"You might want to take a look at the door," he said to the sheriff. Without waiting to see if the other man followed him, he headed toward the door.
The marks he'd noticed on the door in the moment before he'd kissed Becca were still there. Raw and fresh, they radiated out from the lock like a spiderweb. Becca gasped when she saw them.
"Those marks weren't there this morning," she said.
McAllister glanced up at her. "You sure?"
"Positive. We would have noticed them. It looks like someone was trying to break the lock."
That was exactly what it looked like, and Grady saw that the sheriff thought so, too. After another look, he stepped away and spoke quietly into his radio. Then he turned to Becca.
"I'm getting our deputy that handles evidence over here. He'll try to lift some fingerprints. We'll look around for any other evidence, but chances are slim." The sheriff gave Becca a look filled with regret. "Since he didn't actually get into the clinic, he probably didn't leave much behind for us to find."
"Thanks, Sheriff." Grady saw Becca glance surreptitiously at her watch. "Do you have any idea how long it'll take?"
"Could be a couple of hours, maybe longer if he finds anything."
Grady grasped Becca's elbow and drew her away from the sheriff. Her skin was warm and smooth beneath his hand, but he did his best to ignore the longing that swept through him. Once they were alone, he dropped her arm like he'd been burned. Two mistakes in one day were more than enough.
"Why are you so worried about the time?" he asked.
She drew a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. It made her curls spring away from her head, and he imagined her hair would look like that when she got out of bed in the morning. Gritting his teeth, he resisted the desire that threatened to crash down on him again.
"My baby-sitter expected me back a while ago," she finally admitted. "She has to go to school tomorrow. It's not fair to expect her to stay up and wait for me."
"Is there someone else you can call?"
She chewed on her lip as she thought, and Grady remembered what her mouth had tasted like. It seemed like hours ago, but his body reminded him it had really been only minutes. He needed to get away from Becca, to let his head clear and remember all the reasons he didn't want anything to do with her.
"Do you want me to relieve your baby-sitter?" he asked.
"No!" Panic flashed in her eyes for a moment, and he watched her struggle to control it. "No, Grady, but thank you." The words sounded forced. "If Cassie woke up and found a stranger in the house, she'd be scared."
He nodded at the truth in her words, even as he wondered at the panic behind them. "I hadn't thought of that. Do you want me to stay here, then, while you go home?"
She shook her head, the panic fading from her eyes. "I can't do that. I'm part owner of this clinic, and I'm responsible for what happens here. I'll think of something."
"You can't be in two places at once," he argued, not sure why he was pressing her. He wanted nothing to do with Becca or her problems.
"Believe me, I know that." She closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed her forehead. With a flash of insight Grady realized that her dilemma was nothing new. As a single parent, she had to face these choices all the time.
But thinking about Becca's daughter also reminded him of all she stood for. Stifling the urge to comfort Becca, to reassure her, he stepped back and waited. Finally she raised her head. There was a weary resignation in her face.
"I'll call Amy's mother and explain the situation. She'll probably be able to sit with Cassie until I can get home."
"Why don't you call Cassie's father? Couldn't he stay with her?" He knew it wasn't the time or place to discuss this with Becca, but the subject of her daughter was like a sore, throbbing tooth in his mouth. He couldn't keep himself from probing at it.
Becca's face closed up. "That's not an option." She pushed past him and headed toward the front of the clinic.
A few moments later he heard her voice, murmuring on the telephone. Guilt stirred inside him. She was having a rough night, and he wasn't making it any easier. He went toward the sound of her voice, moving more slowly than he wanted to. Gritting his teeth, he tried to ignore the pain stabbing at his leg as he headed for her office.
She was just walking out the door by the time he reached it. "I'm sorry, Becca," he said. "I was out of line."
She watched him steadily, her eyes impossible to read. He stirred uneasily. In the past he'd been able to read every thought on Becca's mobile, expressive face. Now it was like staring at windows with the curtains tightly drawn.
"I appreciate your help here tonight, Grady." Her voice was cool. "Thank you for stopping. But I don't want to keep you any longer. I'm sure you hadn't planned on spending so much time here tonight."
He listened in amazement. "Are you telling me to get lost?"
"I'm telling you that I can handle it from here, but I'm grateful that you stopped."
"I don't want your gratitude, Becca," he muttered.
"Then what do you want?"
Her question stopped him cold. He wanted her hunger, he thought. Her need. He wanted her to want him the way he wanted her. But that was a lie, because as much as his body might crave her, his mind knew better.
"The hell if I know," he muttered.
Becca's face softened in the dim light, and for a moment he thought he saw the gleam of tears in her eyes. But the next moment they were gone. "Maybe we need to start over, Grady," she said softly. "We were friends once. Maybe we can at least be friends again."
He looked at her, standing only inches away from him, but separated from him by a huge gulf. They had been friends once. "That was a long time ago," he said quietly.
"Yes, it was. But we can't change all that's happened since then. All we can do is go forward. We're both living in the same town, and I'm going to be at your ranch on a regular basis. It'll be much easier for both of us if we can at least be civil and polite."
"Is that your definition of friendship?" he asked, something bleak and cold twisting inside him. "Polite and civil?"
"No, it's not. But it's a place to start."
"What about this?" he asked, reaching out to skim a finger down her face. He felt her tremor of response, and an answering jolt of desire shook him. "Is this part of being friends?"
He cupped his hand against her neck and felt her pulse race, but she didn't move away. "We're both adults, Grady. We're capable of controlling ourselves. I don't jump into bed with every man I'm attracted to."
He pulled his hand away from her neck, refusing to think about how good her skin had felt against his fingers. "I just wanted to get the ground rules straight, buddy."
"Don't make this more difficult than it has to be, Grady. This is a small town, and there's no way we can avoid each other. Surely we can both be adults."
"I've been an adult for a long time," he said, and her eyes softened.
"I know you have. It was one of the things that I loved about you. You did what you had to do and made the most out of it. You lived your life the way you wanted to live it."
"But I lost you. So I guess I didn't do everything right."
Her face closed up again. "We all make mistakes, Grady. As you said a few days ago, I was one of yours. It was a long time ago."
"Becca, I didn't—"
Before he could finish, the sheriff walked around the corner. "We're almost finished here, Doc. We couldn't find any prints, which makes me suspicious. There should have been some from the people who use that door every day. It looks like your prowler wiped down the door."
Grady thought Becca's face paled. "Any ideas who it could be?"
The sheriff shrugged. "My guess is that it was kids. Probably doing it on a dare, especially since they could see you there." His face darkened. "Or maybe looking for drugs. That's supposed to be a big-city problem, but we've got our share. Get better locks, and be sure you have a few loud dogs in your kennel every night. Th
at'll scare off the kids."
"Thanks, Devlin." Becca held out her hand, and the tall man shook it as his face softened.
"I'll have my men patrol by here more frequently for the next couple of weeks. We'll keep an eye on the place. In the meantime make sure all your abusable drugs are locked up."
"We already do that. Thanks again, Dev."
McAllister tipped his hat, then walked out the front door. Grady noticed that he checked it once it was closed to make sure it was locked.
Becca turned and headed for the back of the building. "I'm going to make sure the door is locked and all the lights are off," she said, her words echoing in the now empty building. A few minutes later she walked back into the front, snapping off the lights behind her.
She hesitated, then held out her hand to him. "Thanks again, Grady. I'm very glad you stopped when you did."
Curling his fingers around hers, satisfaction coursed through him when he felt her hand tremble. "It was my pleasure," he said, his voice husky.
Instead of letting her go, he pulled her toward him and brushed his mouth over hers. When he stepped back, he thought she looked disappointed.
Recovering quickly, she grabbed her purse and keys off the counter and headed for the door. Once they were in the small parking lot, she opened the door to her truck and stood behind it. He wondered if it was supposed to protect her from him. "Good night, Grady."
He stopped on his way to his truck. "I'm following you home," he said. "I want to make sure you get inside safely, then I'll walk your baby-sitter home."
"That's very thoughtful of you, but I don't live far. And Amy lives right next door."
He watched her in the moonlight. In the pearly light, her hair looked almost white and her face was pale. But the dark circles under her eyes were clearly visible. "The more you argue with me about it, the longer it's going to take for you to get home. Your baby-sitter is waiting for you, remember?"
Becca opened her mouth to argue with him, but she must have seen the determination on his face because she turned and got into the truck. As he followed her down Cameron's quiet streets, he wondered what he was doing. He'd planned to stay as far away from Becca Johnson as he could. But the first time he saw her truck, late at night, he stopped to find out why.
He was just being neighborly, he told himself. That was all. When you lived in a small town, you were expected to be neighborly. He'd wanted to make sure Becca was all right. There was nothing more to it.
He had no intention of getting involved with Becca Johnson again. Not in this lifetime.
* * *
Chapter 6
«^»
Becca glanced into her rearview mirror one more time. Grady's truck was still behind her, and she leaned back against the seat with resignation. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't leave until he'd made sure she was inside her house and Amy's mother was home safely.
What capricious fate had made him drive by her clinic tonight, just when she was there? And why had he stopped? Shivering again as she thought about the moments of terror when she'd heard the prowler at the back door, she acknowledged that she was very glad Grady had come by when he had.
She tried to ignore what had happened between them in the kennel afterward, but the desire he'd stirred in her was almost impossible to banish completely. It hovered under her skin, making her jumpy and restless. And far too aware of Grady.
When she pulled into the driveway of her small home, he pulled in right behind her. And before she was completely out of her truck, he was standing beside it. As they walked toward her stairs, she noticed that he was limping. It was very slight, so slight that most people wouldn't have noticed, but she knew Grady too well. She was too aware of his body.
"Did you hurt yourself out in the kennel tonight?" she asked as she watched him pull himself up the porch using the handrail.
"No. Why do you ask?" He looked up at her.
"You look like you're limping."
He stopped on the stairs. "It's your imagination." His voice was flat.
She shrugged. "I didn't want to think you'd hurt yourself while you were helping me."
"Don't worry, I'm not going to sue the clinic." His words were sharp, but she thought she heard pain beneath them.
"I didn't think you were, Grady. I was concerned."
"Don't be," he muttered. "There's nothing wrong with me."
She saw his struggle to walk normally, but she didn't say anything. How could she accuse him of keeping secrets from her when she was keeping an enormous secret from him? He was right—it was none of her business. The thought made her sad, but she pushed the feeling away. Grady didn't want her sympathy, or her prying. She wasn't a part of his life.
With her hand on the doorknob, she turned to him. "Do you want to come in while Amy's mom gets ready to go?"
"Thanks, but I'll wait outside. I'll look around a little, make sure no one's been here."
Becca couldn't prevent the wave of relief that crashed over her. It would have been churlish and ungrateful not to invite him in, but she didn't want Grady in her house. There were enough ghosts of him there already. It would have been more than she could bear, to picture him in her living room and feel his presence each time she walked into the house.
"Fine. We'll be right out."
She slipped into the house and let the door close quietly behind her. It was an odd feeling, knowing Cassie's father was on the porch of her house. But she couldn't deal with that feeling right now. She had to send Shelly home and make sure Grady left, too. Then she could think about what had happened tonight.
In a few minutes she was standing on the porch, watching Grady walk her next-door neighbor home. Shelly had been thrilled to meet Grady. By now the whole town knew that Grady Farrell, the rodeo star, had bought the Flying W. Becca knew that within the next few days, everyone in the neighborhood would hear how he'd escorted Becca home from the clinic.
She didn't care, she thought wearily as she leaned against the door. She'd been gossiped about before, and it hadn't destroyed her. And if she started to spend more time with Grady, there would be plenty more for people to gossip about. That's what happened in small towns.
It was the only way she could decide how to tell him about Cassie, she told herself. She had to get to know Grady better, and the only way she was going to do that was spend time with him. She thought about the passion that had flared between them at the clinic, and her hand tightened on the doorknob. That couldn't happen again. She had to keep Cassie and her needs in the front of her mind, not her own reaction to Grady. He might be the only man who'd ever stirred her that way, but that didn't tell her what kind of father he would be. It didn't tell her how he would take the news that he was a father. And that's all she could be interested in right now.
She'd had her chance to make a life with Grady, and she'd ruined it. Now she had to think about Cassie, and only Cassie.
Grady appeared again, heading for the porch. She wanted to run inside and hide from him, but she straightened up instead.
"Thanks for seeing Shelly home," she said.
He looked up at her as he started climbing the stairs, and to her surprise a small smile curved his lips. "That woman is something else," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"If I'd let her, she would have had my whole life story out of me in the time it took to walk her next door. She's good."
Becca surprised herself by smiling back at him. "I should have warned you. Since you bought the Flying W, the whole town has been buzzing about the rodeo star in our midst. Everyone in Cameron follows the rodeo, and they all know you're a world-champion bull rider. I'm sure Shelly was thrilled to meet you."
"Are you going to fill her in on all the details tomorrow?" he asked.
The smile faded from her mouth. "I would never gossip about you, Grady. You should know that."
He watched her steadily. "There's a lot I don't know about you anymore."
"Some things don't c
hange."
"I know," he whispered, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, and Becca felt herself flush at his reminder of what had passed between them. An ember of the desire that had burned so brightly just a little while ago flared up inside her. She longed to lean into his touch, to let his hand warm her. She'd been cold for so long.
Instead, she moved away, breaking the contact. "Thanks again, Grady, for all you did tonight." She hesitated. "I'm not sure what I would have done without you," she finally admitted.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, but he didn't take his eyes off her face. "You would have been fine, Becca. You would have called the sheriff and done what you had to do to protect your business. I saw your strength tonight. You take care of what's important to you."
His eyes softened and his mouth relaxed. She remembered the taste of his mouth all too well, and the touch of his hands seemed to be imprinted on her skin. She swayed toward him, unable to take her eyes off his.
"You've grown up, Becca."
His whispered words glided past her ear and brushed her cheek. But they also reminded her of Cassie, asleep upstairs. She reached for the image of her child as Grady's presence on her moonlight-drenched porch tempted her to forget her responsibilities, forget what she needed to do. He was too close. All she needed to do was reach out and she could touch him. One touch, and he would be kissing her again. And this time she wasn't sure she could summon the will to stop.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, "Good night, Grady," as she fumbled with the door behind her.
He watched her for a moment, then brushed his finger over the corner of her mouth and turned away. As he started down the steps, he turned to her and said, "Sweet dreams, Becca."
She didn't move until his truck disappeared around the corner of her street. Trying to will away the empty feeling, telling herself that she did the smart thing, she listened until she couldn't hear his truck anymore, then went into the house. Making sure all the doors and windows were locked, she finally headed up the stairs to bed.
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