Five Days Grace Read online

  "Oh." How awful for him.

  "So, you're perfectly safe with me, Grace. I couldn't do anything, even if I wanted to," he said with a wry smile. "And even if I could, there's no way I'd ever take advantage of you."

  "I never thought you would," she said.

  "Then come here."

  He held out a hand to her.

  She wanted what he offered, wanted it very much, even if it did make her feel weak and silly. She was a grown woman, and he was a stranger. A nice one, but a stranger.

  "Honey, it's just you, me and the dog. Nobody ever has to know," he argued.

  No, they didn't. No one to worry about her, think she was weak or falling apart or that they needed to watch her even more carefully.

  She didn't let herself think about it any longer, beyond acknowledging simply that she wanted this very much. If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it.

  So she sat up quickly, put her hand in his and felt his fingers close around her palm, the connection warm and solid, comforting. His dark eyes held her gaze steadily and patiently, and she held his hand to steady herself as she got to her feet. Her blankets fell to the floor, and he pulled his to one side, making room for her.

  Standing by his side, she hesitated. "I don't want to hurt you."

  "You won't." He put a hand around her back, another at her waist and guided her over the arm of the chair and onto his lap sideways. Carefully, he tucked her body against his.

  She drew her legs up, so they were tucked high against his right side, wanting their weight off his incision. He pulled the blankets back over both of them, and she found herself encased in the most delicious, extravagant warmth.

  He had an arm wrapped around her back, holding her, and she let her head rest against his shoulder, where it seemed to fit as if made to be there. If she eased her face over a mere inch, she could press a soft kiss to his neck or his jaw. Her hand rested, flat and still, against his chest and she fought not to let it make a nice, slow, lazy exploration of his body. A part of her wanted to, and another part of her wanted to simply relax and never have to move. It felt so good, nurturing and kind and so very safe.

  "This is perfect," she told him. "Thank you."

  He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Works for me, too. Consider this your spot, Grace, anytime you want. All you have to do is ask."

  "I might never move," she confessed.

  "Fine by me. There's nowhere I have to be."

  Grace allowed herself to let go of everything, the things she didn't know, things she was afraid to know, the secrets she was keeping from her family and everyone else, the sadness, the loneliness, the fear. Just for tonight, she wasn't going to think of any of that, because she wasn't alone anymore. Aidan was there, holding her, soothing her.

  It felt like a rare and precious gift, to have this man's arms around her. She suspected he was a little thinner than he usually was, after those months in the hospital, but nothing could take away the strength of him that seemed to enfold her, the patience she felt in his embrace, the acceptance.

  She actually tried to stay awake, because it felt so good, almost like something she'd dream on some sad, dark night when she cried herself to sleep, she was so lonely. Funny thing about sleep, when she really wanted it, she couldn't get there, and now that she didn't, it seemed like no time at all before she was gone.

  * * *

  Aidan thought he must be dreaming, and it was a particularly delicious dream. One of those rare, lazy, morning-afters, when no one had to get up and do anything fast. When the night before had been so good, he hadn't gotten up and left, and no matter what they'd already done, he still wanted more.

  He was lying half on his side, and she was beside him, her legs draped over his, her soft hand pressed against his chest, her face pressed against his neck, where she was lazily nuzzling his neck with the tip of her nose and then her mouth, making drowsy, happy sounds of pleasure and contentment.

  He had a hand around her back and another sliding up under her clothes to palm the sweet curve of one of her breasts. God, she was soft and so sweet. He buried his nose in her hair, dropped soft kisses on her forehead, down the side of her face, teased her ear with his tongue, which had her squirming and laughing, one of her hands cupping the side of his face.

  "I like it, but it tickles," she whispered sleepily, then opened her eyes.

  Finally, he realized, it was real.

  He was at a borrowed cabin in the woods with a flat-out beautiful intruder, and he'd sworn he wouldn't do anything but hold her in his arms.

  Grace.

  And at the moment, he'd been a breath away from kissing her like crazy, still had his hand inside her shirt holding one of those perfect breasts of hers. He had to will himself to pull that hand away, down over that soft skin of her chest and her abdomen, like he might actually get into an argument with his own hand.

  No, you cannot stay there. Get out now!

  And no, it wouldn't be enough to let it stay beneath her shirt in any way. Too tempting. He had to go for a really safe spot, like her back, outside her shirt. No bare skin for him.

  "Grace, I am so sorry," he began. "I thought I was dreaming, I swear, and then I woke up with my hands all over you."

  She smiled lazily, and she hadn't moved her hand. It was still pressed flat to his chest, overtop his heart. "Me, too."

  And then she kissed his cheek, a soft, friendly touch.

  He let himself breathe again. The last thing he wanted to do was to offend her or to have her think she couldn't trust him.

  "Mmm," she said sleepily, her eyes closed once again, her head nestled against his neck. "Do we have to get up?"

  "No. Go back to sleep, honey."

  He didn't want to move, either, imagined letting himself drift along in that beautifully relaxing place between sleep and wakefulness. Where time stretches out and slows down and there was nothing but the two of them and lazy thoughts of putting off the real beginning of the day in favor of sweet indulgences. Like holding her just like this.

  She smelled so good, and her skin was so soft, her lips. She was still nuzzling her nose against his neck, murmuring appreciatively and settling back into her spot.

  He'd slept so deeply, better than he had since the crash. Months of pain, drugs, noise and the constant interruptions that came with the hospital had all combined to play hell with his sleep pattern.

  Grace, it seemed, was the cure.

  He hadn't felt this rested, this energized in longer than he could remember. He didn't want to get up.

  But the dog had other ideas.

  Tink stood up, stretched, went to the door and started whining. If he kept that up, he was going to wake up Grace. No way Aidan was going to allow that, even if it meant he had to leave her to take care of the dog.

  "I absolutely hate you right now," Aidan told the animal.

  Tink just whined some more, like he was the most pathetic creature on earth.

  Moving as carefully as he could, Aidan managed to get out from under Grace without waking her and tucked the blankets back around her. Then he kissed her softly on the cheek, couldn't help himself. She smiled sweetly and purred like a satisfied cat as she sank down into her spot without him.

  Aidan used the bathroom quickly, built up the fire and pulled on his shoes. Glancing out the sliding glass doors, through the screened porch, he saw what looked like the beginnings of a clear sky with no hint of rain, so he grabbed nothing but a light jacket.

  Not wanting to leave Grace without a note, he quickly scribbled. Took the dog for a walk. Back soon. Aidan. He wanted to add, Don't you dare leave before I get back, or maybe, Please, please, please don't leave before I get back, but resisted, barely.

  She wouldn't just take off, would she? Not after the day and night they'd had. Unless she was embarrassed about all that she'd told him, things she'd said she hadn't told anyone else. And maybe embarrassed about sleeping in his arms all night.

  He and the dog got outside, and he g
lanced toward the road, about fifty yards up through the thick woods. He saw a small, unfamiliar blue hatchback.

  "We could pull a few spark plugs, just to make sure," Aidan told the dog. "Because I know you don't want her to leave anymore than I do."

  Tink whined and took a few steps toward the road, probably wanting to go find his owner.

  "All right. We'll go," Aidan said, thinking the movement might appease Tink and knowing he needed to walk today, to keep his sore muscles from stiffening up any more than they already had, thanks to the exertions of the day before.

  He got to that spot on the road where he could usually count on getting a cell signal, pulled out a pay-as-you-go phone, which could in no way be connected to him, and dialed his commanding officer, who was almost always in the office at that hour.

  "Sir, Lieutenant Commander Shaw. Good morning."

  "Yes, it is," the captain answered, "How are you?"

  "Better, Sir."

  "Glad to hear it. What can I do for you?"

  "I was wondering if you have any additional information about the source of the threats made against me."

  "We're working on it, Commander. It might be a while, so I'd feel better if you stayed lost, since we know the threats came from within a few miles of the base."

  "Yes, sir."

  Aidan and his CO had worked together for years. Aidan knew when to ask questions and when not to, and his CO knew how to make things happen that might not be strictly according to Navy rules and regs, but needed to be done. So Aidan hadn't asked a lot of questions when a trio of threats against him had surfaced and his CO had notified Aidan and his doctor that it would be better if Aidan weren't around for a while, even if it meant leaving the rehab facility early. Aidan suspected his CO had pretty much fabricated the threat to get Aidan out of the hospital before he got any crazier than he already was, and maybe save Aidan's career.

  But Grace was here now, and Aidan wouldn't take a chance with her safety.

  "The thing is, Sir, there was an incident here yesterday. I thought someone was breaking in, and I pulled a weapon on her before I figured out... Well, it wasn't a break-in. I just need to know if I should be worried about anyone tracking me down here."

  "I can't see that happening, Commander. I'm fairly certain we know the source of the threat, and he's right here, near the base and under surveillance. We just don't have the evidence yet to pick him up, but we will. Although there's a lot going on right now, so it could be a while before we wrap this up. A month? Maybe six weeks? How does that sound?"

  Like Aidan might have his head on straight by then, which was, no doubt, the captain's real question.

  "That sounds fine, Sir."

  "Good. You really do sound better, Aidan. Had me worried for a while."

  He took a breath, knowing if he got his career back, he'd have this man to thank for it. "This place is both quiet and private. I'm very glad to be here, Sir."

  "Good. Relax. I wouldn't worry at all about anyone finding you there."

  "Thank you, sir. Very much."

  Okay, it was exactly what he'd thought. A chance to get away, think, recover, figure out what he was going to do from here, what he wanted.

  And he'd met Grace.

  Life looked so much better since then.

  He hoped by the time he and the dog got back to the cabin, she would still be curled up asleep in their makeshift bed.

  Chapter 6

  Grace came awake slowly, her whole body deliciously warm and comfortable. It took her a moment to figure out where she was and what she'd done—spent the night in the arms of a kind-hearted stranger.

  For a minute, she couldn't actually believe she had. She hadn't just ended up here stranded by the storm, but literally slept in his arms.

  She was embarrassed to have confessed to that simple need to have someone hold her while she slept, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. It had felt too good, and it seemed a good night's sleep could transform the whole world into a better place.

  Wrapped up in her blankets beside the roaring fire, she stretched slowly in the recliner, not wanting to leave her little nest. She couldn't help but wish he were still with her, even if things might have been awkward between them in the light of day. More importantly, for the first time in a long, long time, she felt eager for whatever possibilities the day would bring.

  And wasn't that a ridiculous thing to feel? Foolishly flattered by the attentions of a kind, compelling man? Stupidly infatuated with him after knowing him less than a day. Her? A woman who'd spent the last seven and a half months trying to figure out how she could have been so wrong about the man she'd married? After all, a woman had to hope she'd at least learn from her mistakes.

  So, what was she doing feeling so happy this morning?

  She made herself climb out of the recliner, then found his note. She hoped he hadn't taken the dog too far, considering the man had an open incision in his side, although he wouldn't appreciate her pointing that out to him.

  After putting away all the bedding, plus the mattress she hadn't used, she went into the bathroom, where she borrowed some of Aidan's toothpaste and finger-brushed her teeth, tried to tame her hair, splashed water on her face. She wasn't going to shower until she had clothes of her own to put on.

  First, she wanted coffee, which she ended up taking out onto the screened porch along with one of the blankets she'd just folded, because it was sunny but cool that pretty September morning. She sat down on a homemade thing she suspected doubled as a sofa by day and a bed by night, with another one of those thick, foam mattresses. Wrapped up in her blanket, she sipped her coffee, planning to give herself a stern lecture on being careful and remembering all she'd learned recently about love and men and promises.

  But the beauty of the morning distracted her. The sun was coming up over the far side of the lake, lighting a shimmering trail across the water. Raindrops, or maybe dew drops, glistened off the trees. Fall color was near its full glory, crimson reds, fiery oranges and dark, bold yellows. Birds sounded like they were throwing a raucous party somewhere, and the air was so fresh and clean and cool, it felt like a treat just to be alive and breathing this morning. For the first time since Luc died, she believed she was going to survive this. Not just survive, but that she would go on living, and one day be happy again.

  She teared up a bit, with happy tears, then thought of her family, whom she loved dearly. They were the rock-solid foundation upon which she depended, despite feeling smothered by them at times lately. If they simply heard her voice this morning, they would start to believe, too, that she was going to be okay, she thought, and wouldn't that be a treat?

  Picking up her phone, she found three missed calls and three corresponding messages. Mom, Dad, Emma. Checking in. Hope the drive wasn't too bad in the storm. Hope it's not too awful at Ellen's. Call if you need us. Love you.

  She clicked a few buttons to dial her parents' home. Her father answered.

  "Hi Daddy," she said, because she still called him that sometimes, when she was thinking about how much she adored him.

  "Grace." He sounded surprised, pleasantly so. "You're up early, baby girl."

  "I am." She grinned.

  "Bad night? Get any sleep?"

  "Actually, I did. I slept really well. I just went to bed insanely early, so I got up early, too."

  He was quiet for a moment. "You sound different, Grace, almost happy."

  "It's a beautiful morning here, one of the prettiest I've seen in a long time. Or maybe I just haven't noticed in a while."

  Again, he got quiet, finally asked, "What's going on, Grace?"

  "I just wanted to say good morning, and that I love you."

  "I love you, too, baby girl."

  She would have said more, but right then, the screen door opened and Tink came bounding inside. His tail wagging furiously, he planted big, wet, muddy paws on the front edge of the makeshift sofa and rose up until he was practically nose-to-nose with her, maybe trying
to lick her face.

  Grace laughed at the overenthusiastic greeting and knew she had to get off the phone quickly, because she was supposed to be at her in-laws and they didn't have a dog. "Tell Mom I'll call her later, okay? Bye, Dad."

  * * *

  Okay... Dad.

  Aidan thought his heart stopped for a second when he heard her say I love you, in that adoring tone of voice.

  But I love you, Dad?

  That he could handle.

  He literally couldn't wait to see her this morning, awake and on a brand new day. It had been all he could do to stay away long enough to do two laps around the lake and check briefly on Maeve's cabin.

  Finally, he was back, and there she was, curled up in a blanket, sitting on the sofa on the porch on a perfect fall morning, sunlight leaving her practically glowing. She had a pretty smile on her face, some color in her cheeks and all that glorious, golden hair.

  Christ, she was beautiful.

  Just insanely beautiful in a way that had him fumbling for even the most mundane of things to say, like... Hi or Good morning. Words simply would not come out of his mouth.

  The cabin wasn't well lit, was even worse on a gloomy day or at night, and now, seeing her in the full light of day...

  Men probably made fools of themselves all the time over her.

  Fortunately for him, he had a moment to try to pull himself together while she fussed over the dog, petting his giant head, lighting up even more at the sight of him. Aidan was jealous of the damned dog. He wanted her face to light up at the sight of him. He wanted to have the right to rush to her, get that close and be greeted with a look of pure joy.

  "Hi," she said finally, a bit shyly, glancing at him.