An Unforgettable Lady

But when he didn't stop, she panicked because the struggle reminded her of Ranulf.

She didn't blame Smith for leaving in a foul mood.

Throwing the covers back, Grace got out of bed and picked up his white shirt. She didn't want him to think she'd pulled back because she hadn't wanted him. She might have lost her nerve temporarily but not her desire for him.

Pulling on a bathrobe, she left her bedroom and found him in his room, sitting on the chaise lounge by the window. He looked up from the book he was reading the instant she appeared at the door. His expression was totally closed.

"Are you skipping the run this morning?" he asked briskly.

She nodded as a gust of wind pushed the rain against the windows and the water landed in a pattern of sound.

"I—ah, I brought your shirt back." She put it on one of the beds and cleared her throat. "Listen, about last night—"

He snapped the book shut and stared out at the gray morning. "I owe you an apology."

Grace frowned. "What are you talking about?"

He shot her a dry look. "Aside from the fact that I never should have put us in that position, I didn't let you go when I should have. I didn't know you wanted to stop. The only excuse I can offer is that I don't usually get that... preoccupied."

Her mouth slacked in surprise. She'd expected him to be mad because he hadn't gotten what he'd wanted. That had certainly been the first response of her father and Ranulf.

Smith's eyes were hooded as he cut her off before she could speak.

"I didn't mean to scare you. And don't deny it," he said when she shook her head and opened her mouth. “I know what I saw in your eyes last night. It was fear."

"But I want you to know why I couldn't—"

"It's none of my business and, to be honest, I don't want to hear the whys. They're not relevant. The last thing you need is to be afraid in your own house. Of me.”

"I'm not threatened by you." Grace's voice was earnest.

He considered her thoughtfully but then shook his head.

"Even if that's true, it doesn't matter." Smith reopened the book. "Let me know when the shower's free."

"John..." He looked up with a dark expression. "I didn't pull away because I don't want you."

"Frankly, I wish that was the reason."

She frowned. " But why?"

He didn't reply. Instead, his eyes returned to the book.

Grace had no choice but to leave him. There was so much more to be said but she knew he wouldn't talk anymore.

* * *

When they reached the Hall Building, after a long, quiet ride through traffic, Grace paused to talk to some people in the atrium while Smith went over and checked in with the security officer on duty.

"Is that the consultant?" one of the staff whispered while nodding over at Smith.

So word had gotten around, Grace thought as she nodded.

"He looks a little ... hard for an OD guy."

"He's a specialist," she said, hoping the subject would drop.

"I'll bet he is," another woman chimed in while looking Smith up and down.

Grace was in a bad mood when she got into the elevator with him.

As soon as it was just the two of them, he said, "Why are you looking like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like in your mind you've got your hands around someone's throat."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Sure you do."

The elevator doors opened on her floor and she shot him a challenging look. "Do you really want to keep going with this? Because as I recall, this morning you were the one with the closed mouth."

Smith gave her a lazy smile as they walked down the hall.

"Touched" he said softly as they came up to Kat's desk and the girl looked up.

"Senator Bradford called," she said to Grace. She glanced at Smith warily, as if she expected him to walk right by her again. "She wanted to remind you to come to the Plaza on Friday. Seven p.m. Black-tie."

"Thanks. I'll be there with bells on."

"Morning, Kat," Smith said casually.

"Good morning." The girl's eyes flared.

"How was the IT guy?"

"Er—he was actually kind of okay." A tentative smile appeared. "He likes baseball, too, and, ah, I might go out again with him."

"Make sure he pays for dinner."

Her eyes bounced around a little, as if she was flustered by the attention. "Hey—do you need something? Coffee?"

"Coffee'd be great, thanks. Black."

After Grace and Smith walked into her office, he went over to the conference table and sat down, opening the files he'd spent days poring over. As he began to make notes, she knew he was deliberately avoiding the look of approval she was sending him.