Chapter 9
“I’ll get him.” Grace climbed into the backseat of the truck and fed the crying Theo a bottle.
Their trip to the state trooper barracks had been pointless, revealing no new information. The sky glowed with the impending sunrise as they drove back to their apartments, an uncomfortable tension having long ago settled between Grace and Brett.
She was exhausted, the events of the night before traumatizing her in more ways than one. She’d been terrorized by a stranger, fought for her life, and become temporarily responsible for two young, orphaned lives. But what was really bothering her was her physical reaction to this man.
Something had changed between them, though she couldn’t pinpoint the moment when it happened. All she knew was when he looked at her, she felt a disconcerting response in her lower abdomen, sort of a yearning mixed with a heady anticipation that both thrilled her and made her crazy.
It had to be crazy, the attraction she was suddenly feeling for this man. She was damn near engaged, after all, in love with John and ready to become his wife—except truth be told, she no longer felt as sure in her conviction as she had just days before.
Would a woman intent on making a lifelong commitment to one man gaze longingly at another who used women only for sexual fulfillment?
It was John she should long for, John she should be daydreaming about. She bit her lip. A few times, she and John had been making out on the couch in her apartment when things got hot and heavy, but he never removed her clothing or even snaked a hand beneath a hem.
Initially, she’d found it endearing, but over time she’d wanted more and decided to do something about it. She winced at the memory. She had unbuttoned her sweater and revealed her breasts to him in clear invitation.
He’d buttoned the sweater back up, suggesting they didn’t want to do anything she would regret. Embarrassment had swamped her like water on hot coals.
Brett wouldn’t reject me if I went to him.
She closed her eyes, inhaling the overtly male scent in the cab of the truck as her body was jostled from side to side over the worn pavement.
No, men like him were made for mistakes, for long nights full of passion and regret.
She sighed wistfully, admitting to herself she wished for just a sliver of the passion Brett had in his life.
Once John and I are married, things will be different.
Yes. Surely that was it.
The baby she’d been feeding had fallen asleep, the nipple no longer in his mouth, and she climbed over the passenger seat to get back to her original spot.
Brett was exiting the freeway, taking the turn quickly, and she lost her balance, knocking her hip into his shoulder.
His hand reached up to steady her, long fingers wrapping around her leg to the inside of her thigh, and she jerked.
“I’ve got it,” she snapped, yanking her leg away as she grabbed the seat back and plopped down beside him.
“Sorry.”
Heat rushed to her face and down lower, awkwardness mixing with desire, and she chided herself for the reaction.
It was John who should make her feel this way, John’s touch that should fill her with a longing so intense she ached to be beneath his body.
Yet even in the moments they’d shared on her apartment couch, she hadn’t been as turned on as she was just now from a single touch of Brett’s hand on her thigh.
It wasn’t the man himself she wanted. No way. She just knew how promiscuous he was. Brushing up against a sex machine was bound to make you think about sex, just as walking into the side of an ice cream truck was bound to make you think about ice cream.
And look like a complete idiot.
Yes, if Brett knew what she was thinking, he’d surely think her a fool. Never mind that she’d wanted to touch him long before that turn, wanted to know what it felt like to have his hands on her sensitized skin. What kind of person did that make her? She was about to get engaged, for God’s sake.
Pete’s sake, Grace. Stop cursing, damnit!
He took a second turn far faster than she would, her residual annoyance making her snap, “Can you slow down, please?”
“We’re almost there.”
“And I for one would like to arrive in one piece.” She closed her eyes, willing her heart to stop racing and telling herself it was because of his driving and knowing damn well it was not.
He cursed under his breath. “They made the turn with us.”
They were being followed. There was little doubt now. Stress and fatigue clawed at her.
She shouldn’t even be here. She’d let her sympathy for the children override her good sense, her desire to see them settled and well taken care of outweighing her self-interest. God, how she wanted to get out of this truck.
It was like driving around inside of Brett’s mind, unable to escape—his strong, masculine persona represented in every bold line and sensuous curve of metal.
She crossed her arms tightly and stared out her window. A cell phone rang through the truck’s speakers, making her jump. Brett answered it. “You’re on speaker, Moto. I’ve got a friend with me. What did you find out?”
Was that what they were now, friends? Just hearing him call her that made her feel special.
She rolled her eyes. Surely it was easier for him to explain her presence with a single word, rather than describe her as his bitchy, all-too-ordinary neighbor with whom he was suddenly and irrevocably stuck.
“I think you need to see this,” said Moto. “Can you come in?”
He pulled to the side of the road and did a U-turn without hesitation, and she could have cried at this impromptu extension of their already long day. His eyes cut to hers. “You up for the trip?”
She nodded despite every bit of evidence to the contrary. How could she tell him no when he was trying to find out what happened to his friends? “Yes.”
“Fucking rush-hour traffic into the city’s going to be a nightmare.” He hummed a flat note. “Moto, is there anyone there who can fly the bird? I’ve got a tail I need to lose anyway.”
“Dire’s here.”
“Good. Have him meet us at the soccer field by my apartment ASAP. He’s picked me up there before.” He hung up. “They’ll come get us in the chopper within the hour. Save us another car ride and a lot of time.”
“A helicopter? You just snap your fingers and a helicopter appears?”
“In this case, yes.”
She lowered her brow. “Who are you?”
“Former Navy SEAL. Now I work in Manhattan for the Hands-on Engagement and Reconnaissance Operations team. It’s a private security firm, but I’m hoping they can help me dig up some information on Joni and Luke that might be helpful.
Moto’s working on that license plate that prick at the barracks wouldn’t give us. ”
“I doubt he’s allowed to give out that kind of information.”
“He was still a prick.”
She rolled her eyes and stared back out her window. They sat in silence for what seemed an eternity.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Of course not. Why would anything be wrong?”
“I’m not sure, but your posture and your tone of voice tell me something definitely is.”
“Oh, so now I can’t look out my window in peace?”
He made a sound like a cat screeching in a fight. “Sorry I asked.”
She set her jaw and turned to face him. “I don’t appreciate you making animal noises to describe my behavior.”
“Jesus, fine. Sorry.” He turned onto a side street, a large field visible in the hazy light of morning.
“And if you must know, I’m unhappy to be cooped up with you in this truck and stuck together until we find a guardian for the twins. I don’t care for you, Mr. Champion. Something I’m quite sure you’re already aware of.”
“Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“I call bullshit. You froze up the second I touched your leg, and now you’re back to calling me Mr. Champion. I just can’t figure out if it’s because you liked it or because you didn’t.”
She gaped. “How dare you?”
He pulled onto the grass, driving across the wide field. “Which is it, Grace?”
She gestured dramatically out the windshield.
“There’s a road right over there. Why the fuck are you driving across the grass?
” She was aware of the obscenity as it crossed her lips, further hating him for revealing this side of her.
“Oh, wait, I know, because you think you own the whole damn world, and you get to do whatever you want, whether it’s driving across the field and screwing it up for other people or touching the inside of my leg or fucking any woman who’ll let you buy her a drink and climb on top of her! ”
He smiled smugly. “You didn’t answer the question.”
She shoved his arm. “I hate you! Do you know that?”
He grabbed her arm and held it, the truck coming to an abrupt stop, its motion easing at the last moment as if he suddenly remembered the babies on board.
Her heart galloped, excitement pooling in her lap from the contact and the energy flying between them.
He faced her, his stare fierce. “I don’t think you hate me at all, princess, and that scares the hell out of you. ”
She knew she should pull her arm back, but indecision made her freeze. Every cell in her body longed to lunge at him, to kiss him and see if the current connecting them would crack and zing at his touch. Her lips parted, her breath coming in little pants.
If he kissed her now, she wouldn’t be able to control the need bubbling inside her. His stare roamed her face, caressing her mouth and making her lips tingle with awareness before his gaze shot back to her eyes. “Grace,” he growled.
The sound of her name on his gravelly voice was too much. She leaned closer, needing to see what came next, needing to taste him just once.
And then what?
Her relationship with John would be ruined based on an exhausted lapse in judgment. Her parents would be disappointed in her, embarrassed, and ashamed. She leaned back abruptly, putting her hands up when he continued to advance on her. “Stop.”
He was so close she could feel the heat from his body.
Close enough to touch. She cleared her throat, and he straightened.
He turned off the ignition, and for a split second she thought he might turn back to her, but he didn’t.
They sat in increasingly uncomfortable silence for what felt like hours.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I’m sorry. ”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.
Her cell phone rang, the classic love song telling her it was John calling.
Resentment at his timing had her clenching her jaw.
She moved to answer the call but hesitated, her finger hovering in midair.
What was she going to tell him? He didn’t even know she’d volunteered to help Champion, much less that she was about to get on a helicopter with the man and had desperately wanted to kiss him just a moment before.
Brett chuckled without humor. “Tell him I said hi.”
She glared at him. Nothing good could come from talking to John at this moment, so she silenced the call.
“Probably a good choice,” said Brett, his eyes roaming over her face. “Wait to talk to the boyfriend until after that pretty flush is out of your cheeks.”
She clenched her jaw at his unexpected attack. “Fuck you, Champion.”
“How did you end up with a minister, anyway? You don’t strike me as the churchgoing type.”
She looked away and shrugged. “I go to church.”
“I’ve got twenty bucks says you started going after you started dating Mr. Wonderful. Am I right?”
That had her fuming. “Shut up. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“Does he know you’re with me?”
“I’m not with you, I’m with the babies.”
He cocked his head. “Whatever dress you want to put on a duck, sweetheart. It’s still a goddamn duck.” He looked away. “That’s our ride.”
Sure enough, the distant thump-thump-thump of a helicopter could be heard approaching. He got out and quietly closed his door, and she did the same.
“Why didn’t you tell him?” he called over the vehicle.
Her stomach knotted tightly at his question.
She was here to help Toby and Theo. There was no shame in that.
But there was shame in the attraction she felt toward Brett.
She was standing in a field with this man, two babies nestled into the backseat, about to fly into Manhattan in a helicopter.
He knew damn well why she hadn’t told her boyfriend, and it irked her to no end that he was rubbing it in her face.
The helicopter was getting closer, and she raised her voice to be heard over the noise. “He wouldn’t like me hanging out with you. He’s seen you in action, just like I have.”
“Seen me in action. What the hell does that mean? You act like I’m running a stud service out of our driveway. I’m just a regular guy who lives next door and has a few female friends over every once in a while.”
It was her turn to laugh. She got closer so she could be heard, walking around the truck.
“A few female friends. Do you actually believe that, or is that just a line you’re telling yourself?
Because I know better. I see the skid marks in the driveway.
I see the empty beer bottles on the deck railing, day after day. ”
“So I enjoy a few drinks and a little female companionship, and you appoint yourself judge, jury, and character witness. Is that right? You don’t know anything about me, princess.”
Her stomach fluttered at the nickname, and she sneered. “Don’t call me that.”
“Nurse Ratchet it is, then.”
“If I’m Nurse Ratchet, you’re the crazy guy getting electric shock therapy.” She was yelling to be heard over the noise, the absurdity of her statement and their argument in general both striking her at once.
The chopper landed. Brett held up his finger between them and yelled in her ear, his voice barely audible, “He was the only one in the whole damn book who wasn’t crazy. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.” He opened a door and took out a car seat.
Damn it, he was right. She’d forgotten that part. She moved back to the other side of the truck and grabbed the other car seat.
“Keep your head low,” he barked, gesturing for her to duck.
“I know!” She’d been around plenty of helicopters on the helipad at the hospital. She climbed into the chopper and turned to him. “We need the car seat bases.”
“I’m on it.”
She picked up a pair of headphones, relieved when the noise instantly diminished, then started when a male voice spoke directly into her ears.
“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Dire.” She spun around, finding a beefy hunk of muscle with dark sunglasses waving to her from the front of the cockpit.
“I have to say, what a pleasure it is to finally meet Champ’s wife. ”