An Unforgettable Lady

She was convinced Smith was beginning to care for her. It was the only explanation for his behavior toward Jack. And she knew damn well how she was feeling about him. The fact that they couldn't just admit what was between them upset her the most.

Sitting down on her bed, she saw the panic button and picked it up, resenting the reminder of the real reason John was in her life. She was finding it difficult to separate her feelings for him from the reality that he worked for her. And would be leaving, perhaps some day soon. She couldn't imagine what it would be like not to see him. Even when he was frustrating the hell out of her, she wanted him around.

When a soft knock sounded, she threw the little black box down onto the pillow and straightened her clothes.

"Yes?"

When John came in, she stood up, surprised.

"This won't take long," he said, shutting the door and leaning back against it. His expression was remote.

She offered him a lopsided grin, pleased that he'd come and found her. "Don't worry if it does. It's not like I had any big plans before breakfast."

"Listen, I'm sorry I lost it down there," he said gruffly.

"What I said was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. I should've just kept my mouth shut."

“I don't think that's the best strategy." She tucked a pillow into her arms and looked at her tumbled sheets and blankets. Evidence of her deepening relationship with insomnia, she thought. "I don't know if I can keep living under this pressure."

She heard him release a long breath, like he was switching topics in his head. “I don't blame you. I promise, the police are going to find whoever killed those women—”

"No. I'm talking about you. About us." She glanced up. “I don't like what just happened. I don't like turning into such an angry person. But being around you with so much left unsaid and unexplained is tearing me up. Frankly, I think it's tearing us both up."

He crossed his arms over his chest. The stance, she thought, was so typical of him.

"John, we can't ignore what's happening between us. And don't you dare tell me that it's nothing. Last night, you looked like you wanted to kill Jack when he came through that door."

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." He shifted his weight impatiently and she got the impression he was anxious to leave.

Exasperation tightened her voice. "John—"

" Look, in spite of what I said down there, it's none of my business who you sleep—what you do in your personal life."

"You can say the words, but I don't know if I believe them."

For once, Smith was the one looking away. Pushing his hands deep into his pockets, he seemed to be debating within himself. When he finally spoke, the words came out rigidly.

"I watched him kiss you. I was out on the terrace."

Grace frowned. "I don't know what you think you saw. But Jack has never kissed me anywhere except on the cheek."

He started shaking his head, as if he was frustrated with himself. "Dammit, we shouldn't even be having this conversation."

He made a move for the door.

"John, we need to talk about this. Don't go."

"I have to."

"What are you so afraid of?" she whispered fiercely.

"You."

It was the last thing she expected him to say.

"But why? You must know how I feel about you." She squeezed the pillow. "I think I’m falling in love with you."

"Jesus Christ." He pushed his hand through his hair.

She winced. "Not exactly the response I was hoping for. When the next woman springs that declaration on you, you might try for something a little less like a reprimand."

"This is precisely what I wanted to avoid," he said under his breath.

"Why?” she demanded. "What's so wrong about me loving you?"

He waved away her words. "First of all, you don't love me."

Grace frowned. "Don't tell me what I feel."

"You're in danger. You're in the middle of a divorce. Right now, you're vulnerable. If we had met under different circumstances, you never would have gotten emotionally attached."

"How dare you!" She tossed the pillow aside and got off the bed.

"It's the truth," he said darkly. "And when I'm gone, you'll realize it, too."

"Who the hell made you an expert on my emotions?"

"The sooner you recognize the reality of the situation, the better off we're both going to be."

She shook her head vehemently.

"I refuse to let you reduce my feelings—my heart," she pounded her chest, "to some kind of—of rebound theory."

"It's not a theory," he said, holding her eyes harshly. "This has happened to me before. You're not the first client to think they were in love with me, Grace."