Montana Secrets (9 page)

“What happened?”

With a single finger she pushed one of her checkers. “I couldn't find her today when I left you. She wasn't where she was supposed to be and—it scared me. That's all.”

“Where was she?” He'd heard Lexi's footsteps traipsing up and down the stairs so he knew she was home, safe and sound. At least now. But what about before Grace had found her?

“In the barn. She was with the kittens and…Roy Bernard.”

He stared at her, wondering what the problem was. “If she was with Roy, then she wasn't unsupervised. Lex was probably bugging him to take her riding.”

Her head jerked up, every trace of color draining from her face. “She rides alone?”

“No, she's never ridden alone—she just turned five years old. But you said she was with Roy and
I'm sure Roy kept an eye out for her. Everyone on the ranch does. Now, what are you beatin' around the bush about? Had she been in the stall with the stallion? She's been told to stay out or she'll get stomped.”

“She wasn't in the stall,” she rasped, still pale. She fixed her gaze on the board between them, wide-eyed but completely unseeing.

“In the loft? She's part monkey, she climbs up there all the time. She's been told to stay out of the rafters, but sometimes she still goes up there when she's upset. I wouldn't be concerned—”

The color she'd lost was now back. Two circles of blazing crimson scorched her cheeks, but instead of giving her pale skin some relief, the redness compounded the problem because it was so unnatural.

“Look, Grace, if she's all right, why're you making her being in the barn out to be such a big deal?”

She slapped her palms down onto the table. “Because I don't think it's a good idea for a little girl to be alone with a strange man!”

The checker pieces scattered from their squares, a few bounced into the air, but even though he was aware of it happening, Seth couldn't take his eyes off her face. Or remove himself from the images her words conjured up.

Grace closed her eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath—all of which made his body turn hot,
then cold, terrified at the thoughts flying through his mind.

“You want—” He had to stop and clear his throat. “You want to elaborate on why you feel this way?”

Her gaze was on everything in the room but him, and he wasn't going to jump to conclusions even though his mind was coming up with all sorts of ugly scenarios on its own. He took comfort in the fact that if something had happened to Lexi, Grace wouldn't be in his room playing checkers. He held on to that knowledge with both hands and tried to stem the panic racing through him on Grace's behalf.

She swallowed, the sound audible in the quiet room, and if she squirmed in her seat anymore she was going to fall out of it. Finally, eyes closed, she shook her head. “Seth, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit the game or—or blurted that out. I'm overly tired and—I got scared when I couldn't find her, and then when I did, it made me question her free run of a ranch as big as this one. That's all.”

That wasn't all. Fury blindsided him. Sickened him. Obliterated all other thoughts. Lexi might be fine, but Grace certainly wasn't. The fear in her expression, the quiver in her voice. She tried to hide them but couldn't. Heaven help him—

He rubbed a hand over his rough face, images tumbling through his head faster than he could keep
up with them. Grimacing, he was unsure of what to do. He needed to keep Grace from bolting, and if he pressed her, she'd do just that. No, he had to keep her with him and talking. Get her to trust him.

He fingered the bristly beard covering his jaw and an idea surfaced. One that would bring her close to him, not allow her to hide. He had to find out more, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to learn the truth.

“Lexi told me a while ago that I looked like the picture of Father Time in one of her books.”

Her eyes locked onto his beard and the corners of her mouth turned up in a sad attempt at a smile. “Did she?” she asked, her tone painstakingly polite. “I guess your looking different was something else for her to get used to.”

He rubbed his jaw again. “It was easier after the accident to let a beard grow, but now it's itchy and a nuisance.”

Grace glanced down, her fingers shaking as she retrieved the red and black chips that had scattered when she'd smacked the table.

“You keep harping on me moving around more, but I think I'd be more inclined if I felt like my old self again. You know, get rid of this beard and cut my hair.” He let that bombshell drop and paused before adding, “Don't want to go into town, though, and Maura would butcher me if I asked her. Can't do it myself.”

He sensed her surprise and he couldn't blame her. He wasn't a man who asked for help, his pride wouldn't let him. But in this case, with Grace, his pride didn't matter. He needed the truth, and the only way he was going to get it was to get Grace to open up to him. Let down all those barriers she'd kept between them ten years ago whenever he'd tried to get close. The same barriers he saw protecting her now. But to do that, he needed to let down some barriers, too. And for the first time since his accident, he was finally ready to do just that.

She shrugged, the movement stiff. “Maura c-cuts Jake's hair?”

“Yeah, but she's too nervous around me. And her back's always hurting. Jake said he has to rub it about every night to give her some relief. I can't ask her.”

Grace nibbled her lip and fidgeted again. “Are you asking me?”

“Yeah. I'm asking you.”

A
N HOUR AND A HALF LATER
Grace awkwardly stood with one foot between the metal foot supports of Seth's wheelchair, and scraped a disposable razor blade over his lathered jaw. It had taken a while to cut his hair, but the pile on the plastic garbage bag she'd placed on the floor of his bedroom attested to a deed well done.

Seth wanted his hair short and close to his head for easy maintenance, so she'd cut the length with scissors before putting Maura's clippers to use, leaving the top a bit longer than the sides and nearly biting her tongue in two trying to get it even.

That done to the best of her ability, she'd started on his beard and cropped it as close as possible to make it easier to lather and shave, something she'd thought he'd do himself. But somehow she'd wound up with the razor in hand and getting more and more nervous now that she stood face-to-face with him instead of behind him cutting his hair.

Seth's nearness, the way he watched her from be
neath his absurdly thick lashes, made it difficult to concentrate on the task, and even harder not to remember them as they used to be. How he'd pull her to him and kiss her, hold her close as they walked.

Thankfully, the scrape of the razor filled the awkward silence between them, but the spicy lather she'd smoothed onto his jaw filled her senses with its tantalizing masculine scent as she removed the outer layers of Seth's despair. She gradually unearthed the changed man beneath and found herself staring at him, her shaking fingers moving slower, slower.

Seth had always been a man's man. Large, tall, his body muscular. But now his angular face was more finely honed, his weight loss painfully evident but not unattractive.

Preoccupied, Seth lifted his chin to give her better access to his neck, and the move placed his mouth near hers. Warmth unfurled in her lower extremities, surprisingly strong and overwhelmingly hot, and she shook her head and sighed. She'd been there nearly two weeks and the stress of battling Seth must have taken a toll if she'd already forgotten how things had ended between them. She'd never be able to be the woman Seth wanted.

“What are you thinking?”

Her gaze slid to his, so close, and the very air around them stilled. After a long, breathless mo
ment, she returned to shaving him and silently berated her hand for trembling worse than before. “Nothing.”

“It must be something important the way you're frowning.”

She finished scraping one side of his jaw clean of whiskers, rinsed the razor, then tipped his head to the other side. Once in position, she dropped her free hand to his shoulder to secure her balance, and the heat of his body burned her fingers through the material of his shirt. She snatched her hand away and curled her fingers into a fist, resting it on the handles of his wheelchair instead.

“Come on, spill. What are you thinking about?” Seth pressed as he shot her a glance that made her pulse pound. She fought off a wave of panic and told herself she was being foolish. Hadn't she learned from her mistakes?

Seth was a handsome man, no doubt about it. Now that his hair had been cut and his beard was nearly gone, he looked more like the man she'd wanted more than anything to spend her life with, but couldn't.

“I'm curious,” he continued with an enticing murmur. “We've talked about me every day since you got here, but I know very little about what you did once you left.”

“I thought subjects that personal were off-limits,”
she countered, referring to his refusal to discuss his life with Arie. “Anyway, there's not much to tell—stop moving,” she ordered when he raised a brow at her words and the muscles of his face pulled.

“I think there's plenty to tell. But if you don't want to talk about that, there's always the time before you left when you and Brent lived here with your dad. We could talk about that.”

Not commenting, she scraped the razor over his jaw two more times.

“What about college, then? Any exciting stories?”

Definitely a safer subject. “Not really. I was too busy working, studying and trying to keep Brent and me fed. We lived in an apartment the size of a shoe box and I worked during the day, went to school at night.”

“What about Brent?”

“He went with me usually, hung out in the back of the room and did his homework. When he was old enough, he worked, too. Whatever he could do to make ends meet and help pay his engineering tuition.”

“How'd he decide on engineering?”

She fought her impatience. “He tagged along with me, remember? Guess he got tired of me and my patients complaining about the lack of devices on the market for the mobility-impaired. He liked
figuring out ways to solve the problems I run across.”

Grace's heart picked up its pace, pounding out an impossible rhythm that made her light-headed. She used her fingertips to tilt his head away from her, but just because Seth wasn't looking at her didn't mean she wasn't aware of him.

The lather didn't disguise the soft stubble that remained on his face. A shiver ran all the way to her toes as her mind ever so kindly supplied a mental image of his chin rasping against her skin. The feel of his lips, his tongue. She choked back a moan of unease.

It took three attempts by her shaky fingers, but she finally cleared the curve of his chin without a nick.

“Am I making you nervous?”

“No,” she answered sharply, too sharply, thanks to the sensations whirling through her body.
Those
made her nervous.

She wasn't a woman ruled by bodily desires. She'd spent too much time—years—suppressing those kinds of thoughts and curiosities while making herself stronger. Better able to defend herself against the male species in general, who would always be bigger and stronger and—

“Why're you biting your lip, then?”

She released the flesh from between her teeth and
flicked her gaze to his. She had to put a stop to this insanity now. Ten years ago she'd tried to pretend nothing had happened. Tried to be a teenage girl with Seth for a boyfriend. It hadn't worked then and it would certainly never work now.

“We are not discussing me.”

What happened to the man who'd simply refused to go to therapy? The man who'd made her angry and upset because he wouldn't fight for his recovery? Him she could handle, but this—this inquisitive, overtly sensual cowboy was too much. Too much like the Seth she'd known and loved.

“Why not?”

“Ethics.”

“Meaning?”

She sighed deeply. “It's self-explanatory, isn't it? You're a patient, I'm your therapist. We had a past but broke up, and it doesn't matter now, anyway, because
ethically
we shouldn't discuss personal things, not unless it concerns your recovery, which means,” she continued when he opened his mouth to protest, “my personal life will not be discussed, just as yours with Arie won't be. Now stop asking.”

Seth cupped her elbows in his hands, taking her by surprise as he drew the razor well away from his face. Her breathing hitched in her throat, the heat of his hands marking her as his rough, callused thumbs scraped gently against her skin.

“What if I've changed my mind? What if I want something more personal again?”

Back and forth. His thumbs smoothed over her flesh as his tone wound around her in a way that brought both comfort and tension at the same time. The tension she understood, but comfort? Comfort was the last thing Seth could give her. Not when her past stood between them.

“What if I want more from you, Grace?”

She'd always regretted the way she'd left and wanted to make things right between them. But even though she'd once thought the second job she'd taken waitressing nights and holidays to pay for counseling sessions would've made a difference in how she regarded herself when it came to moments like this, it hadn't.

Funny how reality had a way of smacking her in the face when she least expected it. Seth wouldn't want her at all if he knew the truth. No matter how compassionate, he was still a man. And no man wanted something—some
one
—dirty.

“We aren't discussing me.”

His expression became even more inquisitive. More determined. “Your favorite color still pink?”

“Seth—” A humorless laugh escaped before she could stop it. She
loathed
pink. Which he well knew having come to her house one afternoon to surprise her, only to find her burning her pink comforter, pil
lows. Everything pink she'd been able to bring out of the room where her stepfather—

“We aren't discussing
me.
”

“My favorite color is green…like your eyes,” he murmured. “You have the most amazing eyes, Grace. Dark green like the pines, gold flecks shining like the sun through the needles. Beautiful.”

She tried to pull her arms loose from his hands and those darned thumbs, but couldn't find the strength. Finally, after looking down and seeing the disturbing sight of his skin against hers, she raised her gaze to his and immediately regretted it.

Because
his
eyes, his warm, molten, whiskey-colored eyes, revealed far too much of his feelings and thoughts. His intent. The lines around his mouth creased, and she wanted to touch them, smooth her fingers over them and pretend for a moment she was someone else. A different person, a different woman.

“Not pink, then. What color do you like best of all?”

She faltered and it took her a moment more to concentrate. “Red,” she muttered dazedly.

Seth tilted his head to the side, the sexy smile still in place. “Now was that so hard? You'd look good in red with your dark hair and eyes. So why do you always wear black or gray?”

Black blended, gray was nondescript. Both colors disguised and minimized and hid. “No reason.”

His fingers flexed the slightest bit, his thumbs blessedly still. “Everything's a secret with you. Makes me wonder why, darlin',” he murmured. “So what do you say?”

She stared at him. “To what?”

“To…talking to me again.”

“We're talking,” she whispered.

“No, we're chatting like strangers, but we aren't strangers, are we?” Gently, he drew her closer. “Are we, Grace?”

“I'm your th-therapist.”

He chuckled, the sound husky and rough. Seductive. “But if I recover, then you won't be. I'll just be a man again.”

Seth would never just be a man.

“One who never understood the real reason why you walked away from me.”

She tried to pull away from him, but standing the way she did, his hands still holding her, she couldn't. “This curiosity you're feeling is nothing more th-than gratitude. For making you get out of this room and fight back when everyone else let you bully them into leaving you alone.”

He lifted a hand and stroked a long finger down over her cheek, near her mouth. “That's a crock, honey. Yes, for the first time in a long time I want to get up in the morning. I want to watch you play with Lex and see you smile because it's about the
only time you really smile, but how I feel has nothing to do with gratitude.”

She licked her lips to wet them and nearly moaned aloud when his eyes caught the movement and flared, burned. “Y-You're thankful Jake finally got a therapist you couldn't s-scare away.”

“But I do scare you, don't I? Why, Grace? Why were you so afraid back then? Why are you so afraid now?”

“Let
go.
”

“I'd never deliberately hurt you. I've been angry and a bullheaded jackass, pissed at you and the world, but I'd never,
ever
hurt you, Grace. You know that, right?”

She laughed, but the sound was low, torn from within her and full of emotions she couldn't hide. She closed her eyes and fought for patience, prayed for strength. Lifting her lashes, she stared into his dark, dark eyes and battled against the empathy she saw. The gleam of knowledge.

No. He couldn't possibly—

“You care for me, Grace, otherwise you wouldn't be here. I know it and so do you. Don't you?”

Grace tried to form the words to deny his claim. She'd learned not to get too involved in her patients' lives, because if she did, it always hurt more when it was time to leave. But what about Seth? Jake and his family?

Lexi had wormed her way into her heart so fast she hadn't had time to build a defense, and like Jake, Maura was proving to be a sweet and wonderful friend, whereas Seth—

What
did
she feel for him? Two weeks of fighting him, eating with him, passing time with him, sleeping next door to him night after night. It added up. She'd spent more time with Seth than some couples spent together in months. “I d-do care about you, but not—not in the way you mean,” she insisted.

Uh-huh. That's because she'd never stopped loving him. With every meal they shared, every talk they had and every story he'd told her about his life, his ranch and his irrepressible niece, the feelings she'd already had for Seth had deepened even more.

Fear washed through her and she called herself every kind of a fool. “Seth—” Her shoulders drooped. “I'm here to help you fight this chair. To be a
friend
during one of the worst times of your life.” She held up the hand holding the razor when he opened his mouth to interrupt her. “Please, hear me out.”

He nodded reluctantly.

“I don't give in to your tantrums. I don't pity you. I don't cater to you, and since your accident that probably makes me different than the other people you've had around you. The fact that we had a past
complicates things, but the psychiatrists say it's perfectly natural for a patient to think it's more. To think that it's…s-sexual or spiritual or whatever, but it's
not.
”

She forced her gaze to meet his. Forced herself to hide the truth. “What you think you feel for me is nothing more than gratitude.”