Saving Grace (Serve and Protect Series) (16 page)

Relax? How could she relax?

No, she wouldn’t give in to panic. She lifted a hand, pressing a thumb and forefinger against her closed eyelids, pushing back the terror. She’d put them in this position with that God-forsaken money. Now she had to get them out.

Swallowing the lump of self-pity that had risen in her throat, she turned to Ray, only to find him much closer than she’d thought. Her heart took a leap.

Part of her wanted to take a step back, beyond the reach of his forceful aura. Another, bigger part wanted to move closer, to press her face to his chest and let the tears come. If she did that, she knew he wouldn’t turn her away. She knew, too, that it would take very little encouragement for that comforting contact to ignite into passion.

The temptation to take that half step was agonizing. She knew she could forget her fear in his arms. The terror could be banished in a molten rush, leaving room for nothing but sensation. A hot tendril of need unfurled in her belly at the thought.

Why not press her advantage? It wasn’t as if it wouldn’t be therapeutic for him, too.

Because it wouldn’t be fair to Ray.
He’d made it more than clear he didn’t want to resume a physical relationship with her.

She stepped back. “You’re right,” she said crisply. “You’re absolutely right. Rest and relaxation.” She smiled to show him she was okay. “Now, why don’t you finish your shower? If I’m going to relax, I’ll need my hot bath and a hot meal.”

Surprise widened his eyes, followed by something that looked like admiration, and her spirits lifted.

He turned and followed his wet footprints back to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Ray left in search of supper. Within a few more minutes, Grace sank into a steaming tub. Lord, what a day. Closing her eyes, she slid lower to let the warm water lap at her breasts. Breasts that still ached from wanting Ray.

She’d made the right decision, though. She would have Ray back in her bed, but not that way.

Grace sat up, sloshing water over the edge of the tub. Wow! When had she made that decision?

Slowly, she sank back into the water’s embrace, her heart pounding.

Could she do it? She thought about how close he’d come to taking her with such swift authority this morning when she’d woken up sick.
Absolutely.

Should she? She gnawed the inside of her lip.
Under the right circumstances.

Did she dare?
She had to.
Intimidating as the idea was, it was a whole lot less scary than letting him go without a fight.

It would have to be a conscious choice on his part, she decided. Not through the back door on some comfort-the-female thing. Not on the crest of an adrenaline wave when any willing woman would do. When she seduced Ray, he was going to know what was happening.

Smiling, she picked up the bar of soap Ray had opened and lathered the facecloth.

There was something different about Grace. Ray couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew it was there. He watched her face carefully as she dug into her breakfast of poached eggs on whole-wheat toast.

Maybe it was as simple as coming to accept that she couldn’t force the memories. She announced that she would treat them like flighty horses‌—‌pretend she didn’t notice them getting closer and closer until she could slip a rope around one’s neck.

“Are you going to eat your orange slice?”

At her question, he looked down at the bit of garnish lying on his now empty plate. “No.”

She speared it with her fork, then transferred it to her fingers. Peeling the fruit away from the rind, she popped it into her mouth and sighed happily.

“I know.” She grinned when she caught him staring at her. “All I do these days is eat. It’s the absence of routine. I’m used to working from coffee break to lunch to coffee break to dinner. It’s been
years
since I’ve had this much time on my hands, which is a good thing for my waistline.”

“I’m sorry about that. You know, Quigg reminded me that we haven’t taken a real vacation in four years.”

She shrugged. “You’ve been busy. I’ve been busy.”

He cradled his coffee cup in his hands. Too busy to look after his marriage?

“Hey,” she said, “what are we gonna do today?”

It had been two days since they’d seen the newscast. They’d spent the first day seeing the sights of the Loyalists’ city. One of the oldest cities in North America, Saint John boasted a colorful past, one that Ray was ashamed to say he’d never explored. But they hadn’t indulged their curiosity too much. As Grace pointed out, like opening doors for women, it really didn’t go with the personas they’d created.

The second day they’d spent poking around the malls, drinking tall lattes at an Internet café while they surfed for news and browsed the newspapers.

“Could we go to Fundy?”

Ray set his coffee down. “The National Park?”

“Doesn’t have to be the park.” She popped the last crust of her toast into her mouth and washed it down with coffee. “I just want to walk on the beach.”

“It’d be cold,” he warned.

“Oh, come on, Ray. We can dress for it. You’re not scared of a little wind, are you?”

He snorted. No, he wasn’t scared of a little wind. And it would be nice for a change not to worry about being made. Their disguises were good. Hell, they were damn good, but he still worried.

“Sure, why not?”

An hour and a half later, a picnic lunch packed in a cheap Styrofoam cooler in the trunk of the old Toyota, they hit the beach. The tide was retreating, so there were miles of packed sand to walk and hours to enjoy it. With gulls wheeling and crying overhead and smaller shore birds darting at their feet, they strolled. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they walked in silence, and occasionally they stopped to explore a sun-warmed tidal pool teeming with tiny sea creatures. With the wind tugging at their hair and the sharp tang of the seaweed in their nostrils, Ray found it both invigorating and restorative.

Every once in a while, he threw a question at her out of the blue to try to lasso an unwary memory. For the most part, it didn’t work, but once, when he asked her where the plane she planned to board that night might be headed, she answered immediately:
Mexico
.

After that, they walked for a long time without talking.

Eventually, the tide turned.

“We’d better get back,” he said, mindful of the speed with which these, the highest tides in the world, moved.

They retraced their path along the strip of sand, theirs the only footprints on this blustery, overcast day. When they reached the high water mark, they found a perch among some rocks to watch the tide come in. They sat for another half hour, listening to the rush and retreat of the surf. Finally, when a sliver of weak sun broke through around noon, Ray figured he’d better fetch their lunch.

“Wait here,” he instructed. “I’ll bring the cooler and we can have our lunch here.”

A short while later, he began picking his way back across the rocks, the Styrofoam cooler squeaking with his every step. Given the uneven footing on the rough rocks, he had to keep a close eye on the ground, glancing up frequently to make sure he was still on course for the large rock where Grace sat with her arms wrapped around her drawn up legs.

Clearing the roughest part of the terrain, he looked up to check his course again and stopped dead.

Grace was right there where he’d left her, but she’d rolled back to lie on the rock, her face turned up to the sun’s warmth. He felt sweat break out on his back. She’d locked her hands behind her head as a cushion against the unyielding stone, with the result that her breasts jutted invitingly, even beneath her thick sweater. She’d drawn one leg up, too, probably to ease the strain on her lower back imposed by the curve of the rock.

With anyone but Gracie, he’d suspect she’d choreographed the pose deliberately for maximum seductive effect. But she had no interest in enticing him. If she wanted to, she’d have done it two nights ago.

Yeah, he’d seen it in her eyes, the knowledge that she could pull him into that vortex of need that swirled dangerously beneath them. And she’d been so scared. He’d have obliged if she hadn’t pulled away. He wouldn’t have been able to turn her away.

If she hadn’t seized that opportunity, she sure as hell wouldn’t be trying to beguile him now. Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t make the picture any less provocative.

She lifted her head to search for him, no doubt alerted to his abrupt halt by the cessation of the cooler’s squeaking.

“Ray?”

She curled up to brace herself on her elbows. That posture did something completely different, but no less remarkable, for her breasts. Silently cursing, he started forward again, the cooler resuming its rhythmic
squeak, squeak
.

“Heavy?” She sat up as he deposited the cooler at her feet. “You looked like you had to stop for a breather there.”

“Just gawking at how far the tide came up in the few minutes I was gone.” He flipped the lid off the cooler, fished out two colas and handed one to her.

She glanced out at the water, which had advanced markedly. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

He grunted in agreement, unpacking their dinner of fried chicken, cold salads and crusty rolls which they’d bought at the supermarket. As he passed takeout containers to Grace, she opened them and arranged them on the rock beside her. When the cooler was empty, he boosted himself up to join her.

“Napkins?”

He patted his pocket. “I figured the wind would take them. Let me know when you’re ready for one.”

“Good thinking.” She bit into a piece of chicken, closing her eyes to savor the taste.

Ray dropped his gaze to the takeout box. Selecting a drumstick, he concentrated on picking it clean.

“Ummm, this is so good.”

He glanced up to see her licking her fingers, and his mouth went dry. The last bite of chicken he’d swallowed seemed to lodge in his throat. Reaching for his cola, he popped the tab and downed half of it in one swig. Better.

Grace went on to sample the pasta salad, the potato salad and the bean salad, pronouncing them all wonderful. She then ate another piece of chicken and polished off a roll. Ray watched her, taking pleasure in the gusto with which she attacked the meal. It must the fresh sea air, he decided. He managed three more pieces of chicken himself, not to mention a generous helping of the salads and two of the rolls.

By the time they finished their meal, they’d attracted a small legion of seagulls. For the next twenty minutes, they tossed foodstuffs for the gulls until the advancing tide stole the last of the beach.

They sat a while longer in silence, contemplating the water which now lapped at the rocks below them. Twice a day, the ocean ebbed, then rushed back. Forty-five feet, it rose, compared to a world average of two-and-a-half feet. That’s what the brochure at the motel said. Something like a hundred billion tons of salt water. A remarkable thing, yet it happened again and again, day in and day out. The constancy was somehow comforting.

Ray dragged a hand through his hair. They really should leave, he supposed, glancing at Grace. Her face was windburned and she must be tired. But it was so damned nice to be here with her, both of them relaxed, replete with food. How easy it would be to forget their shared nightmare and pretend that this was a real vacation, the one he hadn’t taken time for.

Which was precisely why they needed to leave. Now.

He levered himself up and off the rock and started gathering up their garbage.

Grace stirred. “Time to go?”

“’Fraid so.”

“Here, let me help you with the cleanup.”

She got to her feet, bending to pick up the empty soda cans from where he’d jammed them between the rocks to keep the wind from carrying them over the cliff. Afterward, Ray didn’t know what made his gaze follow her. As she stood up again, she wobbled. With no more warning than that, she pitched toward the water.

He didn’t think; he just lunged. Catching a handful of her sweater, he hauled her back. She fell into him and he lost his balance, going down on the rocks. He landed hard, using his arms to cushion Grace’s fall.

“Dammit, Grace! Do you have any idea how cold that water is? How strong the current? Christ, how would I have pulled you out of there if you’d fallen in?”

But she didn’t hear his angry outburst, nor did she feel the little shake he gave her. She’d fainted!