by Ruth Langan
He drank the last of his coffee and placed his cup in the sink. “I think I’ll head on outside. When you two are ready to quit sparring and get to work, you’ll find me in the shed.”
“I was ready to work.” Grant held his hands out in front of them and shook them to stop the stinging. “Now I’m wondering how I’ll be able to hold on to an ax.”
“Here.” Alex filled a bowl with cereal and milk and added strawberries, as Lem let himself out. “Maybe food will soothe the beast.”
Grant put a hand over hers, and lowered his voice, stopping her in her tracks. “If it’s the beast in me you want to soothe, I have a much better way.”
Before she could stop him his hands were on her shoulders, drawing her close. And his mouth was brushing hers.
He managed, just barely, to keep the kiss light. Even so, he felt a rush of heat that left him shaken to the core.
As for Alex, her head swam, and for the space of several seconds, she tempted herself with the desire to melt into his arms. It was what she wanted. And what she’d been wanting for some time now. Instead she pushed free with a muttered, “So do I. It’s called caffeine.”
She crossed to the counter where she poured two cups of coffee. It was a source of pride that she managed to carry them to the table without spilling a drop, despite the fact that her hands were shaking.
Why did his simple touch do such strange things to her usually calm system?
She sat down, grateful that they had the table between them.
He bent to his breakfast. “What are you and Lem planning for today?”
“He thinks we ought to haul the snowmobiles out of storage and get them ready.”
“He’s still expecting that snowstorm?”
She nodded and nudged aside her cereal.
He glanced over. “What happened to your appetite?”
She shrugged and stepped away from the table. “I’m just not hungry. I’ll eat later.” As she pulled on her parka she looked over at him. “How’re the hands?”
He couldn’t hide his look of surprise as he glanced down at them. “Hey. How about that? The burning’s gone.”
“Any pain at all?”
He rubbed his hands together. “None.”
“Well.” She gave him a dimpled smile. “I’ll expect your apology later, Mr. Malone.”
“You can have it right now, Ms. Sullivan.” He moved with such speed she had no time to react.
He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I’m very grateful to you, my very own Florence Nightingale. And to show you my gratitude…” He dragged her against him and covered her mouth with his.
This time the kiss wasn’t gentle. It was as hot and hungry as the look in those fierce dark eyes.
He’d wanted this. Needed it. And he’d held himself back too long. Now he simply indulged his fantasies as he took them both on a fast, dizzying ride.
She felt the flash, the heat, the need, and without giving a thought to what she was doing, responded to it. Twining her arms around his neck she pressed herself to the length of him and gave herself up to the pleasure. A pleasure that sent flames licking along her spine and nerves prickling at the back of her neck.
He lingered for a moment longer, savoring the sweet, clean taste of her and wanting more. Much more than a touch, a kiss.
When they finally drew apart, his gaze held hers. His voice was rough with need. “You realize, Alex, sooner or later we’re going to have to deal with this.”
“I know.” She touched a hand on his chest and could feel the thundering of his heartbeat. Its erratic rhythm matched her own. She drew her hand back and took a step away.
He caught her hand, holding it a moment longer. “If Lem wasn’t out there waiting for you, we’d deal with it right now.”
She felt a tightening in her throat and knew that it wasn’t fear. The fear of intimacy with him had long ago fled. Now it was something she craved as much as he did. This emotion clogging her throat had another name. Longing. She ached with it.
Reluctantly she turned and walked out the door. And though she didn’t look back, she could feel him watching her. That knowledge excited her. In truth, everything about Grant Malone excited her.
There was no denying what was happening here. The change had been a gradual thing, and certainly not something they’d planned. But there it was. Both of them were hanging on to their control by a thread. And very soon now, that thread was bound to snap.
When it did, she wondered if she’d be able to catch hold of something solid and dependable. Or simply crash and burn.
“Think I’ll fine-tune this engine a bit.” Lem opened the hood of the snowmobile and began tinkering.
Beside him, Alex was pouring gasoline into the tank of a second machine.
When she heard the sound of the ax biting into wood, she glanced across the clearing, where Grant was chopping more logs.
Lem paused in his work to study her. She’d been flushed and breathless when she’d first left the kitchen. Now there was a look on her face he hadn’t seen before. A tenderness that she usually reserved for the wounded wildlife. He’d swear he could almost see her heart there in her eyes. Then he followed her gaze to where Grant stood, arms lifted, muscles straining and was struck by how avidly she was watching every movement.
He hadn’t been imagining it. She’d fallen. And from the look on her face, she’d fallen hard.
He hadn’t intended to tell her what he’d learned about Grant. But now, seeing that look on her face, he figured she had a right to know.
He cleared his throat. “It took awhile. But I remember him now.”
“Him?” Alex replaced the gas cap and glanced over at the old man.
“Grant Malone. Funny.” He shook his head. “The name rang a bell the first time I heard it, but I just couldn’t place it. And then he said something yesterday that got me thinking. Last night, just before I fell asleep, it all came back. Where I’d heard the name. Where I’d seen the face. He’s that New York cop whose picture was in all the papers about six months ago. Caught in a shootout with a gang.”
Alex gave a little gasp of surprise as she stared at him, eyes wide and unblinking. “The one who put himself in the line of fire for his partner? The one the newspapers were calling the Manhattan Hero?”
Lem nodded. “That’s him. He took a couple of bullets before wiping out the entire gang. I remember reading later that his partner didn’t survive. The doctors didn’t expect Grant to make it either. When he was released from the hospital the mayor gave him a fancy dinner and an award.”
Alex set down the gasoline can and slumped onto the seat of the snowmobile. “The Manhattan Hero. What do you think he’s doing here?”
The old man shrugged. “You saw him when he arrived. Looked like one of those soldiers who saw too much combat.”
Alex thought about it a minute before nodding her head. “Post-traumatic stress. Battle fatigue.” She sighed. “No wonder he sees danger behind every tree.” She closed her eyes. “Oh, Lem. Can you imagine how angry he must have felt when I ordered him to lock up his gun?”
The old man laid a hand over hers. “Best thing you could have done. It’s time he realizes this isn’t New York City. Besides, that’s your rule here at Snug Harbor Lodge. And he’s a man who knows how to play by the rules.”
Play by the rules. Alex mulled those words while she watched Lem at work.
“I suppose I ought to let him know what we’ve learned about him.”
“It’s your call. I’ll leave that up to you, Alex.”
Seeing that she was deep in thought, Lem returned his attention to the snowmobile. Minutes later he twisted the key and the engine sprang to life, purring smoothly.
Alex lifted the gas can and began filling the second tank. Then, still lost in thought, she started toward the shed, carrying the half-empty can.
As she walked away, Lem thought about the gentle teasing he’d witnessed between Alex and Grant in the kitchen. Whatev
er private hell Grant Malone had been suffering when he’d first arrived, he seemed to be climbing out nicely, thanks to this simple place and one woman’s gentleness.
The old man smiled to himself. Leave it to old Sully to deliver another wounded critter into his granddaughter’s tender care. Nobody doctored them better.
He shook his head, wondering if Paddy Sullivan had thought about the consequences. He couldn’t have known Alex might lose her heart in the process.
Lem glanced over at Grant, still swinging the ax with a burst of restless energy. He’d always wondered just what kind of man would finally win this special little female’s heart. Now he knew. A tortured hero, who’d been willing to risk his life for another. It was the kind of loyalty Alex would admire and understand.
Though it wasn’t his nature to meddle, Lem felt he owed it to her to see that she wasn’t hurt. With a sigh he walked slowly toward Grant. He settled himself on a fallen log and casually pulled his pipe from his pocket, taking his time filling it with tobacco, holding a match to the bowl, then exhaling a wreath of smoke over his head.
Grant nodded toward the shed. “Does she ever slow down?”
“Not that I’ve noticed.”
“She’s amazing.”
“Yep.” Lem drew on his pipe, then watched the smoke curl up. “Got too much of a tender heart though.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Sometimes it gets her hurt.”
“In what way?”
The old man shrugged. “I remember once, a couple of years ago, she found a fox pup half-drowned in a pond, trapped in a rusted piece of fence wire.”
“Did she manage to save him?”
Lem nodded. “Yeah. She freed him, and treated the festering wound to his leg. And the whole time, he snapped and snarled and struggled to break free.”
“He must have been afraid. And hurting.”
“That he was. When she finally released him, he thanked her by sinking his sharp little teeth into her finger. If you look close, you can still see the scar.”
He tapped out the tobacco and crushed it beneath his boot. Then he stood and looked Grant in the eye. “I’d hate to see her bit by another wounded critter.”
He tucked his pipe in his pocket and walked away.
Behind him, Grant watched in silence. And found himself wondering just what all that was about.
It was dark by the time the last chore was completed. Alex looked around the shed with a sense of satisfaction. Boat engines had been stored away and winterized. The snowmobiles were gassed and tuned and ready to roll. Behind the lodge, there was enough firewood to last through winter, and on into spring.
“Good thing we pushed ahead and didn’t save anything for tomorrow,” Lem remarked as he closed the shed door and latched it behind them.
“Why?”
He glanced toward the moon, shadowed by clouds. “See that haze? Snow’s coming.”
“Tonight?”
He nodded. “Could have ten inches or more by morning.”
She smiled. “How’s your knee?”
“A mite tender. It knows what’s coming.” He started toward his truck. “Guess I won’t be seeing you for a couple of days. Plows might clear the main highways, but they won’t bother with these back roads for a while. Need anything?”
She shook her head. “The lodge is in great shape, Lem, thanks to you. I’ll be fine.”
She stood on the porch and waved as he drove away. Then she turned and let herself inside.
In her room she took off her clothes and stepped into the shower. Half an hour later, dressed in woolen leggings and a knit tunic the color of ripe raspberries, she headed toward the kitchen.
As she passed through the great room she caught sight of a table positioned beside the window. It had been covered with a snowy linen cloth, and set with fine china, crystal and silver, gleaming in the light of flickering candles.
More candles glittered on a mirrored tray on the coffee table. A fresh log had been tossed on the fire, which added to the warmth and light.
Puzzled, Alex made her way to the kitchen. When she stepped inside, Grant turned from the stove. He was wearing fresh denims and a clean flannel shirt, with the sleeves rolled to the elbows.
“You’re early.”
“Early?” She arched a brow.
“I need another minute.”
“What for?”
“The salmon. I’m poaching it in white wine. But that’s all right. While we’re waiting, I’ll pour the champagne.”
She watched in silence while he filled two flutes, then crossed the room and handed one to her.
She looked up into his face, and thought she detected a mysterious glint in his eyes. “What’s the occasion?”
“Do we need a special reason to drink champagne?”
“I suppose not.” She smiled. “But poached salmon?”
He gave a negligent shrug of his shoulders and touched his glass to hers. “We’re reason enough, Alex.”
She felt a shiver clear to her toes. It wasn’t just the words, but the way he spoke them. It occurred to her that there was a whole lot more going on here than dinner. If she didn’t know better, she’d believe he was planning a lovely seduction.
And she was about to spoil everything.
Oh, if only she hadn’t learned the truth about him. But now that she knew, she couldn’t pretend not to.
She sipped the champagne without even tasting it.
Grant hadn’t moved. He continued to stand beside her, his body almost touching hers, looking at her in that intense way that always made her blood heat and her heart tremble.
Because she needed to step away she nodded toward the serving cart, already laden with salads and rolls. “Would you like me to take that to the other room?”
“I’ll take it.” He set aside his champagne and removed the salmon from the oven. When it was covered, and placed on the cart, he nudged open the door and waited until Alex preceded him.
She paused in front of the fireplace. “Why did you set the table by the window?”
“Because you like the snow.”
She looked up and could see a curtain of snowflakes dancing past the windowpane. “How did you know it would be snowing by dinnertime?”
“Lem’s not the only one around who can predict the weather.” He smiled. “I know how to dial the weather channel.”
He waited for her answering smile. Instead she walked to the window and stared at the snow drifting past the window. But there was none of the expected joy in her eyes.
When she turned he held her chair and she took a seat while he served the salads. After only one bite she picked up her champagne and glanced at him across the table.
“Lem remembered where he’d seen you.”
Grant’s smile faded. He lowered his fork and stared at her in silence.
She sipped, then set aside her glass. “Your face was in all the papers. On TV. Lem didn’t make the connection until you said something to him yesterday that started him thinking. You’re the Manhattan Hero.”
He shoved away from the table and turned to stare out the window.
“It’s the reason you came here.” Not a question; a statement. For she realized now that he came here to Snug Harbor Lodge for a very different reason than most of the men. Not as a hunter, but as a seeker of healing solitude.
He gave a curt nod that made her feel like an intruder.
She fell silent, wishing there was something she could say or do to ease his pain. But as long as he continued to shut her out, she was helpless to know what he needed. And so she sat, the food he’d lovingly prepared growing cold, while he stood motionless, staring out at the darkness.
What was he seeing? she wondered. What demons stalked him day and night and caused him to suffer so?
When at last he started to speak, his voice was expressionless. “The shrinks told me all this would fade in time.” He made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sneer. “I doubt there�
��s enough time left in this world.”
“Are you afraid of dying? Is that what this is about?”
He shot her a startled glance. “It’s not dying I fear. In fact, there have been times when I’d have welcomed death.” He shook his head. “No, Alex. It’s not dying. It’s living.” He looked back out the window. “You think you know who I am. Everybody thinks they know me now, from all the publicity. You said so yourself.” His tone was filled with contempt. “The Manhattan Hero.”
“You say that word as though it’s an insult.”
“Not an insult. A fraud. That’s me. The Manhattan Fraud.”
“Are you saying you didn’t really put yourself in the line of fire to save your partner?”
He shrugged. “That part is true. And why wouldn’t I? He’d have done the same for me. Jason McClintock was not only my partner for eight years but also my best friend. I was the one who introduced him to my kid sister, Ellen. I was so happy when they fell in love and got married. After that, my best friend also became my brother-in-law.” He gave a terse laugh. “I used to boast that life just didn’t get much better than that.”
Alex could hear the pain in his words. “I hope you’re not blaming yourself for Jason McClintock’s death. The reports said that you did everything you could to save him. You even risked your own life for his.”
“Yeah. I’m sure that’ll give my sister a lot of comfort in the years to come.” He leaned his hands on the sill and pressed his forehead to the icy pane. “Just two days after we buried her husband, I stood by her while she gave premature birth to her baby. A boy. Jason’s son. The son he’d been wanting from the first moment he knew they were going to have a baby. Poor Ellen. She looked so young and afraid. She became a wife, a mother and a widow all in the space of a single year. And now she’s facing not just life, but new motherhood, alone.”
“She won’t be alone, Grant. She’ll have her family and friends. She’ll have you. You may not think you’re a comfort to her, but you are. She’ll never forget that you risked your own life to try to save her husband’s. And her son will grow up knowing that, as well.”
