Angela began whimpering, the sound of her cries muffled as she covered her face with both hands. “I don’t want a bear to eat Peterkins,” she wailed.
“Grady, please,” Cathy pleaded, lifting her gaze to his. “He won’t come to you. It’s got to be me.”
Indecision flickered over the hard face. “Okay.” He gradually released his hold on her. “I’ll distract the bear, and you get that damn dog of yours into the car. And for heaven’s sake be quick about it.”
Grady climbed out first, after instructing Angela not to leave the car for any reason. Cathy took in several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. The wild beast would sense her fear, and she struggled to breathe evenly and appear calm.
The bear was advancing toward the vehicle, standing on its hind legs, looming twelve or fourteen feet above them. Nothing had ever looked so large or so terrifying.
To her horror, Cathy saw that Peterkins was running toward the animal, barking for all his worth.
Grady moved around to the front of the car, hands dangling at his sides. It took Cathy several moments to realize he was speaking in soothing, low tones, moving slowly toward the huge mammal.
Her heart in her throat, Cathy cupped her mouth with both hands and called her dog.
Peterkins hesitated, stopping to turn around, and glanced at her.
The bear was so close Cathy thought she could smell him, then realized it was the taste of fear that was magnifying her senses. Grady was far closer to the bear than she was. Her own fear was quickly forgotten as she realized the danger Grady was placing himself in for the sake of her dog. She wanted to cry out for Grady to move back. Instead, she concentrated on gaining Peterkins’s attention.
Frantically, she called the spaniel, her voice sharp and demanding. This time Peterkins didn’t pause, turning around abruptly and running as fast as his short legs would carry him. She squatted down so that he could leap into her arms. Moving as quickly as possible, she hurried back to the relative safety of the car.
Cathy was inside and breathing so hard she was panting. Still, Grady remained outside, slowly retreating until he backed into the front bumper of the car. As if he was in no more danger than he would be attending a Sunday school picnic, he turned and climbed into the front seat, starting the engine and pulling onto the road.
Cathy looked back to note that the bear had turned and reentered the woods. It had probably been the smell of their picnic that had attracted his attention.
Relief washed over her, and for a moment Cathy had to struggle to hold back the tears. “Bad dog.” She enunciated each word, her manner and voice stern. “How can you have been so naughty?”
Apparently, Peterkins knew he had done wrong. Dejectedly, he hung his head, and the long ears drooped forward.
“You okay?” Grady asked as an aloof mask came over him.
“I’m fine.” She studied him for a minute. The dark bushy brows, the unrelenting set of jaw; his profile appeared almost hawklike. The eyes were a clear shade of deep blue, but sharp and intelligent. The dark hair, although trimmed short, was curly and framed his forehead.
“You sure? You look awfully pale for someone safe and secure.” His look flickered over her.
The responding smile was weak. “I’m sure.” She lowered her gaze. She liked Grady. That was the problem. If anything had happened to him, she would have felt more than guilt or remorse. The realization was so new she hadn’t had time to properly analyze exactly what she was feeling.
“How could you act so calm?” she queried. “Anything could have happened.”
“Calm?” he snorted. “Listen, I’ve been ten thousand feet in the air, lost both engines, and felt less nervous than facing that bear.”
Laughter sighed through her as she tipped her head back to rest against the seat. “I don’t think I’ve been more frightened in my life,” she admitted.
“Can Peterkins come and sit with me now?” Angela asked, the small voice barely audible.
“Sure.” Cathy helped move the dog from the front to the back, then scooted across the cushioned seat to sit closer to Grady. She stopped when their shoulders touched.
His glance was filled with surprise. “To what do I owe this honor?”
Cathy couldn’t answer him. She didn’t know why she felt the need to be near him. It had been an unconscious movement made without reason. “I’m cold.” The excuse was a feeble one, but Grady seemed to accept it, looping an arm over her shoulder and bringing her within the comfort of his embrace.
“Warmer?” he asked a few minutes later.
Cathy nodded.
“Daddy, can I be a Girl Scout?” Angela’s head appeared between Grady’s and Cathy’s.
“Why the sudden interest in Girl Scouts?” Grady questioned, his gaze not leaving the road.
“Melissa Sue’s gonna be one, and I thought I should do it, too.”
“I think she means Brownie,” Cathy inserted. “The school handed out information sheets last week.”
“I want to roast marshmallows and eat somemores and sing songs around a fire.”
“That’s the picture on the front of the information sheet,” Cathy explained.
“There were some marshmallows in your cupboard, weren’t there, Cathy?”
Grady’s gaze had scanned the contents of her kitchen that morning while she was dressing. “Yes, I think there are.”
“Fine. When we get back, Cathy can invite us inside, and while I build a fire in her fireplace, you two ladies can cook some hot cocoa and find something to roast marshmallows.”
“Goodie.” Angela bounded against the backseat, and Cathy could hear her telling Peterkins all about the wonderful time they were going to have.
“Now, that was sneaky,” Cathy murmured, resting her head against the curve of his shoulder.
“No, just quick thinking,” he murmured. His eyes glanced toward her mouth, and the look was so suggestive that Cathy had the desire to blush and look away. The last streaks of light were fading from the darkening sky when they rolled past the Fairbanks city limits.
“I’ll drop you two off at the house.”
“Three,” Angela corrected. “Don’t forget Peterkins.”
Grady chuckled. “After this afternoon, it’s not likely.”
“Where are you going?” Cathy asked.
“I’ve got some paperwork to catch up with. It’ll only be an hour or so. You don’t mind, do you?”
For a second she wanted to complain and tell him that yes, she did mind. This was the way it had always been with her own father. Not a single day of his life was he able to sever himself from job-related obligations. Memories of Christmas Day were filled with presents and laughter and arranging the big meal around the time her father would return from the office. Cathy should have realized that a whole day was more than Grady could give her, Angela, or anyone else in his life.
“No, I don’t mind,” she lied. “It’ll give Angela and me time to unwind.” Barely concealed resentment caused her voice to tremble slightly.
Grady gave her a puzzled look. “If it’s going to bother you, say so and I won’t go.”
The temptation was to take him up on the offer and see just how long he would be able to endure the torture of staying away from his business. Mentally, Cathy gave herself a shake. She was being unreasonable, allowing the childhood memories of an overly work-obsessed father to cloud her perception now.
“No, it’s fine, really. Angela and I will have a good time, won’t we?” She directed her question to the little girl.
“If I take a bath at your house, can Peterkins come in the tub with me?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Grady insisted.
Playfully digging the point of her elbow into his stomach, Cathy laughed. “You’re a great help, fella. Any more suggestions and Angela and I will come to the office to help you with the paperwork.”
Grady parked the car in front of Cathy’s house. She half expected him to drop them of
f and drive away. But he came inside and brought in firewood, stacking it by the fireplace. As he was working, Cathy brewed coffee.
Grady accepted a cup, blowing into the steaming liquid before taking the first sip. His legs were crossed as he leaned against the kitchen counter.
Physically, she was growing more aware of his presence every minute. Something was definitely the matter with her. Only last week she had rated his kiss as interesting. Now she longed for the taste of his mouth over hers. Not because she was falling in love with him, but to compare her reaction one week from the next.
Finishing her coffee, Cathy placed the mug in the kitchen sink. As she moved away from the counter, he placed his hand along the slope of her neck, stopping her. Cathy quit breathing. When his mouth settled over her parted lips, she slipped her arms around his neck. His hand at the small of her back arched her closer.
Passively, she accepted the kiss, neither giving nor taking. If she had stopped to analyze her feelings, she would have realized Grady’s kiss had gone from interesting to pleasant. Decidedly pleasant. But it lacked the spark, the urgency, the emotion she’d once shared with Steve.
Grady broke the contact, dragging his mouth from hers. He seemed to know what she was thinking. Cathy could sense it, could feel his hesitation, or was that disappointment? She couldn’t tell. Slowly he took control of himself.
His hands cupped her shoulders as he lifted his face, his eyes dark, unreadable.
“Grady,” she whispered, feeling confused, wanting to explain, knowing she couldn’t. Lowering her eyes, she released a long sigh. “I’m—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted, and raked a vicious hand through his curly hair. “Don’t apologize, understand?”
“Okay.”
Without a backward glance, without another word, he left the kitchen. Cathy winced when she heard the front door close.
Now she was upset, not with Grady but with herself. She couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for her broken heart to heal. Another question was exactly how long Steve would continue to dominate her life. Would she ever be able to love, truly love, anyone else?
Sometime later she fixed Angela a sandwich and poured the little girl a glass of milk. Nothing sounded appetizing, and she chose not to eat. Skipping meals was becoming a repeated pattern, and one that must stop.
Grady returned a couple hours later, carrying a brown paper sack and two wine goblets turned upside down between two fingers.
Smiling to herself, Cathy hung up his coat. “Wine and marshmallows. Sounds wonderful,” she teased.
His lips brushed her cheek. “The wine is for later,” he murmured, for her ears only.
Immediately, Peterkins growled, again taking exception to having another man kiss her.
Cathy cast the spaniel a warning glance. “Where were you when I needed you?” she questioned him. After Grady had left the house, Cathy had discovered Angela playing house with the dog, placing him in the bed and pulling the covers over his head. If he’d been free, the scene in the kitchen would have never been allowed to go as far as it did.
A look of impatience flickered over Grady’s expression. “I refuse to be deterred by a mutt,” he declared, taking out a huge bone from the bottom of the sack. “If you want to play protector, do it with this.” He held up the bone, and Peterkins leaped into the air in a futile attempt to reach the goodie. Grady stooped down to pet the dog. “Later, buddy, later.”
Flickering flames leaped out between pieces of wood as Grady, Angela, and Cathy sat on the carpet, their backs supported by the front of the sofa. Shadows danced across the room, forming mime figures on the opposite wall. An empty bag of marshmallows was carelessly tossed onto the coffee table while the last song softly faded.
Angela yawned and crawled onto the couch, tucking her hands and knees into a tight ball. “I’m sleepy, Daddy and Cathy,” she said, on another long, drawn-out yawn. “This is almost like being a real family, isn’t it?”
Grady’s arm rested across Cathy’s shoulder. “Yes, it is,” he whispered.
Together they sat before the fire. There didn’t seem to be a need for words. Her neck rested against his arm, and for the first time in recent memory, Cathy felt utterly content.
In a series of agile movements, Grady placed another log on the fire, moved into the kitchen, and returned with an open bottle of wine and the wineglasses. Peterkins was nowhere to be seen. “Maybe Angela would rest better in a bed. Mind if I put her in your room?” he asked softly, as if afraid he would wake the sleeping child.
“Sure, go ahead,” she agreed lazily.
He left her momentarily and smiled when he returned. He lowered himself onto the carpeting beside her. Filling the wineglass, he handed it to Cathy. When his own glass was ready, he paused, holding it up. “To what shall we drink?”
Laying her head against the sofa cushion, Cathy closed her eyes. “To the personals?”
Grady chuckled and gently tapped her glass with his. “To the personals.”
They both sipped the wine. “To the Red Baron,” she offered next.
“And Snoopy.” Grady touched the rim of the glasses again before taking a sip.
The sauvignon blanc was marvelous, light, and refreshing.
“This is good,” Cathy murmured, after her second glass. “Very good.”
“So is this.” He took the stemmed glass out of her hand and placed it on the coffee table.
I should stop him, Cathy thought, lifting a strand of hair away from her face. It’s going to happen all over again. Grady’s going to kiss me and I won’t be able to respond. The reasoning was there, but the desire to put a halt to his intentions wasn’t.
Grady stared at her for a long minute, his eyes darkening to an intense blue as his hands framed her face. Slowly, as if waiting for her to stop him, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Cathy parted her lips, but whether in protest or welcome she didn’t know. Her arms circled his neck as the pressure of his mouth hardened over hers. Where once there had been a feeling of dread, a warmth, an acceptance, began to flow, spreading throughout her until she moaned softly.
Grady broke the contact, his mouth hovering inches above hers until their breaths merged. Gently, lovingly, his hands caressed the sides of her neck, slowly descending over her shoulders while he spread tender kisses on her temples and face.
The gentle quality of his touch brought the first trace of tears to her eyes. It’s the wine, she told herself. Crying was a ridiculous response to being kissed. This was beautiful, lovely. She should never have drunk the wine.
One tear slid down her flushed cheek. When Grady’s lips encountered the wetness, he paused and kissed it away. His mouth met each tear as it escaped, and soon his lips were investigating every inch of her face. Her cheek, her forehead, her chin. When he moved to explore her parted lips, Cathy could taste the saltiness of her own tears in the kiss.
Grady lifted his head and pulled her into his arms. “Are you okay?” The question was breathed against her hair.
For a moment, answering him was impossible. “Just hold me, okay?”
She was pressed so close against his chest that her breasts were flattened, but she didn’t care. For the first time in months, she was beginning to feel. A healing balm, a warmth, began to spread its way through her. Cathy didn’t know how long Grady held her. Time had lost importance. The only sensation that registered was the soothing, gentle stroke of his hand.
The pressure of his body edged her backward. The carpet felt smooth and comforting against her back. Positioned above her, Grady again studied her, lowering his mouth to kiss her nose and smiling gently into her wary, unsure eyes. The tender touch of his lips produced a languor, a state of dreaminess.
Her fingers spread over his back, but the desire to feel the rippling hard muscles of his shoulders was so very tempting. Her hands slid under his sweater, reveling in the feel of his bare skin.
Grady’s kiss devoured her lips until she was breath
less and panting. His touch felt right and good. Putting an end to the delicious feeling was what would be wrong, not the intimate caress.
When he moaned and dragged his mouth from hers, burying it in the curve of her neck, Cathy rolled her head to the side to encourage the exploration.
His tongue found the sensitive lobe of her ear, and dancing shivers skidded over her skin. A soft, muted moan trembled from her. Cathy could feel his mouth form a smile against her hair. Gradually his hold loosened, and he eased himself into a sitting position, helping her up.
“More wine?” His voice was slightly husky and disturbed.
Disoriented, Cathy resumed her former position and nodded. Don’t stop! she wanted to scream. The pain is almost gone when you hold me. Her heart had been more than bruised, it’d been shattered. For so long she’d believed it would take more than one miracle to repair the damage, if at all.
When she didn’t answer, Grady handed her a replenished glass. Her fingers were shaking as she accepted the wine. Gently, he kissed her temple and placed an arm across her shoulders, pulling her close to his side.
“Who did this to you?” He whispered the question. “Who hurt you so badly?”
A chill ran down her spine. Cathy began to quiver, faint tremors shaking her shoulders. Heat invaded her body, creeping up from her neck, spreading its crimson color to her ears and face.
“No one.” She straightened, crossing her legs. “It’s hot in here, isn’t it. Should I turn down the heat?”
Grady didn’t comment, but he leaned forward and brushed his mouth over her temple. “You’re running away again.”
“I’m not running from anything.” She bounded to her feet. “Have you had dinner? I didn’t, and suddenly I’m starved. Do you want anything?” A quick step carried her into the kitchen. Peterkins was scratching at the bedroom door, where he’d cuddled up with Angela. A gnawed bone was in front of the door, his interest having waned.
“Come in, boy,” she said, welcoming him inside.
“Do you feel the need for your protector?” Grady moved behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder.
That Wintry Feeling (Debbie Macomber Classics) Page 6
