by Helen Lacey
“Ready?”
Grace turned on her heels. Cameron stood in the doorway. He’d changed, too. He wore a pair of old jeans that had a hole in one knee and white T-shirt that was splattered in places with various shades of paint. Working clothes, she thought, and then felt ridiculously self-conscious in her immaculate two-hundred-dollar cargo pants.
She swallowed hard. “Sure. Let’s go.”
Once they were outside he suggested a tour of the farm before they headed to the house for lunch. Grace agreed and followed him toward the old stables. Jed rose from his spot on the porch and ambled behind them. The stables were big and old and smelled musty and she wrinkled her nose when they walked through the wide doorway. She picked up another scent immediately and recognized fresh baled hay. It had a sweetish smell and quickly knocked off the old-barn odor.
Through to the other side of the building was a large paddock. Grace spotted two horses happily munching grass. “It’s a lovely spot,” she said as she crossed her arms over a fence post.
He turned around and half trapped her against the fence. “Is breathing in this fresh air making you feel all country inside?”
Grace didn’t move. To escape she would need to press past him. Maybe touch him. She prepped her sharp tongue. “I’m all city—you know that.”
“And yet, you’re here.”
“I was forced into it.”
His eyes darkened to the color of melted chocolate. “I’d never force you into anything.”
He stepped back and didn’t say another word as he began to walk back toward the house. She felt bad. Of course she knew he wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. That wasn’t his way.
“Cameron?” He stopped walking and waited for her to catch up. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”
He nodded. “Forget it. We should get back.”
Lunch was outrageously delicious and filled with more carbs than Grace usually consumed in a month. Fresh baked bread accompanied roast chicken and gravy and a creamy potato dish that was so scrumptious Grace had two helpings. The kids chatted throughout the meal and the littlest one got potato in his hair.
Grace wasn’t sure what she felt sitting with the fractured, yet incredibly loving family. Cameron seemed to fit effortlessly within their little group. It made the world she lived in suddenly seem painfully superficial. On the surface she appeared to have it all—career, success, money.
And yet, for more than the first time lately, she wondered what the worth of it all was? At that moment, she couldn’t see or feel anything other than a startling realness during the hour she shared with Pat Jennings and her grandchildren. And the man she’d tried desperately to keep out of her heart for so long, but knew she never had.
Or ever would.
Chapter Six
As Cameron watched Grace his chest tightened. She was laughing at something one of the kids said and looked so incredibly lovely he could barely get air into his lungs. He’d never seen her so naturally unguarded. She was still as picture-perfect as always in her pressed trousers and starched T-shirt and there wasn’t a hair out of place. But there was something in her expression he hadn’t seen before. She smiled at him, as though she knew he was thinking about her. Did she know it? Was it obvious?
“We should get started on the painting,” he said.
Grace nodded and stood. “I’ll help clean up the dishes first.”
“Nonsense,” Pat replied. “Leave the dishes to me. I can manage that even with my bad leg. The painting is too much for these old bones. Off you go. I’ll make sure the kids don’t disturb you.”
Cameron stood and left the room and felt Grace’s presence in his wake. He headed for the living room and spotted a pile of drop cloths by the entrance. The room was sparsely furnished and had only a sofa and small coffee table.
“Where do you want me?” she asked.
Cameron turned around. Her words sounded provocative and gave his insides a jolt. He grabbed a couple of the drop cloths and held them out to her. “You can place these over the furniture while I prepare the paint.”
“Sure,” she said as she took them. The painting gear was on the veranda and he headed outside. He stayed for a while to sort through colors and clear his head. When he returned to the living room Grace was sitting on the edge of the sofa. She stood and waited while he placed the paint and brushes by the door.
“What color are we going for?” she asked as she examined the paint lids for swatches.
“You choose,” he replied and lifted off both lids.
She looked at the tins and gestured to the warm beige tint. “That one. And I think we should consider a feature wall.” She pointed to the long wall opposite the doorway. “Something darker—maybe the rich toffee. If we add a slipcover over the sofa in the same shade it will pick up the color.”
He half smiled, intrigued by the interest she showed. “Anything else?”
She bit down on her lower lip for a moment. “Perhaps a lamp—one of those tall ones for the corner. With a low-watt bulb it will cast some nice shadows around the room. And a plush rug for the spot in front of the fireplace. And maybe a couple of pictures for the walls.” She raised her brows with a kind of keen excitement. “You know, Evie has some furniture pieces in a storage shed that she hasn’t used for years. I think she’d let them go if she knew they were going to a good home.”
Her sudden enthusiasm captivated him and Cameron took a deep breath. “I thought you said you couldn’t decorate?”
She looked at him. “I said I’d hired a decorator.”
“To do what?’
She smiled. “To do what I asked.”
He’d never known a woman so determined to do things her own way. “You’ll talk to Evie?”
“Yes. In the meantime let’s get started.”
Cameron started preparing the paint and Grace grabbed a brush. “Do you want to cut in?” he asked as he poured a small amount of paint into a plastic container.
“Sure.” She glanced up at the high ceilings. “I’ll need a ladder.”
That’s not all she needed, he thought, looking at her designer clothing and spotless shoes. “There’s one outside, I’ll get it.”
He took off down the hall, silently cursing the way his insides were jumping all over the place. Being near her was making him nuts. He’d be glad when the painting started so the fumes could drown out the scent of the flowery fragrance she wore, which hit him with the force of a jackhammer every time she moved.
He inhaled a long breath and headed for the cottage.
* * *
Grace poked the brush into the paint and examined the color. She’d started cutting in the edges around the doorjamb when Cameron returned. He held something out to her.
“Here,” he said. “Wear this.”
Grace put down her brush and took the garment. She held the soft chambray shirt in front of her and shook her head in protest. “I couldn’t possibly—”
“Wear it,” he insisted. “You don’t want to ruin your clothes. It’s an old shirt.”
It was an old shirt. But it was incredibly soft between her fingertips. She nodded and slipped her arms into the sleeves. It was far too big and she rolled the sleeves up to an accommodating length and did the buttons up, but it was surprisingly comfy.
“Thank you,” she said and forced herself to not think about how intimate it seemed to be wearing a piece of his clothing.
Cameron grabbed the roller and paint can. “No problem.”
She went to speak again but her mouth remained shut. He smiled slightly and awareness rushed across her skin in an all-consuming wave. The white T-shirt he wore did little to disguise his broad shoulders and muscular arms. And his jeans were so worn and faded they amplified the ranginess of his lean hips and long
legs.
Grace struggled to drag her eyes away. Everything about him was wholly masculine and she realized at that moment how naively she’d been denying it to herself for so many years. She’d never been attracted to a man the intense way she was attracted to Cameron.
They worked through the afternoon and by four o’clock she was exhausted. Her palms were pink and puckered from the constant pressure of the brush and her neck ached. But despite her pains, Grace was determined to push past her fatigue. She wouldn’t give in. Cameron of course, was like a machine. He worked through the break Pat insisted they have, and because she wasn’t giving in to her exhaustion, forced Grace to do the same. She quickly took a couple of massive gulps of icy homemade lemonade Pat had brought in on a tray to avoid looking like she was taking a breather, and climbed back up the ladder.
They had music playing softly in the background and the ugliest dog in world was stretched out beside the sofa, snoring the afternoon away.
“We should finish up soon.” He’d stopped painting and came over to the corner where she was propped up on the ladder. He looked up at her and held out his hand. “Come down.”
Grace reached out and grasped his hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers and she felt the contact down to her toes. She stepped down the ladder and when her feet touched the floor her legs were strangely unsteady. She placed the container and brush on top of the small ladder and kept her hand in his.
Cameron looked directly into her eyes. “You have paint on your face.”
Any other time Grace would have been immediately self-conscious. She usually hated mess and being untidy. But she was reluctant to break the easy mood that had developed between them over the course of the afternoon. “I guess I should go and wash up,” she said quietly.
He grazed his knuckles across her left cheek. “I guess you should. It’s water-based paint so you don’t need to scrub too hard.”
“Okay—well, I’ll get going and...” Her words trailed off and she moved to pull away. But he didn’t release her. “You still have my hand.”
He half smiled. “So I do.”
“I’ll need it back if I’m to get rid of this paint on my face.”
He released her immediately. “I’ll clean up the brushes and the rest of the gear.”
Grace stepped away and pulled her arms around herself. “Okay.” She looked around the room. “We did a good job today.” She turned to the exposed fireplace and the lovely pale coffee-colored wall framing it. “And it feels good to do something good.” She gave a humorless laugh. “But I guess you know that already. You’ve always been generous with yourself.” When he didn’t say anything she raised a brow. “That was a compliment, not a dig.”
Cameron stared at her. “With our history sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.”
He was right and Grace experienced something that felt a lot like shame work its way across her skin. “Looks like our truce is working.”
“We’ve gotten off to a pretty good start. No fights, no insults, for at least...” He checked his watch. “Eight hours.”
“I’ve never liked fighting with you,” she admitted. “It was just easier than thinking about...about anything else.”
“I know.”
She didn’t respond and left the room as quickly as she could, making for the kitchen. After spending a few minutes with Emily to see how the studying was going, Grace walked back to the cottage.
A shower topped her list of things to do. Grace collected fresh clothes and toiletries and headed for the bathroom. The claw-foot bathtub was the first thing she saw and she was immediately seduced by the idea of a long soak. She quickly popped in the plug and played around with the water temperature. Once the water flowed she added her favorite Dior scented bath foam and stripped off her clothes.
It took close to ten minutes to fill the tub, but finally she slipped into the bubbly water and stretched out her legs. Grace let out a heavy sigh and her body relaxed instantly. She’d had a long, exhausting day and was physically taxed, but had none of the mental fatigue she often experienced as a result of a fifteen-hour stretch in the office.
She rested her arms along the edge of the tub, closed her eyes and leaned her head back. A simple delight. But it felt better than anything had felt for a long time. When was the last time she’d spent the time to really relax? She couldn’t remember. Since the accident she’d become even more wound up, more determined to be in control.
She took a deep breath and slipped a little farther down into the water. A sound caught her attention but she kept her eyes shut. A creak followed, like a door opening. Had she not closed the door properly? It’s probably just the wind pushing the door open.
Another creak followed. And another. It was the door. And it was opening.
Grace clamped her lids tighter. Surely Cameron wouldn’t enter the bathroom? But when she finally found the courage to open her eyes, it wasn’t Cameron standing by the bathtub.
It was Jed.
The smelly beast had pushed the door open far enough to invade her privacy and was sitting heavily on his haunches, drooling all over the floor. He made a sound, half growl, half whine.
“Shoo!” she demanded, looking around for her towel. It was on the sink where she’d left it. The smelly dog scooted closer and dropped his chin on the rim of the tub. “Go away.”
He whined again and showed off his big teeth.
Grace pushed herself back as far as she could go. I will not panic. She heard footsteps in the house and quickly pulled herself together. Cameron was back.
“Hot Tub!” she yelled, knowing the nickname he hated would get his attention.
The footsteps grew louder and she heard a tap on the half-opened door. “Grace?”
“You’re dog is drooling in my bathwater—get him out of here.”
He laughed.
“It’s not funny,” she protested. “Please get him out of here so I can finish my bath.”
Cameron laughed again. She was taking a bath? He hoped the rainwater tanks could support it. He called Jed to come out. The dog didn’t come so he called him again. And again.
Damned dog.
“It’s no use,” she said shrilly. “He’s got one paw up on the tub. If he gets in the water I swear I’ll...I’ll...”
He tried not to laugh and called the dog again. When Jed didn’t respond he said, “So, can I come in?”
She was silent for a moment. “Well, yes...okay.”
Cameron took a deep breath and pushed the door back. Sure enough, there was Jed, paw up on the rim of the tub, drool oozing from his mouth, and staring at Grace with what was clearly a serious case of puppy love. “He likes you.”
Grace scowled at him and ducked down into the water. “Funny. Get him away from me.”
“Come on, Jed,” he said firmly. “Let’s go.”
He walked toward the bathtub and kept his gaze centered firmly on the dog.
I will not look at her.
But Jed had his own ideas and sprang up on his back legs, wagging his tail. Any second now, Cameron thought, and the dog would be in the water with Grace. He lunged for the animal and grabbed his collar. Grace screamed. Jed rose up on his back feet and splashed his front paws into the water. Grace moved against the back of the tub and the foamy water sloshed, exposing her creamy shoulders and the unmistakable swell of her breasts and his breath rushed out with a sharp kick.
I am so not looking at her.
But as the bubbles sloshed and rose her body was silhouetted against the opaque water. A body he’d touched that night on the beach. And suddenly looking at her was all he was good for. He glanced at her face and saw her green eyes shining with a kind of hot awareness.
Sex swirled around the steamy room—potent and powerful.
She used her hands
to shield the parts she didn’t want him seeing and that just kicked at his libido like an out-of-control sledgehammer. He could imagine sliding the soap across her skin, he could almost feel how smooth and slippery...
“Cameron...I...I...”
Grace’s voice, barely a whisper, dragged him from his fantasies.
He pulled the dog back, grabbed his collar and with the animal firmly under control he spun him around and headed out of the room. Cameron shut the door and released Jed instantly. The dog scooted off, leaving a trail of wet paw prints in his wake.
Cameron let out a heavy breath, stood outside the bathroom door and rested his forehead against the jamb.
Idiot...
One glimpse of skin and he was done for. He wanted her so much.
And had two more weeks to do something about it.
* * *
Grace pulled herself out of the tub once the door clicked shut and hastily grabbed a towel. She rubbed herself dry and pulled on her clothes with less than her usual care.
Cameron Jakowski saw me naked.
Okay, not completely naked but close enough. Close enough that Grace knew that what she saw in his eyes was raw hunger.
She shoved her feet into flat sandals.
No man has ever looked at me like that.
His gaze had scorched her skin like a lover’s touch. He’d looked like he wanted take her into his arms and kiss her passionately—right then, right there.
And the knowledge tapped into something inside her. Grace had never considered herself all that desirable. Erik’s complaints about her lack of enthusiasm in the bedroom still echoed in her head. Dennis hadn’t been as harsh, but she’d sensed his dissatisfaction with her, especially in the latter months they were together.
But those fleeting moments in the bathroom with Cameron made her feel so sexually charged that every part of her skin tingled. The truth pounded through her like the loud beat of a drum.
She wanted to make love with Cameron.
And she knew, without a doubt, that he wanted it, too.
