Grayson's Vow

I shook my head. "I can't, Kimberly. I'll take one look at him and crumble, and the things he said to me . . . the things he may have done . . . I can't crumble." Grayson knew my Achilles heel and had targeted it in the most cutting way possible. Since you've been gone, I've come to the conclusion I like more of a variety of women than marriage vows dictate. I've sampled quite a few recently. You were okay, but since you, I've had better. I felt a sharp, painful pinch in the vicinity of my heart as his words came back to me. I moved away from the window so I wouldn't have to look at him out there. "Plus, the things I did. I plotted and schemed and—"

"Yes, you came up with the mother of Very Bad Ideas, and you're just lucky you didn't tell me about it in advance because I would have tied you up rather than let you go through with it. But also, Kira, you may very well have exposed two of the most corrupt political figures in recent history—ones who would have eventually ruined more lives. I'm proud of you."

I let out a long sigh. "Priscilla did all the hard work. But anyway, Grayson won't necessarily see it the way you do."

"Well, along with the rest of America, he already knows about what happened, and he figured out it was your plan. And he's still sitting out there like a pathetic wet . . . bird or something."

"Dragon," I corrected bleakly. "And he may just want to strangle me. What did he say to you exactly when he came to your apartment?"

"Things you need to hear," she said gently. Things that had obviously swayed her enough to give him the address where I was staying. I felt my resolve give way just a fraction.

We both froze when we heard scrabbling of some sort on the side of Sharon's duplex. I sucked in a breath, my eyes widening. Suddenly, the creaking groan of an old window sliding up filled the silence.

"Someone's breaking in," Kimberly whispered. "My phone's downstairs." We both ran out into the hallway and let out small screams when we glanced in the open doorway of the room at the end of the hall and saw someone pulling himself through the window. He was caught on the frame by . . . wings. I stopped mid-stride, letting out a loud whoosh of relieved air.

"Grayson," I breathed, moving to stand in the large doorway.

"What the—?" Kimberly asked loudly, from right behind me just as he hurled his body through the window, landing on the floor in a loud, wet thud. He groaned, rubbing his arm as he came up on his knees.

He caught sight of me standing motionless, gawking at him and he lurched to his feet. "Kira," he rasped, a puddle forming under his feet. The flare of yearning in his dark eyes made my stomach clench.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my eyes raking over him. His grayish blue T-shirt was plastered to his chest, showing each muscular dip and groove, and his jeans clung to his strong thighs. I swallowed. He looked so incredibly beautiful standing there, even drenched as he was, wet wings hanging limply behind him.

Grayson ran his hand through his hair, slicking it back away from his forehead. He caught something at his chest and I turned my head, realizing Kimberly had tossed him a towel. "I'll just . . . be downstairs," she said. I nodded, pressing my lips together and looking back to Grayson to find him running the towel over his head. He slipped the wings off, rubbed the towel on his shirt, and then ran it over his legs, finally bending to mop up the puddle beneath him. My eyes followed each movement.

When he came up to his full height again, we stared at each other across the room for several tense moments. Finally, he said softly, "As I was sitting out there in the rain, I thought to myself, what would Kira do right now? She would do something. She would come up with a plan. It wouldn't be like her just to sit here and wait for things to play out as they may. She would gather all her courage, and she would try, even if it seemed all hope was lost. And I thought about how much I want to be as brave as you."

Oh. I shifted on my feet, fighting not to crumble immediately. "And so you scaled the side of the building and broke into Sharon's house?"

He shrugged, giving me a lopsided smile. "Breaking and entering was the best thing I could come up with at the time." He cleared his throat. "It's actually plan B, though. See, initially my plan wasn't so good. I was going to lecture you on the dangers of what you'd done and make some suggestions about your . . . impulsive ideas. So," he reached in his pocket and pulled out a wet, folded up piece of paper, "I made a list of pros and cons." I let out a small half laugh/half snort, and he shot me a hopeful glance as he carefully unfolded the paper, taking care not to rip it. "I wrote about your spirit, your compassion, and your kindness. But I also wrote about all the ways you make me crazy and bring me to the very edge of sanity." He turned the note upside down and right side up again. "But then I couldn't remember what were pros and what were cons, because they all come together to make you and I wouldn't want to change a single thing."

"Oh," I breathed, hanging on by a thread to the no-crumble pledge. "Well," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, "well, it . . . it worked, I suppose, plan B, that is. So it wasn't the worst of plans as far as plans go." I shifted my eyes away from him, biting on my lip for a moment. "But what exactly is it you were trying to accomplish? Now that you're in front of me, what do you want, Grayson?" I cleared my throat, knowing the way my voice cracked on his name gave away my shaky emotions and the underlying hope I was trying so hard to deny.