CHAPTER 4
Christmas Eve
Grace awakened to a crack of light peeking through strange curtains and the sensation of finally being warm in a cozy, wonderful way. As consciousness dawned, she stretched, bumping into a leg—a leg!—that was definitely not her own. Another tentative stretch told her the situation was far worse. An entire male body appeared to be wrapped around her. His deep, regular breathing assured her he was asleep.
Her every muscle froze in place. The large, masculine arm draped casually over her told her Graham had survived the night. And the very male part pressing into her back let her know he was definitely neurologically intact. A big bicep half covered by a gray T-shirt sleeve encased her solidly. Her gaze trailed from his arm down to his big, beautiful hand, his long, slender fingers resting on the comforter in front of her. Oh dear God, he was wrapped around her like a hot pretzel. For just a moment, she lay still, encased in his strength, breathing in his familiar scent.
Waking up wrapped around each other like this used to be habit. He still stirred her, now and always, in ways no other man ever would. Being near him was to be on fire, and that hadn’t changed at all. Underneath the flames, she recognized something even more disturbing—a sense that everything was right in her world, although the only thing that had changed was him suddenly being in it.
The big muscles flexed. The arm pulled away, and the masculine weight shifted. Grace quickly shut her eyes and pretended to sleep.
The bed lightened as Graham rose to use the bathroom. She heard the muffled sounds of running water, a soft voice talking on the phone. What would today bring? They were stuck in a small town without a car after a major winter storm. It was Christmas Eve.
She didn’t want this bubble to end. Being with him was like being covered by a soft blanket, or wearing a comfy pair of jeans—unlike anything she’d felt before, except with him.
She was rummaging through her suitcase when the bathroom door opened and Graham walked out, hair damp, smelling like heaven. He wore jeans and nothing else, which made her stomach plunge down to the floor and her cheeks blaze. She tried to avert her eyes, look anywhere but at the hills and valleys of muscle, the light coating of dark hair, the way his jeans hung low on his lean hips.
Somehow, she managed to pass him and get in the bathroom, where she used the time to try to calm the hell down. If she didn’t come up with an excuse to leave this room, something combustible was going to happen between them. She had to get out while she still had all her wits about her.
When she’d finally got her breathing under control, she left the bathroom, walked toward her suitcase, and stubbed her toe on the bed.
She let out a curse and hopped around a little, imagining what she must look like with her bedhead hair, red plaid flannel, and Christmas socks. Very sexy. Unlike the delicious, muscular god walking toward her.
She tried to use the pain to distract herself from how her mouth had suddenly gone dry and her knees felt as wobbly as a one-year-old’s, but it wasn’t really working. Worse, Graham stepped a little closer.
She splayed out her arms, warning him back. All that lean muscle, all that raw, masculine heat—it could not come near her. She would throw herself at him, smooth her hands over all that hard, bountiful muscle, and beg for things. Her body could not be trusted. “I’m fine. Really. Just stubbed my toe.”
“Want me to take a look?”
His gaze was torching her, like paper in a fire that turns immediately to ash and blows away.
The fact that he was now inches away with his lips quirked into the slightest smile told her he didn’t heed her warning, or give a damn about it. And oh, she did not want him to. He was so close now, she could smell the soap from his shower, see the little beads of water on his shoulders. His fingers gripped her elbow, and she swore it tingled from his touch. Other parts of her were sort of on fire too. So not good. “Let’s see it,” he said, the smile morphing into a wicked grin.
“Graham, I’m fine.” She tried to shrug away. He dropped his hand, but still she felt pinned in place, unable to move or even breathe. Electricity buzzed and snapped between them. She didn’t want him to see how much he affected her, yet she was helpless with him so near.
His gaze homed in on her lips. He was going to…yes, he was. Kiss her. Her heartbeat thrummed in her throat, and every muscle froze in anticipation.
She wanted it. Wanted him. So, so badly.
Graham lowered his mouth. The dip of his head was so familiar, yet it made every nerve stand on end. At last, their lips met. His were soft and pliant, and they brushed against hers, carefully and slowly. Her hand was trembling as she wrapped it around his neck and pulled him toward her until their bodies were flush, fitting together like they were always meant to.
That simple move blew careful and slow right out of the water. His mouth crushed hers, devouring her with deep, sensual kisses. His tongue slid inside her mouth, and she met it with equal vigor, desire roaring and crashing between them, unleashed like a storm surge, uncontrollable and insatiable.
Suddenly, Graham pulled back, out of breath. He cradled her face in his hands and looked at her tenderly. “I missed you,” he said. “I missed this.”
His words terrified as well as kindled hope inside her. In her life, people didn’t stay. And when they left, they sure as hell never came back.
“I think about you all the time,” he said. “I came to your book signing because I had to see you. I tried to tell myself it was for Emmy, but it wasn’t. It was for me.”
Grace reached up and circled his wrists with her hands. “When you were slumped over that wheel, all I could think of is how we wasted our chance together.”
“It doesn’t have to be too late for us,” he said. Oh, how she wanted to believe those sweet words. When he kissed her again, deep and hungry, her knees buckled, and they both fell back onto the bed. Thoughts about divorce and mistakes and tragedies fled, and she got lost in the feel of his lips and hands as they roved all over her body.
He rolled them both over until he was on top of her, pulling up her flannel in handfuls, stroking the skin of her sides and back. He helped her drag her nightgown over her head, kissing her lips, her neck, the sensitive skin of her collarbone. She reveled in the way he held her, whispered soft words to her, nipped and licked and kissed her while she lay there clinging to him, unable to get enough.
Grace threaded her fingers though the coarse silk of his hair, ran her hands along the ridges of his back and the smooth, lean muscle of his chest. Every touch was precious. She took nothing for granted. His touch was the same, familiar, expected, and yet different—more hungry, more desperate, making her tremble as if it was their first time together.
“I missed you too,” she whispered as he kissed her breast, flicked her nipple with his tongue, and took it into his mouth. Before she could even let out a coherent sound, he traced the band of her panties with his fingers, back and forth, teasing, until her body felt like a guitar string, taut and quivering. She was close to tears, overwhelmed with the joy of being in his arms. A joy she never thought she’d experience again.
She ran her hand along his fine ass, then wrapped it around his shaft and stroked him. He let out a strangled groan. His gaze, bright, intense, and vulnerable, told her he was just as affected by their lovemaking as she was.
She was very wet, and he was stroking her, playing, tormenting. She felt feverish, quaking, turning her head restlessly until he kissed her, murmuring soothing words to calm her while he slipped his fingers inside her and continued his sensuous torment.
“I need you inside me,” she said, begging him, but he shook his head. Brought her hands together above her head and held them there as he rained kiss after kiss upon her lips. Her back arched, every muscle tightened and tensed. She opened her body to him, and her heart. He kissed away her cries as she came, releasing in a heady rush as she fell over the edge, exploding in a frenzy of feelings that overtook her completely.
Graham sheathed himself. As she guided him inside her body, he began a slow, steady rhythm, one that rocked her to her soul, filling her to the limit, and yet somehow wasn’t enough. She wrapped herself around him, took all of him inside her. His gaze locked on her, direct and honest and raw. She was powerless under it, and yet she’d never felt so free, with this complicated, difficult, amazing man whom she simply could not live without.
They rode the wave of release together, until at last they collapsed, still entwined in each other’s arms. Graham smoothed back her hair, kissing her neck, her forehead, and for a few minutes, they simply lay there, surrounded by silence in the dim room. His arm covered her possessively, held her lightly at the waist, and she stroked it, the sense of peace and contentment of being with him settling in like the thick blanket of snow outside.
She wished they could stay in this special bubble forever where there were no problems, no pain, no outside world.
With that thought, the room phone rang. Graham reached over to answer it. The conversation was about the state of his car, so Grace climbed out of bed to head to the bathroom. Or rather she tried. Graham tugged her back and playfully bit her arm to get her to stay. Then gave her a lively swat on her butt to send her on her way.
She managed to pull on some jeans and a sweater. When she came out, Graham was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his cell. He gestured for her to come sit next to him.
“That was Hector from the front desk. My car’s in the shop, and it’s going to take at least a week. The shop people brought over all your books from the trunk, and they’re bringing them up now. And there’s a bus going to Philly that passes through town at four o’clock, but there’s only one seat. I told him we’re not interested.”
Her heart leapt at his last statement. It meant he wanted them to stay together. She wanted that too. But then she remembered his family, and the fact that tomorrow was Christmas. “Your family’s expecting you. You should take the seat and get home to see your brother.”
“I don’t want us to split up,” he said. “I don’t want to leave without you. I’m sure there’s another bus in the morning.”
She thought about everything that had happened since the time she’d stepped into the Barnes and Noble yesterday, which now seemed like a million years ago. Despite the storm and the accident—or maybe because of them—they’d found each other again, and it felt so right.
Graham kissed her and rubbed her arm. “I should go talk to the guy at the shop.”
“I was thinking I’d take my books to the hospital and give them out. The kids would enjoy them, and I really don’t want to travel with all these boxes on a bus anyway.” She wasn’t quite sure what she expected him to say. But it wasn’t what he said next.
“I want to come with you.”
His words struck her to the core. Startled and pleased her.
“I could help you,” he said. “Carry your books. Be your PR person. Anything you need. What do you say?”
At one time, she’d believed he didn’t support her career, when things had happened so fast and their life had gotten overtaken by her sudden success. That he wanted to take part now thrilled her. “I’d love for you to join me.”
She felt just like she had in the early days of their marriage. Giddy and in love.
Maybe this dizzy, heady feeling had something to do with the fact that it was Christmastime and they’d been thrown together, and of course things had happened. Nature had simply taken its course, and they’d acted on the explosive attraction between them.
Or maybe it had everything to do with the fact that she was still in love with him—that she’d never stopped loving him. And that was terrifying.
* * *
Graham had to show his ID and practically give a blood sample to get permission to enter the pediatric ward. For a small hospital, there was still a lot of commotion about Grace signing books. Hospital security sent up two officers, and once again, as in the book store, a drove of thrilled children and their parents gathered around Grace. She’d created a whole world that everyone was clamoring to be a part of.
He understood the feeling. He wanted to be part of her world too, and for the first time, he felt like it was possible to leave their past behind and start again. If he could just convince her to believe it.
A feeling of pride came over him as he watched Grace as she sat in an open play area surrounded by colorfully painted murals, talking with kids and signing books.
Yet, if he were honest with himself, he hadn’t always felt like that. Her career had been a bone of contention between them. She’d gotten published and then suddenly famous—really famous. It had felt to him at that time that the fictitious Adaline and her escapades were way more important to her than their marriage was—than he was. Her work had become another barrier that kept them from comforting each other after their son’s death.
Now, watching the children and parents interact with Grace, he saw by the looks on their faces how much the books meant to them. Despite or perhaps partly because of their son’s death, Grace had created something truly special that had touched a lot of people. In his book, that was amazing.
“I have two questions for you,” a nurse who introduced herself as Helen said to Grace as she finished up with the crowd. “One, can you sign a book for my granddaughter, and two, when you’re done here, would you come down the hall to the nursery and visit us too? The nurses all have kids who read your books, and the new parents would love it too, if you have some left.”
“Of course,” Grace said, but Graham noticed her smile was a little tight. He immediately got why, because he felt the same way. Seeing a bunch of plump, happy babies and their parents would be difficult under the best circumstances. Yet it was Grace’s nature to agree, regardless of the emotional cost.
Graham approached her as she shook the last parent’s hand and hugged the last child. “You know, you don’t have to go to the nursery. You can just sign a pile of books and—”
“I’ll go,” she insisted, then gave his hand a quick squeeze. “But thanks for worrying about me.”
Frankly, he was worried about himself too. Just being in the hospital had brought a bunch of memories tumbling into the present. Above the colorful artwork and the cheery Christmas decorations, the bright fluorescent lights glowed a bit harshly. An antiseptic smell permeated the place. And the beeps of monitors and IV pumps couldn’t disguise the fact that life-and-death business was part of the fabric of life here.
Graham followed Grace down a long hallway, Helen chatting endlessly about how wonderful Mirror Lake was, how a retired nurse spent most of the fall knitting Santa hats for all the new babies, and offering them goodies from the myriad cookie and candy trays that seemed to be stacked on every free countertop in the nursing station. She didn’t notice how Grace stiffened. To Grace’s credit, she made small talk with the staff, signed books, and walked with one of the nurses into some of the rooms to meet parents and their babies.
“So, what’s it like being married to a celebrity author?” Helen asked him as he waited in the nursing station.
“Terrific,” he said. “I couldn’t be more proud.” He shouldn’t pretend, but the thought of explaining seemed too complicated. He ate a homemade Christmas cookie instead, which was delicious but didn’t dispel his antsiness. Grace had been gone a while, and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t overtaxing herself. Suddenly, he looked up and saw her standing in the hallway in front of the large nursery viewing window, arms crossed tightly.
He walked up behind her and didn’t say anything, just put his arms around her. For a minute, they looked at the chubby-cheeked babies, some bald, some with thick shocks of dark hair, some with heads a little conical from their tough journey into the world. A few were sucking their fists, others were wailing lusty cries, red-faced, their mouths in big wide O’s.
They stood there, together, in silence. He knew exactly what she was thinking, because he was thinking the same thing, about their baby, who never got a chance to be fat cheeked and chunky, with a loud, healthy cry.
Graham could literally feel Grace’s pain seeping through his sweater. He tightened his arms around her, trying to say with his presence what he couldn’t say out loud. He thought of the times he could not comfort her, when they were married and it had been his business to do that for her. When he’d been at a loss, and nothing he’d been able to do or say had helped.
Now that time had passed, he understood so much better that they’d lived through a tragic situation that no one could ever really comprehend, that neither of them could really be comforted except with the passage of time. He wanted somehow to make up for it, to do better, to tell her he was so, so sorry for not being the husband she’d needed.
“Cute little buggers, aren’t they?” Helen asked, coming up behind them. “You two have any yet?”
“No, not yet,” Graham said, releasing Grace. Then he quickly changed the subject. “Grace, you ready to take off?” Beneath her friendly smile, she sent him a grateful nod.
“On behalf of all my staff, thank you so much for all you’ve done,” Helen said. “It was a real treat.”
As Grace hugged and laughed with the staff and took their compliments—how their daughters loved her books, and how they were all holding their breath for the next one—Graham understood that now, more than ever before, he and Grace had issues to resolve. Things to talk about that would affect whether or not they could truly start over again.
The question was if he could somehow surmount the invisible boundary between them, the one that had prevented them from fully grieving the loss of their son and had torn their marriage apart.
* * *
“I think I’m going to take a little walk,” Grace said, hugging her arms tightly around herself as they reentered the hotel room midafternoon. Graham didn’t know it yet, but she was going to insist he get on the four o’clock bus.
Seeing those babies had been a huge reality check. It brought all the pain she’d worked so hard to push away cascading back. And it brought a fresh array of doubts. How could she trust Graham again when things had gone so far awry the first time around? How could she trust herself, when at this very moment she felt herself putting up walls between them once again to shut out all the pain?
She’d placed her coat on the bed, but now she picked it up, shrugged it on, and headed to the door. Graham stepped directly in her path. “No,” he said.
She whirled toward him, her expression startled. “What do you mean no?”
He let out a breath. There was no turning back now. “I saw how upset you were. If we could just talk—”
“It’s all in the past. Done. It was a horrible time, and—”
He held her by the shoulders and shook her a little. “It’s not done. Both of us still hurt from it. It’s time we both talk about it.”
She did not want to go there. Frankly, it scared her to death, and she was freaking out. Stepping out of his reach, she looked at him warily. They’d gotten caught up in each other, in the attraction they’d always felt, but this—revisiting their unresolvable issues that were so closely tied to the death of their son—could crush her.
“I didn’t respond well to your depression,” he said. “I didn’t understand it. I thought you were pushing me away on purpose.”
“Stop blaming our divorce on my depression. It was a lot more than that.”
“Okay,” he said warily, sitting down on the bed, waiting for her to continue.
“You never really came back, Graham. Even after I started to feel a little more normal.”
“That’s not the way I remember it.” He crossed his arms as he continued. “After your first book sold, every weekend was booked, and when you weren’t doing events, you were home writing like crazy to meet your deadlines. I tried to understand how badly you were hurting, and I understood your need to work to forget your pain. But you didn’t appreciate my pain, Grace. You were in your own little world, where all that mattered were your books.”
She shut her eyes tightly to protect against the sting of his words, which struck their target too well. “I would trade every success I had to have our sweet son back. You know that.”
“I do know that,” he said softly. “I tried to understand. But then you announced you were going on tour. Announced it, Grace. Didn’t discuss it, just told me that’s what you were doing.”
“I didn’t think you cared. You were spending more and more time with your business. It seemed to me like just when I finally started working again, you were trying to keep my career down.”
“I’ve always been proud of what you accomplished. But I felt you used your work to push me away. I was hurting too, Grace. It wasn’t just you.”
She shook her head. Graham knew her too well, flaws and raw edges. He was right when he said she’d gotten swept away by her work. It had saved her from despair. Trouble was, she’d lost herself in it. She hadn’t comforted him—she’d been hurting so badly herself. “We made horrible mistakes.”
“We didn’t understand how to comfort each other. But we can learn.”
“We both moved on with other people.”
“No, Grace. I still love you. I’ll always love you. I started to say that before the deer hit.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Of course he loved her. She felt that down to her marrow. She missed him, she missed what they had together. But was that enough to protect them from hurting each other again? It hadn’t been the first time. Now he was standing there, his eyes filled with emotion. Silently pleading with her to take the leap. All she had to do was put her trust in him. But how could she, when she’d nearly been destroyed the first time around? “I love you too, Graham,” she said softly, but shook her head.
His face fell. The hope in his eyes shattered, and she winced. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I survived the pain of our baby dying, and the pain of losing you. But I can’t put myself in a position to make the same mistakes again.” It had nearly destroyed her. She’d survived by being tough, by distracting herself with her work. Now that she was finally living her life again, how could she risk going there again?
“Don’t, Grace.” He grabbed her again by the shoulders. “Don’t be afraid to fall. I’d catch you, you know. This time I would.”
She reached over and kissed him. A firm, quick press on the lips. “Your family is waiting for you.” Her voice cracked. Oh God. He needed to get on that bus and leave before she completely lost it.
“Don’t do this,” he said. “Come with me. What we have is worth another chance.”
But she turned and looked out the window at the peaceful winter scene below. The world continued, people with shopping bags strolling past quaint shops, cars rolling along toward home as the work day ended.
“What will you do alone here?” His voice, tight and controlled, as if he’d forced it through gritted teeth, came to her from the open doorway.
“I’ll go to that place—the Irish pub. Where the locals go. I’ll be fine.” She had no intention of doing that, but it had been the first thing to pop into her head. At this point, she’d say anything to get him to go.
He was silent for a long time. Panic seized up inside her. She was terrified to move. If she turned around, he would see everything on her face—her doubt, her confusion, her anguish.
Maybe she could explain. She turned around—just in time to see the door shut. The soft click resonated in the big ceilinged room. He was gone.