Chapter 12
Grace entered the hotel suite and dropped her purse on the dresser, her shoulders sagging.
Exhaustion had long ago changed into pure anxiety, her vigil at the hospital next door fueling a fire within her that she feared would prevent sleep entirely.
She’d slept in fits and spurts in the NICU, but an hour-long rest in an actual bed was days overdue.
The doctors were quick to act after Razorback’s amazing diagnosis, confirming the problem and starting the twins on dialysis to clean the toxins from their blood. Within an hour, their vitals began to improve and Grace and Brett had breathed a shared sigh of relief.
Moto had booked two rooms for them at the historic hotel next door.
Any other time, she would have marveled at the high ceilings and intricate woodwork, but tonight she was barely aware of anything beyond the minibar and the bed.
She slipped off her shoes and selected a small bottle of whiskey, then poured it into a glass and settled against the headboard, pulling out her phone.
Three missed calls from John.
She frowned, knowing she should call him back or at least text to tell him what was going on, but she had no energy or desire to do either one and tossed her phone onto the bed. The liquor went down with a pleasant burning sensation, landing in her empty stomach with a tingle.
She looked at her phone and sighed, guilt making her pick it back up. She texted John. SUPER TIRED. TALK TOMORROW. She threw it back on the bed, and her eyes went to the door connecting Brett’s room to hers.
When she’d touched him at the hospital, she’d been consoling him, commiserating with his pain, for she felt it just as strongly as he did.
But what she found when his corded arm had held her firmly against him far exceeded what she’d originally intended.
Just as it had in the truck, desire had seared her body, hot and bright, like she’d never felt in the arms of another man before him—certainly not John’s.
There had been a connection humming between her and Brett, a current of electricity like an electrical plug that had finally found an outlet.
It was a living, breathing thing, a desire so strong she’d had no choice but to act on it, for turning her back on him and that feeling would be like a freezing person turning their back on the warmth of the sun.
But he’d pulled away from her, shirking from her touch. It was a physical sting, a psychological stab. She sipped her whiskey, eying the bottom of the glass. Brett Champion slept with all manner of women, but he’d rejected her, just as John had.
You should be happy he did.
If the accident had never happened, she would probably be engaged right now, showing off a diamond ring and planning their future. She stared at her empty ring finger and squeezed her eyes shut. John should be what she wanted, that path paved with bricks and ready to be walked.
But he wasn’t.
She thought of Brett driving across the empty field, no regard for roads or pavement whatsoever, and grinned. It was no wonder the women flocked to him like bees to clover, paths be damned.
God, what would it be like to be one of his women, to have him come to her, looking for sex? To be the focal point of all that intense energy? She swallowed, the taste of whiskey spicy on her tongue.
Her attraction to Brett was highlighting all the holes in her bond with her boyfriend, holes a wedding ring and a family would never be able to fill.
She would never make a good preacher’s wife, never be able to modify her personality and vocabulary enough to blend in, to become the perfect support to his ministry, a partner in his life.
It was clear to her now. She’d been trying so hard, pretending he was what she wanted, pretending this was who she wanted to become. But her true self refused to be quelled, awkward personality and inappropriate words spilling out of the seams in the costume she’d so carefully sewn.
She had to break up with him. Set him free to find a woman who could be all the things he wanted in a wife, instead of someone playing a part like an actor in a play. A mixture of relief and sadness filled her.
Her parents would be upset, for sure. But they would get over it eventually and learn to accept her decision. Maybe they would even be supportive if they understood he wasn’t right for her. John was sure to be embarrassed in front of his congregation, and for that she was terribly sorry.
Damn, she was drained. Drained and wired and mentally fried. There was a knock at the door and she sat up abruptly.
There was only one person that could be, and she instantly feared for the boys’ condition. Her pulse raced as she stood, her bare feet sinking into the carpet as she padded to the door and pulled it open. “Are the boys okay?”
“Yeah.” Brett tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the smell of soap and shampoo reaching her nostrils. His eyes were dark as they made their way down her body and up again, and she wished she hadn’t had that drink.
Or that I had four more.
He withdrew one hand and ran it through his damp hair. “Can I come in?”
She stepped back for him to enter. Had he come here to talk about the babies, or had he come here for her? She should be scared. Defensive.
Something.
But she wasn’t. She was melting like butter on a hot summer day. He walked past her, the scent of him delicious, and she took the smell deep into her lungs. “What’s up?” Her voice was husky, and she cleared her throat.
He smiled. “The hospital called. Their fevers have broken. The doctors expect them to be back to normal in twelve to eighteen hours.”
She jumped into his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “That’s terrific!” It was better news than she could have hoped for, a quick and complete recovery. His arms came around her and he lifted her off her feet with a baritone chuckle.
The hug lasted a moment too long, long enough for her to take stock of every place his body touched hers and the fit of his torso against her. Her feet hit the ground and she looked into his eyes, seeing her desire mirrored there. It was desire, wasn’t it? Or was she crazy?
“Grace…” He took a step back and wiped his face with his palm. “We should talk.”
She couldn’t take another rejection. Not from this man, not from John, not from anyone. There must be something wrong with her. No one wanted her like they wanted other women. No man had ever tripped over himself with lust when she walked by. “All right.”
Maybe he wanted her to leave. He was already more comfortable dealing with the babies and no longer needed her as he had, but she admitted she didn’t want to go.
Not now, not when she knew she had to break up with John, when she would only spend time staring at her apartment wall and wondering what was happening with the boys and Brett.
He turned to face her, the bed behind him, and she imagined him there, spread out like a centerfold as he pulled back the covers and patted the spot beside him.
Jesus, what is happening to me?
It was that damn drink making her warm and pliant, needy and focused on this man. She could feel the desire in her stare, and she worked to hide it, deliberately trying to project a normal expression. How did she usually look at him, anyway?
With disdain.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said. “I crossed that line again at the hospital, and I’m sorry. I had no business touching you like that.”
Embarrassment swallowed her head. As she remembered it, she was the one doing most of the touching, but he did have his face buried in her stomach. “I started it.”
His eyes darkened. “Well, I shouldn’t have done it. You were offering kindness.”
She had been, hadn’t she? But even as she asked herself the question, she knew it was barely even half true. She’d seen his pain, yes, and had wanted to comfort him. But as soon as she’d gotten close, she’d wanted so much more.
“Tomorrow I’ll go into HERO Force and help Razorback research everything he can about that disease. Watch the tapes from the scene, see if they shed any light on what happened to Joni and Luke.”
“And the twins?”
“I’ll check in at the hospital first, of course. Then I’ll find out where Luke’s step-grandmother is living and put an abrupt stop to my parenting days.” He laughed without humor.
She heard the singular I and wondered what was to become of her between now and then. “You’re not so bad, you know. At parenting.”
“Yeah, well…” His voice trailed off. “It’s not for me.” The space of two paces separated them.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Does he want me?
This was dangerous, like walking along the precipice of a cliff face. Going over the edge would mean certain death, but in that moment she couldn’t help but wonder how good it would feel to fly before hitting the ground.
Neither of them moved. Was it possible he felt it, too?
This desire that was overwhelming her good sense, making her question what she knew to be true.
Her real life paled in comparison to what she felt in this man’s company, like color film fading to grayscale, Brett the only thing on screen left vivid and bright.
Vivid and bright and breathing too fast.
She longed to lift her chin, to gaze at him with open invitation, and was close to doing just that when her fear of rejection reared to life. He didn’t want her with him any longer. He was here to send her home. Her stare fell to the floor. “I’m glad the boys are doing better.”
For a moment he said nothing, just stood there, and she swore the flush on her warm cheeks was spreading across her body. She looked up to find his eyes on her with an intensity that made her toes curl into the rug.
“Jesus.” He sighed heavily and cursed under his breath. “I came in here to apologize, and here I am, doing it again.” He turned on his heel.
Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “Wait.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone, I promise.
I know you’re with John. I have no business looking at you like that.
” Her cell phone rang with the familiar love song, and he headed for the door.
“Tell John I said hi. And I’m sorry. Or no, don’t tell him I’m sorry.
That would be bad.” He opened the door, calling over his shoulder, “Good night.” The door closed behind him.
She let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. He wanted her, but he was trying to behave. He wanted her, and he was rejecting her because of her boyfriend. Her mouth slid into a smile, a giddy laugh seeming to come out of nowhere.
She looked at the ringing phone, guilt casting a shadow over her glee. If she answered it now, the happiness that was bursting through her bloodstream would make it very difficult to sound sincere when she told him they needed to talk.
No, she would call him tomorrow. Then when she was home, she would tell him in person she wasn’t the woman for him. She owed him that much, but talking to him on the phone right now would only make things worse.
She headed for the bathroom. A bath was what she needed. A steaming hot bath to savor this moment and commit every detail to memory. Squealing with glee, she sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the taps. “He wants me!”
Not that it meant anything. Not that it mattered. He didn’t care about her or have feelings for her or any of those things. Her face ached from smiling so intently, and she slipped her shirt up over her head before flinging it like a stripper. “Brett Champion wants to have sex with me!”