by Kwan, Coleen
“I’m proud of you believing in yourself and going your own way,” Lachlan continued. “That takes a lot of guts. I just hope it won’t be another three years before I see you again.”
Emotion rushed through Jack. He felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you,” he managed to say.
“And another thing. About the way I told you to get back to work after Becky died, that was wrong of me. You see, after your grandma died, and after your mum and dad died, that was how I coped. Work saved me, but I shouldn’t have tried to force the same thing on you. I’m sorry.”
“That…that’s okay, Granddad,” Jack choked out.
Lachlan shuffled to his feet. “Well…that’s all I wanted to say.”
Overwhelmed, Jack stood and put his arms around his grandfather, who hesitated before reciprocating. It was an awkward embrace. They slapped each other on the back, then broke apart with an embarrassed laugh, both pretending there was dust in their eyes.
“You should come and visit me sometime,” Jack said, his voice still gruff. “You’ll enjoy it there.” The thought of Filemu Island was bittersweet. Would he be able to regain the calm he’d once enjoyed there, or would he forever be haunted by memories of Grace?
“I’d like that.” Lachlan scratched his chin and examined his shoes.
They took another minute to straighten their jackets and gather their thoughts. A curious tenderness for his grandfather welled up in Jack. Lachlan had taken him in when his parents had died, and had looked after him as best he could. He’d been curmudgeonly and dour, and in all the years he’d never told Jack he loved him, but what he’d just said was tantamount to the same thing. Somehow it made all their past arguments not so gut-wrenching.
“I’ll go straight in and talk to Grace,” Lachlan said as they approached the ballroom.
“You were wrong about me and Grace having an affair,” Jack blurted out.
His grandfather halted. “You’re not?”
“We like each other but…no. I’m just passing through, and Grace isn’t the type for a casual fling.” He made himself stop, wondering why he was confessing so much to his grandfather.
“Well, it’s a pity. I think you two would make a fine couple.” As Jack’s head jerked up, Lachlan raised his hands. “But I’m not one to give advice on romantic relationships, so I’ll shut up on the subject.”
The door to the ballroom swung open, letting out a blast of noise as several people stepped out, laughing and chatting loudly. Jack followed his grandfather back into the ballroom.
The charity auction was in full swing, and Grace was occupied assisting the emcee and the celebrity auctioneer. Jack sat down with his grandfather, and they both waited for the auction to end. As soon as the last item was sold, Lachlan approached Grace and drew her aside. The band began to play, and people surged onto the dance floor, obscuring Jack’s vision. He started to push his way through the throng. All night he’d caught tantalizing glimpses of Grace’s red-clad figure, and now, after his confrontation with his grandfather, his thirst to be with her became insatiable.
The crowd thinned, and he saw her standing alone. Again his innards jolted at the sight of her. The red dress she wore flowed like water over her body, curving over her rounded breasts, clinging to her trim belly, and cascading past her hips and thighs. Soft amber waves of hair fell around her shoulders, framing her pensive face. Her solemn expression brought him up short. What had happened to that luminous, unforgettable smile of hers? He hadn’t seen it in ages, he realized.
“Has Lachlan spoken with you?” he asked as soon as he was within earshot.
She nodded, looking stunned. “He apologized to me. Can you believe that?” Her expression turned dry. “I suppose you told him to, even though I asked you not to interfere.”
“I can’t stand by if something immoral happens.”
Her expression grew concerned. “I hope you two didn’t argue over me.”
“On the contrary. In fact, we’re much better friends now.”
“I’m so glad.” She drew in a breath. “Lachlan offered me the position of program manager at the foundation. Or, if I didn’t want that, a transfer to whatever position in the company that I’m qualified for.”
“And?”
“I told him I’d think about it.”
He rocked back on his heels and let out a low whistle. “So you’re learning how to play hardball now.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I don’t know about that, but I do need time to think about it.” She picked up a wrap from a nearby chair and drew it around her shoulders. “Thank you, Jack, for everything you’ve done. I’m glad you’ve made peace with your grandfather, and—and I wish you all of the best in the future.”
He froze. “You sound like you’re saying good-bye.”
“I am. My work here tonight is done, and it’s been a long day. I know your flight leaves tomorrow morning, so I won’t see you again.” She stopped, swallowed, and continued, “Say hello to Mary and Tupua for me, will you? I won’t ever forget them.”
Alarm prickled down his spine before he got himself under control. “You’re not leaving without one dance with me.”
She blinked at him. Memories of their last dance together rushed through his mind—the croon of Tupua’s love song, the balm of the night, the softness of Grace’s body cradled in his arms. Need stung him into action. Before she could protest, he drew her into his arms and swung her onto the dance floor.
The band was playing an up-tempo number, but Jack ignored the rhythm and kept Grace in his arms, swaying slowly through the jostling dancers.
“Remember the last time we danced?” he said.
He felt a shiver run through her. Every nerve ending in him was acutely attuned to her, sensing her slightest movement, the smallest breath she took. Her body was warm and supple in his arms, and each time her breasts rubbed against his chest, a rocket of desire shot through him. The perfume of her hair drifted around him, the closeness of her lips lured him. He knew their proximity was affecting her just as much. He could feel it in the tremble of her fingers clasping his, in the unsteady puffs escaping her parted lips, in the liquid depths of her eyes.
“I remember.” Her voice wavered.
He banded his arm tighter around her waist, splaying his fingers across her hip. The seductive fragrance from her cleavage sent his blood pressure soaring. Slowly he massaged her hip, drawing circles in the thin red chiffon. She shivered and gulped.
One more night with Grace. God, what wouldn’t he give for that? But one night wouldn’t be enough. He wanted more, much more than that.
Crazy possibilities swirled through his head. Maybe he could persuade her to help him set up his nonprofit venture. Maybe she’d like to come with him and move from one country to another, one island to another. As soon as he thought that, he quashed the idea. Grace didn’t want the life of a gypsy. She needed stability, permanence, a place she could call home, and a man who would share all that with her.
But nothing could douse the fire in him. He brushed his lips against her temples, feathering baby kisses over her smooth skin. She let out a tiny moan, as if she was losing control, but before he could further his advantage, she pulled back, leaving an inch of air between their bodies that felt like an arctic blast.
“I’m so glad you and your grandfather have made up,” she said in a rush, her voice overbright and breathy.
He sighed. He didn’t want to talk about his grandfather. “Yes. He even said he was proud of me, even though I’ve convinced him I’m not rejoining Macintyre’s.”
She tilted her head to one side. “So you’re adamant about that, are you?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve never had the slightest temptation.”
Oh yeah? A dissenting voice piped up inside him. He swatted it aside. Okay, so he’d enjoyed directing the team on the Malaysian project. He’d been stimulated by the challenge, and his natural leadership skills had welcomed the test. He would relish the cut a
nd thrust of being CEO of a major company, but all of that wasn’t enough to make him change his mind.
“You must miss her a lot.”
He started. “You mean Becky?”
Grace nodded. “You loved her so much, and I can see why. She was so beautiful and sparkly and lively, like a glass of champagne, and she was always friendly to everyone at the office, including me.” She paused. “You won’t come back to Macintyre’s because of her.”
A muscle flickered in his jaw. “That’s right,” he answered automatically. He pondered Grace’s words. Becky had been like champagne, but a man couldn’t survive on bubbles alone. As much as he’d loved his effervescent wife, their union hadn’t been one of equals. She’d required his protection, his company, his attention—all of which he’d gladly given, while his own needs had gone unmet. Needs that Grace could fulfill so perfectly. Grace was warm, loyal, generous, and at the same time she was determined, independent, capable. She was the perfect blend of tenderness and strength. His throat tightened. Shit. He was being disloyal to Becky’s memory. Why the hell did he have to compare the two?
Grace gazed at him, a strange steeliness in her expression. “And me, Jack?”
“You?”
“Yes, me. Will you think of me when you go back to Filemu Island? Or will I fade from your memory as soon as you step onto the plane tomorrow?”
Frowning, he spun her round the dance floor. “What’s brought this on? Has Lachlan been saying something?”
“Nobody’s said anything. I want to know.” She tipped her chin higher. “Are you always going to be content with brief affairs? Or will you one day allow yourself to fall in love again?”
Her words sent shock and guilt stinging through every nerve. A moment ago he’d been thinking about his needs, and now Grace had to bring up love. Was that one of his unsatisfied needs? “You’re being rather personal, don’t you think?” he growled.
Instead of being intimidated, she shrugged her shoulders. “What do I have to lose? After tonight, I won’t see you, probably for a long time, maybe never if I change jobs.”
His gut snarled as conflicting emotions warred in him, and resentment won. “So you thought you’d just have a dig around my feelings? See what you could turn up?”
“Don’t be angry with me, Jack.” Her eyes grew dark and grave. “I’m trying to help you.”
“We’re good in bed, but that doesn’t give you carte blanche with me.” The words shot out before he could consider them.
She stopped dancing and stared at him, her face growing pale. “You don’t have to remind me that what we shared was only sex. I-I always knew that, and I’m fine with it, but in the future, for your own good, you should be looking for more than just sex.”
Shit. Why did she have to make him feel like such a jerk? “Just sex will do for me. I don’t need more.”
“One day you’ll regret—”
“No,” he barked, causing people around them to stare. He didn’t give a damn. “Don’t presume to know what I need, what I’m capable of.” He didn’t know why fury was pounding through him, but he couldn’t seem to control it. “I like just having sex. It’s simple and straightforward and afterward there aren’t any complications. I don’t want anything more.”
She blinked at him, looking stunned and hurt by his outburst. Had Grace somehow fallen in love with him? The possibility filled him with gut-churning panic. He couldn’t handle this, especially when his mind was seething with confusion about Grace. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but he had, judging by her expression. Christ, was she going to fall apart right here?
But instead of bursting into tears like he half feared, she drew herself upright and set her shoulders back. “Sure, Jack,” she said, her voice as steady as her gaze. “I understand.”
People were staring at them, eavesdropping without shame. Grace didn’t appear to notice them. She stood there, proud in her floating red frock, and to Jack she’d never seemed more strong and dignified and spirited. He wanted to stretch out and pull her into his arms, but she was beyond his reach.
“Grace…” he began hoarsely.
With a slight bow, Grace stepped back. “I should leave now. Thank you for the dance. Good-bye, Jack.”
He didn’t want her to leave like this. He didn’t want her to leave at all. Ever. But the miasma in his head thickened, muddling all his thoughts and feelings. If she would only stay and dance with him. If he could hold her in his arms, he would be able to make sense of the confusion engulfing him.
He made a grab for her but missed, and she slipped away through the onlookers, her dress a red blur among the black tuxedos. Panic churned in him again, but panic of a different kind. Panic that he’d never get close to her again.
“Grace!” he called out.
But she had already disappeared.
Chapter Ten
He sat on the stone wall and watched the sun rise over the ocean. Before him the graveyard sloped down toward the sea, warmed by the first sunrays. He hadn’t slept all night, but he didn’t feel tired. Instead, he felt as though a heavy load had at last slipped from his shoulders and he could breathe once again.
The long phone call to Becky’s parents had helped. He hadn’t spoken to them in a while, but this time he’d been able to open up to them, and their loving kindness had left him in tears. Finally he could remember Becky the way she deserved, could think of her without stabbing remorse. He’d left Iceland poppies on her memorial stone, orange, pink, and yellow flowers, bright and sunny and cheery, just like she’d been.
Now, as he stood, he felt the rising sun filling him with warmth and hope. Hope tinged with anxiety. He knew what he wanted more than anything else, but did he deserve to succeed?
…
Grace dipped her spoon into her laksa and poked at the bean sprouts. For once the spicy aroma did nothing to perk up her appetite, but she’d had to get away from the office, and she’d found her feet tracing the familiar path to Chang’s. She hadn’t been here in years, but it was exactly the same. The same long queue of devotees, the same jam-packed interior. By a stroke of luck, she’d bagged a small table in the far corner away from the serving counter.
She took a sip of her soup, but the pungent liquid couldn’t dissolve the hard mass wedged in the back of her throat. The lump had been there ever since last night when Jack had confirmed once and for all that she was nothing special to him. Jack might like her, might desire her body, but he reserved his heart for Becky, and that was never going to change.
Good thing he was leaving today.
The elderly man sitting opposite her gulped down the last remains of his laksa and got up to leave. At Chang’s, tables were shared, and during the lunch rush, any chair vacated was instantly snapped up, so Grace didn’t glance up as another figure hovered near her table.
“Is this seat taken?” a familiar male voice spoke above her.
Her heart stopped. Her gaze flew up to clash with Jack’s steady gray eyes.
“Jack?” Her spoon slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the plastic table.
He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat, propping his elbows on the edge of the table. “Penny told me you’d gone out for lunch. It was a lucky guess of mine that I’d find you here.”
She slid her hands beneath the table and squeezed them between her knees in a vain attempt to stop their trembling. “But shouldn’t you be at the airport by now? Your flight leaves in less than an hour.”
“I can always reschedule.” He paused, studying her intently. Today she hadn’t made any effort with her appearance. She’d slipped on an old dress, left her hair loose, and hadn’t bothered with makeup. By contrast, he looked smart and urbane in black trousers and a charcoal shirt, his thick hair brushed back from his tanned face. “You have some laksa on your chin,” he said gently.
Oh, damn. She dabbed at her chin with her napkin. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk with you.”
“Oh.” Her h
eart went into free-fall. What did he mean? Did he just want to chat with her, or did he want something more?
As she licked her lips, she caught him staring at her mouth before he gave himself a shake. “Last night…well, last night wasn’t the right place for a whole number of reasons.”
The bones in her spine cricked as she sat bolt upright. She didn’t want a rehash of last night. “Yes, last night was quite a shemozzle what with your grandfather firing me and then unfiring me.” She laced her hands together on the table. “I spoke to Lachlan today. I told him I’m resigning from Macintyre’s. I leave in two weeks’ time.”
“You’re resigning?” Surprise burst across his face. “But what about the job at the foundation? I thought you’d be perfect for that.”
“Maybe, but I need a complete break.” From Macintyre’s. From any reminder of Jack.
“And you’re resigning without securing another job first? Isn’t that a bit rash?”
“Probably.” She pressed her lips into a self-deprecating smile. “But, you know, I’m tired of always walking on the safe side. I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind a little. I might land another job soon, or I might not. I might not even want to get another job right away. I might want to…to do other things.”
Jack’s eyes were still stretched in amazement. “But what about that apartment you’d set your heart on buying?”
“I’ll have to pass on that.”
Still looking gob-smacked, he leaned back in his chair. “Oh boy.”
“Why exactly are you here, Jack?” She frowned. “Did your grandfather send you to try to sweet-talk me into withdrawing my resignation?” What typical Macintyre high-handedness. “I’m telling you right now it won’t work.”
“No, I haven’t spoken to my granddad today.”
Her curiosity rose. “What have you been doing, then?”
“Why don’t I show you?” He shot to his feet, suddenly filled with purpose, and stretched out a hand toward her. “Grace?”
