Treacherous (The Wolf Pack Series) (10 page)

“Thank you, Sterl,” Celeste murmured. “I appreciate that.”

“And I appreciate you,” he said sincerely. “You’ve made our sons the happiest boys in the world tonight. They’ve always wanted to attend a Falcons game, and now you’ve made it possible. So thank you.”

Her expression grew tender. “You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for our children.”

“I know. You’re a good mother, sweetheart. Michael and Marcus love you, and so do I.”

She gazed at him, her eyes shimmering with moisture. “I love you too, baby.

I’m sorry for the hurtful things I said the other day. I was speaking out of frustration—”

“We both were,” Sterling gently interrupted. “In hindsight, I wish I’d handled the whole situation differently. I should have told you up front that we didn’t have enough money to cover the application fee. I apologize for keeping you in the dark like that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Celeste said vehemently. “
I’m
the one who should apologize for putting that kind of pressure on you.”

“It’s all right.” He hesitated. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about finding the right time for you to go back to school. Maybe we can start planning for the spring semester—”

Celeste’s eyes brightened with hope. “You really mean that?” He nodded. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but as my grandmother always says, ‘Where there’s a will, the Lord will make a way.’ So whenever you’re ready, we can set aside some time and start exploring our options. How does that sound?”

“It sounds wonderful,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Sterling said quietly, echoing her own words.

“I’d do anything for you, sweetheart.”

She shook her head, tears shining in her eyes. “I don’t deserve you. You’re too good—”

She broke off as he suddenly pushed back his chair and stood. She stared up at him as he rounded the table to reach her side. When he held out his hand to her, she placed her palm in his. He pulled her gently to her feet, then lifted her into his arms.

As he started from the kitchen, Celeste murmured half protestingly, “We didn’t clear the dishes from the table.”

“Let the boys take care of them when they get back.” Sterling winked at her.

“
We’ve
got more important business to tend to.”

***

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Celeste glanced up from the course catalog she’d been perusing to watch as Grant walked into the nurse’s lounge dressed in a white shirt, gray tie, and black slacks. Her pulse quickened at the sight of him. She hadn’t seen him since the morning they’d made love in his office four days ago.

And he was right. She
had
been avoiding him. She couldn’t face him after what they’d done. She could barely look at herself in the mirror every day.

Her mouth went dry as she watched him pull out a chair at the table, turn it around and smoothly straddle it. When he smiled at her, her treacherous heart skipped several beats.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he repeated softly.

“No, I haven’t,” she lied. “It’s the first week of school, so I switched shifts with another nurse so that I could be home in the afternoons when Marcus gets back.”

Grant’s eyes glinted. “Fair enough. How have you been?”

“Fine.” Another lie. “And you?”

“Lousy. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her belly quivered. Blushing deeply, she shot a furtive glance toward the doorway. “We shouldn’t be talking like this. Someone could walk in at any moment.”

“I know. Which is why I came to ask you to meet me for coffee when your shift’s over.”

She was already shaking her head. “I can’t. I need to be there when Marcus gets home.”

“Doesn’t he have a key to let himself in?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.”

Grant leaned across the table, pinning her with his intense emerald gaze.

“Ten minutes, Celeste. All I’m asking for is ten minutes of your time so we can talk in private.”

She bit her lip, wavering. “I really shouldn’t.”

“Please,” he coaxed gently.

She swallowed hard, looking toward the doorway again. She could hear the phone ringing at the nurses’ station down the hallway, could hear the slap of crepe-soled shoes against linoleum as her colleagues went from room to room checking on patients and dispensing medications.

She glanced down at her watch. Twelve more minutes until her break was over.

She lifted her head, forcing herself to meet Grant’s imploring gaze. “I really can’t. I’m sorry.”

A look of disappointment swept over his face. Slowly he leaned back, staring down at his hands clasped over the back of the chair. Her mind conjured an image of his hand gripping a scalpel as he carved a perfect incision into a patient’s skull. A moment later she remembered that very same hand snaking between her thighs as he slid his fingers inside her.

It was enough to bring a hot, wanton flush to her body.

“You’re still having second thoughts about what happened between us,” Grant said quietly, searching her face.

“Of course,” she whispered. “It was a mistake.”

“Was it?” he challenged. “Or is that what you’ve been telling yourself because you’re too afraid to admit how much you actually enjoyed being with me?” Heat flooded her face. Without answering him, she closed the course catalog she’d been studying and shoved it inside her tote bag with trembling hands.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Grant murmured tauntingly.

Her temper flared. “What do you want from me?” she hissed at him. “I’m married with children. I have
everything
to lose. What about you?” He gazed deeply at her. “I’ve already lost the only thing that matters, Celeste.”

“What?”

“My heart.”

She let out a soft gasp, staring at him.

“I love you,” he said in an achingly husky voice. “I want to be with you more than anything in the world.”

Oh, God.
She closed her eyes, fighting back tears of anguish mingled with undeniable joy. How many times had she fantasized about hearing such a passionate declaration from him? How many times had she secretly yearned to run away with him? To start a new life with him, free of guilt or shame?

“I know how difficult this has been for you,” Grant continued, low and urgent.

“I know you have a family to consider, and you have to weigh the consequences of any decision you make. But—” He broke off abruptly as another nurse entered the lounge, cheerfully humming Blondie’s hit song, “Call Me.” Seeing Celeste and Grant at the table, she grinned playfully. “Hey, you two.

That looks like a mighty serious convo you’re having over there.” Thinking fast, Celeste reached inside the tote bag on her lap, pulled out a notepad, and blurted, “Dr. Rutherford was about to go over his preference cards with me. I’ll be assisting him with a craniotomy later this week.”

“So you were talking about work?” The tall, blue-eyed brunette wrinkled her nose in disappointment. “Too bad. I was hoping you were swapping juicy gossip about some brewing scandal or another. Guess I’ve been watching too much
General Hospital
.”

Celeste and Grant shared a tense chuckle.

“Anyway, don’t mind me,” Theresa said lightly, opening the microwave door.

“I’m just gonna make some popcorn, then I’ll be out of your way.” For the next four minutes, Celeste pretended to take copious notes as Grant dictated to her what he wanted in his operating room for the fabricated surgery.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Theresa stealing curious glances at them. It was all Celeste could do not to jump up from the table and flee the room. Becoming fodder for gossip and speculation was the absolute
last
thing she needed. If any of her colleagues found out that she was having an affair with Grant, she’d not only lose her good reputation. She could also lose her job.

After an agonizing eternity, the microwave oven dinged. Theresa carefully removed the bag of popcorn and opened it, releasing a cloud of fragrant, buttery steam.

She turned, shaking the bag at Celeste and Grant. “Want some?”

“No, thanks,” they politely declined.

“Suit yourself.” Flashing a grin at them, she popped a fluffy kernel into her mouth and left the lounge.

After a lengthy silence, Celeste exhaled a deep, shaky breath and set down the pen she’d been gripping tight enough to sever the circulation to her fingers.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered faintly. “I’m not cut out for lying and sneaking around. That’s not who I am.”

“I know,” Grant murmured, keeping his voice low just in case Theresa was loitering near the doorway. “And I don’t want to turn you into that person, believe me. But sooner or later you’re gonna have to make a decision about us.” Celeste swallowed with difficulty. “I know. I just—” She was interrupted by the sound of his pager beeping. As he grimaced and reached for the device, she couldn’t help reflecting on the irony of her loving two men whose professions frequently pulled them away from her at a moment’s notice. One of them saved lives. The other sought justice for those whose lives had been taken.

Returning the pager to the waistband of his pants, Grant said apologetically, “I have to go scrub in for surgery.” His lips curved wryly. “Turns out I really
am
performing a craniotomy this week.”

Celeste smiled at the reference to the fib she’d told Theresa. “Good luck,” she said as she and Grant rose from the table together. “Not that you really need it.”

“That’s not true. I could always use good luck.” He smiled at her. “I’m leaving for Minnesota tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Her tone was deliberately casual. “Business or pleasure?”

“Business. The head of neurosurgery at the Mayo Clinic has been courting me for months, inviting me to come for a visit to tour the facilities.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve got a few days off, so I finally decided to take him up on his offer.”

Celeste went still, staring at him. “You’re not considering accepting a position there, are you?” she asked, her heart plummeting at the thought of him leaving Atlanta. Leaving her.

“I guess it depends,” he said slowly.

“On what?”

He held her gaze. “On whether I have a compelling enough reason to stay here.”

She swallowed tightly, receiving the message loud and clear.

He touched her cheek, a gossamer caress that sent shivers up and down her spine. “I’ll see you when I return in a few days,” he murmured.

Celeste nodded wordlessly.

As she stared after his retreating back, she wondered how she’d be able to let him walk out of her life, when she could scarcely bear to watch him leave a room.

One week later, Celeste was awakened from a deep slumber by the sound of the doorbell.

She groaned, opening a bleary eye to glare at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was 12:34 p.m. She’d worked a double shift the day before to cover for a sick colleague, so she’d been trying to catch up on her sleep ever since she got home that morning.

When the doorbell rang again, she seriously considered ignoring it. It could be one of those annoying door-to-door salesmen, or a Jehovah’s Witness. But then she remembered that Mama Wolf often liked to send them surprise gifts through the mail. If that was the postman at the front door, and he left the package on the porch, there was no guarantee that it would still be there when Celeste woke up in a few hours.

With another deep groan, she dragged herself out of bed, threw on her pink satin robe, and trudged downstairs to answer the door. But when she squinted through the peephole, it wasn’t the mailman, or a salesman, or a religious zealot seeking converts.

It was the last person on earth she’d expected to see on her doorstep.

It was Grant.

A shocked jolt went through her, zapping all traces of fatigue from her body.

She hastily combed her fingers through her disheveled hair and blew into her cupped palms, checking her breath. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she raced upstairs to the bathroom and rinsed out her mouth with a capful of Listerine.

Satisfied that her appearance—and oral hygiene—passed muster, she dashed back downstairs and quickly opened the front door to stare incredulously at Grant.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.

He smiled slowly, peering down at her over the rim of his dark sunglasses.

“Hello to you, too.”

Poking her head out the door, Celeste swept a quick glance up and down the street. “Where’s your car?”

“I parked a few houses away and walked.”

“Thank God.” She grabbed his arm and yanked him inside the house, then slammed the door.

Grant tucked his hands into his jeans pockets, looking sheepish. “I know I should have called first—”

“No,” Celeste interrupted, “you shouldn’t have come here at all. Do you have
any
idea what could happen if one of my neighbors saw you walking up to my house in broad daylight?
Do you
?”

He grimaced at her shrill tone. “I’m sorry for taking such a huge risk, but I had to see you.”

She heaved an exasperated breath. “What could be so urgent that it couldn’t wait another—”

“I’m leaving Atlanta, Celeste.”

The air whooshed out of her lungs as if he’d punched her in the stomach.

Stunned, she gaped at him. “W-what did you just say?” There was an excited gleam in his eyes. “I’ve accepted a position in the Mayo Clinic’s neurosurgery department. They’re doing some groundbreaking things over there, and I want to be part of it.”

“I see.” Celeste scraped a trembling hand through her hair. “Well…I guess congratulations are in order.”

Grant’s expression softened. He took a step toward her. “Celeste—”