Beverly Barton: Grace Under Fire

When Jed turned and headed for the front door, Rafe caught up with him and grabbed his arm. "Maybe you should wait until morning. Give her a chance to digest the information."

Jed shrugged off Rafe's grip, shook his head and kept walking. He heard his fellow Dundee agent huff loudly. Okay, so Rafe thought he was making a mistake. He got the message. What Rafe didn't understand was that he couldn't risk letting Grace decide she neither wanted nor needed him, as a bodyguard. If she rejected him personally, he'd find a way to live with it. But he couldn't allow her to fire him as her personal protector. He knew in his gut that Booth had pulled Hudson Prentice's strings. Booth wanted Jed off this case. He wanted Grace vulnerable and exposed.

Once inside, Jed took the stairs two at a time. When he reached Grace's bedroom door, he stood there, hesitant, and said the first real prayer he'd uttered in he couldn't remember when. Don't let her hate me. Please, let her understand .

Jed knocked on the door. No response.

"Grace?"

He knocked again.

"Grace, please, let me talk to you. Let me explain."

He leaned over and pressed his head against the door. Of all the women on earth, why did she have to be the one? Most women wouldn't give a damn that he was Booth Fortier's nephew. But Grace cared. It mattered to her in a way it couldn't matter to anyone else.

"Grace, I'm sorry. I should have told you."

Jed grabbed the crystal doorknob, and much to his surprise, it turned and the door opened. Had she unlocked it for him? He eased the door back a little bit at a time until he could see inside the dark room. She hadn't bothered turning on a light; only the pale, shadowy glow from the moonlight drifting through the windows saved the area from total darkness.

"Grace?"

Moving slowly and carefully, he entered the bedroom and began searching for Grace. Within moments he saw her sitting in one of the two chairs flanking the fireplace. All he could make out was her silhouette. He flipped the switch that activated the wall sconces on either side of the mantel and a soft, creamy blush washed over Grace. She sat staring off into nothingness, her hands folded neatly in her lap. When Jed approached, she didn't move or speak. He went down on his knees beside her chair, but didn't touch her.

"I didn't mean for you to find out the way you did. I'm sorry. I should have told you myself."

"Yes, you should have," she said in a soft, low whisper.

"I know you probably hate me." His hand hovered over her arm. He wanted to grab her, hold her, never let her go. "Hell, I hate myself. I've spent seventeen years trying to run away from the fact that I'm Booth Fortier's nephew and I thought I'd succeeded. Until this case. And even then, I had no idea how much it would cost me to be that monster's blood kin."

Grace turned to him, and when he saw her red, puffy eyes and the tears still clinging to her eyelashes, he felt as if his heart was being ripped from his body. He knew he didn't deserve this woman, knew he was all wrong for her, but knowing the facts didn't stop him from wanting her-wanting her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire life.

"Hate me if you must," Jed said. "Don't forgive me for lying to you, for keeping a horrible secret from you, but do not fire me. Don't send me away. Please, Grace, allow me to remain your bodyguard. Keep me and the Dundee agents on the job."

Grace reached out and rubbed her fingertips across his cheekbones and it was only when she touched him that he realized he was crying. He didn't understand what was happening. He didn't cry. Not ever. Not since his mother died when he was a teenager. Nothing and no one had ever mattered that much to him. Not until Grace.

"I won't go," he told her. "Do you hear me? I won't leave you!"

"My poor Jed." Grace caressed his cheek.

Emotion choked him. He swallowed hard, then grabbed Grace's hand, brought it to his lips and turned it palm up to kiss. He was so overcome by her gentle touch, by her kind heart, that he couldn't speak.

Grace turned around, leaned over and pulled Jed to her. He pressed his head against her bosom as she wrapped her arms around him. When she laid her cheek against the top of his head, he slipped his arms around her and held on for dear life.

"How can you be so kind to me?" he asked, his voice harsh because he was trying so hard to conceal how emotionally vulnerable he was. "My uncle is the man who ordered your husband and father murdered."

"He ordered your father's murder, too," she reminded him. "It isn't your fault that your mother was Booth Fortier's sister. None of us chose our families."

Grace cupped Jed's face with her hands and urged him to look at her. When he did, what he saw surprised him beyond belief. Although crying, Grace smiled at him. Her face blurred quickly through the mist of tears in his eyes. She lowered her head and brushed her lips over his.

"I've had a couple of hours to think about you and me and why you didn't tell me about your relationship to Booth Fortier," she said. "My emotions have pretty much run the gamut. But I realized something a few minutes ago when I heard your voice outside my door." Holding his breath, he stared at her. Praying. Hoping beyond all reason. "When all is said and done, you're as much a victim of Booth Fortier's viciousness as I am. Perhaps even more so."

"Ah, Grace… Blondie-"

She kissed first one cheek, then the other. "I love you, Jed. Knowing who your uncle is doesn't change that fact."

"But do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes, of course, I trust you."

"Enough to put your life in my hands?"

"Yes. Now and forever." She kissed him with a passion born of desire and uncertainty.

Jed returned her kiss, deepened it, took it to its furthermost reaches. When she curled her arms around his neck, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed. And they made slow, sweet love to each other, savoring every moment, understanding how precarious and unpredictable life can be.

Elsa finished checking e-mail, then rose from her swivel chair and picked up her empty coffee mug. Grace had asked her to send out for lunch, so Elsa had included her order with the others. The delivery boy from Café Continental should be here in the next five minutes, giving her just enough time to refill her coffee mug and drop off a couple of file folders to Mr. Prentice's office. Odd that she hadn't seen him this morning. Customarily he made up excuses to frequent Grace's office. Maybe he'd finally realized he was never going to get to first base with Grace, especially now that Jed Tyree was in the picture. Although Grace hadn't confided in Elsa about her personal relationship with her bodyguard, it didn't take a genius to figure out they were crazy in love. It was all they could do to keep their hands off each other. What a time for Grace to fall in love, Elsa thought, then sighed. She was twenty-eight and had never been in love. When had she ever had time to form a serious relationship with a man? Being both mother and father to her three siblings hadn't afforded her the luxury of even dating all that much in the past ten years.

When Elsa approached Mr. Prentice's outer office, his secretary Terrie, who stood with her ear to her boss's door, saw Elsa and put her finger to her lips in a Be Quiet gesture.

"What's going on?" Elsa asked.

"Sh… Mr. Prentice just arrived a few minutes ago and I notified Mr. Tyree, as I'd been told to do. Then Mr. Tyree came storming down here and marched right into Mr. Prentice's office and has been giving him a tongue-lashing. It seems he's accusing Mr. Prentice of betraying Ms. Beaumont." Terrie leaned back against the door and listened. "Oh, my gosh, I believe Mr. Tyree just fired Mr. Prentice."