He interrupted her by pulling her into his lap and kissing her. Her body relaxed against his and she accepted his kiss, returning it with fervor. One of his hands slid up to hold the back of her spine, the other resting on the small of her back.
She moaned and pulled back, searching his eyes. “It was okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” His heart was so full of love for the woman in his arms that he was sure it would burst. “You know I love you.”
“I’ve suspected as much,” she said with a small laugh. “You aren’t mad that I got your mom? Nate and I went back to get the interview with her. That’s why I was so late the other night.”
He scowled at her, but the expression was only skin deep. “She talks too much.”
“Yeah, and no one knows you better than your mother. I couldn’t resist putting that adorable picture on TV. It’s good to know that if baseball doesn’t work out that you have another career to fall back on.”
“Another career,” he scoffed. “I’m gonna marry a sugar-mama and live off her money.”
Her face fell. “Sugar-mama, huh?”
“You’re beautiful face is on TV, you must be loaded, right?”
She smiled, but looked around her house. “If you can live like this—” She waved a hand around her small living room. “—then I guess I can be your sugar-mama.”
“Good to know.” He nodded, grinning like a fool. “Good to know.”
He eased her off his lap and knelt next to the tree. “Your turn.”
JANE WAS SO RELIEVED THAT HE’D LIKED THE story. She hadn’t had to editorialize even one single word in it. Everything she said—and included—she felt … to the very core of her.
It had taken him a moment to speak after it faded to black. Doubt that he liked it hadn’t occurred to her in that moment. She knew that his emotions were getting the better of him. And that made her love him even more.
The package he handed her was heavy for its size, about the width of a book but not quite that tall. Just like he had, she lifted it to her ear and shook it. And just like he had, she frowned. The roles continued to be reversed as he laughed at her reaction.
She had been excited to give her the DVD and he was obviously thrilled for her to open this particular box. She had to pretend that she hadn’t been digging under the tree. She also had to pretend that she hadn’t already shaken this box and known it didn’t make a sound. She knew that there was another box under the tree—a box that most likely came from a jeweler.
Would she be engaged before the morning was over?
Because this time if he asked, she would most emphatically say yes.
She tore the paper from the box and held a black box in her hands. There was gold writing on it. Her heart skipped a beat. She’d wanted one of these, but had never seemed to find the money to purchase it.
Pretending not to know what it was she looked up at him, hoping that the question reflected in her gaze. It must have because he said, “Open the lid.”
She did. It was beautiful. It was smaller than she’d thought it would be. A Ruger LCP .380. She pulled the tiny gun from its box and put it in the palm of her hand. Jane didn’t have big hands, in fact they were maybe a little smaller than average for a woman, but the thing wasn’t much bigger than her hand.
“I have us signed up for some time at the shooting range tomorrow.”
Bingo!
That was the reason she’d pretended not to know how to shoot. Because he would have to teach her; standing behind her, very closely behind her, and hold her hips in his large hands. She warmed just thinking about it.
“Jane,” he said. “If you’re completely adverse to the idea, I can take it back.”
“No,” she said a little too forcefully and hoped he didn’t catch her eagerness to keep the gun. “It’s probably a good idea for me to have it.”
“Only if you know how to use it,” he said. “Jane, I have enemies. Not big, bad mafia types, but not everyone likes me. And you’re a gorgeous woman in the public eye.”
“Molly has a stalker,” she blurted.
“What?” he said so calmly that the sudden edge of fury in his voice was palpable.
“He’s just some crazy guy who said that he had a vision she would marry him.” She shrugged, playing it off, trying to ease the tension in the air. But the truth was the dude scared the hell out of Molly—and Jane. Not that she was going to tell Grayson that. Every muscle in his body was already coiled and ready to strike out. “She’s got an order of protection. It’s all good.”
“It’s not all good,” he snapped. He sucked in a deep breath and snorted as he blew it out his nose in one big huff. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just worry about you. Does Molly have a gun?”
“No, she doesn’t believe in them.”
Molly wasn’t pretending about that fact either. Molly was a world-peace-would-happen-if-we-all-just-loved-each-other-more kinda girl. Not that Jane was all about the violence, but push her too far, break into her home, hurt the people she loved and she would defend herself. End of discussion.
Grayson shook his head. “Well, I hope that philosophy doesn’t come back to haunt her.”
“Yeah, me too,” Jane agreed with a quiet sigh. A melancholy fog hung in the room and Jane wanted to blow it away. “You got anything else under there for me?”
His eyes narrowed. “You know darn well there is.”
“How’d you know?” she asked, totally surprised.
“My mom is the queen of sneaking peeks at the gifts under the tree. I used to hide her presents in my room because I caught her one year re-wrapping them.” Jane laughed, unsurprised. “I knew then and I knew now … the first time you did it. And the second. And the third.”
“Well, hell.” She thought she’d been so sneaky.
With a sexy grin gracing his lips he held the tiny box out to her. “It’s not what you think.”
“And what exactly do you think I think it is?”
His chuckle was a scoffing one. “Just open it.”
She slid a finger beneath the seam to reveal the white square box, a jeweler’s silver insignia embossed on the top. “It’s not what I think?”
He shook his head, his lips smiling, his eyes sparkling thanks to the white twinkling lights from the tree.
She pulled the lid off and dumped the box upside down to shake the black velvet box out into her hand. “You’re sure it’s not what I think?
Again he shook his head.
The lid opened with a crack and Jane’s eyes widened. It wasn’t what she’d thought. She had half expected—okay, more than half—a diamond perched on a band. This was multiple diamonds set into a silver heart-shaped locket. She tugged gently to release it from the safety of the box, to examine it more carefully.
Slipping a nail in between the two halves it popped open. One side held a picture of her and Grayson that his mother had taken. The other side held an inscription: Jane, I loved you in the past. I love you today. And I will love you every day of our future. ~Grayson
The words blurred as she read them over again. She wiped at her cheek when the first tear escaped. She launched herself off the couch. Grayson caught her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
“It wasn’t what you expected,” he whispered.
“No,” she answered quietly.
“I wasn’t sure you wanted what you expected,” he said honestly.
Her heart clenched at his declaration. “I do. Want it, I mean.”
He grinned and bent his head to kiss her nose. “I’m glad.”
When he didn’t produce another box, she was a tad disappointed. But only a really tiny, niggling tad. He took the locket from her hand and helped her put it on. It rested just above her cleavage. It was small enough that she could wear it every day but large enough to be noticed.
“I have something else for you,” she announced, scrambling out of his lap.
He took the box from her and she bit her lip
in what she hoped was a sexy, come-hither way. He tore into the paper, leaving behind only shreds that could line a hamster cage. The lid flew like a Frisbee across the room, he peeled back the tissue paper, and a low, erotic growl rumbled from his throat. His fingers pinched the straps, lifting it to dangle from them.
The desperate, eager look in his eyes made her giggle. She stood, walked toward the stairs. “I think we have just enough time to try that on.”
He was on his feet and chased her up the stairs and into the bedroom. “It’s not the trying on I’m concerned with, baby.”
19
“HELLO, JANE.” SHERI ALEXANDER OPENED the door and scanned Jane from head to toe, once again not approving of the girl who stood before her.
Jane met the scrutiny with a smile, refusing to feel bad for wearing jeans. Her mother as always had both feet firmly planted on the opposite end of the spectrum, unsurprisingly dressed to the nines complete with heels and pantyhose—not tights (tights were for children). Her long, flowing black skirt fell to mid calf and her red sweater was cashmere. Her earrings were diamonds and her nails were manicured. She refused to believe she was getting older, dying her hair a shade of unnatural platinum that made her skin look green—not that Jane dared offer an opinion like that—and her face was a slightly wrinkled version of Jane’s.
Grayson’s hold tightened on Jane’s hand. Or maybe it was her hand performing the death-grip. Jane took a deep breath and stepped through the threshold.
“Hi, Mom. You remember Grayson.”
Green eyes shifted, narrowed and scrutinized Grayson from dark hair to Skechers brown boots, then finally stared him in the eye. Jane flinched. Grayson didn’t. He met the icy gaze with a strained smile. He stuck out his hand which she took in the very tips of her fingers, her nose wrinkling like she’d picked up a dog turd.
“Yes. I remember,” she said coolly.
“As do I, Ms. Alexander,” he said in a tone only slightly warmer.
Jane wanted to scream. She’d expected this confrontation—she wasn’t naïve enough to call it anything else—and hadn’t imagined it to go well. But the volatile waves sloshing off her mother were worse than she could have anticipated.
And the barely contained animosity in Grayson’s voice made Jane’s insides wriggle. His tense stance made her consider turning around and running before the situation could escalate.
“Janie,” Dad said. “Welcome home.”
Grayson released the hold on her hand to ease an arm around her. He tucked her into his side as his fingers traced lazy circles on the small of her back. Her eyes slid closed and she absorbed the small amount of comfort he could offer her in front of her parents.
“Hi, Dad.”
Paul Alexander wrapped Jane in a hug and squeezed her tight. Then holding her at arm’s length, he looked at her and smiled an approval she never got from her mother.
He was wearing black dress pants, a starched white shirt and a tie that was the exact shade of red as Sheri’s sweater. His hair was thinning and was grayer than the brown that matched Jane’s.
Jane stepped back and took comfort in the strength of Grayson standing next to her. When Grayson’s arm came around her waist again she bit back a sigh and said to her father, “You remember Grayson?”
Paul extended his hand and took a hard hold of Grayson’s, pumping it gently. “Welcome to our home, Grayson.”
Grayson smiled at the older man. “Thank you. I’m glad to be here.”
Jane sighed, smiling as the two began the discussion of Grayson’s career. She felt her mother step up behind her and she tried not to tense. Sheri cleared her throat. When Jane didn’t turn around or say anything, Sheri cleared her throat a little louder. Jane was sure that her mother had meant to be subtle, but the noise turned all three heads.
Sheri smiled tightly, her lips thinning to an unflattering line. “Jane, could you help me in the kitchen?”
Alarm raced through Jane’s bloodstream. Her heart lurched against her ribcage. She was pretty sure that her face registered the terror on her face, verified when her mother’s lips lifted in a victorious grin.
Sheri took Jane’s arm … and Jane became a dead-woman-walking as they crossed the living room. She chanced a panicked look over her shoulder to see Grayson’s smiling face. He dropped his head in a supportive nod before he winked and mouthed the words I love you.
When Jane smiled back, she felt a bit of the anxiety drain from her body.
“I can’t believe you’d bring him here,” Sheri snapped when the kitchen door swung closed.
“Why wouldn’t I bring him here?” Jane asked nonchalantly, surprised that her blood pressure hadn’t risen.
Sheri snorted, picking up the whisk to beat the gravy into submission. “Did you forget what he did to you?”
“I’ve forgiven him.” Jane shrugged.
Sheri stopped beating the gravy to death and turned to face Jane. “Well, I haven’t.”
“This isn’t about you, Mom.”
“This isn’t—? I picked up the pieces of your heart, Jane. I held you while you cried. I did that.”
Actually, her mother told her to stop crying, that Grayson was too good for her anyway. She’d picked up the pieces … only to crush them further.
“It’s my heart, Mom.” The blood vessels in Jane’s temples pulsed.
“Well, I’m not going to do it again. When he breaks your heart, I’m not going to be here to comfort you.”
“I guess I’ve been warned,” Jane said flatly. “What can I do to help?” She hoped beyond hope that the change of subject would detour her mother.
“You can get the butter out of the fridge.” Sheri used the whisk to point. “I’d suggest you don’t have any. You’re looking a little chubby through the cheeks.” Her eyes pointedly dropped to Jane’s midsection. “How much weight have you put on?”
Knife to the heart.
Jane blinked and turned to jerk the fridge open, only to bury her head inside. Fluttering her eyelids held the tears at bay—barely. She was just about to begin the search for the butter when the door whipped out of her hold.
Her mother glared at her. “It’s not that hard.”
The low intonation of male voices came closer and Jane had never been more grateful for a reprieve. Dad came through the door first, holding it until Grayson’s palm finished the job. He was still talking about Xavier’s great season when his eyes sought out hers. There was a second where her hurt feelings floated through the air between them before Grayson crossed the kitchen in three steps and took Jane in his arms.
She gasped when he lowered his head and kissed her. Nothing too sexy, but sexy enough to have make her cheeks flame.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he lifted his head.
Both of her parents’ jaws hung open, their eyes wide as the plates her mother held.
He grinned at them. “Sometimes I just can’t help myself. I just love your daughter so much.”
Dad chuckled softly and nodded, looking more than a little pleased at the idea of her and Grayson together. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Well … isn’t that nice?” her mother snapped.
Dad’s eyes narrowed in an icy glare that was met by Mom’s arctic one.
Jane prepared herself for an argument that would end with dishes being thrown against the wall. Instead, after an uncomfortable couple of seconds, those dishes pushed into Jane’s hands.
Her mother’s voice was cold when she informed the room that, “All of my hard work is going to be ruined if we don’t eat soon.”
And with that the confrontation had been averted. At least for the moment.
They all proceeded into the dining room and Grayson sat down next to Jane. He put a hand on her knee and squeezed lightly. She glanced at him and smiled. In the few minutes Jane spent captive in her mother’s kitchen her emotional thermometer had dropped until all the color was resting in the little ball at the bottom. She’d needed what only his love and support
could offer.
And he gave it to her.
Dinner progressed with minimal backhanded compliments. Jane helped her mother clear the table—as did Grayson, which was unheard of in the Alexander home. Women cooked and cleaned up the dishes while the men vegged out in front of the TV. Sheri tried to shoo Grayson away—no doubt annoyed by his presence—but he wouldn’t leave. He stayed close on Jane’s hip.
They were alone for a second in the dining room and Grayson tugged her into a hug.
“You okay?” he whispered in her ear.
“Yeah.” She leaned against his chest and breathed in the masculine woodsy scent of her man. “Thanks to you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, ya know?” he said. “And I’m not going to break your heart.”
“You heard her?” she asked in a breathless whisper, completely mortified.
His chin rubbed over the top of her head as he nodded. “I can’t promise that I won’t piss you off. And I probably can’t promise that I won’t ever hurt you. But I can promise that it won’t be on purpose. I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too.” She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist and held on. Throughout the day she’d felt like a tiny canoe being tossed on the swells of an angry ocean. Grayson was her anchor. He kept her boat from sinking.
“Your dad pulled me aside and gave me permission.”
“Yeah?” she asked, her boat jumping to the top of the highest wave.
“Know that you’ll be my wife. I’m not going to tell you when or how that question will be asked formally, but plan on spending the rest of your life with me.”
Jane’s heart soared.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
The question, asked by her mother, caused the sweet happiness of the moment to flee like light being doused into shadow with the flick of a switch.
Grayson turned with his arm around Jane’s waist. His hip was in front of her, protecting her. His fingers fisted and released at her side. She could actually hear the grinding of his teeth. He took an audible breath, held it and blew it out—loudly.
In It to Win It Page 20
