Chapter 15
Brad wiped his palms on his pants, praying his deodorant would hold up to his frayed nervous system. Why was he so anxious? It’s not like it was his first date with Grace. In fact, he hadn’t been this nervous on his first date with her. She’d thrown him for a loop over the last few months, and he’d lost his confidence with her. He tried to listen to Olivia, but her words flowed over his ears like a babbling brook.
Then he saw her. Standing at the top of the stairs like a vision. Her short hair only emphasized the size of her eyes, which were huge and round and locked with his. He felt a warm glow in his chest that spread throughout his entire body, simply from looking at her. One hand gripped the banister as she started down the stairs, her eyes dropping down to watch her feet. When she reached the second to last step, she paused, her gaze rising to lock with his once again. He saw her catch her breath and realized he’d been holding his.
He held out his hand to her, his fingers waiting… longing for her touch. She hesitated, only for a moment. Releasing the banister with her right hand, she switched her clutch to the right, so her left hand was free to grasp his. It felt right. It felt as though her hand belonged with his. Her wide hazel eyes crinkled as she smiled and stepped toward him.
She fell into his arms. Literally. He laughed as he caught her, easily supporting her weight and lifting her upright. But his chuckles ceased when he saw the pain on her face.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“I turned my ankle.” She took a step. “Ow! I can’t believe it! These stupid boots!”
She hobbled to a nearby chair and sat down, wincing as she removed the boot. Brad knelt in front of her with Connie and the three sisters ogling over his shoulder. “Let me see.” He pressed on her ankle and foot and manipulated her ankle.
“Ow! Dang it! This is so stupid. I’ll be fine if I lean on you a little. I just need to walk it out.”
“No, you’ve sprained it for sure. We’d better not go.”
He saw tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t want to miss the game. I promise it’s feeling better already.” She attempted to stuff her foot back into the boot.
“Don’t be silly, Grace. At least you can wear a flat shoe.” He pulled the boot from her grasp and handed it to Olivia.
“I’ll be right back.” She lunged up the stairs, returning with a pair of flat boots.
He supervised her as she changed shoes, cataloging the reaction on her face as she attempted to hide her pain. He knew the plan to walk and take the subway would have to be scrapped. After forcing her to swallow some ibuprofen, he rigged an icepack with a Ziploc bag.
She rejected the ice, standing to move toward the door, putting weight on her foot despite her white-faced strain. He hurried to support her, but she pushed her way out the front door with grim determination.
“Wait Grace.” He followed quickly, shutting the door behind them.
“I’m fine. I really want to go.”
He grinned. “Okay. I got that, already. But I have a plan.”
“What?”
He could read the suspicion on her face. Before she could react, he scooped her, squealing, into his arms. She giggled, locking her hands behind his neck. It was all he could do not to pull her against him and kiss her senseless. His heart pounded in his chest, even though he was hardly exerting himself to carry her the half block to the main street.
He set her feet down and hailed a cab. By the time they arrived at Madison Square Gardens, she was grinning, her sprained ankle forgotten in the excitement. And the grin never left her face throughout the entire two-and-a-half-hour game, in which the Rangers scored the winning goal in the last two minutes. She was on her feet much of the time, and he was almost convinced her injury was quite minor. But when he noticed her limping as they exited, he forced her to sit and allow him to inspect her ankle. He discovered a pronounced swelling and berated himself for agreeing to take her to the game after the injury.
“I need to take you straight home—this ankle looks bad.”
Her crushed expression broke his heart. “I don’t want to go home yet. We haven’t even had time to… to talk or anything. Not since… you know… since everything happened… And we haven’t… you know… I missed you and…”
He wanted to be alone with her, too. But he didn’t want to talk—he wanted to kiss her. He gave in without further protest, attempting to hide a smug expression stemming from her obvious desire for the same thing he wanted.
“What if we went to the top of the Rock? There won’t be many people up there at this time of night. No, I know… Let’s go to Central Park. Have you ever been on a carriage ride? I know it’s kind of touristy, but since you can’t walk...”
“I’ve lived here all my life and never taken a carriage ride in Central Park. It sounds fun.”
He knelt with his back to her. “Climb on—I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”
Carrying her outside toward the taxi, his nerves were hot-wired, firing on all circuits, from the contact of her soft form as she clung to his back. What he really wanted was to get her alone—really alone. He wanted to kiss her lips, her neck, and so much more. But he knew that could never happen. He had to be certain they never had too much privacy, so he didn’t tempt his frazzled willpower.
* * *
The carriage ridewas as romantic as Grace had always imagined. Brad chatted about Ben’s surgery and recovery as his arm slid around the back of the cushion over her shoulder, his hand rubbing lightly on her arm in a seemingly idle fashion. She didn’t notice when he stopped talking. She was only aware of his hand as it slid up her arm and across her shoulder to caress her neck, sending millions of tiny sparks along millions of tiny nerve endings. He leaned in toward her lifting her chin with his fingertips, while continuing his fiery assault on the skin of her neck. Her eyes closed of their own accord, and she held her breath, waiting for the touch of his lips against hers. And then she heard something strange—a wet, plopping sound. A pungent smell accosted her nose.
“Oh, good grief! That’s awful! Did the horse just...”
Brad laughed. “Are you sure that wasn’t you, and you’re not just blaming the poor horse?”
Her punch landed on his rock-hard bicep. “Ow!” she exclaimed, shaking her hand.
“What do you mean, ‘Ow’? You’re the one who hit me.”
“But you deserved it. And anyway, your arm hurt my hand.” She flashed him a crooked smile as she rubbed her knuckles.
He grasped her fingers and lifted the reddened knuckles to his lips. “Let me kiss it and make it feel better.”
She almost swooned at the combined sight and sensation of his lips as they pressed gently against her hand, causing a warm current to flow up her arm. As if he knew the heat had traveled that direction, he began to move his lips across her hand and wrist, flipping it to kiss a slow sweep up the inside of her forearm, Gomez-style. His lips seared an icy-hot trail on her skin until she squirmed in her seat. By the time he reached her shoulder, her muscles had melted, resulting in her boneless collapse against the carriage seat.
As her head fell back in surrender to her overwhelmed senses, he accepted the opportunity as an invitation. Her breathing was short and shallow, anticipating, reveling in the feeling of his lips nibbling on her neck. But when he reached the soft hollow under her jaw, lights sparkled behind her eyelids.
His low chuckle reverberated against her neck. He whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Shhh! Not so loud.”
Her face burned, and she stiffened, opening her eyes to determine if the carriage driver had overheard.
“I made a noise? Was it really loud?”
His fingers stroked along the line of her jaw, causing her eyes to flutter closed. “Don’t worry—he’s not paying any attention.” His voice was soothing and hypnotic, as were his fingers. She couldn’t move, even if she’d had the desire. He returned his lips to her skin, back to the moan-making spot on her neck, and she felt goose bumps rising on her leg. Who knew there was a connection between those nerves?
As he moved his mouth under her chin and over the ridge of her jaw, closer and closer to her lips, she found herself holding her breath until she felt light-headed. Impatient with his teasing, she found the strength to stretch her hands behind his neck and pull his mouth against hers. Still, he held back, warring against her, only affording her the lightest brush of his lips.
“Brad! Please!” The words slipped out before she realized she’d spoken.
“Please what?” His eyelids closed halfway, and he flashed an impish grin.
Her furious glare didn’t seem to faze him. He maintained his resistance, grazing his lips over her mouth, sending lightning bolts through her system with each slight contact. Her heart was thundering in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the city.
“Please… Please kiss me.”
“Hmmm… I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He released her and leaned away, tapping his finger against the side of his head. She stared at him, dazed and confused.
“What do you mean? Of course it’s a good idea. You don’t want to kiss me?”
“Oh, I want to. Believe me, I want to. But I’m not certain I should.”
“Why not?”
“Because it seems to me every time I kiss you, you end up running away from me.”
She sputtered, “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” He crossed his arms.
It might be true, but she didn’t have to admit it. The real problem was when he did anything to make her hope for a permanent relationship. She had to keep her head on straight. If she could keep her emotions from getting too involved, it wouldn’t hurt so much when the inevitable breakup came.
“You’re never going to kiss me again?”
“As much as I hate to do this, I think we need to talk first. I want to be certain we’ve addressed all your concerns up front, because I can’t handle having you leave me again.”
“But I don’t have any concerns now.”
In the glow of the lamplight she could see one of his eyebrows shoot up. “Really? If nothing bothers you, then talking about us shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Look, can’t we just kiss and enjoy each other’s company the way we used to? The way we did before any of this ever happened?”
“No, something has to change. We have to be different than your other relationships or you’ll eventually discard me like you did all the other guys.”
Her breaths came faster, and she felt her vision narrowing. He wanted to talk about the future. He wanted a commitment. He had no idea he was attracted to her for all the wrong reasons. He didn’t realize that kind of relationship could never last.
“Grace?” He was peering into her face, his brows knit with concern. His voice sounded far away. “Grace? What’s wrong, baby?”
“I can’t… I can’t…”
“Grace!” He held her in his arms, leaning her back across his lap, plying her face with kisses. “Don’t you pass out on me!”
He planted a forceful kiss on her lips, and the world that had faded came plummeting back. Her eyes opened wide, and her heart thudded in her chest. He deepened the kiss, and shock waves shot throughout her system. She didn’t ever remember feeling this in all the times he’d kissed her before. Her nerve endings were raw. She was painfully aware of every place his body contacted hers, even through her thick sweater. He played her senses like an instrument; his talented mouth made her entire being hum with pleasure.
Why couldn’t they just enjoy the moment? If he insisted on talking about the future, she would have to put a stop to it.
She tried to maintain contact, but the jolting carriage broke them apart. He sat up straight with a pained expression. “I shouldn’t have done that. We still need to talk.”
She attempted to snuggle against his chest. “But I liked it. Why do we have to talk and spoil everything?”
“I have to know you won’t make another unilateral decision to end our relationship.” He looped his arm along the back of the seat behind her, his fingers caressing her shoulder. “Like you did last time I said the L-word.”
“That wasn’t what I did.”
“How would you describe it, then?”
Grace studied her fingernails, answering in a small voice, “I’d call it protecting you.”
“Protecting me from what?” He sat forward, twisting to look at her, his forehead marred with a frown.
“From making a commitment and ending up in an unhappy marriage.”
A gentle pressure on her chin, his fingers turned her face toward his. “Why on earth do you think our marriage would be unhappy? Is it because I went to that game with Dr. Dickson? Because I promise—”
“That’s not it,” she interrupted. “You’ll be the unhappy one. Not me.”
“That’s ridiculous, Grace. I wouldn’t be unhappy, I’d be the happiest man—”
“Sure you’ll be happy for a while,” Grace blurted out, knocking his hand away. “But eventually the physical attraction will wear off, and you’ll regret being stuck with me.”
His jaw dropped, but he didn’t respond. He must’ve realized the truth in her words.
“You might even stay with me,” she went on, “but you’ll wish you were with someone else. I’ll read it in your eyes, and I won’t be able to bear it.”
“Grace that’s crazy. What did I ever say or do to make you think that?”
“Nothing. But if you think about it, you’ll know it’s true.” She’d done it. She’d opened his eyes, and now their relationship was going to end, far sooner than she’d hoped. She was dead inside.
A loud “Eh-hem” sounded from the front of the carriage, and Grace jumped. The driver was looking at them. “We’ve been stopped for a few minutes now.”
Brad tipped the man and climbed down, turning his back to Grace.
“Hop on—your chariot awaits.”
He carried her piggy-back down a well-lit sidewalk into Central Park as thoughts swirled inside her head. She laid her head against him, relishing the feel of his warm muscles flexing, knowing full well this was probably the last time they would be together.
“Let’s stop and talk,” he said.
Her gut tightened as he sat her down on a bench, unwinding her legs from his waist as he moved beside her.
“Can’t we just enjoy the time we have together and not talk?”
“I have things I need to say.” He sandwiched her hands between his. “All those things you said about me one day regretting our relationship…. I hate that you believe that about me.”
She ached at the anguish in his voice. “I’m sorry, Brad. It’s not you. It’s me. I know my looks are my only asset, and you’re a wonderful guy to go out with me when my hair is screwed up.”
“Who told you that?” His eyes went flinty, his mouth flattening. “Who told you your looks were your only asset?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m not that smart.” Her eyes stung, and she looked away, not wanting to relive the harsh awakening Mark had given her. But like always, the man’s derisive words repeated in her mind, the image of his face as clear as if it had happened yesterday.
“You’ve said quite a few stupid things.” His nostrils flared. “Like this, for example. But you’re plenty intelligent.”
“I’m not as smart as the other women you could be with. You have to admit that. And if it weren’t for physical attraction, you wouldn’t be interested.”
“I’ve never heard you talk like this before. Do you have some secret insecurity?”
“I’m confident in who I am, but I’m also realistic about what I have to offer in a relationship. I’m no Kara Dickson.”
His head snapped toward her. “You think I would choose Kara Dickson over you?”
“No, but…” Blood rushed to her face. “You have to admit you could get someone better than me if you tried.”
“Name one.”
“Huh?”
“Name one woman who would be better for me than you.”
“I don’t know… Maybe one of the other doctors in your program.”
“Too single-minded.” He flipped his hand in the air. “There’s more to life than medicine. Who else?”
“How about an attorney? Or an engineer? Or an accountant?” Her chin trembled as she thought about Mark’s new wife. “Or maybe a college professor?”
Brad cocked his head to the side. “Maybe. It depends.”
“On what?” she asked, tensing involuntarily as she anticipated his response. It was one thing to think his attraction to her was purely physical. It was another thing to have her thoughts confirmed.
“This attorney… is she funny and sassy? Does she love sports so much she’d rather be in excruciating pain than miss a game? And does that engineer have a tender heart? Is she the kind of person who always puts her family and friends first? And does this accountant say and do crazy things that make me laugh? And does she know how to squeeze joy out of every moment?”
Grace gulped air, her heart thumping a wild rhythm. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t come up with a response.
“And what about that college professor?” Brad’s voice dropped as his fingers came up to trail along her jaw, making her eyes flutter closed. “Is she so beautiful she’d look amazing whether her hair was cut in a pixie or shaved completely off? So beautiful that I’ll love her when that hair turns silver and there are lines on her face?”
His thumb wiped a tear from her cheek.
“Is that really how you see me?” Her voice quaked.
“That’s exactly how I see you.” He leaned in to brush his lips across hers. “Because that’s who you are.”
That’s the opposite of what Mark said. So who do I believe?
“Believe me.” Brad’s voice was firm.
“Did I say something out loud?” Heat ran up her neck to the top of her forehead.
“You asked who you should believe.” His hand found hers and squeezed it. “I don’t know who else you’re considering, but you can believe me. Every word I said is true.”
“Don’t you think you’ll get tired of me after a while?”
“How could I get tired of you, when you change every few seconds?” His smile softened his quip.
“I’m serious,” Grace said. “I know I’m nothing special, but I was kind of hoping after I got my master’s degree—”
“Nothing special? Are you kidding me?” His eyebrows flew to the top of his forehead. “You don’t need a master’s degree to be more special than you already are. You’re the most amazing woman I know.”
“Really?” Her heart grew so large it pushed against her ribcage.
He twisted to face her, his hands grasping hers. “You, Grace Marshal, are wonderful, just the way you are. I don’t know who made you think otherwise, but I’d like to punch him in the face.”
“Me, too.” She gave a harsh laugh. “I’ve heard his voice in my head for years, and I can’t get rid of it. I doubt he’s given me a thought. He’s an attorney, and he’s married to a professor now.”
“What’s his name?” Brad’s glower grew darker.
“From the way you’re glaring at me, I’m thinking it’s best if you never find out.” Grace stifled a grin. Funny how Brad’s anger made her so happy.
“I don’t want any man’s voice in your head but mine.” Muscles bulged on the outside of his jaw. “And no man holding your hand but me.”
He lifted her hands, his lips brushing her fingers in the tenderest of kisses.
“Okay,” she whispered, breathlessly.
“And while we’re at it,” he said his voice going gravelly, “I don’t want any other man’s lips touching yours, either.”
She swallowed. Or at least she tried to. The possessiveness in his blue eyes evaporated every drop of saliva from her mouth.
He moved his lips to her cheek and whispered against her skin, “Are we in agreement?”
A delicious shudder shook her body. She could only nod.
“Grace, was this the real reason we couldn’t talk about commitment and the L-word?”
“Yes. I was trying to guard my heart. And yours, too.”
“But you know better, now. Right?” He pulled back and imprisoned her gaze. “No more restrictions?”
“I think we could keep going out for a while.”
“No cut-off dates?” His eyebrows lifted.
“I guess not.” Her pulse fluttered.
“And I can use the L-word?”
“Maybe…” She worried her lower lip between her teeth. Things were getting out of control.
“I’m recovering from a recent head injury, you know.” His grin widened, dimples dancing. “The stress of having to watch my words all the time could cause a setback.”
“Really?” Guilt flooded her. His head injury never would’ve happened if she hadn’t been such a baby about needles.
“I’m just teasing.” His warm hands cupped her face, tilting it up. His mouth was close, but he held back. “But I don’t want us to be together unless we can be completely honest. Don’t you think it’s time?”
Her lips were dying for his kiss. They begged her to give in. She tried to argue with them, but she couldn’t think of a single reason to say no.
“Okay,” she rasped, her pulse racing.
He closed the gap, his lips capturing hers at last. She sighed at the tingling hum of a thousand nerve endings dancing for joy.
Before she realized what was happening she was high up in the air, squealing, as he held her by the waist, twirling in circles. He began to shout. “I’m in love with you! Grace Marshall! I love you! Hey everybody! I love this girl!” His cries attracted the attention of a nearby group of young people who began to whistle, whoop, and applaud. He stopped spinning and wrapped his arms around her, allowing her to slide down against him until their faces were level.
“Grace Marshall—you crazy girl. I love you.”
When his lips met hers again, the world disappeared. She was only aware of the touch of his mouth against hers, the strength of his embrace, the wild beat of his heart against hers. Nothing existed but the man who held her in his arms… the man who held her heart in his hands.
When his lips tore away from hers, she knew she never wanted to live without him.
“Brad,” she said, praying for courage to speak the truth. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he murmured, “and I’m never going to stop. Not ever.”
And he kept his word.
* * *
* * *
From the Author:
Grace’s zanycharacter is actually inspired by stories my mom told about her dating years. I only wish I could be as fun and vivacious and unpredictable as she is. My mom is 90 years old and still mows her own yard and runs a mile on her treadmill every day!
Turn the page to read Charlie and Josh’s story,
BEST LAID PLANS!