A Risk Worth Taking (7 page)

He spared a couple brains cells to recognize she was once again drawing Chris into the room, even if he wasn’t physically there. Mostly his mind was occupied with conjuring up a hi-def picture of her dressed in a silky nightgown, her hair all loose around her shoulders. He most definitely could see her in this room. Grant could also imagine himself in here with her too. “I think it suits you,” he told her, easing behind her. His slow and subtle resolve was weakening. All he’d have to do is lean in and taste her skin.

She spun on her heals. “Let me show you the furniture I’m giving Katie and Jackson.”

More antique furniture. Only this wasn’t just old, it was heavy, like it had been made out whole tree trunks. “It’s very nice of you to give it to Katie and Jackson.”

“It was the suite my parents bought as newlyweds, so it seemed fitting,” she answered, maintaining a safe three-foot buffer between them.

He kept to the safe topic of home improvement and didn’t crowd her like his body was screaming to. “What are you going to do in here?”

“I found a pair of twin beds and a dresser at a secondhand shop for next to nothing. Chris and I are going to refinish them.” She gestured toward the room’s wide window. “Then I’m going to make a window seat so the girls can curl up and read.”

“That should keep you busy.”

She started pulling the drawers out of the dresser and stacking them on the bed. “That’s the goal. I’ve been restless lately.”

Restless?
Hell, caged tigers were calmer. From the moment he’d stepped in her house, she hadn’t lit in one spot for more than a few seconds. Grant arched an eyebrow. “Winter blues?” he asked, finally getting that her moving target tactics meant she was feeling the heat on her side as well.

Abby’s eyes lingered over him then darted away. “Something like that.” She moved to a nightstand, snatched it up like it weighed nothing. “What you say we get started loading this furniture.”

She
so
wasn’t going to carry that goddamn thing all the way to his truck. Not while he had arms, legs, and balls. He cut off her path and eased his arms around the piece of furniture. They brushed across hers as she relinquished the nightstand. “I’ve got this.”

“Chris,” she called. “We need a little more muscle in here.”

Grant lumbered through the house, making it to his truck just as the skies opened up. Between wrestling the tarp and the rain blinding him, the next several trips were markedly more arduous than if Mother Nature had cooperated. Kinda made him think of another lady who wasn’t making things easy.

With the last piece of furniture loaded and covered, Grant followed her back into the kitchen. He looked at the blueprints still scattered across her kitchen table. “Are you and Chris coming to my mom’s party?” he asked, as she handed him a towel.

She looked up at him from a fringe of dark lashes. “It’ll just be me.”

“I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

“I can see why you might think that. But, actually, he has a date.”

Maybe fate wasn’t working against him after all. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling. “Good for him,” he answered. “And since after May you’ll miss a whole year’s worth of Mom’s parties, you can’t miss any of them between now and then.”

Chapter 8

Abby eased her car onto the Katherine’s drive, but only after passing muster at the main gate of Hillgrove subdivision, North Atlanta’s premier gated community. Aided by flood lamps that shone into the bare limbs of dozens of oak trees, she wound her car down the quarter mile path that separated the mansion from the street. “I’ve never met anybody who loved to entertain more than this woman,” she muttered as she took in strands of twinkling lights wrapped around the mansion’s Doric columns.

She killed the engine but didn’t reach for the door handle. Knowing Katherine’s many soirées were never casual affairs, Abby first needed to gird her loins. She flipped down the vanity mirror, checking her lipstick, and then brushed a hand over the hair she’d spent an hour straightening before finally stepping from her car.

After “Westminster Bells” announced her arrival, a maid ushered her inside. Abby scanned the crowd milling around Katherine’s great room. Teetering between anticipation and dread, she wondered not
if
but
when
she’d see Grant. She just hoped she’d be able to control her ever increasing reaction to his presence.

“Abby,” Katherine cooed as she stepped into the foyer. “Don’t you look just darling in that color. I’m so glad you came.”

Turning her attention to her hostess, Abby arranged her lips into smile. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Then she looked at Katherine’s chic ensemble, thankful her intuition warned the dress code for this party would be slightly more upscale than the parties she typically attended. Instead of jeans and sweatshirt, Abby wore a nice pair of black trousers and the plum-colored cashmere sweater Chris had given her for Christmas.

“Come in and let me get you a drink,” Katherine continued, taking Abby by the elbow.

Finally after half an hour of making small talk with strangers, Abby caught a glimpse of a familiar face as Katie breezed into the great room. Latching onto her daughter-in-law, she asked, “How was your week?”

“Crazy,” she admitted, then tugged Abby’s arm. “I’ll ask you later what you do with second graders when you can’t take them outside, but first I want you to meet someone.”

Following Katie into a kitchen the size of her house, Abby’s gaze immediately zeroed in on the large male at the far end of the room. Dressed in faded jeans and work boots, Grant made the rest of the party’s male guests seem about as masculine as the lacy curtains hanging in her kitchen.

He didn’t notice her as she drew closer, which was just as well since there was no way in heck she could hide her reaction to seeing him. Her cheeks heated as he studied the laptop before him, knowing what it was like to be the focus of that intensity.

After taking him in and finding nothing wanting, her attention turned to the slender blond across from him. Wearing an ivory suit with her hair pulled back in a tidy bun, the woman seemed to be working with Grant on some type of project. Abby tried to place the woman, ticking through the dozens she’d met at Katie’s numerous bridal showers but came up blank.

“Look who’s here,” Katie announced.

The woman leapt gracefully from the table and enfolded Katie in a hug. “How’s married life?”

“Heather, it’s wonderful,” Katie enthused. “You should try it again.”

“Fat chance.”

Katie drew Abby closer to her side. “This is my mother-in-law, Abby.”

Heather’s eyes widened. “Nice to meet you,” she said, extending a hand. “I’ve heard your name quite a lot lately.”

It was Abby’s turn for a wide-eyed reaction, but Katie quickly provided the context under which Abby had been the topic of conversation. “Since you teach children with special needs, I thought you wouldn’t mind letting Grant and Heather pick your brain.”

Heather patted Abby on the arm, the woman’s flawless features forming a kind smile. “But we don’t want to keep you from the party if you’d rather not talk business.”

Feeling immediately at ease with the woman, Abby quickly responded, “No, believe me. I don’t think I’m missing anything.”

“Then sit,” Grant instructed and pulled out a chair for her to sit.

Katie patted Abby on the shoulder. “My work here is done. I better get back to the party.”

“What can I do to help?” Abby asked.

Grant handed her a folded piece of paper. A collage of photos featuring families in different home and recreational settings filled the brochure. “Heather and I started the Help and Hope Foundation after our daughter Grace was diagnosed with autism.” He shot a glance toward Heather. “Our goal is to help other families facing the same struggles as us.”

Abby’s gaze bounced between Heather and Grant, the proverbial light bulb going off. She knew from Katie some of this family’s history, about the divorce and Grace’s diagnosis. The apparent closeness of the former spouses caught her off guard. The comfortable way they finished each other’s sentences reminded her of Chris and herself.

Turning her thoughts from the pair, she read the brochure. She’d heard of the foundation from some of her students’ parents without realizing she knew one of the founders. As she read the information, she learned Help and Hope provided support groups and respite care for parents in addition to providing funds for therapies insurance didn’t cover.

Except at the wedding when his devotion to Katie had been evident, all Grant showed the world was a rich, charming man out for a good time. This new facet touched her soul. “That’s truly remarkable.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Heather responded. “We like to have members from the community sit on the board of directors, and our education liaison resigned last week.” She smiled hopefully. “Would you consider taking a position?”

“I’d love to…” Her gaze darted to Grant and her excitement ebbed just as quickly as it peaked. “But I can’t. I’m leaving the country at the end of May,” Abby said, using the reason easiest to explain. “I’ll be gone an entire year so cannot commit to anything.”

“That’s too bad.”

Just then, Heather’s phone announced a text. While the woman’s attention was diverted, Abby eyed Grant. His cobalt-blue eyes did things she was better off not thinking about.

“That’s the sitter,” Heather announced, standing and gathering her coat. “Grace is having a hard time settling down for the night. I better go.”

“I can handle it if you’d like,” Grant said.

“No, you stay,” she said, waving off his offer. “See if you can sweet talk Abby into changing her mind.”

As Heather left through the kitchen’s back door, Abby braced for the onslaught of charm.

He shook his head as if he’d read her mind. “No spiel. But, would you at least think about taking the position?”

Her gaze trailed across a pair of broad shoulder and up to his strong jaw. His blue eyes melted her resolve to do the sensible thing. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” he said, the corners of his generous mouth turning up.

His smile made her want to agree to things other than charity work. Several seconds passed before she realized she was staring. “Do you have a picture of Grace?” she asked, needing the diversion.

“Of course,” he answered, pulling his phone from his hip pocket.

After a moment of flipping through several pictures of the little girl, she exclaimed, “My God, she’s beautiful.”

“She definitely got her mother’s looks.”

Abby expanded a snap of Grace sitting on a rocking horse. “I see you in there; she’s got your lips and chin.”

He laughed. “Thankfully, she didn’t get my nose.”

She shook her head. There wasn’t one thing about his looks that wasn’t practically perfect. “You have a nice nose. It suits your face.”

He took the phone, stowing it in his pocket. His face grew serious as he turned his attention to her. “She’s my reason for getting up in the morning.”

Such tenderness.
“She’s a lucky little girl.”

“I’m the lucky one, and while I’m not ready to say her autism is a blessing, it has made me a better man. It really got me to see just paying the bills isn’t what makes a good father. Being there for your kid is.”

His honesty did more to disarm her than all his dimpled smiles. “What if I pitched in on the Board until I leave? That should give you time to get someone who can serve long-term.”

His brow furrowed. “You sure you can do that with all that’s on your plate?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Abby said. She reached for his hand. The strength she felt as he returned her squeeze did something warm and wonderful to her insides. She upturned his hand in hers slowly stroking his calloused palm.

He tugged it away. “Sorry, my hands are a mess.”

She stopped him before he could tuck them in his lap. Pulling them both toward her, she wove her fingers with his. “No, there’s something honest about them.”

Grant’s eyes were heavy on her and he unwound one of his hands to trail lightly up her arm. When he cupped her cheek, she leaned into his touch, finding something alluring about a hard man with a soft spot for his family. Their lips touched for an instant before footsteps drove them apart.

Jackson trotted into the room, making a beeline for the refrigerator. Then spying her, he detoured. “What are you doing in here?”

Abby clenched her eyes to erase the vision of what he might have seen had his entry been more quiet.

He tugged on her arm. “Come say hello to everyone downstairs.”

She glanced up at Grant, for the first time reluctant to escape his presence. “I probably should go.”

With a grin, Grant clasped Jackson’s shoulder. “I’ll bring her down in a few minutes. But, first I want to take your mom on the fifty cent tour.” Not giving Jackson a chance to argue, Grant motioned to her. “Come on. I’ll make sure we’re in the game room in time to watch the half-time show.”

The instant Jackson disappeared, Grant pulled Abby into the tiny space off from the dining room.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking around at his mother’s hoard of silver and china. “This is the butler’s pantry.”

“The tour has to start somewhere,” he answered. His arm snaked around Abby’s waist, craving another taste of her lips.

She held him off by placing a palm on his chest. “This is a bad idea.”

Her lips might be saying one thing, but the vein thrumming in neck told him otherwise. Grant tilted her chin and growled, “Seems like a very good idea to me. Besides, you want me, too.”

She screwed her eyes closed and nodded. “Wanting’s not the problem.”

“Then tell me why.”

“Because…”

She’d done something to her hair to make it straight and under the room’s light the golden color shimmered. He fingered a lock to know if it felt as silky as it looked.

“I can’t think when you’re doing that,” she pleaded, turning away from him.