by Anna Argent
His strong hands tightened around her arms to hold her up. Her breasts flattened against the hard contours of his chest, and her nipples puckered in celebration. Every cell in her body perked up as she realized that she was in the embrace of Saxon Grace—two hundred pounds of potent, raw sex appeal in one convenient, muscular package. Sure, maybe he was only holding her because of her clumsiness, but her hormones didn't seem to know the difference.
How long had it been since she'd been held so close? She couldn't remember, but she did know that she'd never before felt such an instant, visceral thrill scorch through her the way it did now, inside his firm grip.
If she wasn't careful, this man was going to become the lead star in every one of her very secret, very sweaty fantasies.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice deep with concern. Tiny twin lines formed between his black brows, giving her the strongest urge to press her lips against them to smooth them away.
A response to his question rolled through her head, but no words made it past her lips. All she could do was stare and bask in the warmth of his strong grip.
"Gemma?" he asked again with a heavier tone of worry.
"I'm fine," she finally managed. "Just…" swept away, quivering, aroused out of my mind, "…clumsy."
He offered her a wink and chivalrous smile filled with the Grace family's signature charm. "Never that."
He took a tiny step back, putting a couple of inches between their bodies. He watched her for a second like he was worried she might fall over again, and then when he was satisfied she was stable, he let go.
Saxon's fingers slowly grazed across her bare arms, raising goosebumps of delight as they passed. She could still feel the warmth of his hands lingering in her skin. Now that her nipples were exposed to the cool air, they tightened even more, until they were so hard they ached.
He glanced down, his gaze lingering for a long second before he looked into her eyes again. "If there's nothing else you need me to lift, I should get going."
Now that no part of her was touching any part of him, her brain started to work right again. "No, nothing else to move right now. Thank you."
He gave her a nod, then stepped back to clear a path for her to reach the stairs. "After you."
Gemma slipped past him, hoping he couldn't see how furiously she was blushing in the dim light. It wasn't like her to get so utterly swept away by a man.
Then again, Saxon Grace was no ordinary man. Any red-blooded girl could be forgiven for falling apart a little when faced with such potent male company.
A light breeze cooled her cheeks as she came out of the cellar. All she had to do now was hold it together long enough for him to walk back to his truck and leave her to quiver in peace.
"Thanks for your help," she said as he closed the cellar doors. At least he wasn't looking at her with those green eyes, or giving her that charming smile.
"Anytime, Gemma. I'm glad Aunt Beth has you looking out for her. If there's anything else I can do, call me, okay?" He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her.
She took it, not because she planned to call and bother him, but because it would have been rude not to. And because if she didn't take it, he might keep checking on Aunt Beth and get Gemma all worked up again every time he came over.
She had too much to do for big, handsome, charming, sexy distractions like Saxon.
"I will," she lied.
His fingers brushed hers for a split second as he handed her the card, but even that fleeting contact was enough to get her insides skittering all over the place again.
Just then Cotton Cyrus's ancient Oldsmobile pulled into Aunt Beth's driveway. He'd taken her to physical therapy, like he had every day since she'd been home from the rehab center. He lived only a few doors down and had insisted on helping. As much as it bothered Gemma to let someone else drive Aunt Beth, Gemma needed the time alone to take care of making the house safer. There was no way her aunt would let her do it while she was home.
"You should go," Gemma told Saxon. "You don't want Aunt Beth knowing you were my accomplice."
He gave a casual shrug that made muscles along his neck and shoulders dance. "I can take the heat for you. Say it was my idea."
Gemma was so stunned by his offer, all she could do was stare at him, blinking. "What? No. I can't let you take the fall for me. Besides, she needs to face the fact that her life has to change at least a little if she wants to keep living in her own home."
"If things go badly and you need backup, I live right across the street in the slate blue Craftsman." He pointed across the street to a tidy little house that backed up to the elementary school. "Aunt Beth has never been able to stay mad at me for more than a few hours—even when I egged her house when I was twelve."
"You were the one who did that?" she asked, stifling a grin. Gemma hadn't been here that Halloween, but she'd heard the horror stories of the event for months after it happened.
He grimaced. "Not one of my better childhood moments. I'm still mowing her lawn to make up for it, eighteen years later."
Mr. Cyrus hurried around the Olds and got Aunt Beth's walker out of the back seat. He patiently held it while she eased out of the car. She moved more slowly than usual, like therapy had worn her out.
"Thanks again, but I need to go," she told Saxon. "Time to face the music."
Chapter Two
It took Saxon three tries to slide the key into the ignition of his work truck. His hands were shaking as hard as the rest of him, and it had been all he could do to keep his erection in check.
Gemma Fortier had felt good in his arms. Too good. And to think, if she hadn't tripped, he might never have known just how silky her skin was, or how it warmed beneath his grip in a swift rush.
He clenched his hands in an effort to remember just how she'd felt in his hands, but like an elusive dream, the feeling slipped away.
He wanted to see her again, touch her again. Now.
Get a grip, man.
He wasn't the kind to get so swept away by a woman. He enjoyed their company, but when he left a woman's side—or her bed—he simply moved on with his life to focus on the next task at hand.
But something about Gemma was different. Her impact on him lingered, drawing his thoughts away from the here and now.
His phone rang, giving him the jolt he needed to break free of the woman's spell.
His brother Mason was on the other end of the line.
"Are you busy tonight?" Mason asked.
"Shower, food, sleep. That's all I have planned." That, and maybe a little time on his front porch, hoping for a glimpse of the captivating Gemma Fortier.
"Can I come over? I think I have a problem."
Mason wasn't the kind to overreact to anything, which pulled Saxon's head into the game. "What kind of problem?"
"Not on the phone. It's too…complicated."
That definitely sounded bad.
"Yeah. Come on over. I just need fifteen minutes to shower." Saxon's stomach growled loud enough he was sure his brother could hear it through the phone.
"I'll be there." Mason hung up, leaving Saxon squirming with a mix of curiosity and dread.
He made quick work of washing off the dust and sweat of the day's work, and by the time he came out of his bedroom in a T-shirt and running shorts, Mason was already in the living room, pacing across the hardwood floor.
Like all the Grace men, he was tall, with a heavy frame of bone loaded with plenty of muscle. His skin was tan except around his green eyes where his sunglasses shielded him. His hair was buzzed short, and he was doing his best to rub off the remaining stubble with the anxious swipe of his hand over and over.
Like Saxon, Mason was a builder, but unlike Saxon, he'd decided not to work for the family construction business, but to start his own company. Rather than working for Dad and Uncle Gordon at Grace Construction, Mason had set out on his own path, specializing more in commercial buildings than in residential. As far as Saxon knew, t
hings were going well.
As soon as Mason saw him, he came to a stop. Lines of stress left deep grooves around his mouth and between his eyebrows.
"Are you sick?" Saxon asked, voicing his main concern. Mason was thirty-two and looked as healthy as always, but bad things happened. As Saxon tried to figure out what was eating at his brother, some kind of life-threatening illness was the first thing that came to mind.
Mason frowned. "What? No. I'm fine."
"Is Diana okay?" Saxon asked. "Did something happen to her?"
Mason and Diana had been a couple for years. She worked for his company, and he'd almost proposed to her twice. No one knew why he'd decided not to pop the question at the last minute, but at this point, Mom was starting to worry that she might never get grandbabies. She'd turned her attention on Saxon, the second son, now thirty years old. Every time he saw her, she questioned him about when he was going to settle down.
Mason shook his shaved head. "No. She's not sick."
Saxon went to the fridge and took out a couple of bottles of beer. He handed one to his brother. They sat down at the kitchen table.
"Then what's up?" Saxon asked.
"It's the business. Something isn't right."
"What do you mean? I thought things were going well. You just got a new contract, right?"
"Yeah, and the last one is all done and the owners are happy. We may be getting another big contract to build an office building near Springfield next year because we did such a good job."
"Then what's the problem?
"The numbers aren't adding up."
"How so?"
"Material costs were down slightly for this last job. Labor costs were steady. I was expecting our profit margins to be much larger than expected, the final numbers didn't reflect that. I barely broke even." Mason tipped the beer back and took a long swallow. When he finished, he gave Saxon a grim stare. "I think someone is stealing from me."
Whoa. That was a serious accusation. "Do you know who?"
Mason leaned back in his chair, but didn't meet his brother's gaze. "There are only three of us who have access to the company's funds. Me, Diana, and Harvey."
They'd known Harvey all their lives, ever since he'd come to work for their Dad when they were still in middle school. Mason had asked him to come to work for him when he branched off on his own. Dad had given Harvey his blessing, knowing that his son would have someone around he could trust—someone to run crews, order materials, deal with subcontractors and take care of the hundred other things that popped up on a build site.
"It's not Harvey," Saxon said, absolutely certain he was right. That left Diana, Mason's girlfriend of three years as the prime suspect.
Mason's shoulders slumped and he nodded slowly. "I know."
"Maybe it's just a mistake—some sort of numerical error."
"It's not. I've gone through everything three times."
"Did you figure out where the money is going? I mean, unless you have a lot of cash on hand, there has to be a record of the expense coming out of your bank account."
Mason drained his bottle and began peeling away the label. He was silent for so long that Saxon started to wonder if he was going to answer his question.
When he finally did, there was the pain of betrayal in his tone. "I haven't compared the bookkeeping software with the bank statements yet."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm afraid of what I'll find when I do."
"You suspect her, don't you?"
Mason's jaw flexed with anger. "I've been good to her. Gave her a cushy job. Gave her more freedom and time off than any sane boss ever would." His voice went quiet. "I love her. How could she steal from me?"
"You have to talk to her. Before you go getting all worked up, you need to know the truth. Maybe there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. You won't know until you ask."
"I will. As soon as she gets back in town. She's spending a couple of days in Kansas City with a girlfriend."
Again? It seemed like that woman was always spending a few days off every other week. Maybe that was where the problem was—there was no one around to man the office, which could easily give someone access to checks or petty cash.
Of course, the real problem was that Diana wasn't good enough for Mason. She wasn't smart enough for him, and while she was beautiful outside, Saxon had seen glimpses of something ugly lurking behind her sparkling eyes and flawless skin. But telling Mason that was Mom's domain. No way was Saxon going to put his nose in his brother's love life without an engraved invitation delivered via registered mail.
"I'm sure it will all work out," Saxon said in an effort to ease his big brother's worry. "You'll figure out where the problem is and fix it right up."
"I sure as hell hope so. This shit is keeping me up at night, which makes it really hard to get up early to do the job, you know?"
"Why don't you stay for dinner? We'll kick back, watch a game, get your mind off of things…"
"Yeah. I'd like that." A ghost of a grin played around Mason's mouth. "But only if you're not cooking."
"Does heating up a frozen pizza count as cooking?"
"You'd better let me do it. When it comes to food, you can't be trusted."
"Gee, thanks. I offer you an evening of distractions and you insult me?"
Mason's grin broadened. "There is no better distraction on earth than tormenting my little brother. It's my therapy."
"Then torment away, but you'd better watch your step. You know Mom loves me best."
Mason laughed at the lifelong joke, and the tension riding his shoulders seemed to ease. "Tell me what's going on in your world. We're both so busy running businesses that we don't have as much time together as we used to. Anything new?"
Gemma's pretty face popped into Saxon's head, followed closely by the memory of her perfect ass. "Aunt Beth is home from the rehab facility and recovering nicely."
Mason ripped open the cardboard box on the frozen pizza and slid it into the oven. "Thank God. I've been dying for one of her chocolate chip cookies. No one else makes them like she does."
"They're still not as good as her cherry cake."
"With buttercream frosting," Mason added.
Just like that, the memory of Gemma's scent rushed back to Saxon. He breathed in deeply as if he could actually drag in her intoxicatingly sweet aroma.
He wanted to see her again—just a glimpse. Surely if he did he'd realize that his mind had been playing tricks on him. She wasn't as beautiful as he imagined. No one could be that sexy and cute all at the same time. It simply wasn't humanly possible.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of her, Saxon grabbed a couple of cold beers and headed out to his front porch.
The spring breeze smelled like fresh flowers and cut grass. Big, old oaks soared high overhead, sheltering the porch from the worst of the day's heat. In the evening like this, he could see glimpses of the setting sun as it began to dip beneath the low, rolling green mountains to the west.
Most of the people on this block were retired, but Saxon had fallen in love with the sturdy, old houses and the laid-back atmosphere. Coming home was like stepping back in time to when life was a quieter, simpler affair. After a long day of hard work, there was nothing better than returning to a place where he could just relax and be himself.
He sat at one of the Adirondack chairs that his cousin had made for him, and propped his feet up on the railing. Mason sat in the chair beside him and stretched out his long legs.
Across the street, Saxon could see movement inside of Aunt Beth's windows. He couldn't make out what was going on, but the flash of smooth skin he glimpsed told him that Gemma was still alive—her aunt hadn't killed her for moving the rugs.
"Do you remember Aunt Beth's niece? The girl who spent summers here?" Saxon asked.
His brother frowned in thought. "Did she have red hair?"
Mason had a thing for redheads ever since he'd fallen in love with Mrs. Scarseth, their second-grade teacher.
>
Saxon shook his head. "No. She's a brunette. Freckles, dark eyes. Pretty."
"I guess I don't remember her."
He pointed across the street. "She's back in town to take care of Aunt Beth. I met her today." Just thinking about her gave him a little thrill. It swooped through him, heating his blood and warming his skin. He didn't know what it was about the woman that got to him, but whatever it was, he couldn't seem to get her out of his head.
"Was she the one who was all arms and legs? Scrawny, clumsy thing?"
The memory of her near fall earlier, and the feel of her body pressed against his had Saxon smiling. "That's the one."
Mason stared at him for a minute. "You more than met her, didn't you? Did something happen with this girl?"
"No. Nothing like that."
"Then why the stupid grin on your face?"
"She's…" hot, sexy, intriguing, "…cute."
"Cute? The town is full of cute girls and not one of them make you smile like a fool."
Saxon tried to shrug it off. It's not like there was anything going on between him and Gemma. For all he knew, she was married with a trio of kids at home with the hubby.
That thought left him cold and restless, and suddenly, he had to find out more about her.
Of course, the fastest way to do that was to ask Mom, who was part of the Tattletale Telegraph—a group whose main pleasure seemed to be derived from who knew what first. Nothing happened in this town without Mom knowing about it, which was why none of the Grace kids had been able to get away with anything growing up.
"Let's just say that Gemma piqued my interest," Saxon said. "It's nice to get some new blood around here."
"Well, then," Mason said as he dialed his phone. "If you're so interested, let's ask Mom about her. She'll have the scoop."
Saxon grabbed the phone away from his brother and ended the call before Mom could pick up. "Don't you dare."
"Why not? It would be nice to have her breathing down someone else's neck about grandkids for a change. Besides, I find your pain highly amusing." The smile on Mason's face was genuine, and it struck Saxon that he hadn't seen his brother smile like that in a long time.
