Beverly Barton - Grace Under Fire

Jed Tyree wasn't her type, of course. He was a little too rough around the edges. Marty Austin had been a sweet man, gentle and easygoing. Although not worldly-wise, he'd been schooled in good manners and was, to his very core, a gentleman. Dean had possessed many of her father's personality traits-strong, dependable, sophisticated, aggressive. No rough edges. And her father had adored him almost as much as she had.

What would Daddy think of Jed? she wondered. Oddly enough Grace believed her father would have liked Jed because Jed wouldn't have been the least bit intimidated by Byram Sheffield.

Jed… Jed… Why is it that if you're Mr. Wrong, being in your arms feels so right?

Grace sat at her dressing table in her large, luxurious bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Just thinking about Jed affected her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed. Her nipples stood at attention. And a sexual ache pulsed between her thighs. Her body would never forget being loved so thoroughly. But not as thoroughly as she and Jed had wanted.

Stop thinking about him! She snatched up the hair dryer, turned it on, tossed her long hair over her head and let the hot air style her natural waves. The only thing she should have on her mind was getting justice for Dean and her father. Her first priority-her only priority-should be proving the connection between Fortier and Miller. She couldn't allow her attraction to Jed to sidetrack her.

Once she finished with her hair, she went into her massive walk-in closet and chose a pair of pink silk pajamas, with shorts instead of pants. She slid her feet into matching slippers and tossed the matching robe over her arm. When she neared her four-poster bed, she halted and stared at the turned-down covers. Her mind revisited last night's events and the early hours of this morning… and all she could see was a mass of tangled sheets and Jed Tyree's big naked body. The sound of his voice, deep and sultry, echoed in her ears. The erotic phrases he'd whispered to her. The satisfied groans and moans that had excited her beyond all reason.

If she wanted him, all she had to do was walk across the hall and knock on his door. If she wanted him? Mercy!

Stop this right now, she told herself. Go to bed, go to sleep and tomorrow you'll return to square one with the investigation and back to a friendly business relationship with Jed.

Grace crawled into bed, turned off the light and closed her eyes. Images of Jed flickered through her mind. Her eyelids popped open. Damn! She punched her pillows, flopped over and peered through the windowpanes at the slice of moon high in the dark sky.

She kept telling herself to go to sleep, to think about work or about going with Joy on her next shopping spree to New Orleans. Her body relaxed. She inhaled and exhaled several times. See, that was easy, wasn't it? she told herself.

An hour later, Grace was not only still awake, but she had tossed and turned so much, she'd worn herself out. She had checked the digital lighted clock on her bedside table every five minutes. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop thinking about Jed Tyree.

Maybe a brandy or some sherry… or even warm milk-yuck-might soothe her into sleep. She'd try anything. Well, not anything, she amended. Just as she got out of bed and reached for her robe lying on the nearby armchair, the telephone rang. She stared at the antique-style, crystal contraption as if she'd never seen it before. Who was calling at nearly midnight? she asked herself. Please, let it be the man who has the Fortier/Miller documents. Let him explain why he didn't show up at Terrebonne Park today and make arrangements for another meeting.

On the fourth ring, Grace reached out and picked up the receiver. By the time she had it to her ear, her bedroom door swung open and Jed stormed in, the portable phone in his hand. Their gazes met for one brief moment.

Gripping the phone, Grace said, "Hello."

"How are you, Mrs. Beaumont?" The voice was disguised, so she wasn't sure who he was. Was it the man who had missed their appointment today? Or was it someone else? Maybe it was the same person who'd called to tell her about the gift waiting outside the gate last night.

"Who is this?"

"I'm the gift-giver."

Grace's jaw clenched; her gaze darted to Jed. He walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

"What do you want?" Grace asked.

"I have another present for you."

If the next present was anything like the first one, she didn't want to see it. "I don't like your kind of gifts."

A rumbling chuckle vibrated through the telephone line. "Like it or not, I've delivered another little gift and you can find it in the same spot where your other gift was left."

"You can take your gift and-" The dial tone trilled in her ear.

Grace slammed down the receiver and turned to Jed. "Whatever it is, I don't want to see it."

"Good girl." He kissed her on the tip of her nose, then when she leaned toward him, he slipped his arms around her and held her. "I'll call in a couple of Dundee agents to pick up the package. There's no need for you to even go downstairs."

She lifted her head. "I don't want to see whatever it is, but I need to know what he's left this time. You can just tell me what it is. Okay?"

He grasped her shoulders. "I'll go in my room to make the necessary calls. I want you to stay here in your room."

"I don't think I can stay up here alone. I want to go downstairs with you, but I promise I'll stay in the house and not go outside to look at whatever sick present he's sent me."

Jed phoned Dom and Kate and explained the situation, then he waited downstairs in the foyer with Grace, just as they'd done last night. What he knew that Grace didn't know was that this gift would be much worse than the first one. Escalating cruelty was Booth's trademark style. Jed had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. His gut instincts kept warning him about tonight's present, but he tried to shut out the all-too-real possibility.

"What's taking so long?" Grace asked.

"It's been only fifteen minutes."

Grace sighed. "This is driving me crazy."

Yeah, and seeing her like this-a bundle of nerves-was really getting to him. He didn't like this helpless feeling. Waiting. Not knowing. Certain and yet uncertain. The torment Booth was putting Grace through, the hell he'd made of her life four years ago, was another reason to hate his uncle.

"Why don't we go in the kitchen and fix you something to drink," Jed suggested. "If you've got some ice cream and cola, I'll make you a float. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like you're trying to take my mind off what's happening."

"I guess my strategy isn't working."

Grace smiled and his gut tightened. She was just a woman, like so many other women, but nothing more than her fragile smile turned him inside out.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a good man, Jed Tyree?"

"No, ma'am. You're the first."

"I can't believe that."

Jed grinned. "Well now, a few ladies have told me that I'm good," he said jokingly. "But they were referring to certain talents that-"

"That I've been privileged to experience firsthand." Her gaze locked with his. "Those ladies were right, you know."

Jed felt as if his racing heart was going to jump out of his chest. God help him, if Grace didn't have him tied in knots. How did a man react when a woman told him that it had been a privilege to be his lover?

"Ah, Blondie, you sure know how to make a man speechless."

"That'll be the day." Her smile widened, reaching her eyes and putting a sparkle in them.

He reached out to touch her, to skim the back of his hand over her cheek. His cell phone rang. His hand froze in mid-air, then he retrieved his phone from the clip-on holder and punched the On button.