ONCE MORE A FAMILY

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  "Your call."

  "I'm not much good so you'd better do it," Jimmy said, before sealing the bet with a quick handshake.

  Grady gave it all he had, splitting the air with a piercing whistle, then held his breath. Right on cue, Trouble came trotting through the door, his tail twitching.

  "How did you do that?" the boy said, clearly in awe.

  Grady wanted to strut. "Patience and bribery." And a long string of empty nights to fill. Training the cat had tested his patience and tired his mind.

  Seeing Grady, the cat paused, then executed a perfect leap onto the pillow next to Jimmy's head. Grady made a mental note to buy a case of those gourmet cat meals.

  * * *

  He came to her naked from the shower, with hunger in his eyes and a hint of a cocky smile on his lean face. He was beautiful corded steel and fluid grace layered with bronzed muscle.

  Ria felt desire flash inside her like the sudden kindling of a flame. Oh, yes, he wanted her, she thought as she watched him walk toward the bed, his body already fully aroused.

  Magnificently aroused.

  It was a woman's pride that ran through her. It was a heady drug, this power she had over him. Watching his eyes turn hot and needy as his gaze ran the length of her body had excitement dancing in her head and her pulse pounding.

  Last night he'd been achingly gentle with her, and though he'd found his own release, she had sensed the restraint in him. Tonight she wanted him wild and out of control.

  "If you're too tired, tell me now," he ordered, his voice raspy.

  She summoned a siren smile and let it bloom. "Not a chance."

  "Thank God," he grated, his eyes a little reckless as he flicked a quick look at the closed door.

  "Already locked," she murmured, feeling smug and daring—and wonderfully wicked.

  "Proud of yourself, aren't you?" His grin was lethal, his movements lightning as he grabbed the sheet she'd pulled to her waist and jerked it free of the bed, sending it whipping across the room.

  She felt a wanton excitement sizzle across her nerve endings, leaving her jittery and impatient. "I love to see a man take charge," she murmured, raking him with her gaze.

  The mattress dipped as he braced himself over her. "How about a man being tormented into a mindless frenzy by a dark-haired temptress?" he all but growled.

  "Mmm," she managed, already linking her arms around his neck. His skin was still warm and dewy from the shower, the scent of soap as intoxicating as the musk of climax.

  "Hang on tight, honey," he warned an instant before his mouth crashed down on hers.

  Her senses exploded, raw heat and brilliant light. Like a roaring wave, pleasure rolled through her, rippling and surging until she was liquid and pliable and hot. His mouth was greedy and clever, his tongue persuasive one moment, demanding the next. His hands were everywhere, sometimes stroking, sometimes kneading.

  "Let go, sweetheart, let it go," he urged, even as she bucked and writhed under the onslaught.

  He suckled her breasts until she was quivering and weak, then slid his mouth lower, tracing a slow line with his tongue to the hollow of her navel.

  She gasped and he looked up at her, amber fire glittering in the heart of his brown eyes. "Tell me what you feel," he demanded.

  Her mind clouded, and she struggled to clear it.

  "Tell me, sweetheart."

  She heard urgency in his tone and more. Something vital she needed to understand. But the blood was pulsing and she hurt. "Grady," she whispered on a moan. "You … I feel you."

  "No other man touches you," he grated, and she whimpered.

  His breathing grew shallow and rapid as his own desire built, yet he took his time moving lower, using his teeth to tug on the curling hair below her belly until her skin was acutely sensitized and shivering.

  "Now," she begged.

  "You're not ready yet." He made her wait until she was boneless and moaning, her hands clutching, then limp.

  She wanted wild; now he gave her gentle, kissing the heated skin of her throat, the damp underside of her breasts, her belly until she was trembling.

  She wanted savage; he gave her sweet, urging her up and up until she quivered, poised and desperate, only to sooth her back from the brink.

  Always he watched her, a waiting, hungry look in his eyes. She tried to touch him, to relieve the pain she saw haunting the deepest part of his eyes, but he drew her hands away from between his legs and pressed them over her head, holding her prisoner.

  "Say it," he demanded harshly, though it seemed a plea. "Tell me what I—" His voice broke and he dropped his head to her breast.

  A shudder ran over him, and she fought to reach past the rampaging need inside her to soothe him.

  "Grady please…"

  He lifted his head and looked at her with savage eyes as he nudged her thighs apart with his knee, then positioned himself and thrust, taking her breath.

  She arched, bucked against the powerful hands holding her. His thighs pressed hers wider as he thrust over and over, driving her higher and higher. She writhed, she gasped, and then she was cresting.

  He caught her keening cry with his mouth, muffling the sound so that their son wouldn't hear. She felt his body convulse, his muscles rigid with steely resistance, his breathing wild.

  With one last convulsion of muscle and nerve, he was pouring himself into her. She felt the slick heat, the tremors of aftershock, the weight of his spent body as he rested atop her long enough for breath to return.

  Pressed against the mattress, she felt replete and quite thoroughly loved. She lifted a weak hand to smooth the rumpled hair away from his wet forehead. He murmured her name on a sigh, then drew his brows together.

  "Need to move," he said thickly. "Too heavy."

  "No," she whispered, pressing a kiss against the furrows of his frown. "Stay in me."

  Groaning, he hooked his leg over hers and rolled until they were lying face-to-face, still joined. She pressed a kiss to his throat, full of feelings she needed to sort through. So many feelings, so much pleasure.

  "Okay?" he asked, his eyes slumberous between lazy lashes.

  "Incredible," she murmured, touching the hard knot of tension in his jaw with trembling fingers.

  "Enough," he muttered, before turning his head to kiss her wrist. "I'll make it enough."

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  « ^ »

  Grady was gone when Ria woke a little before seven. Though he'd promised to rearrange his schedule in order to spend more time with her and Jimmy, he had the regular Monday-morning staff meeting to conduct. There were other obligations, too, she knew. The routine work of a man who held an important position.

  After checking on Jimmy—and finding him still sleeping like an angel with Trouble curled up next to him on the pillow—she stepped naked into the shower. Though her body was still deliciously relaxed, she felt a few twinges from the wild ride Grady had given her. Smiling smugly, she lifted her face to the warm spray and wondered what Dr. Roth would say if she knew what a momentous chain of events she'd set in motion.

  Twenty minutes later, dressed in comfortably worn cutoffs and a No Bull tank top that she'd packed in the hopes Jimmy would remember the prize-winning Guernseys that had fascinated him at the State Fair, she padded barefoot into the silent kitchen.

  Grady had left her a note propped against the coffeemaker, printed in the block letters he used instead of script because it was easier for him, saying that he'd be back by noon at the latest. Though he figured to be in meetings most of the morning, she could reach him at one of the three numbers he'd jotted down. He'd also left his cellular phone, along with a P.S. that the cottage phone was out of order.

  Yawning, she poured a cup of the thick black sludge he'd brewed before he'd left and carried it along with the phone to the screened-in porch facing the cove. Though it was still early, even by vacation standards, the lake was already dotted with boats.

  Nothing much had cha
nged in three years, she decided as she sipped. Sarah's petunias still spilled from the boxes below the windows and bushy-tailed squirrels carried on a chattering game of tag in the treetops, leaping from branch to branch in the leafy canopy overhead.

  The last time she'd been here was two years ago on the Fourth of July which had also been Manda's twenty-first birthday. Grady had gotten blind drunk and ended up swimming across the lake in the dark. Terrified and furious, she'd waited until he'd staggered out of the water, then politely made her farewells to his family and driven away.

  She'd made it to the top of the hill behind the small lakefront community before the tears she hated blurred her vision, forcing her to pull over until she could get herself under control again.

  Living with madness had taught her to be strong and independent, yes—but it had also taught her to be cautious in caring too much about the people in her life.

  She'd broken her own rule when she'd met Grady, falling blindly, desperately in love. Though he hadn't left her physically, she'd still ended up alone emotionally.

  The thought of letting herself feel more than affection and desire was terrifying to her. And yet—

  The phone at her elbow shrilled, causing her to let out a little yelp before snatching it up. It rang again before she found the right button.

  "Hello?"

  "Morning, sweetheart." Grady's voice was husky—and just a little cocky. "How's your day so far?"

  "Barely started," she said with a smile she knew he could hear. "How about you?"

  "So far the best part was peeling your warm little body off my chest. And that was hell—especially when you rubbed against me like a sleepy kitten."

  She felt a quick flurry of pleasure. "Speaking of which, looks like Trouble and Jimmy are best buddies now."

  His chuckle was deep-throated and sexy. "That's not exactly what I meant, honey."

  "Oh, no? Then perhaps you'd better be more specific."

  His groan was soft and private—and bone shivering. "Not a chance, honey. Not while I'm sitting in an office with glass walls."

  She laughed. "Coward."

  "You got that right." He cleared his throat. "Two things, and then I've got an appointment with the chief. Since I'm trying to wrangle money for two more detectives out of the mean-spirited bastard, I figure I'd best be on time."

  "By all means." She heard a noise and glanced up to find Jimmy hovering in the doorway, Trouble draped around his neck like a black-and-white stole. She smiled and waved him in. "Good morning, darling."

  "Pardon?" Grady sounded confused.

  "Jimmy," she explained.

  "Say hello for me."

  "Daddy says hello," she told the boy with a soft smile. Jimmy grunted something before ambling over to the window.

  "Sent his love, did he?" Grady drawled, and she burst out laughing.

  "Something like that."

  He sighed. "I got a call from McCurry's office a few minutes ago, and it seems the doctor is in Ireland until the beginning of next month. We're slotted to see him the afternoon of the first." He paused, then went on. "It was the best I could do, Ree."

  She shifted position on the vinyl cushion, drawing Trouble's attention, but not her son's. "What about the other two referrals?"

  "I can try them if you like, but I figured since things had calmed down a lot, we could wait."

  Ria gnawed her lip and weighed the pros and cons. Jimmy was standing at the window with his back to her, watching the squirrels, one hip cocked in a perfect imitation of his father's blatantly masculine stance.

  "Dr. Roth did say McCurry was the best, didn't she?"

  "Yes, several times." He didn't sound rushed, but she knew, somehow, that he was. "But she also said that the others were good, too, so if—"

  "No, I'm sure you're right. We can wait."

  The pause was brief, but telling. She suspected that he'd heard the doubt in her voice. When he spoke again, the sexy little growl had been replaced by the careful tone that had marked the last months of their marriage. "Ree, I don't want you to worry, so I'll be happy to give the others a call."

  "No, I trust your judgment," she said firmly. It was as close to telling him that she didn't blame him for what happened as she could come.

  This time the pause was longer, and on her part anyway, distinctly uncomfortable. "You said two things," she prodded. "What's the second?"

  He cleared his throat. "I ran into Flynn this morning and he said to tell you that his nose is itching."

  Ria blinked. "Is that supposed to be significant?"

  "It is to my brother. Claims his nose starts to itch whenever facts of a case don't add up the way they're supposed to."

  The hand holding her coffee mug froze halfway to her mouth. "So he's going to reopen the Benteen investigation?"

  "Sounds that way. He also said … hang on a minute, Ree. Got a small fire I have to put out." She heard the brush of his raspy calluses as he covered the phone with his hand. While she sipped, she listened to the muffled sound of angry voices and watched Jimmy playing with the cat in the middle of the woven mat covering most of the porch.

  Sensing her gaze, he glanced up. In the wink of an eye, the smile in his eyes turned to wariness before he dropped his gaze again.

  "As soon as Daddy and I hang up, I'll fix breakfast."

  "Whatever," he muttered, walking his fingers toward Trouble who sat in regal silence, licking one paw.

  Ria had a sudden thought. "How about strawberry waffles with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles?" It was his customary reward for being good on the drive.

  Jimmy's head shot up again, his face a study in eagerness. "Really?"

  "Really."

  "Cool!"

  Seeing that his adversary was clearly distracted, Trouble pounced, digging his claws into Jimmy's hand with just enough force to signal victory but not nearly deep enough to draw blood. Nevertheless, Jimmy let out a yowl that was loud enough to shake the windows.

  "Ree, what's wrong!" Grady's voice was suddenly low and urgent in her ear. "Was that Jim? Are you okay?"

  She laughed softly. "Fine. Jimmy and I were just discussing breakfast, and Trouble was feeling neglected."

  She heard him let out his breath in a rush. "Geez, Ree … I thought…" He inhaled a breath, let it out. "I guess you can imagine what I thought."

  She felt a jolt of fear. "Grady, you don't think—"

  "No, I don't," he said with deadly certainty. "It was just a gut reaction, that's all. I don't want you to worry about it."

  "But—"

  "You said you trusted me." It wasn't so much an accusation as a challenge.

  "I do. Of course, I do."

  "Fine." His voice was clipped, and she felt a chill.

  "Grady, don't take this wrong, but humor me, okay? No one knows where we are, right?"

  "No one but my folks." There was a pause before he said softly, "Do you want me to come back up there? If I have to, I can shake loose now."

  "What about your meeting with the chief?"

  "Say the word and I'm on my way."

  Surprise rendered her speechless.

  "Okay, I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said, obviously mistaking her silence for agreement.

  "No, wait! That's not necessary." She drew a shaky breath. "But thank you for offering."

  Now he was the one taking time to answer. "I meant what I said, Ree. Nothing is more important to me than you and Jim. Maybe someday you'll believe me."

  He hung up without saying goodbye. It was only later, as she was grating chocolate that she remembered he hadn't told her what else Flynn had said about the case.

  She would call him back later, she decided as she shouted for Jimmy to come to the table.

  By the time she and Jimmy finished breakfast and he was in his room dressing, Grady's assistant informed her that "the captain was on his way home."

  Was that what they were making—a home? she wondered, as she hurried into the bedroom to brush her hair. T
he idea both tempted and terrified,

  * * *

  Grady slipped the padlock from the storage shed and slid the door open. A thousand memories rushed at him along with the smell of boat gas and musty canvas. Jimmy hesitated on the threshold, his body a little tense, his eyes bright with curiosity.

  "It stinks in here," he grumbled, screwing up his nose.

  Grady drew in a satisfying lungful and savored before releasing it. "Smells like freedom to me."

  Jimmy looked up, a look of cautious interest on his face. Grady could almost hear the echoes of a three-year-old's chatter in the silent look, and he mourned the lost years.

  "Why?" Jimmy asked finally.

  "When I was a kid, I'd started looking forward to the last day of school along about the time that new-book smell wore off, which was usually the end of September."

  He glanced around at the stuff piled up over the years. Mismatched water skis, water toys, a broken lawn chair. The tube from a tractor tire he and Ria used to share. Tonight he'd do his best to talk her into taking a moonlight swim, he decided.

  So far he and Jimmy had been the only ones in the water. While Jim had been searching the sandy bottom for catfish, Grady had been pumping him for hints about the life he'd led during the past three years.

  Yeah, he'd had a pool at his house. A lot bigger than his best bud Jeremy's.

  So why couldn't the boy swim?

  Naw, he didn't go to a dumb school 'cause Moira was a real good teacher.

  So how come he didn't want to talk about his favorite subjects.

  No, they weren't his real parents, but they'd been real good to him. The best. He never had to make his bed or clean his room or eat anything he didn't like.

  "What's that?" Jimmy asked, pointing.

  "Croquet set."

  Grady grinned at the thought of winning a game with Ria. Hardin rules said that the winner got to claim a prize. He thought of that inner tube that held two and a lakeful of water that was bathtub warm. As he recalled, she'd climaxed twice the last time they'd gone skinny-dipping.

  He felt his body stir and reminded himself he'd never lost a game yet.

  "You ever play?" he asked, watching Jimmy trail his fingers over the mallet heads.