Her Texas Rescue Doctor (15 page)

“Then I'll support you on that, too.”

“Which means you'll take her to the ball.” But her gaze had dropped to his mouth.

“Of course.” He waited, every muscle aching to reach for her, the woman who needed a friend.

She still didn't let go of his hand, but with a sigh that sounded like defeat, Grace reached up to the bench seat with her other hand to grab her tote bag.

He stopped her by placing his hand over hers. “Sometimes a job is nothing but a job. Why don't you leave that here? I meant what I said about taking a lunch break. No work.”

They stood in the shelter of the truck's open door, each with an arm resting on the seat, hands touching, their bodies open to one another, only inches of air keeping her chest from his. He took a deliberate, calm breath. This wasn't the time to give in to that physical awareness.

Under his palm, Grace's hand formed a fist around the bag's strap. “We could work on your project over lunch instead. Plan our schedules for the week, for the times we'll be...together.”

“Leave it.”
And don't look at me like that.

That inch of air between them was full of heat and electricity.

She let her gaze drop to his chest, then lower, the same as she had at midnight. Any sane man would move away at this moment, but the torture was too addictive.

She's leaving at the end of the week.
The truth of that should kill his desire.

It didn't. He watched her breasts rise as she took her own deep breath before she let go of the bag's strap, her fingers uncurling under his hand.

“Then what will we talk about?” she asked.

“We'll get to know one another, like any man and woman do. There's nothing to memorize. We can say anything.”

“I don't think I've been in that position before. Not since I was a teenager.”

He saw her mouth form the words, but he barely heard them over the hum of arousal in his brain. His own voice was low. “You and I aren't famous. No one will care what happens between us. Except us.”

And then there was no air between them. Bodies touched, shirt brushing blouse, mouth on soft mouth. The kiss they should have had at midnight was too intense at noon, but they were swept into it together, mouths open and tasting and taking. When she made a little sound of greed, he let go of her hands and pulled her into his arms, a feeling of
yes, this
and
finally
as he molded her pliant body to his.

When her hand slid up his back pocket to cling to his leather belt, when her fingers dug into the hair at the nape of his neck, the sound of greed came from him. They made love with their mouths, hot and moist. Intimate. Jeans became the worst possible piece of clothing. His were tight and restrictive, hers were a coarse barrier to the soft curves he wanted to feel, and—

And there was nothing he could do about it. They were in a parking lot, about to be surrounded by a lunch crowd.

It didn't matter. He didn't want to give up any taste of Grace he could have.

The frustration was exquisite, but it was building too hot, too fast, so he forced himself to end the kiss. Kissed her once more. Ended that, but didn't move away from her. After a moment of listening to her pant for breath, he kissed the soft skin of her cheek, but his control was a flimsy thing. He needed to put space between them. He placed his palm on the metal of the truck, breathed in Grace one more time, and pushed himself away.

“Wow,” she whispered.

He nodded, trying not to think, not to feel.

A work truck parked beside them. Grace moved out of the way, so Alex could shut his truck door and let the other driver open his. He kept his back to Grace, standing between her and the driver. He didn't want another man seeing her sexy, just-kissed look. Behind him, he heard Grace's breathy, bedroom voice.

“Wow,” she repeated. “That was a huge mistake.”

Chapter Fifteen

G
race knew she was a good personal assistant. She never missed a detail or dropped an assignment. She knew how to handle celebrities. She could hold her own against a publicist. But there was one thing she couldn't do: she couldn't make Alex Gregory tell a lie.

So she skipped that part.

“I won't ask you to lie, but could you at least not mention that you kissed her sister?” That didn't sound fair. It wasn't as if the kiss had been all one-sided. “Or that her sister kissed you?”

“You don't need anyone's permission to kiss anyone you want.”

“I know that.” She kept her eyes on the picnic table. A huge chunk of beef brisket sat on white butcher paper, looking like a pot roast for the two of them to share, along with breaded and fried jalapeño peppers and two plastic bowls of banana pudding. It might be typically Texan, but it was the strangest array of food she'd ever seen at a lunch, working or not. It added to her feeling of disorientation.

She should be consulting stylists and lining up fittings for her sister, or making lists of local press and arranging transportation. Instead, she was eating at a table outside of a restaurant that had gas pumps, as if the cars and trucks needed to be fed, too, while she sat across from a man that she so desperately, physically craved. She didn't want to eat. All she wanted to do was plaster herself against his shockingly strong, deliciously warm body and kiss him until her brain dissolved. That way, she wouldn't have to think about the mess she'd just created.

Her hands were tempted to reach over the table to brush his hair back from his forehead. She interlocked her fingers tightly, just to sit still. “We're supposed to be making you into the perfect man for her. I don't think the perfect boyfriend would kiss her sister.”

“Fake boyfriend. For one date.”

“I know that.” She clenched her hands tighter. If she'd been holding a pencil, it would have snapped by now.

“For what it's worth, I have no intention of telling Sophia I kissed you when we get back to the house.”

She winced and leaned forward to whisper. “Don't use her name outside of your house, okay?”

He shook his head slowly. There was no mistaking that sad downturn to his kissable mouth, that wrinkle of worry on his brow. He pitied her.

“I'm not being paranoid,” she said.

“I mean this as kindly as possible, but yes, you are being paranoid. Look around you. This isn't LA. This isn't even Austin.”

Obediently, Grace looked to the nearest patron, who sat at least six feet away at another picnic table. He was tearing the meat off some ribs with his teeth, elbows on the table, ball cap on his head. He said something to his table partner, a similarly attired man, as he chewed. All Grace could pick out from their conversation were a few numbers. She looked back to Alex.

“They're talking about tractor tires,” he said.

“It's still a good habit to get into, not saying names. You'll need that this week.”

“I'm not going to tell
her
about kissing you because it's none of her business. I absolutely have no obligation to report to her what I was doing and with whom I was doing it. I'm very sorry that you think you do.”

Did she? Grace hadn't really thought it through, this instinctive need for secrecy. “It's not like I have to tell her, but...”

She fell silent. Did it matter now if her sister found out Grace had a thing for Alex?

The damage was done.

She'd had a whole week, a golden opportunity to give her sister the experience of being with a man who didn't treat her like she was lucky to get his time. A chance to remind Sophia that there were men out there who liked women as people, not as accessories. A chance for Sophia to live in a real house and be treated like a real person instead of a celebrity. A chance to take care of Sophia in return for the years she'd taken care of Grace. One week—and Grace had ruined her big chance to change her sister's life on the first day.

As she stared into Alex's sky-blue eyes and struggled for something to say, it hit her: she wouldn't have missed that kiss for the world. Not even for the sister who'd been her world. Having been held and kissed and wanted by Alex, there was no way she could possibly encourage Alex to hold and kiss and want anyone else.

What kind of sister am I?

Grace put her hands over her face, and tried not to cry.

* * *

Alex should have seen this coming. For a doctor who'd treated dozens of victims of domestic violence, for a son who'd lived through his mother's multiple attempts to leave his abusive father, he should have known it would be hard on Grace to do anything independently of her sister.
You knew she needed a friend, not a lover. You couldn't just be content being her friend, though, could you?

He rounded the edge of the table to go to Grace's side. The men at the next table had noticed that a pretty woman was sniffing back tears and hiding her face, of course, and they were doing their best not to stare. Alex straddled the plank seat, facing Grace and keeping his back to the men to give her some illusion of privacy.

Their kiss had triggered these tears, somehow. He remembered the kitchen at midnight, the way she'd whispered
I can't
. He hesitated now to hold her again. Falling back on his experience as a doctor, he tried to maintain a caring objectivity. He reached for the roll of paper towels on the table and tore off a sheet and held it out to her, but with her hands hiding her face, she didn't see it.

“Grace,” he said, feeling like a physician, “it's going to be okay.”

She burst into tears in earnest.

To hell with it. He pulled her closer, so her body was in the V of his legs, and wrapped one arm around her to anchor her to him. With his hand, he pressed her tearful face into his shoulder.

“I don't want you to be scared of Sophia.”

“I'm not scared of Sophia.”

“Then what are you scared of? What terrible thing will happen if she finds out we like one another?”

“I...never mind. I can't explain. It's so embarrassing.”

She pressed her forehead into his shoulder, hiding. He remembered seeing his mother looking into the mirror, the bruise on her cheek darkening by the moment. The way she'd spotted him and covered her cheek with her hand and turned her face away, embarrassed.
Oh, my little bear. I can't explain anything right now. You don't worry about Mama, okay?

He'd never asked his mother to explain it, not even when he was a teenager and it was just the two of them, learning a new life in the land of cowboys and cattle. They'd once been so close. Even as a very young child, he'd witnessed everything she did to expose the dangerous factory. Then later, he'd been old enough to help hide money, hide identification cards, hide food. They'd survived together, then eventually thrived together. They should be close now, or close still, but there was a wall between them, built of the things they did not discuss.

Walls were too sturdy. He didn't want to begin building one here, with this woman. He laid his cheek against her hair. “Can you explain to me why that kiss was a mistake?”

“First, you have to promise not to laugh at me for being stupid.”

“I promise.” What an easy promise to make. He'd just shared the best kiss of his life with a woman who was crying. He'd never felt further from laughing.

“The thing is...” She lifted her head enough to peek around them to ensure that the other outdoor diners were still at distant tables. “I'm afraid Deezee will try to win her back at some point. It's possible Martina will advise him to. I thought if you and my sister were into each other, then she might not fall back into Deezee's trap. You're nice to her. You bring her ice and pancakes and you covered her with a blanket. You can't imagine how long it's been since she's had someone other than me be nice to her. I wanted her to be with a good man, but now I've stolen you away.”

It was a good thing she couldn't see his face, because he had to smile into her hair, a little moment of pleasure. She'd stolen him, had she?

“You didn't deprive your sister of anything.”

“I disagree. I think you're something very special.”

The pleasure, so mixed with the pain...

Her tears were very real. She carried a terrible guilt. It was as if she didn't think she had a right to anything she wanted or needed. Only Sophia's needs mattered.

“I meant that your sister didn't lose out on a relationship with me, because she never had a chance. It's been you from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

Grace went very still in his arms.

He was being too intense, talking like a lover. She needed a friend.

He let go of her and sat back a few inches. With the paper towel, he dried the cheek he'd so recently kissed in the parking lot. “When I walked through that curtain and first saw you, I must have looked like an idiot. You knocked the words right out of my head. I just stared at you.”

“I thought you were disappointed in me. You said, ‘You're the assistant?' like you couldn't believe it.”

“I was expecting someone like Martina. I saw an angel. The only reason I agreed to take Sophia to the ball was so that you wouldn't spend this week helping some other man get ready. I wanted you to myself. Pretty devious of me, if you think about it.”

He smiled at her; tears welled in her eyes.

“I'm no angel. I'm a terrible sister. Do you remember when I said I couldn't stand by and watch Sophia crash? I didn't tell you the whole truth. I'd decided this week would be her last chance.” She waved those words away quickly with her hand, and started over. “I mean, this week was
my
last chance to see if I could save her from herself. And if I couldn't, if she continued to follow Deezee's lead in everything, I was ready to move out.”

Words spoken on that metal bench burst from his memory.
I'm the one that's getting sick of it.
If she'd already decided to leave, then he wouldn't have to help her make those decisions. He wouldn't have to wait while she worked through those issues. The physical desire he'd been trying to tame roared back to life. Friends could become lovers. They could take that kiss as far as they wanted it to go.

“I've got a list.” She fiercely dashed her cheek on her sleeve. “It's in my tote bag. Just some different options and th-things I'd have to take care of if I decided to move out on my own.”

Yeah, he was a hell of a friend, all right. His mind was skipping ahead to taking her to bed, to losing himself in all the shades of gold that made up Grace Jackson, while she was worrying about her future. He handed her the paper towel and eased himself back a little farther.

She mopped up the last of her own tears. “But Deezee made that decision for Sophia, didn't he? He left her high and dry, so I guess that's that. I'm staying now.”

To his surprise, she plunged her hands through her own hair, squeezing her skull. “Why am I not happy about this?”

Because you don't really want to go back to the way things were.

“I'm glad Deezee's gone,” she said. “But Sophia didn't make any decisions. I wanted her to choose.”

Alex stayed quiet and listened, feeling humbled. He'd thought he'd be the one to lead Grace to all these revelations this week. He was so accustomed as an emergency physician to being the one who stated the problem out loud and offered the solution.
I don't think you fell down a staircase. There is legal and financial help available today. You don't have to leave with the man who hurt you.

But Grace was not a patient. She was already aware and ready to change her life. Listening to her was a revelation. Some victims found their own way out. He knew that; he just never witnessed it. He only saw the women in his ER who were still trapped.

My mother got out.

Another revelation. He'd never thought of it that way. Officially, they'd escaped from the political corruption that had followed the collapse of the Soviet government. His mother had exposed the factory conditions, putting a political target on her back—for which his father had shaken her, the back of her head smacking into a picture frame, shattering the glass, the blood matting her hair.
How could you bring this down on us?

It was the first time his father had hurt his mother. She'd later been jailed by the people his father had been trying to curry favor with.
I was going to be made a Party member. You've ruined my life.

She'd dared to seek asylum in a foreign land, but Alex realized now she'd escaped from an abusive husband at the same time. Papa had stayed on shore as their unauthorized boat had ventured into deep waters. They'd sailed from Russia to Turkey, their identities a life-or-death secret. Then they'd walked from embassy to embassy, using their real names, hoping his mother's reputation as an engineer would be their saving grace. It had been. They'd been flown to Houston, Texas, where she could teach at Rice University. His mother had been victorious.

Why was it more comfortable to remember her as a victim?

“I wanted Sophie to decide if she still wanted her career and everything that goes with it. There's a lot of sacrifice involved. She can't even go to a grocery store. I thought maybe she was done with it all, and that was why she was self-destructing.” Grace let her hands fall into her lap. “I'll never know now. Sophie will make this Texas Rescue appearance a triumph. She wants Deezee to regret what he's done, and she'll do that by being more successful than ever.”

“Good for Sophie. What about Grace? What will you do after this week?”

“I guess we keep going, the same as we have for years.”

Selfishly, he wanted her to let Sophia return to LA without her. A week would not be enough time with Grace. He slid the butcher paper closer and pulled two battered metal forks out of a tin pail that held table settings, buying himself time to be sure he would speak from a neutral position, as a friend.