Goodbye Secrets (The Lost & Found Series book #2) (14 page)

I prep the coffeemaker and hit the brew button.

“I’ll be right back.” I sigh and head out of the kitchen. I need to find him. I need to know.

The meeting is over. He’s not in the office, lounge, or dining room. Huh ... maybe he’s upstairs. I turn to head up.

“Becca,” Melissa says quietly. I turn to her. “If you’re looking for Grayson, he’s in the stockroom. He’s been in there for about fifteen minutes.” I can tell from her face that she’s worried about him, even though he fires her like every other week.

“Oh, thanks, Meliss.” I can’t help but furrow my brow. I head over to the stockroom and quietly walk in. I find Grayson in a corner with his back turned, his shoulders shaking. His left hand is on the wall, bracing him, and he has his right hand up by his face. I’m not sure what I should do. It looks like a very private moment, and he may be embarrassed by my intrusion. On the other hand, I am his fiancée, and he may find my presence comforting and much needed. I decide to go with the other hand.

“Baby?” I slide my arms around his waist from behind and kiss his back. I feel him freeze at my touch.
Oh ... maybe I was wrong.
I look to my right and notice two boxes on top of each other that haven’t been unpacked yet. They’re small and may just give me the leverage I need.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He glances quickly as I step up on them. “Jesus, Becca!”

He gasps when I lose but regain my balance. I pull him to me. He keeps his gaze down. I palm his face and bring it up to look into mine.

“You’re not alone, Grayson. I am here to carry these burdens with you. I want to, because I love you. I cherish you. You’re not alone, baby. I’m right here.” I capture his lips with mine, and he pulls me into a fierce hug. We stand there for at least ten minutes, just holding each other in the safety of my stockroom. I can’t help but allow a few giggles to release.

“What’s with the giggles, sweetheart?” Grayson looks up at me.

“I was just getting a flashback of our many interesting moments in this very stockroom, Mr. James.” I smile down at him. This brings a matching one to his lips.

“Yes, how is it that we’ve managed to leave this room shag-free when our sexual tension was always the highest in here at the beginning?”

“I don’t know. That is interesting, though. Shall we christen it now?” I raise my eyebrows for emphasis.

“No. I don’t think we should, sweetheart, at least not yet. There’s something sacred and humbling, if you will, about it.”

“Hmm ... I think you’re right.” I let him help me down. “Hungry, baby?” I lean toward the kitchen.

“For?” He pulls me back.

“Breakfast ... in bed.” I add the last bit when I find his eyes searching mine. Cue erratic breathing.

“Sounds delicious, love.” He thumbs my lip away from my teeth.

“Okay. Come!” I lead him again.

“Oh ... I will, sweetheart,” he states, and follows up with a smack on my ass.
Mmm ...

As Grayson and I lay in our post-coital afterglow, I find my mind racing at the speed of light. My bet is that the raging HGH levels are causing the increased tempo of my thoughts. I allow them to race instead of pushing them away, but do try to maintain some order in the process.

I know Grayson loves me, but man, I can’t believe he hasn’t gone screaming for the hills yet. I mean, what a guy!
People
magazine has no idea just how right they were in calling him the “Sexiest Man Alive”! If they only knew the depth to his sexiness, he would surely be the number-one pick for the next decade. Still, my life is a lot for anyone to take in, and I can’t help but wonder if there is some resentment under there, waiting to boil over.

Then there’s the matter of George’s partner being somebody that has an unhealthy crush on me. I’ll allow the mental eye roll. It just doesn’t seem possible anymore. Maybe it was at one point, but to go as far as blowing up Grayson’s plane trying to kill my daughter? That no longer screams
obsessive crush
to me. I can’t help wonder if maybe it was coincidental. Maybe Grayson and his team are so focused on who is trying to get to me, they haven’t even thought of who may be trying to get to him. He does travel in a way more affluent circle than me. Certainly a silent enemy of his would be more able to afford these tactics than a local guy who has a crush on me. Maybe there is a connection between the two!

And where the hell is Steve? Has Gray even looked into his whereabouts? I do wish he would fill me in on what they know and which roads they’ve gone down. I’m tired of playing the damsel in distress. It’s not a part that sits very well with me. I might actually be of some help here! I have mentioned things on various topics that he has admitted to not even considering. So why won’t he let me try to help?

“Tell me, Nancy Drew ... have you solved the case yet?” Grayson teases as he props himself up on his elbow. I can’t help but giggle a bit. God, he knows me so well! “I can see you are trying to figure something out. It’s all over your face. It looks like a real humdinger!” He grabs my nose gently and lightly shakes my head before he plants a kiss on my lips.

“Humdinger, huh? That does sound serious!” I prop myself up as well.

“So, what were you working on in that beautiful little mind of yours?” His fingers caress my cheek.

“First, I’d like to bring to your attention that if I didn’t know you any better, I could easily assume you mean that I have a small, schizophrenic mind,” I tease. He offers me the eye roll I probably deserve.

“Well, come out with it already!” he nudges. I fear his playful tone will dissipate shortly.

“Okay!” I say, and take in a deep breath. Here goes nothing! “I was just wondering if you guys have looked at every possible angle.” I so do not deserve the second eye roll! I slap his arm.

“Ugh, Becca! Congratulations, sweetheart, for lasting three whole magnificent days before nagging me about any of this! Okay. Come now, let me have it! Enlighten me please, Ms. Nancy Drew!”

“Mr. Holmes! Please refrain from talking to me in that belittling manner! I am quite the erudite woman, and you should feel honored that I am willing to allow such an arrogant audience!” I offer him my best English accent.

“That was very good, love! Have you been practicing?”

“Yes. I am English-fluent now.” I smile.

“English-fluent? Not fluent in English?” He laughs.

“Yes, that’s right.” I smirk. “Oh, Mr. Holmes, please stop sidetracking me!” I add.

“Okay, love, what are the angles you believe we haven’t looked at?” I sense the humor in him humoring me. I’ll take what I can get ... I guess.

“Well, have you guys looked into Steve’s whereabouts? It seems very odd that I haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

“Uh ... um.”

Hmm ... that’s what I thought.

“Have you made a list of people who may have it in for you?” I ask. His lips part as if he wants to say something. “It may be coincidental that your plane exploded while we are investigating my ex-husband, his murder, and Stacey’s assault. Maybe one has nothing to do with the other. Maybe there is a link between the two. I just don’t think the guys around here have enough financial backing or know-how to pull off a stunt like that.” I may have said that all in one breath.

“Done?” He arches his eyebrow just to be sure.

“Yeah ... I think so.” I double-check mentally.

“Yes. We have considered the possibility that the plane’s explosion was caused by someone who is out to get me. We are looking into several people. We have not looked into Steve, at least not in depth. That is a good point, sweetheart, and I will mention it to Greg Thomas today.” He’s courteous enough to finish his last sentence before he distracts me with his index finger. My skin prickles at the slight graze of it traveling down my neck and across my right clavicle.

I close my eyes at his touch.
Damn it!

“I can’t keep you in the dark for long, can I?” he asks, and I open my eyes again to look into his. “You are truly quite the intelligent woman ... and. I. Find. It. Rather ... sexy,” he musters between kisses.

“Mr. James, are you trying to use your favorite method of distraction again?” I bait him.

“Yes. For me, love, you are far more interesting and mysterious then all of this other business.”

“Oh, Mr. James, surely you don’t find me mysterious anymore?” I giggle and bite the finger he traces my lips with.

“Always, sweetheart, and I love that about you—there’s always a surprise up your sleeve for me.” He pulls his finger away and bites my lip playfully.

“Anotha go, aye, Gov’na?” I do my best chimney-sweeper-from-
Mary
-
Poppins
accent. Grayson gives my imitation a good laugh. It’s quite the glimpse of my usual company.

“Oh, sweetheart, I could have a go at you all day!”

“Please, sir ... can I have s’more?” I give him a little Oliver Twist as he slowly hovers over me, parting my legs with his.

“S’more of this, Becca?” His face turns serious as he enters me with one powerful thrust.

“Oh ... Gray!” I practically cry.
Sybecca, the class clown, returns to her seat. Country Sybecca raises her hand to take over—no sign of her Daisy Dukes anywhere!

“Focus, Becca!”

I gasp as Grayson grabs a fistful of my hair and tilts my mouth up to his. Aggressive Grayson is back, and he’s absolutely devouring me. He pulls my left leg up to get more leverage and sinks deeper inside me. His thrusts are slow and powerful all at once—I can barely catch my breath. With his mouth still locked to mine, his tongue explores urgently. I realize in this moment that he’s most definitely trying to get lost in me again.

I thread my hands into his hair and tug, encouraging him to escape his reality. I feel myself climb and climb, and finally I have to pull away from his lips to pray. His mouth finds mine again right away, muffling my sounds. I squeeze around him tightly, beckoning him to follow my lead.

“No, Bec ... argh! Damn it!” He grits his teeth and comes undone—angrily, I think.

“Gray?” I’m breathless and worried.

“Yes, Becca?” It sounds like he’s trying to catch his breath as well.

“Are you okay?” I kiss his sweaty head.

“Yes, sweetheart.” He lifts his head and offers me a playful smirk.

“You seemed angry.” I lay my head back, relieved.

“What time is the visiting nurse coming to meet Stacey?” He climbs off and lies on his back.

“Um, Stacy will be here by two, and Melanie is due at three.”

He knows this. He’s trying to avoid my comment. I wish I could say he’s been all over the place the past few days, but he hasn’t. Maybe a little withdrawn, which, of course, makes me very nervous. I can’t help but feel that maybe he wants to be done with all of this ... with me. Every time that thought comes up, I feel a pang in my heart and I can barely catch my breath.

“Well, we should get up and at ‘em. I’m going to head into the shower, unless you want to go first.”

What?

“Um, can I go?” I feel tears sting my eyes, feel my nostrils flare. I don’t know if it works, but Ray was right—I definitely do it to try to keep from crying. I turn away so Grayson won’t see my face, then climb out of bed. I grab my robe and hurry to the bathroom. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way.

Between the iPod and the shower, I feel confident enough to release my sobs. I know being almost eight weeks pregnant is a big reason behind my emotional roller coaster, but the knowledge doesn’t lessen the blow of my insecurities at all. He was ready to walk away from me a few weeks ago because he’d had enough. Maybe he’s only staying now because of the baby. Maybe if I wasn’t pregnant, he’d be running for the hills.
Cautionary Sybecca holds up an electronic ticker board. She looks away, pretending to whistle as the words
“
I TOLD YOU SO ...
”
run across it.
Shut up, bitch! Didn’t you resign like two months ago?!

I make the water hotter now that I’ve gotten acclimated to the temperature. This is what I always do to wash away the difficult thoughts and frustrations of life. I sterilize them—or, at least, I like to think I do. One might see it as me trying to drown standing up, or boil myself to death.

“Becca!” Grayson pulls me back. When the hell did he come in here? “That’s not good for the baby!” He turns the cold water up.

“Hot baths, not good for baby—hot showers, not a problem,” I correct him.

“Your face is red.” He lifts my chin and inspects me.

“Hot water.” I point to the showerhead.

“Washing your eyes out with hot water as well, sweetheart?” He raises an eyebrow quizzically.

“Allergies,” I offer.

“In December?”

“Dust.” I look down.

“In the shower?”

“Soap in my eyes?”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He pecks my lips. “Let’s wash. We’ll talk after.”

He grabs my facecloth and lathers it up. He gently starts with my left arm and works up to my shoulder, over my clavicle, around my neck, and over to the other side. Next he washes my breasts, ribs, and down to my belly, which is already beginning to swell a little.
Goodbye, size eight! It was nice to visit with you for a minute!
Down my left leg and up my right. He coerces me to turn, then washes my back. I lean against the shower wall for support.