Читать книгу A Home by the Sea - Christina Skye - Страница 11

Two weeks later

HE HAD CALLED HER TWICE. He had texted her once.

Grace hadn’t returned any messages. She told herself it was better this way. More practical for both of them.

After all, what could come of a few dates? Hesitant pauses. Awkward conversations. Groping in the dark and then an embarrassed refusal?

No. She had to have peace and order in her life, and her heart told her that Noah would upset her careful efforts at recovery. She had learned one thing over the past year: you had to be strong before you learned to be vulnerable.

Two weeks had passed since she had found the kittens—and met Noah. They had feinted through their snowball fight to the hilarity of Noah’s family. At first Noah had held back, but Grace wasn’t afraid to fight dirty, shoving snow down his collar, pulling his feet out from under him, rubbing snow in his face. With the noisy laughter of his family rolling in her ears, she had been declared the winner at the start of round three, by unanimous vote. Noah had taken his defeat well, but hours later, standing on the driveway after he had returned Grace to her townhouse, he had taken his consolation prize.

The long, slow kiss began as snow fell gently, brushing their faces. He had murmured her name while his hand rose, cupping her cheeks. Then he turned her face up to his and tasted her mouth slowly. The hunger had slammed over her instantly. Grace had thought she remembered how it felt to be kissed and know the swift heat of desire, but her experiences with James hadn’t really prepared her for Noah.

The rich, earthy feelings that followed his kiss had left Grace giddy and confused. They caught her when she least expected it, fogging all her senses and her normal caution.

And she needed to stay cautious and in control. She had been out of balance too long with James. She was getting her life back now. Once things had quieted down, she would call Noah.

Her computer, books and notebooks were stacked neatly on the table. She had an important meeting tomorrow, but she was well prepared. Yet the thought bothered her: Was that all she had in her life—work and meetings?

Suddenly restless, she grabbed her coat and gloves to take a walk. Maybe the brisk air would clear her tangled thoughts.

She closed and locked her door, then pulled on an old knitted scarf. It was a simple lace stitch, nothing complicated, but it would always be special because it was the first lace she had ever knitted. You remembered the first times most, she thought wryly.

A car raced past and slush sprayed around her boots, but Grace trudged on, glad to be outside. At least her preparations were done. All she had to do was sell her idea. That wouldn’t be easy because the competition for this particular project would be keen.

Lights flickered in the twilight. A car angled to the curb and stopped. A Jeep, Grace realized as the driver’s-side door opened.

“What does it take to get a call returned, an executive order?” Noah jumped out and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You must be busy these days.”

Grace took a deep breath. He looked good—even better than she remembered. Snow dusted his broad shoulders as he studied her without moving. “You forgot these the other night.”

He dug out a plastic bag with Grace’s favorite red fingerless gloves. “Mom wanted me to tell you. Since you didn’t return my calls, I decided to swing by.” His eyes were wary. “And since you haven’t asked, I’ll tell you that the mom and all the kittens are doing fine. Puppy, too.”

“Noah, I—” Grace flushed. “I’m sorry. I should have called. That was very rude of me. And you know that I can’t thank you enough for keeping the cats.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. You made it clear when you said you didn’t want to get involved. As for the cats, we love them. The puppy is great.” He shrugged. “So I’ll be getting back. It’s been a busy week.”

“Noah, wait. Please.” Grace put a hand on his arm and felt the muscles flex sharply. “Look at me.”

After a moment his dark eyes settled on her face, focused but completely unreadable. “I’m looking. But what is there to say?”

She felt his muscles tense again and noticed there was a cut above his eyebrow that hadn’t been there before. “What happened to your face?” Without thinking, she touched the healing skin gently.

“Cut it shaving,” he said tightly. “So what did you want to tell me, Grace?”

She felt low and cravenly, embarrassed at her behavior. “Look, I’m just trying to do the right thing. I didn’t plan to meet someone. I didn’t want to get involved when I’m still tangled up inside.” Grace looked down at her fingers, opened on his arm. “And then I met you. I saw how gentle and careful you were with the kittens and how far you went to make me feel comfortable with your family. And suddenly—” She stopped, feeling heat fill her face. But she owed him an explanation—and an apology. “Suddenly you were there, and I was being pulled in, caught up in emotions I couldn’t understand or trust. I couldn’t stay aloof or in control around you. So I chose not to call or have any contact. That was my decision, and it was very badly done. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Noah said tightly. “You were protecting yourself in the only way you could. You were being practical.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Grace said. “I should have explained and then trusted you to understand. I took the cowardly way out.”

Some of the wariness left his eyes. “Yes, you should have trusted me. Because I do understand.” His eyes darkened. “And I suppose if I ask you to go for a walk, you’ll say no.”

She didn’t want to say no.

Surely she could handle a few minutes in his company without coming unglued. “I’d say yes, actually.” She hesitated, then slid her arm through his. “And you can tell me about the cats. I miss them.” She took a breath. “After that you can explain what really happened to your face. I don’t believe your story for a second.”

THEY WALKED FOR FIFTEEN minutes, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. At first Grace felt uncomfortable and self-conscious, but slowly the silences grew more comfortable, like the kind between old friends. Feeling comfortable like this didn’t make sense.

But maybe not everything had to make sense.

“So I want to know all the details about the little guys. Are they healthy? Growing a lot?”

“My mother has been giving them a special mix of broth and egg yolks. She swears it will help them grow. All I know is it smells nauseating. Then yesterday my father took Ivan the Terrible for a short walk on the back patio.” He gave a dry laugh. “Don’t worry. It was only for a few minutes, just enough to give the little guy a chance to work on his muscles. He’s the most uncoordinated animal I’ve ever seen.”

As they walked it began to snow lightly. Grace watched car lights glow red in the twilight as commuters headed home or out to dinner or to the ballet and opera. It was all so different from the quiet harbor community where she’d grown up in Oregon. Back on Summer Island there were no secrets, no blessed anonymity. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.

She had been thrilled to escape to culinary school in New York and then head on to the Cordon Bleu in Paris. The world had called to her and her year of study at the Sorbonne had been heaven. When work brought her here to Washington, she found the same kind of anonymity, and she had felt right at home.

Except lately her trust level was at rock bottom. Since learning about James, she questioned every statement and every motive, her own as well as everyone else’s. She searched for odd nuances and tallied up whatever didn’t make sense.

That kind of negativity drained you fast, she had discovered. It left you only half alive.

As she studied the hard angles of Noah’s face captured in the light of passing cars, Grace realized that right now at this moment, one place felt safe. Noah had a knack for paying complete attention to those around him. When you talked, he listened as if no one else existed or mattered. It was a novel and very heady experience, she discovered.

Not that it changed anything. Tonight was a pleasant adventure, nothing more.

“You want to talk about him?” Noah was watching her, his eyes grave.

“Him?”

“Your fiancé. You were thinking about him just now, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but how did you—”

“Your eyes. You looked like someone had kicked you in the chest and you were choking,” Noah said roughly.

Had he really seen all that in her face? If so, was her pain so visible to everyone around her?

Grace felt a wave of nausea. The truth was that all of James’s friends had known what he was doing. Only she had been blind to the scattered signs. They were apart for weeks while he was working, so it had been easy to miss the other demands on his time and emotions.

But over the long months Grace had stopped hating him. She had even stopped hating herself for missing the signs until he was dead. And now she was moving forward. She wasn’t going to let bad memories destroy her trust and hope. She wanted her life back.

She took a shaky breath, trying to smile. “That easy to read, am I?”

“Maybe not by others. But you’re doing it again,” Noah said quietly. “That struggle to breathe. The tension in your hands. Talk to me, Grace.”

Memories of loss made her throat tighten. She hadn’t talked about the dark details with anyone, not even her closest friends. Definitely not with her grandfather, who would have been horrified by James’s behavior. “I—I can’t.”

“Talking will help.”

“What does it matter? He’s gone. All the damage is done.” She felt tears burn suddenly. “Before he died he slept with half of my friends. Maybe all of them. What did I know?”

“The fool,” Noah’s voice was hard. “The cold-blooded idiot.” A muscle clenched at his jaw. “A man would have to be blind—and very sick to hurt you that way. He hurt himself, too, even if he couldn’t see it.” He took her hand, helping her climb over a mound of snow at the edge of a driveway. They walked for a while, neither speaking. “So how did you find out?” Noah finally asked.

“The first clue? I was going through some of his old clothes after he passed away, and I found a letter in the pocket. There was no stamp. He was always a little forgetful that way.” Grace stared down the street, reliving that moment of her searing disbelief. “I was certain it was a mistake, so certain that some friend of his had given him the letter to drop off. Just a favor, right? Then a mutual friend, who happened to be the woman he’d written the love letter to, called me in Paris.” Grace had to stop and concentrate on the words. “She was devastated. She let it slip that he had been with her the day before the crash. He had visited her at least once a month. She said she was … pregnant. She hadn’t told him yet.” Grace blew out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t console her. I should have, but I couldn’t say a word of sympathy. I was still sure it was a mistake.” The street blurred suddenly. “It had to be some other James. Not my James. It just wasn’t possible.” Grace stumbled. Dimly, she felt Noah’s hand grip her waist. “Not the man I was going to marry as soon as his humanitarian missions in the Sudan were done.”

The bitterness rose and tried to take control, but she fought it back. It was getting easier every day. She was finally starting to move on.

If she could just let the memories go.

She rubbed her neck and glanced at Noah. His hand was still on her waist, offering silent support. “So there it is, the whole sad cliché.”

“You’re no cliché. And you’ll get through this.”

“I’m working on it, believe me.” She stood taller, feeling the cold wind bite against her wet cheeks. Some days she even thought she was over it. There had been too many tears, Grace thought. No more of them.

“You’re a very good listener, by the way.”

“I try.”

“And you certainly succeed. I haven’t told that to anyone.” She chewed on her lip and dug for a tissue in her pocket. “So now it’s your turn. Tell me what really happened to your face.”

“I told you. I—”

“Yeah, right. Like I believe that. You’re the steadiest, most coordinated man I’ve ever met.” Grace eyed him without blinking. “You said you work for the government.”

After a moment Noah nodded.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Because you can’t talk about it?”

Noah released her waist and studied the street. “That’s right.”

Grace blew out a little breath. More secrets. She’d had enough of them, thanks to James. But these secrets were different. They were meant to protect, not harm. That was important.

“So … did someone attack you? Was it dangerous?”

Noah said nothing.

“Did you have to kill someone?” she asked quietly.

His eyes cut to hers. She thought she saw wariness. “What if I did? Would you walk away?”

She heard his anger, but something told her he was baiting her. “Maybe I should. I don’t have a high threshold for secrets these days, Noah.”

After a long time some of his tension faded. “Understandable.” He rubbed his wrist, frowning.

Something made Grace reach over and push up his cuff. Before he could react, she saw a band of bluish bruises and a long cut along the top of his hand. “You fell,” she said quietly. “It must have hurt.”

Noah stepped back and smoothed his cuff down. “Not so bad.” He rolled one shoulder slowly. “As these things go.”

She had a thousand questions, a thousand frightening images of Noah lying bloody on a street, surrounded by ambulances. “So do you … fall … often? At this job you can’t discuss for an agency you can’t mention?”

“Does it matter?” His eyes were focused on her now, his body still and very controlled.

“Yes. It shouldn’t. I—don’t want it to matter. I don’t have any room in my life for a new set of secrets, Noah. But suddenly you’re here and you make me feel so … safe. As if things are fresh and I can actually think about starting over.” She leaned closer and brushed snow off his collar. Her hand rose, opening over his jaw. “That scares the hell out of me,” she said hoarsely.

His covered her hand with his. “Make that two of us.”

“You? I can’t see you being afraid of anything. You’re always so calm, so focused. Nothing gets past you.”

“You believe that? Only a fool or a dead man feels no fear. A healthy dose of worry can save your life in a bad place.”

“And you know about bad places? Because your life has been in danger?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Grace swallowed. “Noah, exactly what kind of work—”

“I can’t tell you, Grace. I can’t tell you or my family or my friends. That’s the bottom line. And if that bothers you too much—”

“It does.” She looked up at him. “But I can live with it.”

Noah’s eyebrow rose. “Don’t look now, but we might actually be making some progress.”

Grace couldn’t help smiling as Noah reached behind her and turned up her collar. Snow drifted down and swirled around them and somehow the normal, average night felt a little magical.

“Could be,” she whispered.