As he drove down the George Washington Memorial Parkway along the Potomac River the next Wednesday, Grayson answered his ringing phone.

“How are you doing, Gray?” Eli asked.

“All right,” he said, but the truth was he felt like shit. Grief had taken everything out of him, and now he was gutted and more numb than anything. “Thank you for the flowers you sent.”

“Wish I could have been there,” Eli said, his voice sincere. Changing the subject, he asked, “Where are you?”

“Back in town, on my way to Claire’s.” After the last few gut-wrenching days, seeing her again was the one thing he’d been looking forward to.

As Eli spoke, Grayson knew exactly what he would say next.

“You don’t need to come back to work so soon.”

And there it is. Eli was nothing if not consistent.

Since professionalism was the only thing that would deflect his boss’s worry, Grayson said, “I want to get back to the case. How did the interrogation with Eric Sewell go in Boston?”

“They had him in interrogation for hours but finally had to let him go. He wouldn’t admit to anything.”

Grayson frowned. They could prove Sewell had been in DC during the kidnapping, but nothing else. “What about phone records?” Maybe they’d reveal a connection to Rex Gibson.

“Still waiting on those.” Eli let out a sigh. “Listen, Gray, I really think you should take more time off. Don’t you need to deal with your mom’s estate?”

“I’m not worrying about that right now.” Grayson cleared his throat. “Eli, I’m fine. I’ll check in with you later.”

It had been hard enough to get through the small funeral his aunt had arranged, plus meeting with his mother’s lawyer and banker, arranging for final bills to be paid. He’d encouraged Mary to select a few items of her sister’s that held meaning for her, a few pieces of jewelry and the like, and drove her to the airport yesterday to return to Minneapolis. Like him, it was time for her to get back to her own life.

Once this case was wrapped up, he’d return to Scranton to deal with the house and its contents. Hopefully by then, he’d be in a better frame of mind.

Grayson glanced at the cardboard box in the passenger seat. Before he’d left his mother’s, he’d grabbed her photo albums, a few framed family photos, and her favorite teapot. Just as he was about to walk through the front door with the box in his arms, he’d turned and gone back for the package of Earl Grey tea she’d liked so much.

* * *

His heart in his throat, Grayson pressed the button for Claire’s condo in the foyer of her building. She buzzed him in, and when he stepped off the elevator, he found her standing in her open doorway, waiting for him. Her eyes large and luminous, she said nothing as she drew him inside and gave him a hug.

Wrapping his arms around Claire, Grayson found himself relaxing for the first time in days. He absorbed the warmth of her body as he ran his hands over the softness of her sweater and inhaled the coconut scent of her hair. When Alex entered the living room and came over to greet him, Grayson released her reluctantly.

Gripping his shoulder briefly, Alex said, “Sorry about your mother, Gray.”

“Thanks.”

“When’s the service?”

“We had something small already. Sunday afternoon.”

Alex scanned his face. “Sure you’re ready to come back to work?”

Grayson gazed down at Claire. She was studying him, apparently wondering the same thing. “I’m sure.”

“Okay then. I’ll get my things.” Alex headed for the guest room and returned a minute later, hefting his backpack over his shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Once the door closed behind him, Claire hugged Grayson again. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said against his chest. “It seems like such a trite thing to say, but I really mean it.”

He held her close, accepting her sympathy, and gave himself a moment to soak it up before he stepped out of her embrace.

Claire sat on the sofa, her expression beckoning, and he took a seat on the other end. She said nothing for a moment, just letting him be, which was so unusual for a woman. The females he knew normally peppered him with questions, determined to examine him from the inside out, but not this woman.

No, Claire was unique, and he found himself appreciating her gentle acceptance more and more.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Claire shifted her body toward him and drew one bare foot beneath herself, facing him. The casualness of her position was so open, so welcoming, Grayson found himself opening up to Claire without her even saying a word.

“It was so hard,” he said, “watching Mom die. She wasn’t conscious by the time I got there, so I never got to say good-bye.” His breathing hitched, and he took a moment to compose himself. “She dictated a letter to me that my aunt wrote up, but I can’t bring myself to read it.”

Claire reached out and laid a hand on his knee. “You will when the time is right.”

Grayson shook his head. “She should have been able to say what she wanted to in person. I should have been there.”

“Maybe it was easier for her to express her feelings in a letter.”

Grayson considered that. He and his mother had been close and he’d loved her, but he’d always kept a slight emotional distance from her, just like he had from everyone else. His aversion to loss, his fear of being hurt again as he had been after his father’s death, had dictated the shallow depth of his relationships for as long as he could remember.

“I’m so sorry,” Claire whispered.

When she shifted closer and leaned against his chest, Grayson closed his eyes. Her compassion was going to be his undoing. He shouldn’t be taking comfort from her, but what else was he supposed to do when it felt so good, so right?

He opened his eyes and dropped his gaze to her lips. Bad move. Now all he wanted to do was taste them.

Move away before it’s too late.

But he couldn’t. His arms and legs wouldn’t cooperate. And his hands—they seemed to have a will of their own. They threaded through Claire’s hair, angling her face upward.

His mouth met lips just as soft and warm as he’d imagined. Desire shot through him, jolting him with its intensity.

Does she even want this?

When Grayson forced himself to pull back, Claire let out a groan of protest.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was completely unprof—”

But before he could finish, Claire was kissing him.

This time, Grayson grabbed her wrists as he leaned back. “We can’t.” He released her and stood. “I’ll be in the guest room.”

“Wait.” Claire’s eyes were wide with confusion as she rose from the couch. “You weren’t doing anything I didn’t want you to do.”

Not wanting to meet her gaze, Grayson focused on the delicate dip at the base of her throat. Why couldn’t she make this easier? Why couldn’t she be mad at him again?

I need to call Alex back. Ask him to stay after all.

“Please, Grayson.”

He looked into her eyes. If the softly spoken plea wasn’t enough to convince him, her look of yearning was. She reached out her hand and Grayson had no choice but to take it.

Claire’s delicate fingers wrapped around his as she led the way down the hall. Even after they entered her bedroom, Grayson tried to come up with the words that would put a stop to this, but his desire for her overpowered any kind of logic.

In the center of the room, she turned toward him and reached for the hem of her soft sweater. As she slowly pulled it over her head, Grayson’s gaze homed in on the swell of her breasts underneath the lacy fabric of her bra.

Christ. She’s so perfect.

His libido kicked in, pushing aside any hope of rational thought. What would it be like to accept what she was offering, to bury himself in her body and let go for once?

Unable to stop himself, Grayson moved forward, placing his hands on her hips and gently urging Claire backward until the back of her knees met the bed.