by Debra Webb
He shook his head. "But I will entertain another question."
Lauren smiled, relaxed now. "Okay." She thought for a minute. "What about your mother? What happened to her?"
This one was almost as complicated as the first. "It's a very sad story, you're sure you want to hear it?"
She nodded, her wide green eyes expectant.
Gray leaned against the table behind him. "She was never married to my father." He banished the emotions that wanted to surface and summoned the indifference that had carried him through the worst of times. "She was his mistress for more than a decade. But it was enough for her. She kept a roof over our heads, barely, by cleaning houses and doing laundry for the half dozen or so wealthy families in town."
Pain threatened to break through his defenses. Why was he putting himself through this? Lauren Whitmore didn't need to know any of this. Yet he continued. "She developed crippling arthritis, and by the time I was ten, she knew she had to make a stand for my sake. So she confronted my father and demanded that he provide for me. He laughed in her face, and we were forced to live on the charity of the state until I was old enough to work."
Gray swallowed the bitterness that welled in his throat. "She was never the same after that. I don't know if it was all the pain medications or the depression, but the woman who had raised me to that point went away. It wasn't enough that my father turned his back on us, but he made sure everybody in town turned on us, too. My mother was devastated. A few years later she ended her misery by taking too many pain pills and never waking up."
Lauren's hand slipped into his. She squeezed. "How awful for you. How old were you?"
"I was sixteen." Gray turned away from the sympathy shining in her eyes. "It took me a long time to forgive her for that." He blew out a defeated breath.
"Maybe I still haven't."
"I'm sorry, Gray."
His gaze moved back to hers. Why did she care? But she did. He could see it in her eyes. No one else had ever looked at him that way. And here was this woman he hardly knew, who had every reason to despise him, looking at him that way.
"I can't imagine how you managed to survive."
"Mr. and Mrs. Jennings offered me a place to stay and a job. We do what we have to, Lauren. Your have-tos were just different from mine. You had more options. I plan to make sure Sarah is never left without plenty of options."
She blinked, then scrambled to her feet. "I should get this answering machine hooked up."
Gray pushed to his feet. "Need some help?"
She shook her head. "I can manage, but thank you."
Gray turned his back on what he saw in her eyes and walked away. Lauren's desperation was growing. She wanted so much to reach out to him, but in the same instance wanted to push him away. She'd backed herself into a no-win situation.
And, dammit, so had he.
* * *
LAUREN CLIMBED onto the bottom rail of the old wooden fence and propped her elbows on the top rail. She shaded her eyes against the sun with her hand and peered out across the pasture. She smiled when she spotted Spinner coming around the thicket of trees on the far side. Sarah sat in the saddle in front of Gray's tall, lean frame. The horse was like a different animal already, gentle and friendly. She couldn't believe how much progress Gray had made so quickly. It would be a while before Sarah could ride the horse alone. He was still a little edgy.
Lauren sighed as the animal loped toward the barn and her perch on the fence. Sarah resembled Gray so much that it was almost unnerving. Long jet-black hair and copper-colored skin set them apart from anyone else in Thatcher. On horseback the two looked like characters out of an old Western movie. How could anyone doubt that they were father and daughter?
Lauren focused on Gray as he guided the horse and chatted with Sarah. He smiled down at the child, the tenderness on his face was more than she could bear to see. She looked away. She had to protect herself…to protect Sarah. Lauren couldn't allow any more sympathetic feelings for the man. But how could she not? The man's life had been one tragedy after the other. How could anyone endure so much pain? But he still represented a serious threat to her and to the child she loved with all her heart.
Some small part of Lauren that was totally unrelated to reason believed Gray would do the right thing, that he wouldn't take Sarah away. But she would not allow that small part to override her good sense or her fear of what he could do. He had a good heart, Lauren felt sure of that, but it was buried under so much anger and bitterness that no one could touch it.
Except Sarah. She reached him in a place that, by all accounts, no one else ever had.
Lauren knew by his actions that Gray had feelings for Sarah that he didn't even understand yet. When he looked at the little girl, Lauren could see it in his eyes; she could hear it in his voice when he spoke to her. Gray Longwalker loved Sarah with whatever heart he had, and that scared Lauren more than any high-priced attorney ever could. Love knew no boundaries. Love could make a man do things he would not otherwise do. Would it make Gray Longwalker do the right thing or the wrong thing for Sarah?
Lauren braced herself as they neared. She swallowed hard and produced a smile for her daughter.
"Mommy! Mommy! Did you see me?" Her small face glowed with pride and excitement.
"I sure did, sweetie." Lauren met Gray's eyes only briefly. Even that momentary contact sent an unwanted tingle up her spine.
Gray dismounted and lifted Sarah off the saddle and onto the fence next to Lauren. Lauren wrapped her arms around her daughter and gave her a hug. "Looks like you were having fun on old Spinner," she said lightly, and brushed Sarah's hair back from her cheek to place a kiss there.
"I had this much fun!" Sarah exclaimed holding her arms open wide. "I want you to ride him, too!" She looked expectantly from Lauren to Gray.
"I don't know about that, sweetie. Mommy hasn't been on a horse in a very long time."
Gray's eyes twinkled mischievously, but to his credit he remained silent.
"Please, Mommy?" Sarah's eyes glittered with hope. "Mr. Gray will ride with you."
"I'd be happy to take you for a ride," he offered generously.
Lauren glowered at him, which only made him grin. Her heart did a funny little flip-flop at the gesture.
"Mommy, you have to do it!"
Gray shrugged, and Sarah wiggled enthusiastically.
"All right, all right." She shot Gray a pointed glare.
"But only for a few minutes, and really, really slowly."
Lauren slipped through the fence and strode purposefully up to Spinner. She could do this. If her five-year-old daughter could do it, she surely could. She approached the horse and took a deep, resolute breath. Lauren grabbed the saddle with both hands and lifted her left foot into the stirrup. Gray's hands settled on her waist, and he gave her a boost.
She removed her foot from the stirrup and eased forward as far as possible as he slid onto the horse behind her. Before she could protest, he pulled her against his body, one arm holding her in place while he guided the horse with the other.
"Remember, I said slowly," she reminded crossly.
"Relax, Lauren," he murmured against her hair, she shivered as usual at the sound of her name on his lips. "Anytime I'm in the saddle it's always slow and easy."
His palm flattened on her abdomen and pressed her closer to his hard, male body. Heat rushed through her, making her tremble at the feel of him. His fingers knotted in the soft cotton of her T-shirt, then relaxed. He felt it, too, she realized. Gray Longwalker might like to pretend he was in control, but when it came to this attraction between them he was as defenseless as she was.
* * *
LAUREN STABBED the start button on her heavy-duty mixer, and it buzzed to life—in high gear. Chocolate frosting flew in every direction before she could poke the off button. She swore at the mixer, then cursed herself for not paying attention. She knew better than to start the thing without first checking the setting. Lauren swiped her cheek with t
he back of her hand and surveyed the disaster she had single-handedly created. A dusting of flour coated the island worktop and the area of floor between it and the sink. The array of utensils she had used for mixing and baking the yellow layer cake filled the sink.
And now, the grand finale, she mused dryly. Drops of chocolate frosting had splattered the cabinets, the countertop, the coffeemaker. Lauren looked down at herself and continued her inventory. Her chef's apron and nightshirt were speckled, and no doubt her face and hair were, as well.
Lauren sighed and wiped her hands on the closest towel. She was exhausted. But the distraction had worked—until now. The clock in the hallway chimed its ancient tune and then counted the hour as midnight. Sundry fears and worries assaulted Lauren once more as she emerged from her baking trance.
Gray Longwalker wouldn't get out of her head.
"I don't want to think about you," Lauren muttered. "I can't think about you." She squeezed her eyes shut against her thoughts. Instantly her too-vivid imagination painted a picture of Gray's handsome face. He made Lauren feel things that threatened her sense of self. She no longer felt satisfied, or understood why or what she wanted. And he was responsible for those unsettling feelings.
Lauren felt torn between hating him and wanting somehow to make him believe again in all that was good. Her heart yearned to reach out to him. To make him feel just once in his life what she had known for all of hers. But she couldn't allow herself to be that vulnerable to him. He was the enemy, she reminded herself without much conviction.
A possibility occurred to Lauren, and she stilled. She bit down on her lower lip and let the concept take form. What if they could share Sarah? The notion had crossed her mind more than once. What if Lauren could somehow convince Gray to allow her to stay in Thatcher? His work kept him on the road most of the time, anyway. He could as easily travel from here as he could anywhere else. Between jobs he could spend time with Sarah.
That could work, couldn't it?
But how would she ever convince him to stay? Lauren recalled the intensity of the desire she had seen in his eyes more than once, and the way his body responded to hers. She reacted instantly; heat flowed through her, rushing to her center. He wanted her, on a physical level at least. And, though she knew she shouldn't, she wanted him.
Lauren swallowed tightly. She did, she wanted him. She had never played this kind of game before. She didn't know if she knew how to seduce a man. But if she could make him fall for her, maybe he would stay. She and Sarah could continue on as they had, and Gray could visit whenever he wanted. It made sense to her, except for two little details. He hated Thatcher and the people who lived here, and he didn't trust anyone. Why on earth would he ever entrust his heart to her?
"You're crazy, Lauren," she mumbled as she massaged her temples. She needed sleep. She had tried to lose herself in sleep earlier, but it wouldn't come. She had even paced the floors for a while, which had only heightened her anxiety. Anxiety was a sure precursor to her headaches—and she could definitely do without the headaches. She thought about the way Gray had defused her mounting anxiety earlier today in her office. There was something about the way he moved, the way he looked at her, and the sound of his voice that calmed her.
But tonight she'd had to immerse herself in flour and sugar and vanilla and all the other smells and textures that always provided swift and certain stress relief. Now the fears and worries came tumbling back, the situation only magnified by the clutter surrounding her.
A soft knock at her back door startled Lauren into near cardiac failure. She pressed her hand to her chest and blew out a breath. Who would be at her door at this time of night? She wondered, frowning. Who else? The man she didn't need to see for fear of behaving foolishly. The man who threatened all that was dear to her heart.
Hastily swabbing her cheeks with the backs of her hands for any residue of chocolate, Lauren padded to the door. She pulled in a deep breath and asked, "Who is it?" As if she didn't know. Well, she told herself in her own defense, it was better to be safe than sorry.
"Gray," came the answer she had expected.
Lauren chewed her lip and for all of one second considered not opening the door, but some force beyond her control took over and she flipped the dead bolt and opened the door wide. Her breath fled her lungs and she immediately lost all decorum. Her wayward gaze traveled slowly over his amazing body.
He'd obviously had a sleepless night, as well. His hair was mussed and those silvery eyes looked a bit red-rimmed. He seemed to have made a hasty departure, since his shirt hung open, revealing that broad, muscular chest. Lauren's heart bumped into an erratic rhythm as she visually memorized every ridge and contour. When her gaze settled on his navel and the open button beneath it, her knees tried to give way. His carelessly donned jeans fit every inch of his lower body as if they had been tailored especially for him. And he was barefoot, she realized suddenly.
"Is everything all right?"
The sound of his voice jerked her attention to his face. Concern softened his features, but did nothing to quell the heat she saw in his eyes. Heat she knew had been building since the day they met when that first tiny spark of awareness had ignited a fire between them.
"Everything's fine," she managed to say. Her throat had gone so dry that her words were hardly more than a croak. "I was making frosting and I had a little—" she gestured at her apron "—accident."
He combed the fingers of both hands through his hair, the movement revealing more of his magnificent chest. "I couldn't sleep," he explained. "I saw the light and thought maybe something was wrong."
Lauren reminded herself to breathe. "Everything's fine," she repeated. Her voice climbed as her nerves frayed, threatening her flimsy composure.
He stepped inside and closed the door against the cool night air. Gray scrutinized the tremendous mess she had made. "You're sure you're okay?"
Lauren nodded vigorously. "I know it looks like a disaster, but I'm fine…everything's fine."
Another step disappeared between them. He smiled, and Lauren's heart stopped beating completely. "You have chocolate," he rubbed her cheek and then licked the sweet dollop from his thumb, "all over you."
He licked his full lips then, and Lauren felt suddenly dizzy, she braced one hand against the nearest counter and found him a weak smile. "The mixer. I didn't know it was on high and…" His gaze locked on her mouth, and Lauren knew all holds had just been unbarred—he was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him. Slowly he lowered his head. His lips parted, moved closer, but didn't connect with hers; instead he licked her chin and groaned with pleasure.
More chocolate, she realized.
Next he tasted her temple, then her throat. His hot tongue laved and tortured each spot he selected. She tentatively pressed her hands to his chest to steady herself. The feel of his sleek skin beneath her palms unraveled her nerves further. Heat coursed through her veins, making her body hot from head to toe. The sound of his breathing filled her with want. Finally his mouth found hers. He pried her lips apart with his tongue, and the taste of chocolate and man filled her. His tongue probed her mouth, gently at first, then more thoroughly as he deepened the mind-bending kiss. Lauren melted against his strong body, her softness molding to his every hard contour.
Without breaking the contact of his mouth on hers, he reached around Lauren's waist, then around her neck, and untied her apron and tossed it aside. Gray lifted her with one arm and moved away from the door. He shoved aside the clutter and settled her onto the flour-dusted counter. He parted her legs with one lean hip and nestled himself in the cradle of her thighs. Lauren moaned at the feel of denim against her tender flesh.
His lips withdrew from hers, and the whisper of his breath on her mouth almost sent Lauren into orbit. He dipped his head lower and kissed her throat, then the vee of her nightshirt, just before he released the first button. His skillful mouth followed his equally masterful hands. Finally he drew her shirt open and revealed her tight
, aching breasts. He ran a long finger over one taut tip. Lauren gasped at the sensation that sent liquid heat to her core.
She clutched helplessly at his shirt and watched as he dipped that finger into the frosting and traced slow circles around her nipples. His mouth descended and followed that sweet path with the same painstaking slowness. Lauren closed her eyes and restrained her cry of need. She buried her fingers in the rich, dark silk of his hair and encouraged his ministrations.
His hands slid up her thighs, the coarseness of his palms creating a delicious friction. Gray's arms wound around her waist and pulled Lauren more firmly against him. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his lean hips and pressed into him. His mouth reclaimed hers, his kiss was demanding, and Lauren quivered beneath his possession. She knew what he'd come for—what he wanted. What they both wanted.
He stopped suddenly and pressed his forehead against hers. His ragged breath fanned her lips, making them tingle, making them ache for his.
"Gray?"
He drew back, looked deeply into her eyes. "I had to come. I had to touch you." He tugged her shirtfront back together. "But I shouldn't have. It was a mistake."
"No." Lauren pulled him close again. "I want you to stay." He knew what she wanted, she could see it in his eyes.
He released a heavy breath. "I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of." He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm not going to add this to the list." He shook his head in denial of the desire that was clearly in his gaze. "When I leave this time, I don't want anyone to have any regrets."
He left without looking back.
Chapter Eleven
"Sarah, be careful in that tree," Lauren warned.
"Okay, Mommy."
Lauren watched a bit longer with growing concern. Sarah was too high for comfort. As Lauren watched, Sarah moved lower. Lauren knew she couldn't keep Sarah cooped up in the house all the time. She was a child; she was supposed to run and jump and even climb trees. But her activities tested the strength of Lauren's heart on a daily basis.
