Beverly Barton - Grace Under Fire

She laughed. Amazing, she realized, she was laughing, having fun… with a man. And not just any man… with Jed, who had pleasured her and whom she had pleasured in return.

Oh, dear God, please , she thought suddenly, don't let me care too much for him. Don't let me fall in love.

Jed had gotten out of bed over thirty minutes ago, slipped on his jeans and gathered up his clothes and boots; then he sat in a chair across the room and watched Grace while she slept. The beauty and elegance of her bedroom paled in comparison to the naked woman. The covers rested midway down, just enough to reveal her naked shoulder blades. With her back to him, she continued sleeping. During the night he had become acquainted with every inch of her body. He remembered the location of every mole, every freckle and the faint scars left from the car wreck that had almost killed her. He had caressed and kissed and licked those long, luscious legs and those slender arms. Every touch had elicited a reaction from her and prompted her to reciprocate, giving as well as taking. He had wanted to make love to her in every sense of the word, but he wasn't in the habit of keeping condoms in his wallet while he was on assignments like this one, where bodyguard duties were required. He planned to rectify that today. If he couldn't find a way to pick up some himself, he would-albeit reluctantly-ask Dom or Rafe to do it for him. The next time Grace invited him into her bed, he would be prepared.

How do you know there will be a next time? he asked himself. Grace had needed sex last night. She'd been hurting in a bad way. She hadn't been with anyone in nearly four years. She was sated now, brought to climax half a dozen times during the night. So maybe that's all she needed, all she'd want. God, he hoped not, because he wanted more. He wanted her again right this minute. Despite how good it had been between them, nothing would fully satisfy him until he'd buried himself deep inside her. And there had been a couple of times when Grace had been so consumed with passion that he could have taken her completely and she wouldn't have protested. It hadn't been easy for him to hold back when what he'd wanted more than anything was to delve hard and deep inside her.

What was it about this woman, Jed wondered, that made her so special? He'd known his fair share of women over the years, had even thought himself in love a few times, but no other woman had ever affected him the way Grace did. Except for the fact that she was exceptionally beautiful, she really wasn't his type. Not that he didn't like the cool and sophisticated Hitchcock blonde type. Who wouldn't? But his tastes usually ran more to earthy women. Wild, big-breasted redheads. Raunchy, fun-loving brunettes.

His first love had been Charmaine Vaden, a voluptuous seventeen-year-old redhead, and the little sister of his best buddy, Jaron. He and Charmaine had been young lovers, hormone-driven and experimenting with sex and with life. Over the years he'd wondered what happened to Charmaine and wished her well. Then about ten years ago, he'd found out that she had married his uncle Booth. God help her!

Jed's most recent serious relationship had been with a fiery Hispanic lawyer. They'd come damn near close to making a commitment. That had been nearly five years ago. Since their breakup Marta had married a colleague of hers and they were expecting their first child.

Sex was an essential part of Jed's life; and even love wasn't new to him. But he'd never fallen so hard, so fast, and for a lady who was all wrong for him. Grace was a blueblood through and through; he was a mongrel with a scandalous heritage. She was definitely class; he definitely wasn't. He liked fast cars, fast women, football and beer. She was the chauffeur-driven type, the marrying kind, and he'd bet his last dime she preferred the opera to sports and a glass of Moet's Dom Perignon to a bottle of Budweiser.

So knowing all this, why was it that after just one night together, he already realized he couldn't get enough of her. One night wasn't enough-a dozen wouldn't be enough. God, he was hooked, seduced by her beauty, her strengths and weaknesses, her intelligence, her vulnerabilities. He wanted to ravish her and protect her at the same time. And the thought of another man ever touching her made him feel violent. Sometime between last evening and this morning, he had taken possession of Grace Beaumont. As illogical as it sounded, even to him, Grace belonged to him now.

Hell, he'd lost his mind. What made him think he had a right to lay claim to this woman? They'd had sex. Nothing more.

Grace turned over onto her back and sighed. Her eyelids fluttered. Jed scooted to the edge of the chair. Should he get up and leave before she woke or should he stay?

"Jed?" she called his name just as she opened her eyes.

"Yeah, Blondie, I'm here."

She rose up in bed and looked around the room to find him. When the sheet slipped below her breasts, she gripped the edge and lifted it high enough to cover her. "Good morning."

"Good morning yourself." Why the hell did she have to look so good at this time of day. It wasn't quite seven o'clock. They'd stayed awake half the night, tossing and tumbling in the throes of passion. Her hair was disheveled and her face void of makeup. And yet the sight of her took his breath away.

"Since last night was my first one-night-stand, perhaps you can tell me what the proper etiquette is in a case like this." Grace's gaze met his boldly, but a slight flush colored her cheeks.

"Was it just a one-night-stand?" he asked, and hated that her answer was so damn important to him.

Grace pointed to the closet. "Would you mind getting me a robe? There are several on the first rack to the right. Anything light will do."

She had neatly evaded his question and he knew better than to push her for an answer. Without saying anything, he got up, went to the closet and found a short, pale blue silk robe. When he took it to her, she looked up at him and smiled as she grabbed the garment.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She slipped on the robe, careful to expose as little of her nakedness as possible, then she tossed back the covers and got out of bed. Jed picked up his boots and clothes and headed for the door.

"Don't go. Not yet." She followed him across the room.

He turned and faced her, then waited for her to continue.

"I don't know what last night was," she admitted. "I've had two lovers. I was engaged to one and married to the other. So I lack experience when it comes to… what would you call it? An interlude? An affair?"

"Why call it anything?" Jed shrugged. "If it was just a one-night-stand and if that's the way we both feel about it, then no big deal, right? I don't think there's any protocol or guidelines for how we're supposed to act the morning after."

"Are you angry?" she asked.

"Why should I be angry?"

"I don't know, hut there's a sharp edge to your voice and you're acting… well, you're behaving as if I've said or done something wrong."

"Sorry." His gaze bored into hers, daring her to look away. "But you know what? You're a first for me, too. I've never slept with a client. I've never slept with a multimillionaire or a Southern aristocrat with a pedigree she can trace back to Adam and Eve. So I'm as dumbfounded as you are by what happened between us. I can't say I didn't want it-and a lot more-but I didn't plan it, didn't expect it. I have no idea how we're supposed to act this morning or where we go from here."

She reached out and caressed his cheek. "Why don't I just say thank you very much for what you did for me? I needed you. More than you could possibly know. And you were there for me."

"Sure, that sounds good to me." If she kept looking at him with those soulful blue eyes, he was going to dump his clothes and boots on the floor and carry her back to bed. And this time, he wasn't going to care that he didn't have a condom.