A Maine Christmas...or Two (8 page)

“Grady Sinclair, I can follow your last five years of work from the mess in these boxes,” she told him ominously. “But none of it is organized.”

“The tax stuff is all in the computer,” he argued, beginning to enjoy himself. Obviously, his record keeping offended her MBA, ultra-organized personality.

“Do you even know how much money you have right now?”

Grady smirked. “A lot.” He had a financial manager who kept him on top of things, but he honestly didn’t know the exact balance of his accounts every single day. That was why he paid the best in the business to do it for him. “I look occasionally and the balances are always going up, so that’s good, right?” Okay…he was yanking her chain a bit, but he loved to watch her reactions.

Emily threw her hands in the air in frustration. “But what if it’s not invested properly? What if you could be doing better…but you aren’t… because you aren’t watching things?”

God, he loved watching her stubborn, protective look. Emily was trying to watch out for
him
, and his heart soared. But the worried look on her face got to him. He got up and walked to where she was sitting and picked up the laptop computer next to her. Holding the computer with one hand, he logged in to a website and handed the computer to her. “My portfolio is fine. See for yourself.”

She took the computer from him and stretched her legs out, propping it on her thighs.

He walked back to the desk and sat back down in his chair, watching her face as she flipped from one page to the next, her brows wrinkled in concentration. Smiling, he propped his feet on his desk and crossed his hands over his abdomen. Watching Emily had become his favorite activity. “Happy now?” he asked, after watching her analyze everything for several minutes, catching on to the workings of the portfolio tracker site very quickly. “Do you think my financial manager is doing a good job?”

“He’s more than good,” she said, her voice dripping with admiration. “He’s incredible. Who is he?” Her head was still down, her complete focus on the numbers.

“Jason Sutherland,” he answered, disgruntled, and not quite sure he liked the reverent expression on her face as he said Jason’s name.

“
The
Jason Sutherland?” she asked, her tone reaching the point of awe.

Grady nodded abruptly, now certain he hated Jason.

“My idol,” she sighed, setting the computer to the side as she looked up at him. “He’s incredible.”

“He’s not that great,” Grady grumbled, knowing he was lying. Jason was one of the most intelligent men he knew, but he wasn’t going to admit it when Emily had that dreamy look on her face.

“He doesn’t do personal portfolios. I know you’re a wealthy man. Um…okay…really wealthy, but he doesn’t do portfolios for anyone but himself. He was already incredibly wealthy when I was in business school. I used to study his investment strategies. And he’s so young.”

“The same age as me,” Grady answered, wanting to not talk about Jason anymore. Emily looked too enthralled, and it was irritating him.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s my friend. I’ve known him since childhood,” he grumbled. “I suppose you think he’s gorgeous, too?” Most women did, and the female adoration Jason got had never bothered Grady before, but it bugged the hell out of him now.

“Nope. I’ve never met him, of course, but I don’t think he looked the least bit attractive in his pictures. But he’s incredibly good with investments,” she answered, rising to her feet.

“You don’t think he’s hot?” Grady questioned, his voice full of disbelief.

“No,” she answered quietly, her hips swaying as she moved closer to Grady. “He’s too pretty, almost too perfect. I much prefer tall, dark beasts who make generous donations to charities and aren’t obsessed with their money.” She bent over and kissed him softly, lingering just long enough to make Grady nearly insane.

Her scent enveloped him, and her lips tasted like sweet coffee and sin.

She moved back slowly and rested her forehead against his. “I’m onto you, Grady Sinclair. You donate millions to charity. I thought your donation to the Center was incredible, but you do that all the time, don’t you? I saw some of the receipts, and I have a feeling there are a lot more I haven’t seen yet.”

Grady shrugged and swallowed hard before answering. “I don’t need the money. They’re all good causes.”

“I find men who donate millions quietly to charities without wanting people to know how generous they really are incredibly hot,” she said in a husky whisper.

Right at that moment, Grady wanted to donate most of his fortune to charity so Emily would find him even hotter. Christ! If he didn’t get inside this woman very shortly, he was going to spontaneously combust.

Mine!

“Did you actually think I was hot for your friend? Were you…jealous?” she asked slowly, as though she didn’t believe it was possible.

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “He might be my friend, but I wanted to tear his head off because I thought you wanted him. Does that scare you?” Honestly, it kind of scared the hell out of him.

I’m losing my fucking mind. I like Jason. He’s a good guy. But one mention from Emily that she admired him, and I’m ready to lose it.

“No. I’ve just never had a guy who wanted me that much,” she answered in a tremulous voice.

“I do,” he growled, grabbing her around the waist and swinging her onto his lap.

“Careful,” she scolded, trying to wriggle off his lap. “You still aren’t healed. Let me up.”

He wanted to tell her she was healing him, and his gunshot injury was doing fine, too. “Kiss me first,” he demanded, spearing a hand through her hair, but waiting for her to kiss him because she wanted to be as close to him as he wanted to be to her.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said nervously.

“Then you damn well better hurry up and kiss me, or I’m going to expire right here in this chair if you don’t.” Shit, he was desperate, and he needed some connection to her right now. His cock was trying to burst out of his jeans, and he knew she could feel it cuddling up to her ass. “Stay here and let me keep your ass warm,” he told her gruffly, putting mild pressure on the back of her head. “Kiss me.”

Emily nibbled on her lip, as though she were considering the risks and benefits. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m dying,” he rumbled. “Kiss me or kill me.”

Emily giggled and boldly lowered her mouth to his with no further prompting.

I
’m in love
with Grady Sinclair.

Emily knew how she felt about Grady with a certainty that was frightening. There was no wondering if it was true, or any indecision about if that love was the real thing. They’d known each other for such a short time, but he’d had her from the moment he’d helped her up from his porch and cleaned off her glasses for her without a second thought. He’d snatched her heart with that one insignificant but thoughtful gesture, and she’d fallen deeper and deeper as every piece of Grady’s puzzling personality fell into place.

Really, he wasn’t such a great mystery. He was a man who followed his conscience, led his life the way he needed to for his own happiness, and gave to others because he wanted to do it. And he was lonely, not because he wanted to be alone, but because he only knew how to give.

It made Emily want to give
him
everything he needed, but she was afraid. If she gave everything over to Grady and things didn’t work out, there would be nothing left, no pieces of herself to put back together. She loved him just that much, and he had the power to either destroy her or make her deliriously happy. Emily knew that with Grady, there was nothing in between. It was all or nothing.

Trying to turn off her own thoughts, she went to the living room and turned on the Christmas tree that she and Grady had decorated together. It was Christmas Eve, and their dinner was warming, everything finished—including the huge turkey Grady had insisted on, telling her he’d eat the leftovers. Neither one of them talked about what would happen after Christmas. It was as though they were both afraid to burst the bubble of happiness that surrounded them right now.

The phone rang, startling Emily with its shrill ringtone. It was Grady’s landline, and it hadn’t rung once since she’d gotten here.

Walking to the kitchen, she wondered if she should answer. Grady had gone into Portland, telling her he had business to attend to, but that he’d be back by dinner time.

It could be Grady. Maybe he’s going to be late. Answer it.

The number was displayed as private, so she answered, fairly certain it was Grady. “Hello,” she said cautiously.

“Where is Grady? And who are you?” a haughty female voice asked Emily.

“I’m sorry. He’s not here. Can I take a message?” Uncomfortable, Emily shifted from foot to foot, wishing she hadn’t picked up the phone.

“Who is this?” the female voice insisted in a nearly hostile voice.

“I’m Emily. I’m here to visit Grady for Christmas,” she answered hesitantly, not wanting to piss off any of Grady’s friends or business associates. “Can I tell him who called?” she inquired again.

Emily heard a sound of disgust before the woman answered, “I’m Hope Sinclair. Grady’s wife. Get the hell out of my house.” The line went dead with a loud, decisive
click
.

Her hands shaking, Emily dropped the phone back into the cradle. Her heart hammering so fast she could feel it pulsating through her body, she quickly turned off all the burners on the stove.

I have to go. I have to go.

The need to flee was clawing at her, adrenaline flooding her body.

I never asked him if he had someone. I just assumed he didn’t.

There had never been any talk of Grady having a wife, but what did anyone really know about Grady Sinclair? He kept himself isolated, and maybe she traveled a lot. Or they could be separated. But he should have told her.

Pain sliced through her body, almost making her double over in agony. And with the pain came shame. She’d kissed another woman’s husband, did intimate things with him.

“Oh, God,” she whispered to herself in an anguished rasp.

No. No. No.

Emily couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, wanting nothing more than to get out of the house. She needed air, and she needed to clear her whirling thoughts—none of them good, none of them rational.

“Noooo!” she wailed as she yanked the front door open, jammed her feet into her sneakers, and ran.

There was snow on the ground, but she ignored it, needing to distance herself from the pain that was cutting her to shreds. It was cold, but she’d be okay if she just kept running, just kept moving. Maybe she could outrun the agony of Grady’s betrayal.

You don’t know the truth. Don’t jump to conclusions.

Her rational mind said it wasn’t possible, but holy hell, her heart ached, and her eyes were streaming tears, the flow trickling down her face.

Why didn’t he tell me?

She stopped, breathless and hopeless, at the shore. She made her way down a fishing dock that had been here as long as she could remember. It was weathered, but still sturdy. Standing at the end of the wooden structure, she looked out at the churning ocean. The sound of the crashing waves calmed her down a little, the turmoil matching the emotions that were slamming into her body all at once.

Pain.

Betrayal.

Fear.

Emptiness.

Despair.

Emily would have trusted Grady with her life, never imagining he’d hidden a secret that would destroy her.

The way he looked at me, the way he treated me…was everything all a lie?

She really needed to leave before Grady got back. Part of her wanted to confront him, but she knew she needed time. She was hysterical, irrational. Her thoughts needed to be clear before she spoke with him or she’d lose it.

She had turned to leave, knowing she needed to go home and get herself together, when her foot skidded along the slippery, icy surface of the dock, making her lose her balance completely. One long slide, her slick sneakers propelling her sideways, and she tumbled into the churning waves with a startled, fearful scream.

Grady arrived just in time to hear Emily’s scream of terror.

Following her footprints in the snow when he’d discovered she wasn’t in the house, the trail had led him here to the dock. Her desperate cry had jerked his head to the end of the wooden structure, and before he could wonder what the hell she was doing on the slippery dock, she was falling.

“Fuck!” he rasped desperately, watching his whole life take a tumble into water that he knew couldn’t be more than forty degrees.

He shed his jacket and sweatshirt on the run and dove into the water, the frigid temperature taking his breath away, but he ignored the stabbing pain of the impact. His only thought was to reach Emily.

She was bobbing near one of the dock posts, clinging to the wooden structure as the waves pounded at her body.

“What the hell are you doing?” Grady bellowed over the noise of the rushing water. “You have to get out of the water.”

Jesus H. Christ, it was cold. He knew neither one of them would survive if they didn’t get out of the water.

“My foot’s stuck,” she screamed. “Get out of the water, Grady.”

He could see her struggling, her head going under to try to get free from whatever had her in its grasp.

“Get out of the water, my ass,” he growled, diving under the waves and following her legs with his hand, keeping his other arm around the post to keep from being swept away from her by the waves.

The dock was old and weathered and her foot was lodged in a very large split in the wood, held in place by a bolt that was blocking her shoe from escaping. Grasping her foot tightly, he maneuvered it into a position where he could yank her foot free, coming to the surface gasping for air.

He didn’t waste his breath trying to talk. He grasped Emily around the waist and propelled her toward shore in front of him. The dock wasn’t very long, and the waves helped, tossing them up on shore with very little effort.

Knowing he had to get them warm and dry, he scooped up Emily, wrapped her in his dry coat and sprinted for the house, ignoring the pain of his circulation returning, and his clumsy motion. Jaw clenched with determination, he moved as fast as he could, clutching Emily tightly to his body.

I have to get her warm. She’s not even shivering. She’s hypothermic.

He didn’t stop once he came through the door. He bolted up the stairs, and set Emily in the chair in his room, and frantically started to strip her down.

Her expression was blank, almost as if she were in shock. Grady tore her clothing as he removed it, desperate to get her out of her wet clothes. Once she was naked, he grabbed towels to dry her body and her hair hurriedly, deposited her in his bed and started piling warm blankets on top of her. “You’ll be warm in a few minutes, sweetheart. You’ll be okay.” He knew he was talking as much to himself as he was to her, trying to reassure himself that she was safe.

Her body started to shiver, and her teeth were chattering, which was a good sign. Her body temperature was rising.

“Get warm,” she told him as she trembled beneath the blankets. “I’m okay.”

She didn’t look like she was okay at all, but her eyes looked up at him with a pleading look that he couldn’t ignore. He stripped hurriedly, his own body shivering, a reaction that he knew would raise his body temperature, but it was damn uncomfortable.

After using the towels to dry his own body, he slid beneath the pile of blankets. He doubted that he had much body heat, but he pulled Emily to him anyway, wondering if he could give her any warmth that he had left in his body through the sheer power of his will.

Grady clutched her against him, closing his eyes in relief as he felt them shivering together, their bodies warming.

What if I hadn’t come home exactly when I did? What if I had made another stop? Would Emily have died out there, unable to get free?

A mammoth shudder went through his body, but it had nothing to do with his body temperature.

“What if I had lost you? What the hell were you doing out there? That dock isn’t safe even in the summer.” His voice was graveled and anxious.

Her teeth were still chattering slightly as she answered, “You’d still have your wife,” she ground through her clenched teeth, struggling to move away from him.

Grady tightened his hold, not letting her escape. “What? Are you delusional? Talk to me.” Maybe she was suffering worse than he thought, because she was uttering complete nonsense. But her body was settling down, and she was only shivering lightly now; his had stopped completely.

“Hope Sinclair,” she said with a little more strength. “Your wife.” She pummeled at his chest, trying to move away from him. “How could you, Grady? How could you kiss me and act like you cared about me when you have a wife tucked away somewhere? Was all of this just some kind of sick game for you? I was in love with you, you bastard!” Emily stopped fighting and burst into tears, her body starting to rock with heartbreaking sobs.

“Stop. Emily. Stop crying.” Christ! He couldn’t stand to see her this way. It was ripping his heart from his chest. “I don’t have a wife. Hope is my sister. Did she call while I was gone?”

“Yes. She said she was your wife,” she sniffed, the sobs halting. “Why would she say that if she wasn’t?”

Grady snapped, the sight of Emily in tears unraveling him. He rolled Emily beneath him, trapping her so she couldn’t go anywhere. “Because she knows Evan sends women who I don’t want to hook up with me. She’s helped me out before by claiming to be my wife to get rid of a few of them who didn’t really want to take no for an answer.” He loved his sister and he appreciated that she wanted to protect him from an unpleasant scene, but he wanted to wring her neck for not checking with him first.

“So you aren’t…married?” Emily glanced at him for the first time, her expression vulnerable and shaken.

“She’s my sister and I love her like a sibling, but I think being married to her is illegal just about everywhere in the world,” he growled fiercely. “I’m fucking obsessed with you, or haven’t you figured that out yet? I think about you every damn moment that I’m awake, and then I dream about you when I sleep. There is nobody else. And there never will be. I think I knew it the moment I saw you sitting in the snow on my doorstep. You’re mine, Angel. I need you more than I need anything else on this earth. Please don’t leave me. Ever.” His voice was vibrating with emotion, his eyes burning with a fire banked for far too long. Grady didn’t care anymore if Emily owned his emotional well-being. He’d already given it over to her, and she could do whatever she wanted with it. He was hers. And she belonged with him. “Nobody will ever love you as much as I do, or take care of you as well as I will. Stay with me, Emily. I need you.”