Beverly Barton - Grace Under Fire

"Come back inside, Grace," Jed told her. "You'd make a perfect target standing out there on the porch with the bedroom light silhouetting your body."

She whirled around and stared at him. "You think someone could be on the grounds with a rifle right now, that I'm a target?" She came back inside and closed the doors.

"I doubt there's anyone on the grounds, but an expert marksman with a high-powered rifle could be outside Belle Foret and still hit a target here at the house."

"I see. I suppose I didn't realize how easy it would be for a professional to kill me." A chill of fear shuddered through her.

"Booth Fortier has sent you a warning," Jed told her. "He'll send one or two more before he attempts to kill you. At least that's his usual MO. Two or three warnings, then go in for the kill."

"I hate to even think about that type of life, a criminal's life, where killing comes so easily and revenge is counted in dead bodies."

"Then don't think about it. Not tonight." Jed glanced around the room, his gaze lingering over the huge armoire that housed her bedroom entertainment center. "We could watch TV, maybe find a movie. Or listen to music. Or play cards. It's your call. What do you want to do to pass away the time?"

What did she want to do? She wanted to lie down in her bed… with Jed. She wanted to lie in his arms all night and know she was safe. But she could hardly ask him for that. After all, he was a man, not some sort of robot. He had feelings, desires. And so do you, Grace, she told herself.

"Music," she said, then crossed the room, opened the entertainment center and punched the buttons on her CD player. A light, bluesy tune filled her bedroom suite. She closed her eyes, allowing the instrumental rendition of a cool jazz standard to caress her senses. She hummed softly along with the music and began to sway with the rhythm. "I haven't danced in years." Lifting her head, she focused her gaze on Jed, then held out her hand to him. "Will you dance with me, Jed Tyree?"

"It's been a while since I danced the night away," he told her as he came forward, a lazy, sexy grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "But I can't think of a better way to kill some time."

His arms went around her with gentle ease, his movements non-threatening and not sexual in nature. He kept several inches between their bodies as he took charge of their first dance. Surprisingly he was a good dancer. Some big men seemed to have two left feet. But not Jed. He moved her about the room in a slow, sweet flow. She felt light and free. But the comfort of being close wasn't there; and a part of her desperately needed that closeness.

The first tune ended and another began. A silky clarinet mourned as the brush of drums accented the song's melancholy. Inadvertently Grace leaned toward Jed, her body seeking contact with his. As if sensing her need, he pulled her closer, just close enough for their bodies to touch. But not close enough. Grace made the move on her own when she laid her head on his shoulder and pressed herself against him. She felt a slight pause… a hesitation… but he kept moving to the music. After several minutes, he leaned down and pressed his cheek against her temple.

"You're very good at this," she told him.

"At dancing?"

She sighed. "Yes, at dancing. And at giving comfort."

"Grace…" He spoke her name as if it were a prelude to a comment, but he didn't continue.

"Do you know what I want?"

"What?" His hand at her waist glided downward and splayed across the base of her spine.

"I want to stop thinking." She snuggled against him. "I want to forget about those damn photographs and I want to stop thinking about Daddy and Dean and…"

Jed slowed, released her hand and cupped her chin, urging her to look up at him. The minute she did, he lowered his head and planted a light, elusive kiss on her mouth. Her lips parted on an indrawn breath as tingles of awareness shot through her nerve endings. It had been such a long time since she'd felt sexual excitement, since she'd felt anything except pain and grief and loneliness. Even on the best of days, she existed, never actually lived.

"I want to stop thinking," she repeated. "All I want to do is feel alive. Alive with good feelings and not bad. For just a little while. Is that too much to ask?"

Standing there in the middle of her bedroom suite, soft music playing in the background, Jed gazed longingly into her eyes. "I've never become personally involved with a client. And it's probably not a good idea for us… for me… to…" He ran the back of his hand over her cheek. "But I can help you stop thinking. I can help you feel alive." His big hands cupped her face. "Is that what you want? Be very sure, Grace."

She knew what he was asking her. Was it what she wanted? If she said yes, he wouldn't stop with comfort, with tender loving care. He would expect more. "Yes, it's what I want." It's what I need!

Her permission sent him into action. He forked his fingers through her hair and gripped the back of her head, then took her mouth in a ravenous yet remarkably tender kiss. Every muscle, every nerve… the very essence of her being reacted, loving the way he made her feel. When he deepened the kiss, she whimpered and her lips parted to allow him entrance. Her body arched and stretched, lifting up to meet his kiss, giving itself over to the passion. Jed cupped one hip, then rubbed his hand over her buttocks. He pushed her closer so that she felt his obvious arousal.

Her nipples hardened, her femininity moistened. It had been years since she'd felt anything like this. And if she were honest with herself, she'd have to admit that no other man's kiss had ever aroused her so intensely or so quickly. Not even Dean's and she had loved Dean dearly.

Desire swept over her like a tidal wave, obliterating everything but pure physical hunger. Her body clenched and unclenched; a sexual ache pulsed between her legs. She wanted… oh, how she wanted…

Jed eased his tongue from her mouth and slid his lips away from hers. Before she could tell him not to stop kissing her, his tongue drew a spiraling line from her chin to her throat. He pushed aside the collar of her pajama top then licked and mouthed her collarbone. Grace clung to him, aware that tonight this man was her lifeline; and for a few brief hours he would be her lover.

Easily, gradually, Jed began touching her. A caress on her shoulder, down her arm. His hands petting her hips and buttocks. Gentle. Non-threatening. And yet so very sensual.

He took her hand in his and began a slow, leisurely dance, keeping their bodies pressed intimately together. Odd, Grace's dazed mind thought, very odd that he should start dancing again instead of taking her straight to bed. When his hand slipped between them to fondle first one breast and then the other, she accepted his touch with pleasure. Working quickly, he undid all the pearl buttons on her silk top, then tugged it free from her pajama bottoms and guided it down her shoulders, down her arms and off. The garment dropped to the floor in one swift, fluid move.

He lifted her hand and laid it on his chest. "Your turn."

Her turn? Oh, yes, of course, he expected her to remove his shirt now. When she tried to undo the first button, her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't. Jed grasped her hands and held them between their bodies.

"Here, Blondie, let me help you."

He unbuttoned his shirt, then took her hands and placed them on his naked chest. She spread her palms out over his chest, loving the firm, masculine feel of his pectoral muscles and the thick curling hair that formed a T shape from nipples to down inside his jeans.

He danced her across the room, then turned the dimmer switch that lowered the lighting to a romantic glow. He stroked her naked back, first with the entire palm of his hand and then with his fingertips. Her skin tingled. Her body begged for more. When he reached out and cupped her breasts in his big hands, she tensed for a moment, a hint of uncertainty making her question her sanity.