me out?"

  She frowned at his blatant advantage-taking and clicked on the television, deciding to see how long he'd last if she chose a rom-com.

  She curled up in one corner of the couch while he took the other, and after a while it became really hard to keep her eyes open. Between her full belly, sleepless nights, and the most boring and unrealistic romance unfolding onscreen, she felt herself drifting.

  Sometime later she sensed movement on the couch and forced her lashes high to see Grayson had scooted closer to her. He put his arm up along the back of the couch and gently tugged her toward him.

  "You look really uncomfortable."

  She leaned against his side, liking the way his body warmed hers. "I'm fine."

  "Frankie. Come here."

  She thought she felt his lips brush against the top of her head. "Don't get fresh," she mumbled, eyes closed.

  "Wouldn't dream of it. Even if I know good and well the woman fighting me at every turn wants to be with me, too."

  Oh, she did. The temptation was there. The interest. Could men and women be friends? She had guy friends. Most of them were interested in more, and she kept them at arm's length because she wasn't, but she could do the same with Grayson. Not when you let him kiss you. "She wants," Frankie said softly, "to not fight with you."

  "Then don't," he whispered. "Forgive me and go out with me. A real date."

  She pressed her face against his shirt, the hard chest beneath, and hated that he made her feel so…

  Safe?

  But how was that possible given what had happened between them?

  She rolled her head along his shoulder to better see his face and stared up at him drowsily. "What if we're not meant to be more than friends and we ruin it by dating? And what about your son? You need to focus on him right now. Not… us."

  Grayson smoothed his knuckles along her jawline and lowered his head, took her mouth in a kiss that stole her breath and curled her toes and made her head spin for all the right reasons. The kisses earlier weren't flukes, and as one kiss blended into more, she found herself pulled across his lap, cradled against him, lips meeting and parting in sweet, sultry kisses that lessened her fear and increased it at the same time.

  "What if," he said against her mouth, "we're meant to be so much more and we had to wait for the timing to be right?"

  He kissed her again, lingering over the contact until she lifted her gaze and found him watching her. Their gazes locked and she couldn't look away, couldn't blink. Forgot to breathe.

  "What if this could be everything we've always wanted? Everything we've dreamed of?"

  What if. Oh, the what ifs were endless. Because what if he hurt her again? Not many men could handle someone with her issues, but a man like Grayson, a former soldier, someone in the medical field who understood what she dealt with… Could he? Would he?

  Because what if the world imploded tomorrow? When life boiled down to its bits, all that mattered was who she loved and cared enough about to spend time with in those final moments. And given that no one knew the when or the how of a passing, any day could be the final one. Was she going to give up before she even got started? Grayson seemed remorseful. Sincere. What if… "Okay."

  His gaze narrowed and he drew back a bit.

  "Okay? We can… You’re saying you’ll date me?"

  She smothered his words with her lips. His arm tightened around her back and he groaned, pressing her closer and holding her in place while he kissed her over and over again.

  After a long while, a noise intruded. She ignored it at first because she thought it was his phone, but when hers started ringing, the moment ended with a muttered complaint from Grayson and several quick, hard smooches that told her how much he didn't want to stop.

  He let her slide off of his lap onto the couch beside him before removing his phone from his pocket.

  "Hello?"

  Frankie got up and moved to the island, where she'd left her cell upon their arrival. She picked it up and punched in the code to see a message from Carolina.

  London said you might know this kid?

  Oh, no. The picture was of Christopher. She winced and texted back as she crossed the floor to the computer. She needed to pull the security footage from her garage, and now might be a really good time to know the extent of Christopher's antics.

  What did he do? she texted.

  While she waited for Carolina's reply, Frankie clicked on the day she'd arrived back in town and quickly moved through the footage an hour or so before she'd gone to the garage. The moment she saw a small-built shadow approach her mechanic, she stopped the footage to watch.

  Oh, boy.

  The photo quality was a little grainy but there was no doubt who the kid was.

  A chime sounded.

  Some kids tipped the claw machine and shattered it. They took off but Dad caught this one. I think Dad is on the phone with the kid's parents and the cops just walked in. Party at the pier house! :)

  Frankie met Grayson's gaze and hurried over to where Grayson now paced. She waggled her fingers to ask for the phone, and when Grayson hesitated, she took it from his hands. "Dad, it’s Frankie. Caro told me what's happening and… do your best to keep the police out of this, okay? We're on our way."

  Her father sighed heavily in her ear.

  "Where are you now?"

  "My condo." As soon as the words left her mouth, she grimaced. "Grayson and I are… friends," she said, meeting Grayson's gaze. "Dad, just… go scary colonel dad all you want, okay, but see if you can keep the cops from charging Christopher. We'll figure the rest out once we get there."

  "That's one way to make an impression with your father," Grayson muttered once she’d ended the call. "Thank you. For trying to keep the police out of it."

  "Don't thank me yet. He may not be able to. Come on, let's go."

  Grayson followed her toward the door but stopped in his tracks. She turned to find him staring at the image frozen on her computer screen. "Grayson? That can wait. One thing at a time."

  * * *

  What if it could be everything we've always wanted?

  The question ping-ponged in Frankie’s head the entire way to the pier house.

  What would happen when she told him the truth? If she revealed the full extent of her injuries, would that be it? For some men, the answer would be a definitive yes.

  Carolina texted a couple more times asking who Grayson was since she'd overhead the conversation on their father's end, and Frankie silently groaned. Any hope of keeping her family out of her personal life was now gone, and once Carolina spread the word to the sisters….

  She really wasn't ready for this. Any of it.

  They entered the pier house to find her father had pulled Christopher into the more private area in the middle of the building that served as storage, office, and jewelry display, and she grimaced when her first thought was that she hoped he'd
locked the cases before allowing Christopher inside.

  Grayson led the way, looking tall and imposing with his glower, and when Christopher spotted him, the boy's face paled.

  "I didn't do it this time. I didn't," Christopher said, staring at Grayson with pleading eyes.

  "Why should we believe you?" Grayson asked. "It's the third strike, Chris. And that's only the ones we know of."

  "Third…?"

  She stepped out from behind Grayson’s broad form and Christopher’s eyes widened.

  "I know about the part you stole from me and pawned at Frankie's garage. What is wrong with you?"

  Something inside of her forced her feet in motion. Frankie grabbed a plastic waste can and handed it to the kid just in time for him to get sick.

  Oh, yeah. He’d definitely been drinking.

  Grayson stared at his son and Frankie's heart broke at what she saw. She remembered his comment about them being strangers after Grayson served for so long, and she doubted any civilian knew the full price soldiers and their families paid during their enlistment.

  Christopher stood as though to make a run for it, but her father put a hand on his shoulder and shoved the kid back down.

  "Son, you sit in that chair until I tell you to get up. That's an order. Otherwise you will be talking to the police. You hear me?"

  "Whatever."

  "What was that?"

  Christopher settled himself in the seat.

  "I mean, yes, sir."

  Her father straightened. "You two, over here."

  Her father tilted his head toward the single entry/exit point, and she and Grayson moved to join him.

  "Are you okay?" she whispered to Grayson, who seemed to be a combination of embarrassed and angry and struggling to find words to express it.

  Grayson stared at his son, looking like a man very much in need of a stiff drink himself.

  "Son, you aren't responsible for the stupid he's been doing, but you are responsible for your household. The boy and his friends shattered a claw machine with their antics, and it’s a wonder someone wasn’t seriously injured."