Amazing Gracie Page 14

  “I’m not scared of a little thunder and lightning.” He peered intently at her. “Are you?”

  “Of course not,” she denied a little too vehemently, unable to hide the shudder that washed over her.

  His eyes widened. “You are, aren’t you?”

  “I said I wasn’t.”

  “It’s just a little bowling going on up in the heavens,” he offered.

  Gracie wasn’t going to be placated with that particular tale. She’d heard that one and more as she’d cowered in her bed as a child with the blankets pulled over her head. For reasons she’d never been able to fathom, storms had always terrified her. It was a weakness she hated in herself and wasn’t about to admit to.

  “I’ll protect you,” Kevin promised, just as the first rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, feigning nonchalance. “It’s just a silly old thunderstorm.”

  “Then why did you just turn white as a sheet?”

  “Must have been something in the coffeecake.”

  “Gracie, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Everybody’s scared of something. Storms shake up a lot of people.”

  “I am not scared,” she protested, then shivered unmistakably when lightning slashed through the rapidly darkening sky. The air was charged with electricity. She could practically taste it in the air, feel it in the prickling of her skin. She quickened her pace. She really, really wanted to be safely inside when this sucker broke, preferably inside a windowless closet.

  Kevin kept pace with her easily over the last block, but instead of dashing for his car as the first scattered fat drops of rain fell, he followed her inside.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Gracie insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You have any wine?” he asked, ignoring her protest.

  “In the wine rack in the pantry,” she said, more grateful than she liked that he wasn’t leaving despite her protests.

  “Candles?”

  She chuckled. “I’m glad to see your priorities are in order. First wine, then candles.”

  “Where are they, sweetface?”

  She couldn’t recall for the life of her. “I think I saw some in the drawer by the stove.”

  He rummaged around in there for a minute, then held up a package of birthday candles. “I doubt these will last long. What about an oil lamp?”

  She should have remembered that in the first place. After the first storm of the season, which had caught her off guard and lasted less than an hour, she’d searched high and low until she found one so it would be ready for the next such occasion. “In the living room.”

  “Any oil in it?”

  “Yes. I saw to that right away.”

  “Matches?”

  “Right beside it. There’s a flashlight there, too.”

  “Good.”

  She worried over the implications of all the preparations. “Kevin, are you expecting the power to go out?”

  “It’s not a given, but I wouldn’t bet against it.”

  Gracie sighed.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right here. We’ll be safe and cozy. Do you have any cards?”

  “Cards?”

  “You know, playing cards. It’s either that or cuddling on the sofa.”

  She trembled at the choice, almost opted for the more dangerous one, the one that guaranteed the storm outside would pass by unnoticed. Eventually, though, common sense ruled. “I’ll hunt for cards.”

  Kevin grinned. “Too bad. Cuddling’s a lot more distracting, especially if it leads to something more.”

  Oh, yes, Gracie thought. She’d bet her dream house on that. She practically tore the kitchen apart looking for a deck of cards. She finally found an old, grease-stained poker deck in the back of a drawer.

  They were playing their first hand when the rain began in earnest. This wasn’t the soft rain of spring. It was a hard, driving rain, accompanied by increasingly loud crashes of thunder and brighter slashes of lightning.

  The power went a half hour later with a cracking sound, the explosion of a nearby transformer, Kevin assessed. Though it was still daylight—or should have been—the sky was so dark with rolling clouds, it could have been late evening.

  Even so, Kevin laid down his next bet before getting the oil lamp and lighting it. The man had the concentration and competitive instincts of a cardsharp.

  “Where’d you learn to play like this?” Gracie asked when she lost the fifth straight hand, either because the cards were all falling his way or because she wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to the ones she’d been dealt.

  “Family hobby,” Kevin said, dealing the next hand.

  “You come from a family of poker players?”

  “It’s not a career, darlin’. Like I said, it’s a hobby.” He gestured toward the pile of cards in front of her. “Pick up your hand.”

  Gracie picked up the cards and looked them over, then discarded two, accepting two more in return. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Not even a piddly little pair. Even so, she bet to win. Kevin wasn’t fooled. He raised her bet.

  “Do you all take your hobbies so seriously?” she asked.

  “Yep,” he said, as he spread a full house onto the table and raked in yet another pot.

  “Do you think it’s fair, then, to be taking advantage of a rank amateur?”

  “Absolutely. I almost never win at home. Those people play for blood. Took me for five bucks and change the other night.”

  Gracie grinned. “That much, huh? I’m astonished you didn’t have to declare bankruptcy.”

  “If I ever let ’em raise the stakes above a penny, I might have to. My niece is particularly bloodthirsty.”

  “Is that Abby?”

  “Yeah. You’ll have to meet her one of these days. She’s an angel, though I’ll deny I ever said it if you tell her. Just don’t play poker with her.”

  The next flash of lightning lit the room as bright as noontime sun. Thunder shook the house and set Gracie to trembling just as violently.

  Kevin reached across the table and clasped her hand. “Hey, darlin’.”

  Thoroughly embarrassed, Gracie refused to meet his gaze. If the gesture had been meant to steady her nerves, it had backfired. She was shivering uncontrollably now, though the blame for it couldn’t be placed entirely on the storm.

  “Look at me,” he commanded softly.

  She finally dared a glance up and into his eyes. She saw compassion there and something more, the kind of heated look that inspired a renewed trembling all its own. She swallowed hard and wished desperately she were the kind of woman who could indulge in sex for the sheer fun of it. The offer—the desire—was plain enough on Kevin’s face, in his touch. No matter that the caress of his hand on hers was only slightly less innocent than a handshake, the vibrations it sent through her were pure sin. Her blood raced.

  “I’m fine,” she said firmly, extricating her hand from his.

  “Any idea why you’re so afraid of storms?”

  “None,” she said, seeing no point in further denials. “It’s silly, I know. I probably saw some report on TV once about somebody getting struck by lightning or a house burning down and the image stuck.”

  She glanced outside, hoping to see clearing skies. Instead, the vicious dark clouds went on as far as she could see, dumping out torrents of hard rain. “How long is this supposed to go on?” she asked plaintively.

  “There’s no telling.”

  “And the power?”

  “Could be hours before it’s restored. Do you have anything in the refrigerator that’s likely to spoil?”

  She thought of the pricey ice cream she’d discovered and become addicted to in recent days. It was filled with cherries and chocolate and nuts.

  “Just some ice cream.”

  Kevin’s eyes lit up. “Can’t waste that. I’ll get it.”

  He came back with the carton and only one spoon. Gracie grinned at him and reached for bo
th. “Thanks,” she said.

  Kevin held the ice cream out of reach. “Back off, kid. Nothing gets between me and my ice cream,” he warned. “Especially this flavor.”

  “It is my ice cream,” Gracie pointed out.

  “And I’m a guest.”

  “I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that no one ever taught you to share.”

  “Okay, okay,” he grumbled, scooping out a spoonful and holding it out for her.

  Gracie reached for the spoon, but Kevin held on. “Just take a bite,” he said, as if he feared relinquishing the spoon would be the end of his claim on the rest of the carton.

  Remembering the effectiveness of her tactic with the strawberry pie, a streak of pure devilment came over her once again. Rather than simply eating the offered ice cream, she wrapped her hand around his to steady it, then slowly began to lick the ice cream as if it were in a cone. She ran her tongue around the melting edges, then took the spoon into her mouth and sucked. She turned the eating of that little mound of ice cream into an erotic adventure, one step more dangerous than the strawberry pie he’d fed her.

  Kevin’s skin heated more quickly than the burner on a stove. Beneath her clasp, she could feel his pulse buck. His breath fanned against her cheek and seemed to come more rapidly.

  She took a very long time to finish, and only when she was done did she dare to meet his gaze. She was shocked by the raw hunger she saw in his eyes. For a second she feared she had unleashed something primitive and untamable in him, but he blinked and it was gone, replaced by that familiar, irrepressible grin.

  “That was…” He hesitated. “…interesting,” he said finally.

  Gracie was too stunned by the yearning thrumming through her to reply. She had to wonder just which one of them had been caught by the game’s snare.

  Kevin dipped another spoonful of ice cream from the carton and offered it. “More?”

  Her gaze rose to clash with his and she saw the laughter and the dare in his eyes. “Sure,” she said bravely. “Why not?”

  She took a little less time with the second bite and the third. Somewhere around the fifth, Kevin glanced into the carton and realized what had happened.

  “Why, you little sneak,” he muttered. “It’s gone. You ate the last of the ice cream.”

  Gracie grinned at him. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? Thanks for sharing.”

  “Sharing? I never got so much as a single lick.”

  “Really? I’m sorry.”

  “I should go off and leave you to sit out this storm all by yourself.”

  “But you won’t,” she said confidently.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you’re a southern gentleman.”

  “Something at the moment I am deeply regretting,” he said. “That’s what cost me that blasted ice cream.”

  “Oh, no,” Gracie said. “That was lust, pure and simple. Watching me eat that ice cream was turning you on. Admit it.”

  “I don’t think you want to go too far down that particular path, darlin’. Somebody might accuse you of being a tease. Somebody might decide to claim what you were so clearly offering.”

  Gracie swallowed hard at the lightly-spoken warning. Some part of her wanted him to do exactly that, wanted him to take matters out of her hands and persuade her straight into bed. If he’d known how little effort it would require, no doubt he’d seize the opportunity.

  But the sensible, practical side of her knew better than to open that particular door, knew that if she didn’t change the subject in a heartbeat, one of them was going to make a move from which there’d be no turning back. As long as Kevin stood squarely between her and the future she wanted for herself, she couldn’t allow anything else to develop between them. It would be asking for trouble.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t exactly feel like resisting too hard. Nor could she come up with another topic that was half so fascinating.

  Fortunately the ringing of the phone saved her.

  “Max, no doubt,” Kevin said dryly. “It’s just about time for his daily crisis.”

  “It’s not even dawn in France,” Gracie pointed out as she crossed the kitchen toward the phone.

  “Which means he must roll out of bed thinking of ways to get you back over there,” Kevin replied. “Sure you don’t want me to take the call? I enjoy dealing with old Max.”

  “Much as I would like to delegate the responsibility for dealing with Max to you, I think I’d better handle him myself.”

  “Suit yourself.” Kevin rocked back on his chair and watched her, clearly intent on making the conversation his evening’s entertainment.

  “Hello,” Gracie said, wishing she’d bought a portable phone, instead of one that necessitated standing right in front of Kevin. And, of course, a portable wouldn’t have worked with the power out, which would have been better yet. “Yes, Max, I was still up. What is it this time?”

  Her tone was more impatient than usual thanks to her awareness of her audience.

  “You sound upset, chérie. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is just peachy. And stop calling me chérie. I’m not your dear and you’re not French.”

  “You are having a bad day,” he concluded.

  “I’m fine, Max. Why did you call? I haven’t heard from you for a couple of days now. I’d hoped you were handling the crises on your own.”

  “Everything is running smoothly, yes.”

  Gracie was taken aback by that announcement. She found the reaction more telling than she liked. Could it be that she had enjoyed Max’s little crises, invented or not? Could it be that she had actually craved those daily reassurances that she was missed?

  “I’m delighted,” she said through gritted teeth, unsure whether her sudden annoyance was directed at Max or herself.

  “Yes, I can hear that in your voice.”

  “Why did you call, Max?”

  “I called only to say hello, to see if you are getting along okay.”

  “I’m fine. Terrific, in fact.”

  “And this man who answered your phone the last time I called, who is he?”

  Suddenly—finally—Gracie got an inkling of why she hadn’t heard from Max for a few days. He’d been sulking. He’d actually been sitting over in Cannes stewing over Kevin. Was it possible she had actually misjudged the level of his interest in her? Would it matter if she had? Truthfully, no.

  “He’s a friend,” she said, refusing to meet the fascinated gaze of said friend.

  “That’s all?”

  “Max, I’ve been here a few weeks,” she said, her exasperation plain. “What more could it be? Besides, what business is it of yours?”

  “I worry about you,” he confessed. “You were very vulnerable and unhappy when you left here. I would not like to see someone take advantage of that.”

  Max’s insight startled her. She’d never suspected he was capable of thinking beyond his precious bottom lines.

  “Max, you don’t need to worry. I can take care of myself.”

  “Perhaps I should come and see for myself.”

  The announcement startled her so badly, it took her a minute to gather her composure. “You want to come here?”

  Kevin’s increasingly smug grin broadened. “Told you so,” he murmured.

  “Oh, go to hell,” she muttered back.

  “What?” Max asked, sounding shocked.

  “Not you, Max.”

  Max sighed heavily. “He is there, then?”

  “Yes, more’s the pity.”

  “If you don’t enjoy having him there, why don’t you insist that he leave?”

  “We got caught in a bad storm,” she began, then broke off. She didn’t owe Max any explanations at all. “Never mind. Max, I appreciate you offering to come, but it’s not necessary.”

  “I think it is. In fact, I am more convinced of it than ever. I will call you when I have made the arrangements. Expect me within a week or so, sooner if I can get matters here under control.”


  “Max!”

  “All revoir, ma petite.”

  He hung up before she could try to talk him out of coming. “Well, damn,” she muttered.

  “So,” Kevin said, still grinning. “Max is coming?”

  “It appears he is,” she said, and began pacing.

  “You didn’t try very hard to talk him out of it.”

  “I didn’t think he was serious until it was too late. Besides, nobody talks Max out of anything. He’s a very stubborn man.”

  Before she realized what he intended, Kevin reached out and snagged her hand, toppling her into his lap. The next instant, his mouth covered hers in a bruising, heady kiss that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a branding.

  He released her as abruptly as he’d claimed her, setting her on her feet and standing himself. He walked to the door, then turned back. “Remember that, when Max comes calling,” he said lightly.

  Before Gracie could gather her wits, he was gone, the door slamming behind him and another crash of thunder adding its emphasis to the moment.

  She touched her fingers to her swollen, tender lips and felt the tug of something powerful in her belly. Forget the prospect of Max’s unwanted arrival. The more immediate problem was what to do about Kevin Patrick Daniels and his unnerving ability to make her head spin.

  13

  Kevin was hotter than a sidewalk at high noon in August. His temper, not the heat, was responsible. In fact, it was only a pleasant eighty-degrees outside with a breeze that actually made lying in the shade in his favorite hammock almost chilly. He’d been mulling over that phone call from Max the night before and getting more worked up over it by the second.

  Unfortunately, with his usual lousy sense of timing, Bobby Ray chose this precise moment to show up and interrupt his already dark mood. When Kevin caught sight of Sara Lynn and a ponytailed man with Bobby Ray, his annoyance tripled. Perhaps if he feigned sleep, they’d go away.

  “Hey, Kevin!” Bobby Ray shouted as they approached.

  “Not now, Bobby Ray,” he said without opening his eyes.

  “Yes, now,” Bobby Ray said, his tone fierce and just a little desperate.

  That panicked note got Kevin’s attention. He sighed and rolled out of the hammock. “Inside,” he said, and led the way.