Her Texas Rescue Doctor (18 page)

“This was all inspired by a free bag of rocks?”

“The manager really liked what you were doing. So did I.”

Alex nodded, but that harshness had returned to his expression—something about the set of his jaw. “This is what you were doing all those evenings you supposedly weren't working. This is an entire business plan, Grace. We pay people at the hospital to put together grant proposals that aren't as complete as this.”

“It's not a big deal,” she said, although she wasn't sure why she felt defensive. “I've never had so much free time. You made sure I didn't work more than nine hours a day, and Sophia stayed in one place for an entire week. This wasn't hard to do.”

He shut the lid to the laptop and stood, his physical presence both familiar and intimidating at once. “This takes skill. Don't devalue yourself. Ever.”

She fought a shiver. “You keep saying things like that. Like I'm not easily replaced, and I shouldn't let anyone tell me I am. Who said that? Sophia? Martina?”

“You did.”

She froze.

Then his calm words started an avalanche of words in her mind.
I'm just doing my job. Why would anyone want to know about me? She could hire a hundred different people to be her assistant.

Grace felt as light-headed as she did when she skipped a meal. He touched her as he had in the hotel, a firm hand on her upper arm, lending her balance, the touch of a doctor.

His voice was more intimate. “If you could see what I see when I look at you... I want you to believe in yourself. I want to be able to imagine you confident. Please. Be happy.”

The unspoken words were loud enough:
when you're gone
. She felt another chill that had nothing to do with the cool night.
I want to imagine you confident when you're gone. Be happy when you're gone.

He couldn't let her go, never to be seen again. Ten minutes ago, he'd pressed his face into her middle, swearing no harm would come to her. He cared about her.

“I don't want you to imagine me at all. I'm not your patient. We can stay in touch.” Grace was no heroine in a movie, but she'd learned this week that she was more courageous than she'd given herself credit for. She dared to touch him, placing one palm on his hard chest, not caring if he could feel the tremor in her hand.

“How long before you go?” The bass in his voice resonated through the palm of her hand.

“We leave for the airport right after you dance with Sophia.”

He winced. For one second, one precious second, she saw that the loss of her meant so much to him that it caused him pain. The next second, his expression was polite, controlled. That poker face was in place, the one he hadn't been using when it was just the two of them.

“The problem is Deezee,” she said. “He's coming to Austin, so Sophia is getting out. She's scared to run into him.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you?”

She knew with certainty that if she said
yes
, he would keep her by his side until she felt safe, but she couldn't lie. “Not anymore. There's nothing Deezee can do to hurt me.”

“He could come between you and your sister again.”

“He can only do that if Sophia lets him. And if she does, I'll be okay without her. I'll still love her, even if she makes a dumb choice.”

His scrutiny gave way to a ghost of a smile. “I hope it never comes to that. You and your sister belong together.” He let go of her arm and turned toward the house.

He was leaving. She'd just told him this was their last night together, and he was leaving. They were friends, nothing more. Maybe not even that much.

“Wait.” Beating down a sense of panic, she scrambled to remember her plan. Her prop. Her crutch—the nonprofit information—she opened the laptop again. “I need your email address. I'll send the business plan to you. And then...and then you could appoint me to the board. There only needs to be three of us. I'll be your secretary. Between the phone and email, it would be no problem at all for me to do the bookkeeping and get grant applications ready, even when I'm out of state.”

And I'll have an excuse to call you when I want to hear your voice.

“No.”

She felt all the air go out of her chest. Out of her world.

“I'm sorry, Grace, but no. I don't want to continue on that way. Not being together, but not falling completely out of touch, just in case our paths cross again.”

Tears stung her eyes and clogged her throat. He didn't want to stay in touch with her, not at all. They weren't really friends.

“It's what you were thinking, wasn't it? Maybe you'll be back next year for South-by. Maybe your sister will come back to film a sequel to whatever she filmed here last September. Maybe...” He set his hands on his hips and looked out at the dark garden, shaking that perfectly cut hair back from his perfectly blue eyes. “Maybe Burns will go to trial, and we'll catch dinner while you're in town. I don't do that, Grace. I can't be on call for you. I'm not that man.”

“Then what man are you?”

“Not the kind that dates the personal assistant of a movie star.”

That sounded so final. She
was
the sister of a movie star. She couldn't change that. “I thought you and Sophia were teasing each other, mostly. Do you really not like her?”

Do you hate my sister the way Deezee hates me?

She had his attention, at least. He looked from the dark back to her, mildly surprised. “I've got a newfound respect for her this week, actually. She's chosen a difficult career, but she's loyal to you. That's the most important thing.”

Wrong. Having more time with you is the most important thing.
But she wasn't quite enough of a superhero to say such a thing.

“So if it's not the movie star, then it's me. The girl with no friends. The girl who's afraid to say her sister's name in public. I know that's not normal.”

But he was shaking his head. “I'm no judge of normal. You and your sister were together during the toughest time of your life, and now you're never apart. My mother and I were together during the toughest time of our lives, and we hardly see each other. Which of us is normal, Grace? You get your stability from another human being, at least. I spend my time with rocks.”

“You spend your time making beautiful gardens for people.”

“Ah, Grace.
Milost'.
”

He touched her, smoothing his hand over her hair. She couldn't mock herself for being so hyperaware as he touched her hair, for she felt it as acutely as if he'd slid his hand over her breast.

He's going to kiss me.

His gaze moved from her hair to her mouth, but he didn't lean in, didn't give in, to what she knew he wanted. She waited, anticipating, but his look of want was replaced by that poker face once more.

“We should get some sleep,” he said, dropping his hand to his side, all business now. “What time in the morning are the first people—”

She silenced him with her kiss, her mouth, desperate to erase that neutral expression and snap that calm control. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft and seriously strong. It was so wonderful, such a relief to be kissing the man she'd been so attuned to all week, that it took her long, blissful moments before she realized that while he was kissing her back, he wasn't taking over. He wasn't letting the kiss take over, either. He allowed nothing to burn out of control—it was nothing like that kiss by the truck.

She became aware of this as she became aware that she was nearly on her toes, pressed against him, her soft chest against his harder one, her hands once more clutching his shoulders.

His hands weren't on her.

She ended the kiss and stood solidly on her feet once more.

“I thought... I thought I meant more to you.” Grace knew, somewhere in her objective mind, that she ought to feel embarrassed. But Alex was so calm, so unaffected, that she felt a little bitter. “You said everything you did this week was to help me. You said you had my back.”

“I'm still backing you up. I'll be spending all day tomorrow backing you up.”

“Until I get on that plane. Then that's it, isn't it?”

Her heart broke as he nodded.

The bitterness became huge. “I didn't realize your friendship had an expiration date.”

“I always knew you were leaving in a week. You knew it, too, Grace. That's why we never let anything go too far.”

“We didn't?
We?
Did you really think I didn't want to kiss you every single day?” Tears stung her eyes, born of embarrassment that he hadn't been swept away by her kiss—or perhaps the tears were simply because it hurt to hear him say he'd never planned to see her after this week. Or perhaps it was worse than that.

Perhaps she was in love.

Tears fell. The man she loved was going to walk out of her life.

How puny all her wishes this week had been, wasted on wanting to stay away from LA, wasted on wanting a dumb DJ to leave her alone, as if geography and her sister's affairs mattered as much as Alex. She loved him, but he was leaving her.

I wish you loved me, too.

Alex pushed her hair away from her face, his warm hand lingering on her cheek. “You started this week by saying it was a mistake when we kissed. I thought you were being smart. We won't miss what we've never had.”

“But we don't have to miss each other. I can visit you here. You can fly out to California.”

“For what? To spend a day or two together?” His hand stayed gentle but the look in his eyes turned almost angry. “Some sex, a few dinners. A long weekend here, a holiday there. It's not enough, Grace. It's going to be hell watching you disappear tomorrow. Don't ask me to live through a dozen more disappearances in the future. I meant it when I said I'm not that man.”

“Then I don't know what to do,” she said, closing her eyes against the intensity in his, “because you're the only man for me.”

The silence was electric, then his hand on her cheek was cupping the back of her head instead, pulling her close as he kissed her, hungry this time. Starving. His arm came around her as he opened her mouth with his own, and the slide of his tongue made her whimper with pleasure. He was delicious. He kissed her as if
she
were delicious, and she felt herself melting with each slow, strong taste. She held on to his arms, felt his muscles bunching as he slid his hand over her backside, lifting her higher against his hard body. The intimacy of their kiss, the sure touch of his hands—everything between them was so gloriously hot in the cold night.

Then he tore his mouth away, and she was left dizzy and disoriented once more, clinging to his arms. He was breathing as hard as she was, uneven, uncontrolled. Still hungry.

“That was not a mistake,” she panted.

“It was for me.”

Alex let her go, and disappeared into his own house.

Chapter Eighteen

A
lex lay on his couch, staring
into the dark, obsessed with the woman in his bed.

He should never have kissed Grace. She felt like forever in his
arms; she was leaving. In hours.

Some last scrap of self-preservation had kicked in, and he'd
broken off that kiss before it had turned into more. He'd headed straight for
his bedroom—alone—to pitch his jeans and shirt into the laundry basket and pull
on a pair of loose track pants, and to hell with a shirt. Then he'd settled in
for one last night on this couch as if he weren't aware that Grace Jackson was
still on his back porch, staring at her laptop with a look of misery on her
beautiful face.

It was cold out there. He'd been just about to throw off his
blanket and bring it out to her when she'd come in and headed straight for the
bedroom herself.

The house was silent now. Dark. It was impossible not to relive
the kiss that had guaranteed that this last night would be just like the first:
sleepless and full of sexual frustration.

He threw off the blanket and headed for the kitchen. The
refrigerator light blinded him. The cold milk chilled him to the bone, but he
drank it anyway, all of it, straight from the carton, wishing it would numb his
brain.

Grace Jackson. One week with her and his life would never be
the same. And what did she want from him? To be her pen pal. They'd play at
setting up a nonprofit and send each other e-mails.

He tossed the carton onto the counter in disgust.

“I can't sleep, either.”

Grace's voice was gentle behind him. He knew how she'd look if
he turned around. Barefooted. White pajamas. Irresistible.

He turned around, anyway.

You look very, very beautiful.

The thick satin wasn't as modest as she probably thought it
was. It was not sheer, but it molded every curve, from the roundness of her
shoulder to the peak of her breast. The impact she had on him was so much more
than body parts. She was a complete person, not merely luscious but full of
life. She was anxious only in her desire to help others, generous with her time
and determined to be optimistic, with hope in her brown eyes and a halo when
light touched her hair. She was Grace—and he knew, in the low glow of the
kitchen clock, he was in love with her.

She opened her palm and offered him a USB flash drive. “It's
got the business plan on it. Even if I'm not part of the project, you still
might want to use it.”

He didn't move. He couldn't, because the only move possible was
to crush her in his arms, to claim her as his own, as if tomorrow wouldn't come
and she wouldn't fly a thousand miles away.

His eyes were too well adjusted. He could see the hurt on her
face when he didn't reach for the small stick.

She closed her fist around it—and stepped closer to him.

“That first kiss, at the barbecue place, that was the best kiss
of my life. When you never kissed me again, I thought it must not have been that
amazing to you. Maybe you just weren't that into me. But then tonight...” She
let her fingers trail along his waistband as she had that first night, her touch
less tentative now. “Out there on the patio, you didn't kiss me like a man who's
not that into me.”

His stomach contracted, his arousal hardened, and he fought to
remember that the woman he loved was only passing through. She'd be gone
tomorrow.

I can't.
She'd said that the first
night.
I can't, I can't.
Then she'd run away.
Tonight, she smoothed her empty hand up his chest.

He had nowhere to run.

“While I was packing, I told myself maybe tonight was only
physical. Maybe you and I just happen to be physically compatible. You kissed me
tonight like you wanted to take me to bed. A lot of guys would take what a
willing woman offered.”

While she was packing. She'd thought through these
possibilities while she was packing. To leave him.

Grace slid her hand over his shoulder, then erased the last of
the distance between them by putting both arms around his neck. The move was as
confident as a siren's, but the look in her eyes was too vulnerable, as if she
thought he might possibly be able to resist the dark and the satin and the
sincerity.

He could not. His hands circled her waist, sliding the satin up
so his palms warmed her skin. No more, just that.

She shook back her dark gold hair. “If you only wanted sex, you
could have taken me to bed every night this week. You know I would have gone
willingly.”

Never had he been so tempted in his life. He pushed himself
away and turned his back on her, then drove a hand through his own hair.

“But you didn't.” She sounded sad, like a woman who'd been
rejected. Damn it, he felt guilty for not scooping her up and throwing her on
his bed.

It's not you, it's me.

“So I think you aren't that kind of guy. I think you want an
emotional connection before you take a woman to bed. But you know what? We do
have an emotional connection. So there I was, folding my clothes and putting
them in my suitcase, and I thought about Mrs. Burns.”

Surprised, he turned around.

“You told me you rarely see the same patient twice. Until
tonight, I hadn't realized that was a good thing for you. No one goes to the ER
because they are well and happy. If you see them again, it's bad. Like Mrs.
Burns. Of course you never want to see people again. It's so much better to
assume they are doing fine without you. It gives you peace of mind when they
don't return.”

She paused to take a breath. He was already holding his.

“That's your life, isn't it? People come in. You help them.
They leave.”

He exhaled, a sharp hiss of a sound because she'd cut right
down to the problem with surgical precision.

“And now I'm leaving tomorrow, too.” She took his hand and
pressed the plastic stick into his palm. “My phone number is on that flash
drive. Call me.”

Not pen pals, then, but phone-a-friends. He would still be
burning for her, while she would still be living her sister's life in LA or New
York or Tunisia or any of the places she'd told him about this week.

When he didn't close his fist around the stick, she closed his
fingers over it herself. She had tears in her eyes.

Alex hated being the one who'd put those tears in her eyes. The
sooner he could make her understand, the sooner she would resume her life
without him. “You'll be fine without me. I thought you needed me to slay a few
dragons for you this week. You didn't. You've got everything it takes to slay
those dragons yourself. You always did.”

“What dragons?”

He had to shake his head at his own mistaken assumptions. “Your
sister seemed manipulative. You were so anxious to avoid going back to
California. I jumped to conclusions, but now I've seen how you can hold your
own. More than that. You are very good at your job. You never needed me.”

“I did need you. I needed a friend desperately. I still
do.”

“You need a man who doesn't give a damn about some idiot DJ in
Los Angeles to wear a tux tomorrow. When you leave, you're going to be fine.
You're a very strong person.”

“You're determined to imagine me living a good life without
you, aren't you?” She gripped his fist in both of her hands. “Don't you dare
imagine that.”

There was nothing fragile or delicate in her touch. It was as
if his compliments had made her furious.

“It won't be true. I'm going to be missing you, Alex, every
day. That's not a pleasant way to live. I'm going to be imagining you building
gardens all alone, and I'm going to wonder if you wished you had my help. But
the worst thing of all, the thing that's really going to leave me gutted, is
that I'm going to wonder if each day was the day that you saw Mrs. Burns a third
time. I'm going to wonder if you are sitting alone on your patio with no one to
talk to.”

Her anger didn't stop her tears from falling. Each one hurt as
if it were his own. He'd messed everything up so badly, falling hard for a woman
who hadn't had the good sense to see that he wasn't the right man for her.

“I'm sorry,” she said, subdued. “It's not normal to never see
people again, and it breaks my heart to know you've trained yourself to live as
though it is. If a long-distance lover is too unstable for you, I could still be
your friend. I want you to see what it's like to have someone you can call. So
call me.”

She squeezed his fist once more, pressing the hard stick more
deeply into his palm, and then she let go and began backing away. “Just call me,
if you can. If you want to. I want you to. Good night.”

She disappeared down the hall, an angel gone in a flash of
white.

No.

He couldn't let it end this way. She was leaving—didn't the
pain always come?—but she wasn't going to disappear entirely. She understood him
and the reasons he craved stability, and she was offering him as much as she
thought he could handle. Having a friend to call after a hard, painful day would
be a new experience for him. Yes, she was leaving, but she was throwing him this
one thread, this one connection. It would be a giant step outside his comfort
zone, but she thought he could do it.

No, she
needed
him to do it. If he
didn't call her, she'd be unhappy. He was that important to her. He mattered to
her, and the sweetness of it pierced his heart. It would hurt him to hear her
voice and have nothing else, but if it would hurt her more not to have any
connection, then he'd do it. For her, he could do anything, because he loved
her.

He strode into his own bedroom. She was standing by the bed,
her open suitcase an ominous sight on the comforter.

“Grace.” He captured her face in his hands. “Yes, I will call
you. Every damned day that you're gone, I'll call you.”

“Every day?” He'd startled her, but the hope was clear in her
eyes.

“I don't know how to do this, but I'll find a way.”

“How to talk every day? I'll do all the talking, if you don't
know what to say. I would love to talk to you every day.”

“If we can only be friends on the phone, then I'll take it, but
Grace, I am in love with you. I have been since you shoved your arm in that
kitchen door, I think, so determined to make me listen. I don't know how to live
with part of you, when what I want is all of you, but I'll figure it out.”

Because he was in love with her, he had to kiss her, a hard
kiss—a swift kiss, because more words needed to be said as he kept her precious
face in his hands. “You were right then, and you were right tonight. I let go of
too many people, my patients, my friends, even my mother, when they didn't need
me. You may not need me, Grace, but I need you. It's going to hurt like hell
when we're apart, but for once in my life, I'm keeping someone I love.”

“I don't want to settle for friends on the phone, either. I
love you, too, Alex.”

There were tears in her eyes again, but this time, his heart
didn't hurt when they fell. He wiped them away with his thumbs.

“I have to leave tomorrow, but I'll come back. As soon as I
possibly can, I'll be back, Alex. I promise.”

God, she loved him. He wanted to hear her say it again, but she
was kissing him, and it felt too perfect to stop. Her touch at his waist was
bold. She slid her hand into his waistband and used it to pull him with her as
she lowered herself onto the bed, stretching out sideways beside the hated
suitcase. He followed, sheer desire threatening to obliterate every other
thought. Her hair, her skin, her hands on his body—the effort it took to get
back up from the bed was monstrous.

Grace sat up, confused. “You don't want...”

Alex almost laughed. “I've never wanted anything more.” He
picked up her suitcase and set it on the floor, went to the bedroom door and
shut it firmly. Then he stood over Grace a moment, taking in her beauty.

He scooped his arms around her and moved her with him to the
center of the bed. “Come here, beautiful.”

“Oh,” Grace said, a little sound of relief as she slid one
satin-clad leg over his. “You said it was hard to miss what you'd never had, so
I thought for a moment that maybe you didn't want to have this, so you wouldn't
miss it tomorrow.”

It was their first time to be horizontal together, the first
time she could nuzzle her face into the side of his neck.

“I'm going to miss you, anyway,” he said, his voice rough with
the truth of it. Their clothes allowed him to keep some shred of control as he
rolled onto his back and lifted her to lie atop him. Her knees slid to either
side of his hips, the first time of countless times to come. He gritted his
teeth against the sharp spike of desire, and ignored the looming pain of
tomorrow.

The first time of countless times. He'd find a way to make that
true.

Grace sat up, straddling him, unbuttoning the first white
button. “Then I guess we should find out exactly what we'll be missing.”

* * *

The chauffeur opened the limousine door.

Grace stayed on the bench seat, out of the way of the open door
and the paparazzi's cameras. Alex stepped out, looking less like Clark Kent and
more like James Bond as he popped his cuffs and buttoned his jacket. Then he
reached a hand into the limousine to assist Sophia Jackson onto the red
carpet.

Her sister had decided to wear white at the last minute. Grace
leaned forward to give the train of the gown a flip as Sophia exited the limo,
so she and Alex looked perfect as they walked up the first shallow steps to the
photographer's area.