Jane though couldn’t get over what had happened. He’d literally rearranged furniture so that they could sit closer. And yet it still wasn’t close enough for her.
They watched KHB’s ten o’clock newscast. After the weather, he yawned. “Is it okay if I turn it off?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m kinda tired.”
“What do you want to do tomorrow? I know you haven’t been home in a while. Is there anything special you want to do? Anything you want to see … from the ground, I mean?”
His question surprised her. She didn’t have any idea what she wanted to do. She’d assumed that Grayson had their entire time together planned out. Obviously not.
“Um … I don’t know. Can I get back to you in the morning?”
“Sure thing.” He stood and offered his hand. She took it, and hand in hand they went up the stairs. He paused outside her door. There was not enough oxygen on the planet as he stared down at her. Only their hands touched, but she felt the heat from that minimal contact through her entire body.
“Good night, Jane. Sleep well.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed the top of hers. He heaved a sigh and dropped her hand. “I have to stop there or I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”
And with that, he turned and went in the door down the hall.
11
JANE WASN’T SURE WHAT TO THINK OF GRAY-son’s final comment before he left her standing alone outside her bedroom door. Confused—and totally aroused—she went inside and closed the door behind her. Dousing the lights, she climbed into bed and stared at the dark ceiling.
She was all too aware that only a few feet down the hall Grayson was attempting to sleep as well. Or maybe he drifted off as soon as his head hit the pillow. She doubted it though.
There was no denying the chemistry between them. His statements were blatant and obvious, even if she was too chicken to believe them.
He wanted her.
Jane just wasn’t sure for what.
When they were alone, he said all the right things. Did all the right things. But when she wasn’t looking, when she wasn’t expecting it—and they had an audience—Grayson turned into a man she didn’t know. A man she didn’t want to know.
She wanted to trust him. Heck, she wanted to do way more than just trust him. She wanted to leave her bed, walk down the hall and climb into his. And do a whole lot of not sleeping.
Was that the thing that would cause the change in him again? She had heard of more than one man who was charming right up until the ‘I do’s’. Was Grayson not very good at maintaining the good guy façade, letting it slip?
No, she decided. Grayson was a good guy. Wasn’t he? Was there a trigger for his bi-polar act? She shook her head. As far as she could tell there was no real trigger that brought it on.
Thoughts tumbled in her mind until at some point her eyes closed and she drifted into dreamland.
SHE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING WITH THE sheets wrapped around her legs and most of the pillows lying on the floor.
She hadn’t slept peacefully last night.
As if the sheer force of wills it took to keep her eyes open wasn’t a good enough indication. She stretched and tried further to convince the rest of her body that it was time to wake up.
She had no idea what to put on the itinerary for today. What would they do? What did she want to see?
The questions had just crossed her mind when she knew exactly where she wanted to go. She hurried to get showered and once again dressed in jeans—she liked her jeans—and a white, long-sleeved t-shirt.
The scents of bacon and eggs made her mouth water as soon as she’d opened her bedroom door. She hurried down the stairs, hearing the pop and sizzle as the food cooked. She paused in the doorway that led into the kitchen and admired the view.
Grayson stood at the counter, his back to her. His butt filled out the jeans he wore. Apron strings hung down from his waist, tied in a sloppy bow.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
He turned and she burst out laughing at the big red lips with the phrase ‘kiss the cook’ written in white across the black apron. His gaze dropped to the object of her amusement and a smile spread to his lips.
“Instead of laughing, why don’t you do what it says?”
By the cocky gleam in his eyes, he thought he was extending a challenge she wouldn’t take. He was wrong. She walked right up to him and, with a hand on each cheek; she kissed him full on the lips. What she didn’t expect was for him to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips. He tasted of mint and desire.
She wanted to lose herself in the kiss but, as Grayson last night, she couldn’t start something she couldn’t finish. Grudgingly she pulled away from the kiss and gave him a quick, chaste one to soothe any hurt feelings. Before he could comment on her retreat, she said, “How can I help?”
He motioned toward the fridge. “Can you grab the orange juice and the butter, please? And the bread from the pantry?”
She did as he asked then she went about the task of making toast. Grayson’s kitchen was awesome; it was well lit and modern and useful. Jane’s own kitchen was tiny. It worked, since she usually only cooked for one—and the oven was only used to bake cookies (the frozen ones from the dairy section).
KISSING JANE WAS SOMETHING THAT GRAY- son would never, ever be able to get enough of. He loved having her in his arms and her lips against his. He’d been half teasing when he all but told her to kiss him. Never did he imagine she would. The girl was really good at it, too! Even now his body was still trying to recuperate.
Grateful for the apron that concealed just how much he was affected by their kiss, Grayson put the bacon and eggs on plates and slid onto the stool next to where Jane was seated at the counter. She held out the plate that held the toast and he peeled a piece of the top. It crunched between his teeth, the melted butter oozed onto his tongue and he nearly moaned out loud.
“You like?” she said with a laugh.
“You make good toast.”
“Yeah, I’m a gourmet chef.” She smiled and lifted a forkful of eggs to her mouth.
“No, seriously. Not everybody can make toast.”
She swallowed. “It’s kinda hard to mess up bread and butter.”
“You’d be surprised,” he told her.
They ate in companionable silence. When her plate was empty, Grayson drained his glass and asked, “Do you know what you want to do today?”
She nodded, looking shyly at her plate. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.
“Jane?”
“It’s been years since I’ve been home.” She chewed on her lip and Grayson waited for her to continue.
Minutes ticked by.
Grayson had to bite on his tongue to keep from urging her to say something. Whatever was going on in her head wasn’t ready to make its way through her lips. Hard as it was, he waited. And waited.
She kept her eyes diverted from his when she spoke again, “I’d like to visit … my grandparents.”
A tear slipped from her eye as she blinked. Grayson knew why she was emotional and he knew where her request would take them. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her pain away. It took nearly more self control than he had to keep from doing just that. Or from wiping her tears away.
“Of course.” He squeezed her hand again, thankful that he was able to at least touch that much of her. Then a thought occurred to him. “Would you…? Jane?”
For the first time in many long minutes she looked at him. Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears, making the color even more vivid. She looked so fragile, so very vulnerable that Grayson wanted to protect her—forever.
“Would you rather … go by yourself?” he asked quietly. “I can wait here, if you’d be more comfortable—”
“No. I’d like—” She rubbed her cheek with her napkin. “You asked what we should do today. Me and you. Un
less you don’t want to go.”
He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. She leaned against his shoulder. Her body was stiff against his. He gently rubbed her back and she relaxed into his hold.
“Jane, I would be glad to take you to the cemetery. Which one?”
“Pioneer Cemetery. That’s where Grandpa wanted to be. It’s where his grandfather is buried.” She chuckled a little and wiped at her nose. “I think he was a little nostalgic.”
“Most old people are,” he said, and she smiled. Her eyes flicked up to his and they twinkled with her amusement. “Why don’t we get this all cleaned up and we can get out of here.”
“Sounds good,” she said, getting up and gathering the plates.
WHEN JANE BROKE DOWN SHE’D EXPECTED Grayson to run or make fun of her. Instead he’d been so tender that the tears nearly overwhelmed her. His strength emanated through his hand into hers, supporting her in ways she couldn’t explain. She was grateful for that support—and she would need it again this afternoon.
They stood side by side, doing dishes. There was a fancy schmancy dishwasher, but both of them had decided that doing them by hand would be more fun.
Actually Jane wasn’t sure how much fun the task was. It’d been a chore when she was growing up. But right now, with Grayson doing the rinsing, she enjoyed it—even with the tense unspoken mood swirling around them.
Jane hated the down-in-the-dumps feeling that hung in the air, especially since she’d caused it. She bumped his hip with hers and grinned when he returned the gesture. Pulling his hand from the rinse water, he put it on the back of her neck, soaking her shirt from the inside out.
She squealed and slapped at him with her wet hand, leaving a perfect handprint on the front of his shirt.
“Oh!” he yelled, cupping his hand and dousing her with the warm water.
In a flash she flipped the faucet on and fisted the nozzle. The water rushed out and sprayed in his face. He roared and Jane laughed, waving the water up and down to cover him. He advanced on her, stalking her. She backed up until her back met the counter and she was at the end of her hose. The water was still spewing from the faucet, covering the floor, the counter—and them.
With his arms holding her tightly against him, he turned off the water and kissed the tip of her nose just as a drop of water slid down her cleavage.
She was still giggling when he kissed her again. This time on the lips. Her body reacted immediately to him. She wasn’t alone though, she felt that he was affected as well. He heaved a long sigh and held her away from him. His gaze dropped to her chest and he grinned.
Water and white make a bad combination.
Her bra was clearly visible through the damp fabric, her nipples poking through the lace. She blushed. He smiled even wider. She used her arms to cover up. He handed her a dishcloth and she covered her chest.
“I’d be happy to help you get dried off,” he said through a smirk.
His willingness to help made her stomach flutter. If she didn’t get out of here, she might take him up on his offer. “Thanks, but I think I can handle it myself.”
FOR A SPLIT SECOND, WITH WATER DRIPPING from his nose, Grayson wondered if Jane was going to let him help dry her off. He saw the moment of indecision flash through her eyes, but it had lasted only a second.
As he watched her leave the room and heard her footsteps retreating up the stairs Grayson was finally able to breathe again. The playful side of Jane made her all the more attractive. He would live to make her laugh like that again.
Today’s outing didn’t have much potential of being a laugh-fest.
He hurried up the stairs, his thoughts on the woman behind the door he rushed past. He changed as quickly as he could and was waiting in his recliner when her bare feet padded down the stairs. She held her shoes and socks in her hand, her fingers curled in the heels of her Skechers. Her toes were painted a faint pink that reminded him of sea shells nestled on a white sandy beach.
“Ready?” she asked, plopping down in the chair that had become hers.
“Yep, just waiting on you.” Her perfectly arched brows rose and he smiled. “But I’ve already waited fifteen years, Jane—” Her gasp was almost silent and Grayson didn’t even so much as pause in reaction. “—I can sure as hell wait a few minutes while you put your shoes on.”
She didn’t react other than to bend over and begin tugging the white cotton over her feet. Her shoulders were tense though. When he’d asked her to come, and when she’d surprisingly agreed, Grayson decided that he was going balls-to-the-wall. Jane was the woman for him. He’d known that years ago. He was going to do something about it now.
Grayson Pierce didn’t like to lose.
When it came to Jane he was in it to win it all. To win her.
She stood and brushed invisible dirt from the thighs of her jeans. “Well, you don’t have to wait a moment longer. I’m finally ready.”
Grayson’s brain didn’t register that he’d moved until he was up, out of his chair, and had Jane in his arms. His face was a breath from hers.
“I would wait until the end of time for you, Janie.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. She sighed into his mouth and Grayson’s self-control held on by a thread. He broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers.
Jane stood still as a statue, her arms around his waist, her forehead against his, her eyes closed. He raised a finger and stroked her cheek. Her skin was so soft and he loved that she wore little make-up when it wasn’t needed for work. When she was doing her job, her freckles were barely visible. Now, he could see every one of them.
He was just about to press his lips to those freckles that dusted her nose when her eyes flicked open and she sighed again. This time it sounded frustrated.
“We can’t keep doing that,” she muttered under her breath.
The words were like a dagger through his heart, but he buried the hurt and said, “Sure we can. Let’s go,” he added before she could start a discussion on the pros and cons of their kissing.
As far as he was concerned there were no cons, but was pretty sure Jane didn’t see it that way.
When they were buckled into the Jeep, Grayson started the engine and headed in the direction of Pioneer Cemetery.
THE GATES OVER THE CEMETARY WERE FAM- iliar to Jane. As a kid she’d loved to come with her parents and run through the headstones, finding ones that had names that she recognized. She knew exactly which ones belonged to her people. She knew Grandma Annie was Grandpa Alexander’s mother. She knew the story of how Grandma Annie and Grandpa Caleb had come to the Salina.
The cemetery was a big rectangle with roads that cut it into smaller rectangles. Grayson drove to almost the exact center and stopped. He shifted into park and cut the engine. He didn’t say anything, neither did she. Her throat was tight. Her eyes burned with the need to cry.
She wasn’t sure why she was reacting the way she was. Her grandparents had been dead for years. Some days, though, she missed them so much; her grandpa’s words of wisdom—“Keep the shiny side up, oily side down,” he’d say, waving from the porch while she got in her car—and Grandma’s cooking.
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and she brushed it away quickly, embarrassed. She reached for the door handle and Grayson cleared his throat.
“I’ll just stay here,” he said quietly. She looked at him and he smiled, jerking his head in the direction of the door. “It’s okay, I’ll be right here if you need me.”
His eyes were so kind and understanding another rush of tears pushed at the dam in her tear ducts. She shouldn’t be so emotional. What the hell was wrong with her?
“No, I’d like you to go with me,” she heard herself telling him.
He smiled and opened his door. He was around at her door, helping her out before she could come up with a good explanation as to why she didn’t just agree to leave him in the car.
When his hand curled around hers, swallowing it in the strength of his
grip, she was grateful he was with her. She hadn’t thought this would be as hard as it was turning out to be.
He held tight to her hand as she led him over the frosty crust on the dormant grass. Her feet moved of their own accord, knowing the way. Jane and Grayson walked past headstones that had been in the cemetery since its inception, big ones that were a monument to the person resting beneath it.
When they finally stopped in front of her grandparents’ headstone, Jane was numb. But not from the cold.
She didn’t deal well with death.
Grandpa used to tell her that “there are only two sure things in life; death and taxes.” She was pretty sure Grandpa hadn’t coined the phrase, but knew that it was true. However sure as they were, Jane hated both; death had a way of ruining your day … and taxes, well taxes just sucked!
Grayson squeezed her hand. “You okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She let go of his hand and went down on one knee brushing her gloved fingers over the marble that told the birth, death and marriage dates of the people she loved. A tear slipped down her cheek and hit the marble, making a dark spot.
“Tell me about them,” Grayson said, dropping to his haunches next to her.
“You knew them,” she answered, unable to look at him.
“Not the way you did,” he said.
Jane wanted to protest. When her mouth opened, though, she told him about Grandpa’s theory on marriage. “He used to tell me,” she said then dropped her voice to mimic her grandfathers, “‘You should always remember one thing, Janie, my girl,” he’d say, “you can marry more in five minutes than you can make in a lifetime.”
Grayson chuckled. “I’m loaded, ya know.”
Jane did know and ignored yet another thing that made him perfect. “Grandma just laughed at him and would tell me, ‘That’s true, dear. But instead you should marry for love and live happily-ever-after. That’s what I did.’ Then she would kiss his bald head. They were so in love, even to the end. Did you know that Grandma only outlived him by a few months?”
In It to Win It Page 12
