Lawman (26 page)

 

G
ARON WAS ALLOWED
in to see Grace, but only for a couple of minutes. She was white as a sheet, but her breathing was steadier and the blip on the monitor was fairly regular. He brushed back her hair, loving the softness of it, the quiet beauty of her face.

As if she sensed his presence, her gray eyes opened and she looked at him, a little blankly.

“You're going to be all right,” he said softly. “Very soon, I'm going to take you home.”

Her lips tugged into a faint smile before she closed her eyes and went back to sleep. Garon touched his finger to her dry lips, loving just the sight of her.

He went back out into the waiting room feeling more optimistic. The fear was still there, but he'd deal with it. He stopped when he saw six men surrounding Cash. They were colleagues from the San Antonio office, all except one—who was the former leader of their Hostage Rescue Unit. His heart felt lighter as they came to greet him, asking about Grace and offering help. He had to choke back overflowing emotion. He really did work with the best group in the world.

 

G
RACE IMPROVED DAILY
. They had her up and walking the day after surgery. It horrified Garon, but they insisted that this was what had to be done in order for her to recuperate and, more importantly, not develop a respiratory infection to go with the side effects of the surgery.

Garon walked her down to the nursery with painful slowness. He pushed the pole where her IVs hung. She held on to his arm and felt lighter than air, despite her ordeal.

They stopped at the nursery and the nurse held up little Tory for them to see. Garon didn't know it, but Cash had snapped several photos of him holding the little boy and shown them to Grace. If she had any doubts about his feelings for his son, the photos erased them. Grace was fascinated by his love for the child.

“He looks like you,” Grace whispered, in tears as she saw her child for the first time. “He's beautiful.”

“Like his mama,” he whispered, and bent to brush his mouth over her dry lips with breathless tenderness. “Thank you for risking so much to bring our son into the world.”

“You gave him to me,” she replied, her eyes full of softness.

He kissed her hair. “I've given you a hard time, Grace. I'm glad I'll have the opportunity to make it up to you.”

She gave him a wry look. “Penance, is it?”

He smiled. “In spades.”

“That sounds interesting.”

He nibbled her lower lip. “When you're back to yourself, in about two months or so, we'll explore some sensual pathways together.”

His wicked tone amused her and she giggled like a girl. “You stop that,” she told him firmly. “Right now it's all I can do to walk. They did split me right down the middle, you know, and I'm going to have even more scars now than I did to start with.”

He grinned. “I like your scars. They're sexy.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Well!”

“We've got the whole world, Grace,” he added, glancing back into the window of the nursery, where their child lay sleeping. “The whole wide world.”

She smiled. “Yes.” And she slid her hand trustingly into his.

 

T
HEIR FIRST
C
HRISTMAS
together was the most wondrous of Grace's entire life. Garon went out and got a tree, brought it home and had several of the wives of his ranch hands decorate it for him. The result was a delightful triangle of color and light. The baby could focus now, and he seemed to find the lights fascinating. He lay in Grace's arms, making baby sounds that fascinated both his parents.

“It's just beautiful,” Grace remarked, smiling up at him. “It's the nicest tree I've ever had.”

He nodded, eyeing it. “My dad wasn't keen on celebrations, but our stepmother liked to decorate them. I never took to her. After dad found her out and divorced her, our housekeeper started making Christmas special for us. I've always loved Christmas trees.”

“Me, too,” Grace replied. “I had to fight Granny to put one up every year, but I got my way.”

They were watching television together. Garon had been hard at work, trying to nab a new drug smuggler who'd set up shop locally. He'd formed a task force, and Marquez was on this one, too. The two men had settled their differences and seemed to be getting along well. Rick came by to see the baby from time to time, but he always brought Barbara. He didn't want to alienate Garon, apparently.

The news contained a feature about a new line of dolls that had broken sales records everywhere, and Grace watched it raptly. It was about a new line of handmade cloth dolls, called “The Mouse Family.” There were male and female mice, and baby mice. There was a line of clothing for them, and even a candy named after them. They were selling like hotcakes. Every child seemed to want one for Christmas. They'd sold out everywhere. Grace grinned as she watched the screen.

At the end, they mentioned that the dolls were the creation of a hometown Texas girl, Mrs. Grace Grier, of Jacobsville, Texas.

Garon had almost passed out when he finally found out what her secret project actually was. She'd sold the rights to the mouse dolls even before they married, and she'd done prototypes of all the outfits that would go with them. Nobody had expected them to sell this fast. Well, the agent for the department store that Grace had written to, enclosing a sample mouse doll, had expected it. He had great faith in Grace's sewing ability, and the dolls were really cute. He'd spent weeks lobbying for presentations, and he'd managed to convince the toy buyers for a huge department chain that they would be the newest fad and make a fortune. He'd been right. Grace was going to be very rich.

“I thought I knew you, when we married,” Garon remarked with a chuckle. “I didn't have a clue what you were really like.”

“I told you I wasn't domestic,” she pointed out.

“That's why we have Miss Turner, baby,” he said softly, smiling down at her. “You just go right ahead and make dolls.”

“I only make the prototypes,” she reminded him.

“They have a whole department of workers making the dolls. It's getting harder, too, because they really are selling out everywhere.”

“Which reminds me. Carlson would love it if you'd make a white mouse for his daughter's birthday. A special one, with big blue eyes.”

She grinned. “He can certainly have one. You'll have to take care of Tory while I'm working on it.”

He grinned back. “That isn't a chore.”

“You've turned into a very good father,” she pointed out.

“I'm not, yet. But I'm working on it.”

“I have something for you, by the way, after I put Tory to sleep for the night.”

“For me?” he asked, puzzled.

“Don't bother guessing. I'm not saying. Not yet, anyway.”

“Does it have anything to do with roses?”

She pursed her lips. “Not quite. Help me up, would you?”

He eased her up from the sofa, with Tory in her arms. Her chest incision had healed, but it was still just a little sore. It had been impossible for her to breast feed the baby, which was a disappointment. But it also meant that Garon got to give the baby his bottle, and he loved it. She was over six weeks past her surgery and improving daily.

“I'll be back soon,” she told Garon.

 

A
CTUALLY SHE WASN'T
. He got involved in a movie while Miss Turner closed up the kitchen and went to a gospel singing with Barbara. The house was quiet.

Just as grenades started blowing things up on screen, a shadow fell over the television. He looked to one side and his eyes bulged. There was Grace, her long blond hair almost to her waist now, her slender body encased in a pink satin gown that was held up by tiny spaghetti straps. She looked young and very sexy.

“What are you up to, Mrs. Grier?” he asked. She was raising his blood pressure, and the doctor hadn't said anything about letting her resume intimate activities.

She grinned. “You said you thought my scars were sexy, didn't you?”

He nodded. His heart was racing at the sight of her, because those straps let the gown sink almost to her nipples in front. She had beautiful breasts…

“If you really think the scars are sexy,” she said in a husky tone, “why don't you come to bed with me, and prove it?”

 

H
E HADN'T REALIZED
he was capable of carrying a woman down the hall and putting her in bed in such a short space of seconds.

“You're sure it's all right?” he asked, but he was already stripping off the pretty gown, to reveal a body that made every muscle in him go taut.

“It's all right,” she assured him.

He was out of his own clothing in a flash, and beside her on the clean white sheets. He threw the comforter off the side without even looking at where it landed. “Your chest must still be sore.”

“It is,” she agreed, loving the feel of his mouth on her own, on her shoulders and then, on the soft rise of her breasts. She moaned. “Be inventive,” she whispered.

He eased her onto her side. His mouth found hers. His hands slid up and down the soft skin of her hips and thighs while his lips played havoc with her senses.

It was like the first time. He didn't hurry, despite the need that made him shiver every time his skin brushed against hers. He seduced her, in the most tender way he knew, and brought her slowly to such a pitch of desire that she pushed against him with anguish.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he whispered as he moved her up just enough to accommodate the slow, vibrant thrust of his body. “Yes. That's it.”

They were lying side by side. She moaned, wishing that she could feel his weight.

“I want that, too, Grace,” he whispered into her mouth, “but it's too soon. I don't want to hurt you.”

“It isn't hurting,” she whispered back. Her eyes closed as he pulled her hips roughly against his and began to fill her in a slow, deep rhythm that echoed their rapid heartbeats.

She pushed closer into her husband's arms and pleaded with him to ravish her.

She thought she heard a husky chuckle, but the spiral was already beginning. It took them both higher and higher, into a vivid red heat that stopped breath, sight, hearing, everything except the feverish union of their bodies. Seconds later, she cried out in delight and arched against him with her last bit of strength. She felt him shudder, heard him whisper her name over and over again as he, too, found completion.

A long time later, he propped himself on an elbow and looked down at Grace, who was sprawled on her back. She gave him a breathless grin.

“Now tell me you only married me because I got pregnant,” she dared him, chuckling.

“Okay, you win, I married you for great sex,” he agreed.

“And?” she prompted.

“And your apple cake,” he added. “And to learn how you grow roses twice as big as mine. So why did you marry me?”

She tweaked his hair and smiled up into his dark, dark eyes. “I married you because I loved you,” she said softly, “because you were the only man I was ever able to want.”

“Thank God for that,” he whispered. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I gave you a difficult time.”

She put her finger over his lips. “We're happily married with a new baby,” she reminded him. “All that other stuff is gone.”

He sighed. “At least you won't ever have to worry about Sheldon again.”

She nodded. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, just at hearing his name. “That therapist I'm seeing is really good. She's helping me cope with the memories.”

He smiled. “If today is an example, she's really helping you a lot.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “It wasn't that.”

His eyebrows arched. “Then what was it?”

“You had your shirt off while you were watching TV,” she replied, her eyes on his broad chest. “You shameless man. I really can't resist you when you're half naked.”

“I feel exactly the same way about you,” he agreed, and kissed her again.

She glanced at the baby monitor. Its light was on, but she only heard soft breathing. “I'm glad we got that,” she pointed to it. “Otherwise, I'd never sleep.”

“Neither would I.” He brushed back her hair. “Are you happy?”

She smiled. “I could die of it.”

He kissed her eyelids tenderly, remembering how he'd done that just before they wheeled her into surgery. “When Tory is old enough to go to school, I want you to come to work for me.”

“Doing what?”

“As a translator,” he said. “You might not realize it, but Arabic is one language not a lot of agents can speak. You'd be an asset.”