The Truth (22 page)

“What would you call this?” he asked her, tapping his finger on her nose. “This looks like another version of a tantrum to me.”

She whipped around, catching him off guard and drenching him with a wave of water. He retaliated with another splash and leaned over her, threatening to hold her beneath the water if she didn’t behave.

“Okay, okay, you win,” she said, her wrists still tightly bound by his hands.

He lowered her arms and gradually let her go. “Now hold still and let me see this scratch of yours.” He instructed lifting her sleeve again.

She was right, it was only a small scratch. Without thinking he bent over and gently placed a kiss on her cut arm. Realizing what he’d done, he lifted his head and raised his eyes. She wanted him to kiss her, he saw it in her eyes, in the breath she slowly pulled into her mouth, and the slight lean of her body toward his.

Her shirt was white, now transparent from the water. He leaned toward her, and took her mouth with the force of a man possessed. His hands gently caressed her breasts through the thin wet fabric. Her soft moan spurred him on as he dug his other hand into her hair and pulled her closer.

A loud splash behind them broke the spell and had them both scrambling to their feet. Neither of them could see the cause of the sudden splash, but both of them hurried from the water avoiding eye contact with each other.

As they silently turned to leave, Grayson spotted Darla Mae’s retreating back through the trees.

Lexie tossed and turned, struggling to fall asleep. Her body was crying out for Grayson, and her mind kept replaying their kiss. She almost believed he still loved her and that there was a chance for them after all. She’d finally realized how much she wanted to belong to him, to share her life, her son … his son.

Looking over at Ryan sleeping soundly beside her, she kissed his forehead and pulled the blankets over his shoulder. If she didn’t stop rolling around she was sure she’d easily wake him. Slipping soundlessly from the bed, she pulled on her robe and let herself out of the room, easing the door closed behind her.

Walking quietly into the kitchen, she turned on the burner and set the kettle to boil. She hoped a nice hot cup of tea would relax her and allow her to rest. Using only the soft glow from the light above the stove, she set out a mug and dropped in a tea bag.

“You couldn’t sleep either?”

She jumped and turned to see Grayson behind her. Instinctively she laid her palm on her chest as if to stop her racing heart. “You startled me,” she managed to utter.

Shirtless, wearing only a low riding pair of pajama bottoms, she decided it was best to leave her hand where it rested on her chest. The urge to run her hands along the crests and valleys of his hard chest was strong. If this afternoon hadn’t been enough, trying to sleep with this vision racing through her head would be impossible.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He smiled slyly, making it clear he’d noticed her survey of his body. “I couldn’t sleep so I decided a midnight snack was in order.”

Licking his lips, he stepped closer to her, his breath warm against her neck as he leaned in. It dawned on her that he hadn’t been referring to food when he’d mentioned his craving for a midnight snack.

Her body hummed in anticipation, and her lips parted, welcoming his kiss. The heat from his body flooded through her thin robe, sending her blood boiling. The scent of him, the feel of him, was causing her to forget everything around her. Deciding he was taking too long, she reached her hands up and dug them into his hair, pulling his lips to hers.

Diving in, she felt herself drowning, her body bowing toward his with a mind of its own. He brought his arms around her and lifted her onto the kitchen island behind them. He stood between her legs, his mouth still busy exploring hers as he slipped her robe down from her shoulders.

Pulling his mouth from hers he kissed a soft trail down the side of her neck and along her collarbone; taking his time, he traced a path along her shoulder and down toward the swell of her breast. Her head fell back in painful ecstasy as her hips lifted, attempting to make contact with his.

She moaned his name as her body ignited into flames beneath his hands. Unable to stand the sweet agony any longer she reached for the tie to his pants in frantic desperation.

Locking eyes with him, she shifted closer. The ear splitting sound of the teakettle’s whistle roared through the room causing them both to spring back in surprise.

Grayson walked over to the stove and lifted the kettle from the burner, silencing its shrill screech. Lexie pulled her robe onto her shoulders and slid from the counter. She could feel the flush in her cheeks and the need still lingering in her body, but now, she felt the unabridged distance between them as well.

He stood watching her, but saying nothing. The silence was thick, but neither of them seemed to know what to say. Twice in one day they’d been drawn together in passion, both times they were interrupted by a force she couldn’t understand. She was beginning to wonder if the fates were trying to tell her something.

Grayson finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he said. His words cutting through her heart like a blade. “You’re hard to resist, Lexie.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she knew he did in frustration. “I can’t help it, I still want you, but … ” He took a deep breath. “But we both know it will never work out between us … ”

“So?” she prompted, her voice ringing with irritation.

“So, I have no right to toss you onto the kitchen counter, or kiss you, or hold you.” In the dim light, she thought she saw his eyes fill with tears. “For that I’m sorry.”

As she watched him walk from the kitchen, she thought about what he’d said. He’d sounded sorrier for feeling he had no right to her then for the fact they kept pulling toward each other like moths to a flame. She knew it was more than him still wanting her. He still loved her, regardless of the things she’d done. But being a man that knew what he wanted, Grayson would never get past what he considered to be her betrayal.

Filled with sadness, she sat in the silence and sipped her tea. She’d really blown it this time. Her suspicious, mistrusting nature had cost her the future she’d dreamed of, but never believed existed until she’d met Grayson.

Wiping her eyes, she slipped her mug into the dishwasher and quietly walked up the steps to her room. Hearing a creak in the floor, she stepped into the shadows along the hall and watched as Darla Mae slipped into Grayson’s bedroom, wearing only a sheer black negligee.

She clenched her jaw, and balled her fists, holding tightly to her anger. It was easier than giving in to the hurt threatening to surface. Counting to fifty, she stepped into the light and let herself into her room.

Ryan was still sleeping soundly. She wasn’t sure how she was going to sleep now, her traitorous mind shooting images of Grayson wrapped around Darla Mae the way he’d been wrapped around her only minutes ago.

Her stomach clenched, her heart ached, and she wanted to punch something. Anything would do, but if she could actually punch Darla Mae, she knew she’d feel even better.

Stamping down the annoying voice in her head screaming that she shouldn’t do this, she stood up, straightened her back, and marched to the door. She’d sworn to herself she wouldn’t let that malicious Barbie doll get her claws into Grayson, and she’d damned if she was going to sit here licking her wounds while she tried.

She’d just opened the door when she heard a shout. She watched as Darla Mae, head down, rushed from Grayson’s room. His angry shouts cut off by the slamming of his door.

With a satisfied smile, Lexie closed her door and climbed back into bed beside her son. She was asleep the minute her head hit the pillow.

Breakfast had been stressful. Lexie didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be as negative as Lydia Hunter chose to be. She’d had enough of the woman’s constant insults and references to DNA testing. Lydia had come up with a new possible conspiracy over fresh blueberry pancakes this morning. It seemed she believed Lexie was chasing Grayson for his money, as had Maggie — or Margaret, as Lydia referred to her. Truth be told, she wasn’t chasing Grayson, and after close to a week with his mother, she was pretty sure that if they were together, his mother and their money could be a deal breaker.

Ryan had gone for another horseback ride with Grayson and William after breakfast, and she’d brought a hot cup of coffee to her favorite rocker on the side porch. She knew it was time for her to go home and relieve her mother at the coffee shop. After last night, she no longer worried about Darla Mae becoming Ryan’s evil stepmother, and she knew Ryan would be fine without her.

It bothered her that she hadn’t been able to figure out what had happened with Maggie. She was no closer to discovering who’d told her Grayson died, or why she’d never told the Hunters about Ryan. She was also still curious what Darla Mae’s cryptic phone call was about, and the truth behind the secret half-brother, but realized that was more nosiness than anything else. Truth be told, she disliked the girl, and she was petty enough to just want dirt on her.

She frowned when Lydia appeared and made herself comfortable in the rocker beside her. So much for a nice quiet moment to herself.

Never one to beat around the bush, Lydia got straight to the point. “Are you going to give me a hard time regarding Ryan’s necessary DNA test?”

Lexie didn’t even bother to look at her. “No, I’m not. I understand how someone like you would require it.”

Lydia’s voice rose a notch, her sensibilities somehow insulted. “And what exactly do you mean, ‘someone like me?’”

Shaking her head, she prayed Lydia would just walk away. Lexie hadn’t yet calmed down from breakfast. The last thing she needed was for Lydia to gnaw through the final nerve, and for her to tell the hateful woman exactly what she meant.

“Nothing,” she managed.

“My son stands to lose everything if he’s wrong in trusting that … that … that dancer.” Lydia spat.

Lexie’s eyes narrowed and heat flooded her cheeks. She turned and stared at Lydia, fighting for control. She wanted to slap her. She wanted to slap her so hard that her head whipped to the side and her perfectly styled bun came uncoiled. “That dancer’s name was Maggie. She was my friend, and a better woman than you could ever hope to be. She was also the mother of your grandchild, whether you like it or not, and she gave her life for his. I believe a little respect is due her,” Lexie snarled.

Lydia looked surprised and a little ruffled, but continued in her haughty tone. “You mean my alleged grandson. That has not yet been proven.”

Lexie bit down on her bottom lip. “You can call him whatever you like. And I will grant permission for Ryan to have the DNA test, so if that’s all … ”

Leaning forward, Lydia narrowed her eyes, and pursed her lips. “You do know that if it turns out Ryan is actually Grayson’s son, there will be strict guidelines in place to protect Ryan, and Grayson. As the adoptive parent, you will not be allowed access to his trust.”

Lexie clenched the arms of her chair until her knuckles were white. She pulled air into her lungs and let it out slowly. It didn’t work. Pushing off from her chair, she stood in front of Lydia with her fisted hands on her hips. She could feel the heat in her face, and knew by Lydia’s reaction she could see her anger.

“Now you listen to me,” Lexie growled. “I don’t want your damn money, and neither does my son. In fact, do me a favor, when the results come back, and you have the proof you require to know he’s your grandson, be happy for Grayson, but stay away from my son.”

“How dare you,” Lydia’s voice croaked.

Lexie glared at her, not backing down, all of her control snapped. “I can put up with your insults and your attempts to belittle me. But I will not stand by and let you insult my friend, or my son. Ryan has a grandmother and you’re not good enough to share the same title with her. You are a bitter, lonely woman who can only stand tall when it’s on the backs of others. You’ve alienated your husband and your son — ”

“You have no right to speak me this way!” Lydia interrupted, standing up. Her face was drained of all color, and her hands were shaking as she pointed a finger at Lexie. “Just who do you think you are?”

“I’m no one, as you have so often pointed out. But the truth is, I’m on to you. I finally figured out why you’re so rotten to me and why you were so rotten to Maggie.” Lexie couldn’t help but notice the insecurities flashing through Lydia’s sad blue eyes. “You’re jealous. Your son thinks you’re cold and unfeeling and you know he’s right. But when he cares for someone else, it radiates from him and you hate it. It’s something you’ll never have because you’re unable to give it in return.” She shook her head. “I pity you, Lydia. You’re a miserable person with nothing but your money for company.”

Lydia began to cry, her bottom lip quivering, as she stood there wringing her hands. Lexie wasn’t sorry for what she’d said. She was sorry for Grayson, and William, and now for Ryan, but she was still too angry to feel bad for Lydia.

“Your son is an incredible man who hurt for a long time when he lost Maggie. He’s lost her again only now, it’s forever. Try to remember that when you insult her in front of him. He’s also discovered he has a son, but with that comes the knowledge that he’s missed a huge part of his son’s childhood that he can’t get back. Get your damn DNA test, and try to be happy for him.” She turned to leave, but stopped and faced Lydia again. “And I’d like to ask one favor of you. Please leave my son out of anything to do with Hunter money. I want him to be happy without believing that everyone in his life wants something from him.”

• • •

Grayson heard the raised voices, and walked over in time to see Lexie stomp off, leaving his mother on the porch in tears. He stopped. His mother in tears? In his thirty years he couldn’t recall a time he’d ever seen her cry.

“Mother, what is it, what’s wrong?” He asked, racing up the stairs.

She appeared unable to speak, her body wracked with sobs. Crouching down in front of her, he was unsure of what to do. With any other crying woman he’d hold them, rock them, tell them it was going to be all right, but as his hands hovered over her, he realized he’d never hugged his mother before and wasn’t sure how she would react if he did so now.