Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #2 (37 page)

He fought to keep his eyes open, knowing she was right, but there were things he needed to know. “What about Reid?”

She hesitated.

“Maddie?”

“No one knows where he is.”

“Can he find us here?”

“Antonio and Colton don't think so, but I don't know. He's resourceful. But there is some good news. I called my mom and told her we were safe, and not ten minutes after I'd hung up, I received a call from the State Department,” she began. “With the information we gave them, the US Drug Enforcement Agency—who apparently had already been working with officials from here—put together a sting operation. And while they still haven't found Reid, they did arrest the men he was working with, including one who was high up in the country's armed forces. They'll be tried in the region and hopefully be put away for a long, long time.”

“That's good news.”

“Yes, it is. They should be charged with everything from drug trafficking to the purchase of assault rifles, to surface-to-air missiles, to kidnapping. And I've been assured that our names have been cleared, and that we're safe now.”

“Except for Reid. If he's still out there...”

“Any clout he had is gone, and he has to know that. Which means all of this should be over soon. Reid has nowhere to run.”

He was relieved it was over, but there was something else he needed to know as well. “What about us?”

She pressed her lips together before answering. “I'll be honest, it scares me, Grant. I'm scared that things won't work out between us, and I'm scared that if they do, something will happen to you. Just like Darren, you haven't exactly chosen a low-risk career path. And everything that has happened over the past few days has only served as a reminder of that.”

Was there really too much fear...too much of the past hanging over them to allow them a future together? He cleared his throat, knowing that right now wasn't the time to deal with that question, but neither was he willing to simply let the subject drop.

“Fear often holds too much power over us, doesn't it?” He spoke more to himself, than to Maddie, but she nodded in agreement.

And then there was the guilt...
They were both powerful motivators. And far too often they'd tried to persuade him in the wrong direction.

“What if I said I'm falling in love with you?” He saw the tears slipping down her cheeks as he spoke. For him, though, as he said it aloud, he knew it was true. “I've never met a woman who I was willing to fight for. Willing to find a way to make things work.”

“I think you're wrong. It won't work between us, and I think deep down you know that as well.” Her struggle showed in her eyes. “Today made everything seem so clear. Our lives are going in opposite directions. If I lose my heart to you, then lose you... I can't do that, Grant.”

He ran his thumb across the back of her hand. That wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. “None of us know how long we have on this earth. You know that. I might die tonight, or I might live another fifty years.”

“You should have been a lawyer.”

He caught the smile that quivered on her lips as she spoke. “Let me in, Maddie. Give me a try. We'll never know what might happen if we stop now.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, her hair brushing against his face. “Good night, Grant.”

He watched as she looked at him one last time, then turned around and walked out the door.

EIGHTEEN

M
addie stepped out into the garage, shivering at the drop in temperature from the house to where her stepfather was working. Two weeks had passed since she'd flown back to the States, and she still wasn't quite sure which way was up. She was almost ready to go back to work, but that feeling of incompleteness was back. Like she was missing something.

Part of her was still considering returning to Guinea-Bissau after the New Year. Because no matter what Reid had tried to do, her heart was still there with the women who needed her. Her work there left her feeling as if she was making a real difference. The other part of her, though, still felt bruised from the ordeal she'd gone through. And cautious of taking another risk.

“Aren't you freezing?” she asked, stopping next to the vintage mustang her stepfather was working on. “It can't be much more than thirty degrees in here.”

He laughed. “Africa must have thinned your blood. Go stand by the portable heater over there, and you'll warm up quickly.”

She zipped up her quilted jacket and dragged a metal stool in front of the heater. Warm air blew against her face. “Much better.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from my favorite daughter?”

Maddie smiled. He might be her stepfather, but he'd always loved her as if she'd been his own flesh and blood. “I just came by to grab one of Mom's cookbooks.”

He glanced up at her. “You're cooking?”

“I'm baking a pie for tonight's Christmas Eve dinner. And don't sound so surprised.”

He chuckled. “Oh, you've always been full of surprises.” He chuckled again.

She breathed in the familiar scents of oil and gasoline she always associated with her stepfather when he was busy on a restoration project. Coming home had meant familiarity and family, and had helped balance out her unsettled emotions. But not completely. Not yet, anyway.

“I talked to my old boss today,” she said. “I've decided to go back to work after the New Year, though it will be temporary. Just while Janet's on maternity leave.”

“And after that?”

“I don't know.”

“Your mother and I have been worried about you.” Metal clanked against metal as he tightened a set of bolts on the fixer-upper parked in the middle of the garage. “You've just been so...quiet whenever you come by.”

“Still tired, I guess. Adjusting to everything. The past few weeks have been...well, challenging to say the least.”

“A week held hostage in an insurgent camp, a sinking ferry, accused of drug trafficking...” he said. “I don't think ‘challenging' is a strong enough description.”

He was right.

She folded her hands in her lap and stared at a chipped nail. “I came out here to share some good news. I just received news on Reid Johnson.”

“You did?” He stopped what he was doing and caught her gaze.

“He was arrested flying through South Africa on a fake passport, presumably on his way to South America.”

“That's huge! I'd give you a hug, but I'm covered with oil.”

She smiled. “It is big news. Even though I'd been assured he never made it back to the United States, I still feel like I can breathe again without constantly watching over my shoulder.”

“I still can't believe you got caught up in that mess.” He wiped his oily hands off on a rag. “At least it's over, and he can't come after you again.”

Grant had been the one to call and tell her. Hearing his voice again had left her longing to see him. But he was back in Houston and she was here in Denver. She'd been right. Their lives were moving in opposite directions.

She picked at a loose thread on her jacket. “Can I ask you a question?”

He looked up at her. “Of course.”

“How often do you think about Darren?”

“Not a day goes by when I don't think about him. He might have been my stepson, but his death left a huge void in my life that can't ever be replaced. Why?”

“I don't know. I've just been thinking about him a lot lately.”

“Does this have anything to do with having been with Grant?”

“Grant?”

“He was best friends with your brother. You must have talked a lot about Darren.”

“We did.” She looked up, frowning, but felt her checks flush hearing his name. “But my question has nothing to do with Grant. I don't know. Maybe with all that's happened, along with the holidays, I'm just missing Darren more than normal.”

Her stepfather folded his arms across his chest. “You know, your mother might claim that I'm not the most observant person, especially when it comes to things of the heart, but I have noticed there's something in your eyes when the subject of Grant is brought up. Have you talked to him since you flew home?”

“He's the one who called me today. We've exchanged a few emails. He's kept me up-to-date on what's happening with Reid and Ana. Do you remember the little girl I told you about?”

“Yes.”

“Antonio found out her grandmother died six months ago. But he and his wife have taken her in.”

“I'm happy for her,” he said, “but you're changing the subject. You haven't told us a lot of the details of that trip, but I would assume it was pretty frightening and emotional for both of you.”

What was she supposed to tell him? That Grant had kissed her and knocked her world on its edge? And that even though she knew her decision to walk away had been the right one, his face was the last thing she saw when she went to sleep at night and the first thing when she woke up?

“I guess what I'm saying,” he continued, “is that I know you've been through a lot, but I'm here if you need me. For anything.”

“Thank you.” She stood up to bridge the gap between them and kissed him on the cheek. “I've got to run by the store and then make my pie.”

“They sell frozen pies, you know.”

“Funny. I'll see you tonight for dinner.”

He picked up the wrench and walked back to the engine. “I'm glad you're home, Madison.”

She smiled at him and then headed to the house, trying to push back the memory of Grant's kiss. Because whatever might have started on the other side of the Atlantic was over. Even if her heart still felt as if it had been shattered into a million pieces.

* * *

Three and a half hours later, Maddie studied the results of her attempts to make a homemade dessert. She'd made it through Anatomy and Biochemistry, but not Home Economics 101. But, glancing at the perfect photo of the pumpkin pie in her mom's recipe book and comparing it to her own creation she'd just pulled out of the oven, it was clear she'd missed something. Where the crimped edges hadn't burnt they'd flaked off, and while the picture boasted a creamy, caramel-colored filling, hers was a dull shade of orange.

Her father was right. She never should have volunteered to bring a dessert to her mother's Christmas Eve party that didn't come straight from the store. For some reason, she'd got it in her head that she wanted to make homemade holiday dessert from scratch like her mother always had. But instead of a meal straight from the pages of some glossy magazine, her attempts were more suited for a garbage disposal.

Maddie folded her arms across her chest debating whether or not she should simply toss the pie in the trash. The soothing voice of Michael Bublé filled the apartment with “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” Grant's image filled her mind. Again, she pushed it away and eyed the pie again. Maybe she could cover it with a decorative mound of whipped cream. Surely it couldn't taste as bad as it looked.

The doorbell rang.

She glanced at the clock. She wasn't expecting anyone, and in fact she needed to leave for her parents' house within the next hour. Which meant she still needed to change into something a bit more festive than the jeans and T-shirt she was wearing...

The doorbell rang again.

She set down the pie and went to open the front door of her apartment.

There stood Grant, casually dressed in slacks, a smart-looking sweater and jacket, and a sheepish grin.

“Maddie... Hey...I was in the neighborhood.”

“Grant?” She didn't try to hide her surprise as she hugged him, but then she pulled away as her heart suddenly took a nosedive. This had to be a dream. Grant Reese could not be standing at her front door. “I just spoke to you a few hours ago. I thought you were home in Houston.”

“I was on my way home, actually, flying back from some meetings in Oklahoma City with a mine advisory group. I saw the flight to Denver on the board—”

“And you just decided to pop in unannounced.” Her mind was still reeling.

His smile faded. “I'm sorry—”

“No, I'm sorry.” She shook her head. “That came out all wrong, it's just that I don't know what to say.”

“I tried to call.”

“I left my phone in my bedroom.”

“You look great.”

“So do you.” She tried to ignore the surge of emotions that swept through her. He'd lost some weight since he'd been shot, but even that hadn't erased his military physique. Give him a few more weeks, and she knew his daily trips to physical therapy would pay off. “How's your shoulder?”

“My physical therapist said that with a lot of hard work, I should be back to normal in a few weeks.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” Snow had begun to fall across her small front yard. “I'm sorry. You must be freezing. Come in, please. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you're here.”

He picked up a box from the wrought iron bench just outside her front door. “I brought you a pie.”

Her eyes widened. “You brought me a pie?”

“Not just any pie. It's chocolate mint tart with ganache. You mentioned how much you wanted to eat one that day we were stuck on the ferry.”

The day he'd kissed her.

She shoved away the thought. “You might have just come to my rescue again. I've been baking a pie for a Christmas Eve party at my parents' tonight.” She glanced at the pie, and paused. “But I think you knew about that, didn't you? You talked to my mom.”

“When I couldn't get ahold of you, I called your mom. She invited me to their party tonight, and when I asked what I could bring, she suggested your favorite pie. But I don't understand. If you made a pie...”

“There are still quite a few things you don't know about me.”

Grant followed her through the living room of the apartment she'd sublet to a friend while she'd been away, and then stepped into the tiny kitchen.

“I have a confession. I'm a horrible cook.” She picked up her pie and shot him a lopsided grin. “It's still a bit runny, burnt on the edges, crumbly...”

Grant grabbed a knife off the counter and proceeded to cut a sliver of the pie.

“What are you doing?”

“Sampling.” He popped a bite into his mouth.

“It's awful, isn't it?”

He winked at her. “I'll give it a five and a half out of ten.”

“Right.” Maddie laughed at the ridiculous assessment. How was it that he could make her smile even in the worst circumstances? “You don't need to be so generous on my account. I think the fact that I will never be a chef has been made very clear today.”

He popped another bite into his mouth. Obviously the man liked to torment himself. “Give me a few days with you in the kitchen, and I'll make you into cable television's next cooking sensation.”

“I don't think so. This is the very reason why takeout was invented. For people like me, who can work wonders in the ER, but who will never turn out consistently decent meals.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Besides, what are you? Some guru chef?”

“No, I just like to cook.”

Another side of him she wanted to get to know. She stopped. No.

“Like, boxed macaroni and cheese or gnocchi and lasagna?” she asked instead.

He wiped the crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand. “My specialty is the grill, but I can also whip up a fairly decent Italian meal.”

She tugged nervously on the bottom of her T-shirt and laughed. Because staring into those stunning blue eyes only managed to reinforce the fact that she'd missed him. Way too much. And right now, in her tiny kitchen, he was close enough that she could almost feel his warm breath on her face as she inhaled the scent of his cologne.

He reached up and wiped his thumb across her cheek. “You had some...flour from baking.”

She swallowed hard. Her heart refused to stop fluttering. He was so close she wanted to slip her arms around him and let him kiss her again, and for a moment, she thought that was exactly what he was going to do.

Instead, he took a step back, and she tried to fight the crazy disappointment. “Maddie?”

She blinked her eyes and looked up at him. “I'm sorry. I was just thinking.”

He ran his hand down her sleeve. “About what?”

“About the last time I saw you.” They'd flown home together the four thousand miles from Dakar to Washington, DC. The distance between them had felt even greater than their trip across the Atlantic.

He lowered his gaze. “The last time I saw you, you told me you were afraid of losing your heart. And if that's still how you feel, that's okay. But I needed to know for sure before I walk away for good.”

Maddie swallowed hard, knowing that these were the words that had been hanging between them. And the questions she still had. She tried to form an answer, but wasn't sure what to say. What she did know was that she was getting tired of running. She'd run away when Darren died. Then run away from Ben. And now she'd run away from Grant.

She'd tried to find a way to keep her heart intact, and wasn't sure she was ready to break down the remaining wall left between them so she could face her fears head-on. Or if she even knew how. But she realized how much she'd missed him. And with him standing in front of her, she realized now how much she wanted him to stay.