by Brenda Novak
Shutting out the voices in his head, he stepped back inside and closed the door. He wanted Grace too badly to listen to reason. Even his own.
The moment he reached for her, Grace dropped the shirt she’d been holding against her chest and went into his arms. She couldn’t believe it. Kennedy hadn’t left. He was still here with her.
They had tonight.
One hand came up to fondle her, and he sighed as if she felt better than anything he’d ever touched.
Euphoria filled Grace as she brought her lips to his. This was unlike anything she’d experienced before; this was heaven. Strange that she’d find it in Stillwater. Or maybe it wasn’t so strange. It was here that she seemed to experience every extreme.
“Grace?” he murmured, his mouth hot and wet as he kissed her deeply, hungrily.
She could hardly speak above the pounding of her heart. “What?”
“The only birth control I have is an old condom Joe stuck in my wallet a year ago.”
“You’re that sexually active, huh?” she teased, her skin hypersensitive, her knees weak.
“I haven’t been with anyone since Raelynn,” he said.
“That condom won’t do the job?”
“Don’t you have anything else?”
“No.” George had insisted she go on the pill, but she’d stopped taking it when he ended their engagement over a month ago.
“It’ll get us by,” he responded.
She laughed at his sudden conviction, because she wasn’t concerned. She certainly wouldn’t get pregnant on purpose, not without Kennedy wanting the same thing. But neither would she cry over an accident. She’d craved a baby for the past several years. She could support one, would absolutely adore it. Wanting a child was partly why she’d planned to marry George. Considering the way she felt about Kennedy—as if she’d simply die if he walked away from her now—she couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than having his child. That would make her return to Stillwater well worth any cost.
“It’ll be okay,” she agreed and, taking his hand, led him upstairs.
Kennedy paused in their lovemaking to lean back on one elbow and admire Grace. He wanted her beneath him so he could finally bury himself inside her, take her with long, powerful thrusts that would end the torturous wait. But after the disregard and abuse she’d suffered as a child and then as a teenager, he wanted to be extra-gentle, to let her know that this meant something to him. He wanted it to mean something to her, too. If these few hours were all they’d have together, he was determined to make the most of them.
“What?” she murmured, staring curiously up at him.
Her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight streaming through the window. With her dark hair a halo on the pillow next to him, her expression one of trust and expectation, he knew he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. “You’re gorgeous.”
A sexy smile curved her lips as her fingers combed through his hair. “You’re nothing like I expected.”
“Knowing what you thought of me, I’m sort of glad to hear that.”
She chuckled. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Grace. I was so…young and stupid. Tonight I just want to make you forget.”
Her hand slid over his chest, down to his navel and lower. “Now’s probably a good time for that,” she said and pulled him down on top of her.
Kennedy’s arms shook with anticipation as he supported the bulk of his weight while pressing inside her. The feel of her body accepting his was almost enough to send him over the edge. Especially when she groaned and arched into him, pulling him deeper.
“That’s it,” she said. “That’s what I want. For the first time in my life, that’s what I want.”
He knew there was something significant in those words, but he couldn’t focus on it. He was too overwhelmed by what he was feeling. “Incredible,” he whispered as he began to move.
She threw an arm over her face as though savoring each sensation, but he stopped until she lowered her hand and blinked up at him. He wanted to see the dreamy look in her eyes that had held him spellbound since he’d first touched her, wanted to witness every reaction. Then he rolled her nipple in his mouth before sliding into her again, and again, and again.
Soon the rhythm grew frantic and sweat slicked their bodies, but it was a perfect meshing of needs, of touching, tasting, seeking. A complete abandonment of individuality to become one.
“That’s…nice,” she whispered between breaths, her arms tightening around him. “So nice.”
He wanted it to be better than nice. He wanted it to be perfect for her. So he forced himself to slow down, to draw the pleasure out as long as possible. But it was only a few seconds later that she gasped out his name and shuddered in his arms. And then he couldn’t have held back for anything.
Grace listened to Kennedy’s deep, even breathing as he slept with his body tight against hers. Contentment flowed through her veins. She was warm and comfortable, complete in a way she’d never experienced, but she refused to succumb to sleep. She already felt as if she was dreaming. Staying in Evonne’s house, making love with Kennedy Archer. Was it even real?
She moved slightly, adjusting her pillow. His hand closed possessively over her breast, making him feel real enough. But she didn’t roll over as she wanted to. She knew if she gave him the opportunity, he’d want to make love again. They’d already tried several alternatives. Nothing else could compare to that first time, but they’d used their only condom, and she doubted he’d see anything positive in giving her the baby he didn’t even know she wanted.
“Grace?” he murmured after a moment.
“What?”
“I still think we should go to the fireworks tomorrow night.”
Grace wished she could agree, but she knew it wouldn’t be wise for them to go together. Like her, he just didn’t want their brief affair to end. “No.”
“What about Teddy and Heath? They’ll be disappointed.”
She hated the thought of hurting Kennedy’s children. But she couldn’t allow them to grow any more attached to her. “I’ll see you all there, I guess. I need to start weaning them from me.”
He didn’t seem pleased with her response. “Why not tell me what we’re fighting here?”
She couldn’t burden him with her secrets, or he’d face the same torment she did. “You’re not going to be fighting anything.”
“If you really want to protect me, tell me.”
It didn’t work that way, and he knew that as well as she did. But when she didn’t respond, he climbed out of bed. “Fine. It’s late. I’d better go.”
“Do you think your babysitter will be watching the clock?” she asked to temper the sudden estrangement between them.
“I’m sure she’s asleep. Thursdays are my usual night out, so she typically stays over. I doubt she’ll even notice when I come in.” Completely unconcerned with his nudity, he bent to gather his clothes, which were strewn on the floor.
Grace couldn’t help enjoying the sight of his muscular physique. She couldn’t believe how easily she’d been able to make love with him. It had come naturally, without the crippling memories and distaste she’d experienced so often with George. At times she’d felt close to normal when she was with her old boyfriend. Last night, she’d felt completely normal. Whole. In love. Nothing else could compare.
She knew it was a sign of how much she wanted to be with Kennedy. But acknowledging that didn’t make their situation any easier. He’d always been out of reach.
“Good night,” he said and started from the room.
Grace winced at the sting of his withdrawal. He was angry with her. He was like Clay; he expected her to hand everything over to him and let him be in charge.
“There’s something I should tell you,” he said, turning back as he reached the door.
Grace sat up, drawing the sheet with her. “What’s that?”
“If th
ere’s anything more you can do to protect yourself from whatever happened in the past, do it.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, the old tension returning.
“Someone saw Clay driving Barker’s car the night the reverend disappeared. It was late, around midnight, and he was heading out of town. Your mother was following him.”
She could tell that Kennedy was watching her closely, so she absorbed what he said without letting the shock of it register on her face.
“Grace?”
She was trying to say he shouldn’t worry, that it wasn’t true—or make up some other lie—but she couldn’t. What had passed between them was too fresh, too honest. So she said nothing.
His eyes swept over her as if he’d come back and make love to her again right now, if only she’d tell him the truth.
It was certainly a temptation. She already felt she’d trade just about anything for one more kiss.
“God, Grace, are you really going to let me go so easily?” he asked.
“There’s nothing I can do,” she said helplessly.
“I know you care about me. A woman doesn’t make love like that unless she cares.”
She blinked against the tears that threatened. She couldn’t endanger her family because of her own selfish desires. “You should be glad,” she said softly.
“Glad that you won’t even give us a chance?”
“Glad that I won’t tell you anything else. Go home, Kennedy,” she said. “We both knew it could only last until morning.”
Kennedy cursed as he hurried to his truck. Grace had said that one night wouldn’t change anything. But that was bullshit. He’d known it then, too. He just hadn’t been able to resist her offer. And now he was going to pay the price. He could smell her on his clothes, his skin, still craved her. He knew he’d never be able to look at her again without wanting to feel her beneath him, just the way it had been a few hours ago. She’d given herself without reserve—given everything except the one thing keeping them apart.
As he got to his truck, something moved in his peripheral vision and he whipped around to find Joe standing in the shadows.
“Have a good night?” Joe asked, his face contorted in the light thrown off by his lighter as he lit a cigar.
Joe rarely smoked, unless he was drunk. “Don’t start,” Kennedy said. “I’m not in the mood.”
His friend motioned toward the house. “She’s quite a change after Raelynn, isn’t she? Or maybe that’s the attraction, what I’m missing in all of this. You clean-cut, successful guys occasionally like to go slumming. You want to take a walk on the wild side, Kennedy? See what you can get from a whore like Grace?”
Kennedy clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you need to leave—now.”
The end of Joe’s cigar glowed in the dark as he lifted it to his mouth. “Why?” he said, laughing. “It’s my turn, isn’t it? That was how it worked in high school. We passed her around. With a woman like her, there’s no need to be selfish. Maybe when I’m finished with her, I’ll give Buzz a call.”
Kennedy didn’t know he was going to do it until it was too late, until he’d already launched himself at Joe and taken him down. In one part of his brain, he knew Joe was purposely provoking him and told himself to ignore it. But then he slugged Joe right in the face.
Joe had obviously been expecting a reaction, but not one as explosive as he got. “What the hell are you—” He didn’t finish. Blood was pouring from his nose, filling his mouth. He tried to get out from under Kennedy, take a few swings. But his attempt to fight back only gave Kennedy an excuse to really let go. He hit Joe again and again, as if Joe was his worst enemy and not the man who’d once saved his life.
“You son of a bitch,” Joe cried, throwing his own punches. But Kennedy was in too close for Joe to do any harm.
The flash of shock and anger that caused Joe to fight back quickly dissipated. Soon he simply covered his face and hollered for Kennedy to stop.
Kennedy finally allowed Joe to get up, but the moment he stood, Joe took another swing.
Dodging the blow, Kennedy tackled him again, this time slamming his head into the cement of the driveway.
Joe immediately capitulated. “I give. Kennedy, stop! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Let me up.”
Kennedy was breathing hard when he released Joe. Slowly he backed off, ready to defend himself if necessary. But Joe didn’t try anything else. He wiped at the blood on his mouth and chin as they stood there, glaring at each other.
“This isn’t over,” Joe said, spitting blood on the ground. “You wait. Even the Archer name won’t be able to save you now.”
“Why don’t we finish it here?” Kennedy asked.
Grace’s door opened before Joe could respond, and she came hurrying out in a bathrobe. “What’s happening?” she cried. “What’s going on?”
Joe gave her a murderous look. “You are,” he said. Then he slung the blood dripping from his chin at her with his fingers and stomped off.
Kennedy cursed silently as he watched Joe leave. He’d just thrown a match on fresh kindling, and he knew it.
Shaking the pain from his hands, he climbed into his truck.
Grace grabbed the door before he could shut it, but he couldn’t look at her just then.
“Are you okay?” she asked, sounding worried.
“Stay inside and keep the house locked,” he said. Then he pulled his door out of her grasp, backed up and burned rubber as he drove away.
18
The next morning, Kennedy peeked into Teddy’s room to discover that he was already awake and counting the money he’d been keeping in a large plastic ice cream tub.
“How much do you have now?” he asked, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb.
Teddy glanced up. “Almost a hundred and fifty dollars.”
“That’s a lot of money. What are you going to do with it?”
Kennedy knew his youngest child had been saving up, but Teddy wouldn’t say what for.
“There’s something I want to buy.”
“How much does it cost?”
“A lot.”
“Is it a toy?”
Teddy shook his head.
“How much more money do you need?”
“I’m not sure.” Teddy pursed his lips. “Maybe two hundred dollars?”
“Wow, that is a lot.” What could an eight-year-old desire for three hundred and fifty dollars? “If you won’t tell me what you want, how are you going to go and buy it?” he asked.
Teddy contemplated the neat stacks of quarters and piles of dollar bills. “Maybe I’ll ask Grandma to take me.”
“I guess you could do that.” He sauntered into the room. “You’ve certainly been saving for a long time.”
“Ever since Mom died,” he said.
Kennedy sat on the bed. He was self-conscious about his hand, which he’d injured fighting with Joe last night. But Teddy would see it when they had breakfast if he didn’t see it now.
“What happened?” his son asked, spotting his swollen knuckles almost immediately.
Kennedy tried to make a fist, but the pain was too great. He’d iced his hand all night, hoping to alleviate the swelling, but it wasn’t gone down yet. He doubted he’d broken anything. He could move all his fingers. But it hurt like hell and would probably take a few days to heal.
“Dad?” Teddy prompted.
Heath stuck his head in the room, his hair mussed from sleep. “You guys are up already? Wow, look at that,” he said, also zeroing in on Kennedy’s hand. “How’d you get hurt?”
Kennedy wanted to tell them he’d had an accident of some sort, but the way word spread in Stillwater, he knew they’d learn the truth at some point and he didn’t want to be caught in a lie. “I hit Joe.”
“You got in a fight?” they cried.
Kennedy could hear the echo of every lecture he’d given them on solving problems without violence and wondered how far he’d set himself bac
k on that issue. Do as I say, not as I do…. That wasn’t the kind of parent he wanted to be. And it wasn’t the kind he’d been in the past. He still wasn’t sure why he’d attacked Joe last night. It was as if he’d been trying to force a change physically, since he couldn’t affect circumstances in any other way. When he’d made love to Grace, he’d been fighting to erase the past and create a more hopeful future. When he’d hit Joe, he’d been fighting to force him to back off and leave Grace alone.
Unfortunately, he’d only made the situation worse—for everyone.
“Joe was drunk,” he explained. “He said some stupid things, and I lost my temper.” He stretched out his hand so they could get a better look at the results. “I wouldn’t recommend ever doing this. I’m sure I hurt him. And I certainly didn’t do myself any favors, as you can see.”
“Did he hit you first?” Teddy asked.
Kennedy cringed inside. “No.”
Teddy’s eyebrows went up. “Did he hit you back?”
“He tried.”
“But you beat him up, right, Dad?” Heath said proudly, and began to hop around, shadowboxing.
“Fighting doesn’t solve anything,” Kennedy replied. “I’m sure there’ll be more problems resulting from this than would’ve occurred otherwise, and I’ve got only myself to blame.”
Heath stopped his Rocky imitation. “What kind of problems?”
The phone rang, saving Kennedy from venturing a guess.
“I’ll get it,” Heath said and ran down the hall.
Kennedy figured the problems he’d just mentioned were already starting when Heath brought him the cordless phone. “It’s Grandma.”
Wonderful. If Camille was calling him this early, she’d probably heard the news.
Using his good hand, Kennedy held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Is it true?” Camille said without preamble. “Did you really break Joe Vincelli’s nose?”
“I hit him a few times. I don’t know if I broke his nose.”
