A Home by the Sea

by Christina Skye

  Then he caught her up and carried her to bed. Neither one spoke after that. Their hearts were full and their bodies met with the warm knowledge of long experience in a place where desire burned fresh, never dimmed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Four in the morning

  AT LEAST TONIGHT there was a happy ending, Noah thought.

  He looked across at his personal war zone.

  Hardware, timers and wires covered every inch of his desk, carefully removed from their crates. The team around him was working frantically to isolate and categorize every detail of these new weapons that had hit American soil. The crates had been tracked from a container ship inbound from Malaysia in the successful conclusion of a yearlong sting operation by combined U.S. and British intelligence. Thanks to faulty construction, one of the devices had leaked during transit. The circuits had been dangerously unstable by the time Noah opened the crate. But he had isolated the power source, rendering the device safe before it discharged.

  His boss opened the door at the far end of the lab. “Roll it up, everybody. We’re off as of tonight.”

  “But I still have two more devices to examine, sir.” The voice came from behind Noah.

  “Not now you don’t. It’s no longer our assignment. Everything is going over to Quantico. Pack it up.”

  Despite low muttering, the tired group complied. No one was surprised. Here in the lab Noah and his team provided initial assessment of hazardous materials, along with best methods of containment and control. But within twenty-four hours forensic materials and hardware were turned over to the FBI labs for full analysis.

  It was over.

  Noah pushed back from the crowded desk and rubbed the cramped muscles in his shoulder, watching people tag the last of their work and then file out. In the past seven hours he had downed five cups of bad coffee, one dry tuna sandwich and a cardboard corn muffin, courtesy of the vending machines down the hall. The memory wasn’t pleasant.

  He thought about the fresh bread Grace and his mother were making and his stomach growled.

  “Yeah, me, too.” His boss grabbed his coat and gloves and glanced at the now-deserted room. “Someday they won’t need us. Someday men will stop trying to butcher and maim each other in every way possible.” The graying security expert sighed and flipped off the lights. “At least that’s what I keep telling myself.”

  Noah didn’t hold out a lot of hope in that area. Men always seemed to find new tools of destruction. He grabbed his jacket and followed his boss down the hall. Through the narrow window at the end of the corridor a gray sky bloomed, tinged with pink. Almost dawn.

  He pulled out his cell phone and typed a quick text message. All clear. Tell Mom.

  Noah knew that Alex always slept with his phone nearby, in case one of his sons called. Within seconds his father replied.

  Thx. Get some rest. BTW Grace is here. She’s asleep in your bed….

  And then his father typed in a smiley emoticon.

  Noah shook his head. The world was changing way too fast when your father texted you with a smiley face, he thought wryly.

  Outside he headed straight to his Jeep. First stop—his apartment for a hot shower. He would be at his parents’ place in an hour. With luck he could weasel some of that bread and a mound of scrambled eggs along with freshly brewed coffee. No one made hair-straightening black coffee like his dad did.

  Noah smiled slowly.

  The coffee could wait. First he wanted a long, hot kiss as he coaxed Grace awake slowly in his bed.

  SOMETHING TOUCHED GRACE’S cheek. She stretched lazily, muttering. Something skimmed her nose. A warm, searching mouth slid over hers until she ached. She felt her brain fog.

  What a perfect dream.

  It had to be a dream, she told herself.

  How else to explain this unfamiliar heat and need that flashed up like starlight, just on the edge of control.

  No, not unfamiliar. Noah…

  She rolled over and breathed the word in a rough sigh, twisting in the warm quilt.

  Then she shivered. Warm breath on her cheek. Callused hands on her hair.

  “Richard? Or is it you, Tony?”

  “Neither.” Noah pulled back the covers, sliding down beside her.

  Grace had to laugh when she saw the irritated glint in his eyes. “A joke. Of course I knew. Even asleep, I knew,” she whispered breathlessly.

  Warm hands slid down her arms and under her knit shirt. Slowly, expertly, they opened on her breasts. Grace sucked in a sharp breath, hit by a wave of pleasure.

  “Noah, what are you—”

  “Temporary insanity. I plead guilty. Want me to go?”

  She closed her eyes, feeling his hands still. She tried to clear her head. “I can’t think straight,” she rasped. “What if your parents—”

  “Both of them are downstairs starting breakfast. They won’t be up for at least thirty minutes. My mother’s determined to get another loaf of bread baked just right for you.” He was watching her intently. “I probably shouldn’t be here.”

  Her heart pounded. “Probably not.”

  “I can’t seem to stay away,” he said roughly. “I’ve never felt like this.”

  Grace knew just what he meant.

  When had she ached like this? When had she ever felt this giddy rush of freedom?

  Never.

  She closed her eyes on a sigh. Her whole body hummed, intensely alive. She had never realized what it felt like to ache, trembling beneath careful hands while she simply…let go.

  Was this really happening? Was she actually in Noah’s house, in his bed, while his parents made breakfast one floor away?

  “Wait,” she whispered. She sat up slowly, feeling the attraction tighten between them. So easy to fall, she thought. But she took a deep breath and tried to focus. “I want this. It should be so simple to touch and trust. But it’s not. I care too much to pretend with you, Noah.” Her fingers opened and twined through his. “I don’t want halfway or maybe or close enough. If we do this, it will change everything.” She felt her heart stabbed by the understanding in his eyes. “You see?”

  “I do. And you’re right. There’s nothing safe about feeling this much.” Awareness snapped between them as he looked at their linked fingers. Something came and went in his face. “It wouldn’t be simple to touch you. I’m sure of that.” He sounded tired. Slowly he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “I wish we were different. I wish…a lot of things.”

  She felt his arms tighten.

  Then Grace felt him pull the covers around her and stand up. He kissed her forehead.

  He cleared his throat. The room felt unbearably cold when he closed the door behind him.

  Grace heard Noah tell his father that she was asleep and he didn’t want to wake her. Their foot steps moved away toward the stairs.

  She pulled the quilt over her head, feeling her face flame. What had nearly happened? She lay rigid, listening to the slam of her heart. She was never reckless like this. She made careful choices after calm deliberation. Growing up in the wreckage of a childhood littered by the memories of her mother’s drinking and irresponsibility, Grace knew just how much pain bad choices could bring.

  And they had been on the edge of something terribly reckless. Noah’s father had been right in the hallway. What if he or Tatiana had walked in on them? She stifled a groan at the thought.

  She had to go. She had to walk out of Noah’s house and start being calm and sensible again. She was going to clear her head and stop acting like…

  Like a woman opening her heart, too long in shadows.

  Her eyes closed. Her fingers gripped the quilt. It was the right thing to do.

  But like most of the right things you did in life, this one was going to hurt very badly.

  HE CAUGHT HER AT THE FRONT door while she tugged on her coat.

  “Hey. I’m just about to cut you a slice of that bread my mother’s been fussing over for the last hour.” His eyes narr
owed when Grace didn’t answer him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong? Where do I start? That—the thing that just happened upstairs was wrong,” she breathed. “And next time it might not stop. You’re worth more than that, Noah. We both are.”

  His eyes never left her face. “Don’t run away, Grace. You’re smarter and tougher than that.”

  “Am I?” She rubbed the painful knot burning over her heart. “If I were as smart as you think, things would never have gotten this complicated. You confuse me, Noah. You awe me, too. The way you make me feel…it’s too much. I have a lot of okay in my life, not reckless and wonderful.”

  He smiled at that. The tenderness in his eyes hit her like pure sunlight. It almost made her reconsider. But she couldn’t back away from what was right. They’d both regret it later.

  “Fine. We’ll take some time, slow things down. I’ll give you a day or month to get used to reckless and wonderful. I can be patient, but…”

  “There had to be a but.”

  He cupped her cheeks gently. “But I’m not letting you vanish. Not until we know exactly what we have here.” His arms slid around her waist. He pulled her closer. “And I’m not going to make it easy for you to forget me.”

  He kissed her, slow and thorough with aching tenderness. Grace felt her heart dive straight to the bottom of her chest. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”

  “So I’m told.”

  “And you also like to bend the rules, I see.”

  “When it’s necessary, yes. Because I plan to win, Grace. I plan for us to win together. The way I see it, life is about being strong enough—maybe stubborn enough—to open a door and take a gift when it’s offered. Too often you don’t get a second chance,” he said fiercely.

  With a sigh she slanted her forehead against his. She could feel his heart pounding where their bodies met. “You make this sound so easy. But it’s not. I’m not spontaneous or casual. I think. I worry. My friends say, ‘I worry, therefore I am.’”

  “You think I don’t? You think this is casual for me? Honey, nobody said it was going to be easy or casual.” His voice was harsh. “Exactly the opposite. But what happens when I touch you is a gift, and right now a voice is telling me that we’re just getting started. Do you trust me enough to believe that?”

  “It’s life I don’t trust,” she whispered. “Things like this don’t happen to me. I live a sane, organized, predictable life. I like it that way,” she insisted breathlessly. “At least I thought I did.”

  Noah lifted her hand, studying their entwined fingers. “It’s good to be a little reckless. Sometimes you need to eat dessert first,” he whispered.

  Behind them dishes rattled in the kitchen.

  “Stay. Have breakfast.” His eyes were grave. “It would mean a lot to my mother. To all of us. Even you can be reckless for forty-five minutes, right?”

  Grace closed her eyes, feeling all her good intentions drift out the window. “Okay. But no playing dirty. Give me one week to sort things out. And while I do, hands off.”

  “It’s a deal.” He started to kiss her and then raised his palms in the air. “Your rules. For now, hands off.” His eyes darkened. “You have exactly one week.”

  THE BREAD WAS A MARVEL, rich and chewy with a golden crust. Tatiana glowed at Grace’s praise. Not surprisingly, the men finished off every chewy crumb within minutes.

  It was clear that Noah’s parents were curious about their developing relationship, but they were far too polite to ask questions. Their good-natured joking with Noah only made Grace realize what family meant and how much she would give up if she stuck to her plan.

  Before she had finished her first cup of tea, her cell phone alarm chimed loudly. She blanched. “Oh, no—I forgot my big appointment and I can’t be late. Not today.” She shot to her feet. “I—forgive me for being so rude. I really have to go.”

  Alex stood up. “I can drop you on my way to work.”

  “Thanks, Dad, but I have it.” Noah gulped down his coffee and followed Grace to the door. “I’m off today.”

  “Noah, I need to stop at home and change. Do my hair. Makeup.” She shrugged. “I can’t believe I forgot.” What kind of effect did the man have on her? She shouldn’t have stayed the night before, but the evening had been so wonderful.

  She shook her head in irritation. “This is definitely a panty hose day. I’ll be rushed so you don’t need to wait.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll take you wherever.” Noah grabbed his gloves—and a loaf of warm bread for the road. “Let’s move. You can give me directions in the car.”

  AS THEY DROVE, Grace told him where she was going.

  He blinked. “There? The White House? That’s your appointment?”

  “Right. Now you see why I can’t be late.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “It’s not a done deal. The competition is major so I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Are you kidding? You’ll get it.” Noah drummed his fingers on the wheel. “But explain it again. What’s a digital, collaborative cookbook?”

  “The French cultural attaché will be there along with the head White House chef. This is the final interview,” Grace said tensely. “The project is to create a huge cooking reference offered for the English-speaking market. It will have full recipes, videos of cooking techniques, interviews with key chefs in France who have visited here. There will be history, travel advice, food-shopping tips. Everything! The White House Cooking Series.” She caught a breath. “This is so big, Noah. The biggest thing I’ve ever done.” Grace looked at her hands and saw that they were trembling. “And with the White House chef involved, we’ll have access to just about anyone. Look at me. I’m a wreck. How am I going to be any good? And I barely have an hour to get ready,” she rasped.

  “You’ll do it, honey.” Noah’s voice was utterly calm. “Practice your pitch on me while we drive. And don’t worry, I’ll get you there in time.” His mouth curved. “I know the back routes.”

  SHE FINISHED DRYING her hair while her cell phone and computer charged. Her best black suit steamed in the bathroom while the shower ran. As Noah made a pot of strong coffee, Grace added her final makeup.

  “Don’t I get to see the panty hose?” he murmured. “Lingerie would be nice, too.”

  “Out.” Laughing, Grace shooed him from the sunny bedroom of the apartment she was renting during her D.C. stay. She stepped into discreet black pumps and eyed her reflection in the mirror.

  Slowly, her confidence began to return. The White House Cooking Series was a huge project, but she had prepped for almost a year. She had researched all the major French cookbooks and followed every important French cooking blog. She had researched historic state dinners back to the American Revolution. She knew five of the seven chefs in France who would be interviewed for the project.

  The project would be a key cultural collaboration.

  She straightened the small strand of pearls at her neck and opened the door.

  Noah let out a low breath. “Nice before, but now you’re amazing. You look calm and smart and absolutely gorgeous.” He glanced at his watch. “Finish your coffee. I’ve got your computer at the door. It’s charged and packed.”

  “Thank you for this, Noah.” Just seeing him grin gave her a new wave of confidence.

  He held open the door. “Better move.”

  HE SPED HER DOWN BACK ALLEYS and across warehouse lots that Grace didn’t know existed. He cut through parks and around a university loading dock. They made it to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue with ten minutes to spare.

  Noah parked and held open her door, radiating pride. “Go knock them dead, honey.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Three hours later

  GRACE STOOD ON THE STREET corner.

  Dazed, she watched traffic stream past. Her hands shook. She took a hard breath, pulled out her cell phone and dialed Noah.

  He answered on the first ring. “All done?”

>   She felt dizzy. Truck horns blasted and she tried to focus.

  “Grace? Talk to me. How did the meeting go?”

  She couldn’t answer, watching the unending snarl of traffic but not really seeing any of it. The interviews had been long and grueling, details upon details. They had probed her training, career background and personal goals, even her private life. She hadn’t realized exactly how high-profile this project was going to be.

  She rubbed her face, jittery from too many questions and too much coffee. Jittery from having her life poked and analyzed for three long hours. “Intense. Very intense.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Near 18th Street.”

  “I’ll come pick you up.”

  She cleared her throat. “I—I can’t, Noah.”

  “Why? I’ll just be ten minutes. Wait for me.”

  “No.” She said the word slowly. A taxi slammed on its brakes and Grace winced. “I can’t because… I got it.” She whispered the words, still not able to process the news. “Noah?”

  “I couldn’t hear you, Grace. Say that again.”

  “I—I got it. I’ll be working on the series!”

  “That’s great! Congratulations. I knew you were brilliant and this seals it. So when do we celebrate?”

  “Tonight. My place. I’ll supply the champagne and you supply…the heat.”

  She wanted to shout. She wanted to cry and dance a crazy jig in the snow. Most of all she wanted to grab Noah and kiss him speechless. But she didn’t have time for any of it.

  “Noah, they want to start immediately. The hours will be killing, and now I have to leave for France in five days. I want to go see my grandfather first and then visit two libraries while I’m back in Oregon. I’m not sure when I’ll be back after that.”

  This time it was Noah who didn’t answer.

  “Noah, are you there?”

  “I’m here, Grace. This sounds like a huge project. An opportunity like this doesn’t come every day. I completely get that. But we can still find time somehow. Hold on.” Grace heard muffled sounds, and then he was back. “What time tonight?”