Her heart tripped, flooded her with sharp terror mingled with outrage. "What—"
"Jim," he grated, jerking up the sheet. The mattress dipped as he slid his body in next to hers. Before she could move, he hooked one heavy leg over hers, pinning her fast beneath the solid length of him. Though he'd promised to buy pj's first thing tomorrow, tonight he was wearing running shorts—and nothing else. The heat of his skin was like a brand against hers.
"Stop—" Her cry was cut off by the pressure of his mouth over hers. She felt an instant of heat, a fast-and-furious jolt of shock and then an instant's fury as he slid one hard arm beneath her neck.
You bastard! she screamed silently, struggling. And then she heard it, the almost imperceptible whisper of the bedroom door opening. She froze, her gaze searching his in the dim white glow coming through the opening.
Understanding flooded her and she nodded. The steely muscles of his arms relaxed slightly as he lifted his lips from her mouth and rolled to his back.
"Something bothering you, son?" he asked, his voice a good octave deeper than normal.
"There's a noise in the closet," Jimmy said in a small voice that tore at her. She opened her mouth to offer her baby the words of comfort and love she'd saved up for so long, but Grady beat her to it.
"Want me to go with you to check it out?" he asked in the same matter-of-fact tone he'd used to discuss the terms of their divorce. His cop's voice, she realized now.
"I guess," Jimmy muttered, but he edged a little farther into the room, looking anything but eager to face hidden monsters.
"Maybe he should stay here," Ria murmured close to Grady's ear. "Just in case."
"Sure, if he wants to."
Grady squeezed her arm, his rough hand incredibly gentle, before he slipped his arm free and climbed from the bed. Jimmy watched with dark, frightened eyes that tore at her, but he didn't flinch when Grady dropped a hand to his shoulder.
"Do you want to stay here with your mom, son?"
* * *
Stevie darted his gaze from one another, his hands torturing the front of the dorky pajama shirt into a twisted knot. He wanted to stay with the lady, even though he was pretty sure she wasn't his real mom, but pride made him shake his head. Guys who wimped out were jerks. Besides, the big guy … Grady … didn't look like he was afraid of anything. Not even guys with guns or knives.
Stevie thought it would be real neat to be like him.
"Guess you might need help," he mumbled, trying his best to make his voice real deep like Grady's.
Grady offered one of those quick almost-smiles Stevie was coming to like a lot because it made him feel special. "Just between us, son, I can always use help, especially when I'm not sure what's behind a door."
Stevie had to think about that. He wasn't sure what was behind that door, either. Only that he'd jerked awake with his heart going crazy and a scared feeling in his head. He thought maybe he'd been having a bad dream, but he wasn't sure. And then he'd heard the noise. The scared feeling that has started to slip away came back in a rush, and he edged closer to Grady's side.
"Maybe you should bring your gun," he said in the off-hand voice he used when he didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking.
"Let's see what kind of problem we're dealing with first, okay?"
"I think it's the man with the funny voice." Stevie hadn't meant to say that, and he felt his face get hot all the way down his neck.
"What man, sweetheart?" The lady sounded awful scared all of a sudden. He figured he must have said something wrong.
"Jim?"
Stevie liked it when Grady squatted down the way he was doing now. Even when the light was dim like now, he could see his eyes real good. They were all crinkly at the corners, like Mel Gibson's. Like he was about to laugh, even when bad stuff was happening. Except when he looked at his wife, and then he looked the way Stevie felt sometimes when he wanted something real bad, only he knew he was never going to get it no matter how hard he wished.
"He's in this dream I have," he blurted out because he knew Grady wanted him to tell. "The guy with the voice."
"Sounds like you don't like him much."
Stevie shook his head.
"Any particular reason?"
Stevie considered this which made a real bad shivery feeling run all through him. "Don't know." He held his breath, afraid Grady would get all mad and yell the way Lance did when Stevie honked him off.
Only Grady just nodded once, real steady like, before standing up again and holding out his hand. "Ready to face that door, partner?"
Stevie darted a look down the hall that didn't seem nearly as long as it had before. He nodded once, and put his hand in Grady's big one.
"Keep my side warm, Mom," Grady told the lady who looked real funny before she smiled.
"Good luck, gentlemen."
Grady glanced down at him and winked. And just like that, Stevie wasn't scared anymore.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
Ria pounced as soon as Grady stepped over the threshold of her bedroom and into the glow of the light she'd turned on while he'd been gone.
"Is he all right?" she demanded, scrambling to a sitting position against the pillows.
Grady allowed his chest to swell just enough to release some of the emotion pulsing inside him. "You should have seen him, Ree. Shaking like a leaf, eyes big as dinner plates, but damn if he didn't march right over to that damn door and jerk it open."
"With you right behind him," she said with a soft little smile that had his mind shooting off on a dangerous tangent. Ruthlessly he shut off the fantasy before it took hold and ruined what was left of an already lousy night's sleep.
"Sooner or later he would have gotten around to doing it on his own."
She shook her head, and the auburn highlights in her thick sable hair caught light. "No, he needed to know you were there."
With hands that were uncharacteristically nervous, she fussed with the nightshirt, tugging on the hem a few times before primly tucking it around her ankles. In his mind he saw his hand reaching for the buttoned-up front, tearing it back to reveal the creamy breasts and sleek curves beneath, ripe and ready to be explored. Just like that, he was desperate to nuzzle his face against those curvy thighs until the scent of her was inside him, wild and sweet, uniquely Ria.
When he felt himself tip toward begging, he shifted his gaze to her face and kept it there.
"Told him you'd be in to check on him."
The surprise had an instant to take hold in her eyes before she scrambled out of bed, an eager smile on her face and her eyes as bright as emerald stars.
He caught a whiff of roses as she rushed past him, the long gown shifting and rippling like water over the curves of her body. He clamped down hard on the moan pushing at his throat, but nothing could stop the blood from pooling in his groin.
He jerked the sleeping bag from under the bed, then stalked into the bathroom. One twist of his wrist had the shower door sliding open, another had the cold tap on full blast.
She wasn't the only woman on the frigging planet. He'd had signals from plenty of other females, hadn't he? Hell, yes. A single guy under forty with a steady job and a face that didn't stop clocks was fair game in this town.
Flynn sure as hell wasn't pining away for his ex. Far as he could see, his brother had women tripping all over themselves. Maybe he didn't have Flynn's silver tongue or Kale's smarts or the twins' humor, but he could hold his own if he had to.
He jerked his shorts over his hips and let them fall. A savage kick sent them flying against the wall. Temper sizzling and blood pounding, he stepped into the stall, sucking in hard as the icy water hit.
To hell with hanging in. With bleeping patience. With giving her time. He'd just been kidding himself. She'd had time, all right. Plenty of it. Years. Time to build a wall so thick not even his hard head could batter it down.
Maybe he learned slow, but he did learn. About being
a man instead of a lapdog. About honor and integrity and keeping your word once you've given it. And about the judgment calls a man makes when he steps beyond black-and-white and into varying shades of gray.
Sometimes a man had to bend a rule or swallow a chunk of pride for a good cause. But there was a line beyond which he sacrificed his self-respect, a line he'd tested a few times but never crossed. Pining for a woman who didn't want him was on the loser's side of that line.
As soon as things shook out, he damn sure intended to find himself a nice lady to woo. No more running laps when the hunger built up inside like a volcano about to blow. No more middle-of-the-night brooding over mistakes he couldn't take back. No more kicking himself over things he should have said or noticed or done.
By the time he was shivering and the ache in his groin had been numbed to a dull pressure, he'd run through an entire lexicon of curses. Most of all he cursed the stubbornness that welded him to a woman who didn't want him.
* * *
Ria smoothed the pillow slip away from her little boy's tanned cheek, then because she wanted desperately to touch her baby again, let her fingers dance over the rumpled curls. Instead of flinching, he watched her with sensitive brown eyes that tugged at her with the same intensity as his dad's.
"I hear you guys got rid of the mystery noise in the closet."
He shrugged, but the sudden glint of pride in his eyes had her heart turning over. "Weren't nothin' in there but a bunch of dumb clothes. Stinks somethin' awful, too. Even the cat wouldn't go in."
Ria blinked, then laughed. "You must mean the mothballs."
His mouth relaxed enough to curl a little at the corners. "Yeah, that's what Grady said."
Grady, not Daddy? Well, it was a start, she told herself. As for her, so far he hadn't called her anything at all. But he was talking to her now instead of grunting. And there had been that hint of a familiar smile. She would hold that to her heart while she waited for him to trust her.
"Where is Trouble anyway?"
Jimmy frowned, then nudged the bunched covers away from the side of the daybed. Curled into his usual boneless knot, the pampered creature opened one tiger-yellow eye, blinked, then closed it again. As though a switch had suddenly been snapped on, a rumbling purr of contented feline filled the room.
"Grady said Trouble usually sleeps with him … I mean, you guys, you know? Grady's going to teach me how to brush him and feed him and stuff like that."
She nodded, a lump in her throat. "In the house we used to have when you were a baby, I had this perfectly lovely bed for him, with a foam mattress as soft as a cloud, but of course, he preferred a ratty old sweatshirt of your dad's instead."
"Grady said he's real good at waking up if someone comes in."
Ria glanced at the cat who now seemed to be dead to the world. "As watch cat's go, Trouble is the best, no doubt about it," she declared, keeping her expression suitably sober. "I also think he's adopted you."
Pleasure fought with a scared little boy's need to play it cool. Her heart gave a little hop when the pleasure won.
"Guess I wouldn't mind having him around. Long as he don't bug me too much."
Jimmy's lashes fluttered down, then jerked up. Her brave little boy was fighting sleep. Just like he used to when he was curled up in her lap, listening to her read his bedtime story. Her arms really did ache with the need to hold him, she realized, on a rush of emotion so powerful she had to take several breaths before it was contained again.
Just one more, Mommy, he would plead. And then, when that story was finished, he would offer her that twinkling, sloppy smile that never failed to melt her and beg, Last more, Mommy, okay?
The boy who'd been stolen had loved stories, following along with avid interest. The boy who'd returned would rather stare mindlessly at TV for hours on end.
She wanted to do violence, to rage and rant and use her fists—and it terrified her. Needing something to occupy her hands, she reached for the ratty old bear she'd propped next to a stack of Jimmy's favorite books on the floor.
"Poor Pooh feels lonely down there," she murmured, rubbing the spot on the plump belly where the nap had been worn slick. She made her smile easy as she looked for a sign of recognition. Instead, she got a sleepy look of impatience. She tucked the bear into the far corner of the bed frame and folded her hands in her lap.
"You know, Jimbo, I'm not sure I've ever seen your daddy more proud than he is right now. He thinks you're one brave kid."
"Grady's cool," he muttered, his faced reddening.
"Like father, like son."
She leaned forward to brush a kiss over his curls, then gave in to a desperate need and nuzzled her face against his, drawing in the scent of him before she drew back to smile down at him.
He stiffened, but the surly expression refused to take over. Something settled inside her, and she realized that finally, miraculously, a part of her heart was back where it belonged.
"Sleep tight, my darling," she said, her voice thick. "Daddy and I love you very much."
She was practically walking on air when she returned to the bedroom.
Grady had switched off the lamp while she'd been with Jimmy, and the part of her room that was beyond the reach of the night light's dim glow was thick with darkness.
He was lying on his back atop the bright orange sleeping bag on the floor, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, his hands behind his head. His face was expressionless, his mouth set in a grim line.
"Oh, Grady, he let me kiss him good-night!" she exclaimed when he glanced her way. "And I smelled him."
His brows drew together in the jagged furrows that never quite disappeared, even when he grinned.
"You want to run that by me again?" he said, his voice dust dry.
Hugging herself, she did a little pirouette which caused the hated gown to flare around her ankles. He shot her a grumpy look, and she laughed self-consciously.
"It's a mom thing. Nature's way of making sure we can recognize our own baby in the midst of a herd."
One side of his mouth moved. "That is helpful, especially in downtown Lafayette."
She was so happy she actually giggled.
"It wasn't that funny, Ria."
Like Jimmy's, his eyes were half-closed, but even in the limited light, she noted that the expression glinting between the outrageously long golden lashes was anything but drowsy. His heavily padded shoulders, too, radiated tension, and his face was shadowed, his jaw like unyielding granite. His hair was even more tousled than usual, as though plowed repeatedly with angry hands. It was also damp, she realized belatedly.
"I thought you'd already taken a shower," she muttered as she slipped into the sheets that were now cool against her skin.
"Go to sleep, Victoria."
It was then, at that precise moment, that she realized the air in the room pulsed with something infinitely more dangerous than the dark.
"Grady, are you angry about something?"
"If I am, it's my problem."
How could a voice so utterly flattened of all inflection seethe? She pulled the sheet higher and adjusted her pillow before glaring at him.
"Fine, be that way. Shut me out."
His snort was pure masculine disgust. "Seems to me you're the one slamming doors around here."
"Don't be silly," she said crisply while giving her pillow another thump. "You're here, aren't you? In my house. In my bedroom, for Pete's sake."
"Wrecking my back on the frigging floor."
"That has nothing to do with doors!"
"Yeah, right." His deep voice dripped sarcasm. Ria hated sarcasm, and he knew it. She frowned, then realized the high collar of the gown was constricting her throat. Stupid thing, she thought, freeing the top two buttons.
"Grady, I don't want—"
"Exactly!" The word was a bullet, hard and deadly. "You don't want me in your bed. You don't want me to love you. Okay. Fine. Your call, your choice." He drew up one leg, then shot her a look that seemed
designed to strip the flesh from her bones. "If there's something else you want, tell me now because I'd like to get some sleep."
"Nothing more, thank you," she said with great dignity—and civility.
"You're welcome. Now, can we get some sleep?"
"Yes—provided you stop dumping your bad mood on my head."
"Don't push it, Ria."
His voice was deadly quiet. No reason at all to think he was hurt. And yet she was sure it was hurt she heard. Desperate aching hurt.
Shaken, she sneaked a peek in his direction. Though his eyes were open, he didn't notice because he was staring at the ceiling. So she let her gaze linger on that unyielding profile.
His was a face with hard planes, aggressive angles and a wide, beautifully shaped mouth that had once skimmed hers with the delicacy of a butterfly's wing. She felt a heat that had nothing to do with the weather steal over her until her skin was overheated and itchy.
She was also, she realized in a sudden burst of total honesty, deeply shaken. In all the years they'd had together, the good ones and especially the silent, edgy ones, she'd never thought of Grady as vulnerable.
Not in the way that she was vulnerable, needing reassurance and the security of a love that didn't crack under strain. Needing the freedom to falter and fail and make mistakes without being judged—and rejected.
She'd been wrong. Terribly wrong.
The sudden lump in her throat made it difficult to breathe.
"Excuse me," she muttered, scooting out of bed again. She was out of the room and down the hall before she heard the ripe curse of a man pushed to the limit.
* * *
Still flat on his back Grady plowed both hands through his hair, then let his fingers trail down his cheeks.
She wasn't crying, damn it! Ria never cried.
Well, not often, he corrected when the memory of the last time, she'd broken down reared up to clip him a good one, right in the conscience. He closed his eyes, battled the need to check on her.
His ex-wife had told him that she didn't need him pushing himself into her problems. Into her life. The woman ran a nonprofit business with the skill of a Fortune 500 CEO. Last year she'd been Lafayette's Woman of the Year. No reason to think she couldn't handle this. Except he wasn't exactly sure what this was.
ONCE MORE A FAMILY Page 13
