“Well, I … It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just—”
“I can wait,” he assured her. “As long as you know how much I love you.” He laughed again, a loud bark. “I love you, Jane Alexander.”
He picked her up in his arms and spun around, holding her tight. He seemed sincere. Very, very sincere.
In this moment, though, she couldn’t bear to consider a future with Grayson. Because if that future didn’t come to pass, it would obliterate her only hope for happily-ever-after.
And from what she could tell, talk was cheap.
13
GRAYSON WALKED THROUGH THE HOUSE like he owned the place. Because he did. He loved all the perks his reputation brought. Take this house for instance, or the Mustang he drove or the sexy sportscaster that would soon be standing in front of him.
Jogging up the stairs he stopped at the first doorway. A smile spread to his lips when he heard the bathtub turn off. He thought of all that ivory skin, pink from the heat and damp from the water, and got hot himself. Using the palm of his hand he shifted things around beneath the denim at is groin and wasn’t sure he could wait for Jane to be ready before he slaked his need—the first time.
Patience was not his strong suit and by damn he’d been more than patient with her. It was time for her to give him what they both wanted.
Silently he twisted the knob and slipped into her room. Soft splashes sounded from the bathroom and he sauntered through the bedroom. He leaned against the jamb and licked his lips.
Holy hell, she was beautiful.
Bubbles covered her most tempting parts, which made the scene before him even more erotic. One of her long legs was propped up on the side of the tub. Her toes painted a pink that was only a shade or two darker than her own skin tone.
He wondered if she’d let him suck them.
JANE TRIED TO TELL HERSELF THAT STAYING in the bathtub, buried to her ears in bubbles, was only to warm up from their ride. She knew she had to talk to Grayson. He’d been brave, confessing his feelings for her, and she was a coward. She needed to find her big-girl panties and be honest with him.
She wasn’t sure she could though. Mostly because she wasn’t exactly sure what her feelings were. She was well aware of how she wanted to feel about him. But there were too many loose ends, too many unanswered questions to commit to him.
When her fingertips and toes began to prune painfully, she unplugged the tub and stepped out onto the plush brown rug. The air in the bathroom was thick with humidity, which was really an accomplishment since she’d left the bedroom door open. Jane wondered if she could simply open her mouth and drink her daily supply of water.
She dried her hair and was just wrapping the towel around her torso when a masculine clearing of the throat brought her head around. Grayson was in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his arms crossed over his chest, and he was leering. His eyes were flat as they roamed over her body. She shivered and it wasn’t because of the cold. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Her smile died on her lips.
“Lookin’ good, Jane,” Grayson said.
GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT, HIS THOUGHTS CONTIN-ued. He planned on devouring every delicious inch of her—starting with those edible pink toes and working his way up.
She clutched the towel to her chest until her knuckles whitened. It was too late. He’d already seen those perfect boobs. Some doctor had earned every pretty penny. Maybe Grayson would send him a bonus—and a thank you note. The MD hadn’t expected to be doing Grayson Pierce a favor, but that was the way of things, wasn’t it?
His tongue snaked out and licked his lips as he imagined that it was Jane’s soft skin he tasted. He eased up from where he’d been leaning against the jamb and cracked his knuckles. He smiled at her and her frown deepened. Her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head to one side. Her mind had recognized the difference. In that moment, he knew that she knew his secret.
Not that it mattered.
He would take her whether she wanted it or not.
He was Grayson Pierce and the world—and this exquisite woman—belonged to him.
ALARM BELLS BLARED IN JANE’S HEAD. THIS whole scenario was wrong on so many levels Jane couldn’t begin to name them all. Except that they all centered on the man standing in the doorway. She scanned the room for a weapon. How easy would it be to get the towel rack off the wall?
He stepped toward her and she stepped back, bringing her against the counter. His grin was victorious as he moved closer. Closer. And even closer.
She could feel the heat of him. He smelled like sweat and liquor and lust. A dangerous combination. A combination that was so not Grayson Pierce. When he invaded her personal space, Jane put her hand on his chest, pushing him away, and was startled by the rate of his heart. There was no increase, no violent pounding. Just a slow and steady thumping that meant he was in total control of his emotions.
“You need to leave,” she informed him.
He laughed, a low, mocking bark. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Everything in this house belongs to me—including you.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, surprised at how calm she sounded.
“But it does.” He ran a fingertip over her cheek. “How would feel about getting my name put on your back permanently. I don’t like the idea that you can take off my jersey when you feel like it.”
“Get out!” she screamed.
“No.” His expression was tranquil as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His eyes were flat and emotionless as his hand moved down, quick as a shot, and roughly dragging her towel away from her body. He licked his lips … and that was when Jane verified what she’d already known. No scar.
Considering that she was standing naked as the day she was born, her voice was surprisingly calm as she said, “You’re not Grayson.”
That made him stop short. He actually stepped away from her and grinned, rubbing his goatee. “Sure I am.”
He was certainly close. But close only counted in horseshoes and hand-grenades. “No. You’re not.”
His dark eyes narrowed, sparking with animosity. “What is it about Grayson that makes you think I’m not him?”
“You. Are. Not. Him!” she screamed as he reached for her. She jumped back, crashing into the wall behind her. The towel was on the floor at her feet, but reaching for it would make her vulnerable. Taking her eyes off of Grayson—or whoever the hell he was wasn’t an option. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
He advanced, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, I’ll do more than simply touch you.”
“Derek!” a voice growled, low, serious, dangerous. “Back away!”
And then he appeared—the softer, truer version of Grayson Pierce. The real Grayson Pierce.
She blinked, her eyes darting from one Grayson to the other. Her heart would know him any-where, even as her mind tried to piece together the double-vision.
Derek’s eyes raked over her body in a way that made her feel dirty. She reached down and yanked the towel from the floor, clutching it to herself. A thousand questions whirled through her head, but now was not the time to ask them. Because A; she wasn’t sure she could find her voice, and B; she didn’t want to miss anything by interrupting the confrontation.
“You need to leave, Derek,” Grayson spat. His hands were in fists at his sides and the muscles in his jaw jumped violently. “You need to get the hell out of my house. Now!” he roared, grabbing the front of Derek’s shirt and yanking him into the bedroom.
“We had a deal.” Derek held up his hands, and used a tone that suggested Grayson was the volatile one.
Maybe he was, Jane thought as Grayson’s hands uncurled, only to once again form fists.
“Yes, we had a deal. It’s done. Over. I don’t want you living my life anymore. I’m gonna live my life, my way from now on.”
“Hey, I didn’t realize she was off limits,” Derek said with a shrug. “I guess I’ve gotten used to the whole what’s-mine-is-yours way of t
hings. Sorry man, I meant no disrespect.” He looked at Jane where she stood in the doorway to the bathroom. “Unless … do you think you could handle both of us?”
Grayson’s fist met Derek’s jaw with a satisfying crack. Derek stumbled back and crashed into the banister, cursing up a blue streak. “Dude! What the—?”
His profane question was cut off as his foot slipped on the top step and he tumbled and thumped his way down the stairs.
Grayson turned to her, his face a whirlwind of emotions. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. Truthfully, she wasn’t. Not completely at any rate. She wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened.
“I’ll be back,” he told her. “There’s a lot that I need to tell you.”
“Obviously,” she muttered as he left her standing in nothing but a towel.
She ran over to the window and eased the curtains aside just enough to see the front yard. A silver Mustang she didn’t recognize was parked next to her Mazda. The two Grayson’s came into view and she saw as the one dressed in flannel threw the one dressed in silk against the hood of the Mustang. She couldn’t hear what they said, and her first thought was that it was too damned cold to open the window.
“Oh, screw it.” All she needed was a crack to hear the raised masculine voices.
“The whole world already thinks I’m you, I could kill you and take over your life permanently.”
“Over my dead body,” Jane announced to the silence around her. She wrapped the towel around her body again and headed for the stairs. She barely registered running down the stairs and wrapping her hand around the shotgun that had been propped next to the door.
But there she stood, on the porch, clad in only a towel, holding a shotgun.
Annie Oakley had nothing on Jane Alexander.
It wasn’t the first time she’d held a gun—she was actually a pretty good shot—and filling Derek’s butt with buckshot wouldn’t be the first time she’d put lead into flesh. After all, opening day of the deer hunt meant a day off of school.
The two men were rolling around on the ground, exchanging powerful, cracking punches. Derek stood and bent his leg at the knee. He was going to kick Grayson, she knew it. She would have allowed the fight to continue, if it’d been fair. Derek obviously didn’t know the meaning of the word.
The click-click of the gun froze the scene before her.
Derek took a step toward her, hands held up. “Come on, honey…”
“Don’t honey me, asshole! I heard you threaten to kill the man I love and I will not allow that to happen. Get the hell out of here before I decide to give you a new career as a sieve!”
Grayson stood. He was breathing heavy and holding his abs but looked no worse for the wear. With narrowed eyes and clenched teeth, he threw a set of keys at Derek. “Consider this your final payment. Stop dying your hair, shave your face and go back to your old pathetic life. If I so much as catch wind of you infringing on mine, I will put your ass in jail.”
Derek sputtered something, but in the end had no retort. He cursed vilely. “You haven’t seen the last of me.”
“Yeah. I have. Now get out of here.”
With flying middle fingers, Derek got into the car and, sending mud flying, he made his exit. Grayson hooked an arm around her waist and, pulling her close, kissed her hard on the mouth.
“I need to make sure he leaves. Give me a minute and then we’ll talk, okay?”
She nodded, feeling a little detached and kind of cold. The adrenaline had worn off and she had the fleeting thought that it was all too bizarre to be real.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, kissing the tip of her nose.
“I’m okay.” She sounded robotic.
“We’ll talk … then you will be.” He turned toward his Jeep but stopped. “One more thing. I need you to do me a favor—” She nodded again. “Have clothes on when I get back or I won’t be able to think—about anything else but … yeah, be dressed.”
She grinned like a fool as he jumped into his Jeep and tore off after his look-alike. Remembering the events of the last few minutes confused Jane. Her mind spun out of control. She’d witnessed the entire disconcerting episode but couldn’t quite believe what she’d seen. For a split second when she’d seen Grayson—or Derek, she guessed—standing in the doorway, her heart had fluttered with anticipation. Then her heart had fallen to her toes and lurched to a halt. Her subconscious had known it wasn’t Grayson. It’d taken a few seconds for her brain to catch up. Even now, she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what gave him away.
Which brought her thoughts full circle—what the heck?
There were two Grayson’s. Obviously. But why?
It didn’t make sense.
As she dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, Jane wondered if anything Grayson could say would explain away what she’d just witnessed. Hell, she’d been willing to commit murder to keep Grayson safe.
She brushed out her hair and pulled it into a sloppy ponytail. She didn’t apply make-up. What was the point? She was who she was, and if Grayson truly loved her, like he said, then he’d better get used to seeing her au naturel.
He was in the kitchen when she came down the stairs. He turned around and stopped, just watching her. The look on his face was contrite and worried and a hundred other emotions all warring for dominance.
“Where should we do this?” His voice was short and he held up his hands. “Rewind. Let me try that again. I don’t want you to be on the defensive at all. I want you to be completely comfortable.” He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, then opened his eyes again and attempted a smile. “Where would you like to do this?”
She smiled a little. “Where would you be most comfortable?”
He took her by the hand and walked into the living room, rearranging the chairs by pulling hers to a stop directly in front of his. She sat in what had become her chair and he sat in his, her knees inside his. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “What do you want to know first?”
She didn’t pause for a second before blurting, “Who the hell is he?”
“His name is Derek Reese. That doesn’t tell you anything, so I’ll start with the why.” He didn’t wait, just plowed on. “I wanted to play ball. I didn’t want to be followed around by the paparazzi. Not that they really cared about Grayson Pierce. I was a nobody. It seemed that the media was annoyed by my squeaky-clean persona. My agent said that I needed to get drunk. I don’t drink. Never have.”
She knew that was true. It’d been a huge selling point for every mother in the county. As if Grayson just being Grayson wasn’t enough.
“I was told that I needed to date anything in a skirt. To womanize and get myself on the cover of the tabloids with a popular woman.” He laughed and shook his head. “It wasn’t until our picture showed up that I—me, Grayson Pierce—did what they wanted. And then I was mortified. I was worried for you.” His long, blunt-tipped fingers shook as they plowed through his hair. “I don’t want you in my life because of the image our relationship will give the world.
“Janie, my heart has been yours for as long as I can remember. I will do everything within my power to protect you and your reputation.”
“That’s all fine and good, Grayson, but you forget … I’ve known you for too long. I know what the name Pierce means to you. You wouldn’t just let some loser smear it to get your name on the latest and greatest shoe.”
“You’re absolutely right.” He smiled and lifted her hands to kiss her fingers. “I told them no way. I insisted that I would do things my way. It worked out just fine. For a while. Until the paparazzi figured out where I grew up. Until they swarmed Salina like locusts.”
“Where are the seagulls when you need them?” They both laughed, remembering the story from their Utah History class; Pioneers planted crops. Locusts swarmed and ate the crops that meant the people would starve. They prayed and seagulls came and ate the disgusting bugs.
“No kidding. I
don’t like being the center of attention but was happy to be thrust in the spotlight if it meant I could do what I love.” His face grew weary. “When they camped out on my mother’s front lawn, they’d gone too far.”
Damn her, but that explanation made perfect sense. Grayson would do anything for his mother, including being a total ass in front of the world. And that knowledge made her fall even harder for him.
Her brows narrowed, as did her eyes. “Why… if you’ve really loved me since high school, then why…” Her throat tightened. “Why didn’t you track me down before?”
He took a deep breath, gathering her hands in his. “Janie, you broke my heart.”
Her heart lurched and tears stung her eyes.
“There now.” He rubbed a thumb on her cheek. “I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. I’m just being honest.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “For a few years, I avoided you because of my ego and I was afraid…” His voice cracked. “I was afraid you’d shoot me down. When I saw you in the locker room—”
He tugged her forward and his lips met hers. His kiss was passionate; hard and gentle. His tongue licked over the seam of her lips and thrust into her mouth. Her arms flew around his neck and held on tight. She met him kiss for kiss, devouring every bit of his passion. Hard fingers plowed through her hair, biting into her scalp. She moaned into his mouth and tried to keep some semblance of sanity.
She had to stop this now or she’d have to ask the rest of her questions naked. “Wait,” she panted.
He stopped abruptly. His breath sawed from his lungs, hitting her face in warm minty puffs. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, for hell’s sake … don’t be sorry!” She laughed and pressed a quick chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m just not done talking yet.”
They sat there, breathing heavy and staring at each other. Finally she asked, “Tell me about when you saw me in the locker room.”
His eyes twinkled, his hands tightened on hers. “When I saw you, I wanted to grab a hold of you and never let go. That’s why I had to come and see you that night. And when you opened the door—” He laughed and brought her knuckles to his lips. “—I couldn’t help myself. I had to hold you.”
In It to Win It Page 14
