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She licked her lips nervously. "Is there something wrong?"
His voice was deep and husky. "I wanted to make sure you were okay before I went to bed."
"I'm fine." When he didn't leave, she pulled the towel up a little higher and tucked the loose end in. She couldn't see his face clearly but sensed there was something upsetting him.
She frowned. "Are you okay?"
He pushed a hand through his hair. "No, I’m goddamn not."
"What's the problem?"
"I want to make love. With you. Now."
Grace sucked in her breath as words exploded out of him.
"I know I really screwed up this morning. I’m inexperienced at this whole—" He moved his hand back and forth as if he were searching for the right word. "Man-woman thing. It's a goddamn nightmare. I’m pissed off at myself and have spent all night dreaming up apologies that are like something out of a goddamn soap opera. I’m wondering where in the hell my logic's gone, I can't get rid of this ache in my chest, and if there was a way to go back to this morning and do it over again I would. Every time I close my eyes, I see you naked in my arms, looking up at me with trust in your eyes and I want to put my hand through a wall."
He started pacing. "It's driving me crazy. I’m driving me crazy. Christ, there's got to be an easier way than this. How the hell do people put up with this confusion when they finally meet someone who matters? It's like being thrown into a cave without a goddamn light. I’ve never felt so fuck-frigging disorientated in my life and, let me tell you, I’ve been in some pretty hairy messes before."
Speechless, Grace watched him as he continued to talk. She'd never heard him say more than a couple of sentences at any one time and he'd certainly never been so candid about his feelings.
"This is awful. I feel bad. You feel bad. All I want to do is hold you in my arms. I don't know what's happening to me. I only know that I want you and I wish I hadn't hurt you. And..."
He took a deep breath as he rambled to a halt.
Grace shook her head and smiled ruefully. "That's quite a mouthful."
"Well, I thought about it over dinner."
"Obviously."
It was hard not to forgive him when he seemed so sincerely at odds with himself and she could feel her body warming. But she reminded herself that even though he'd apologized for what had happened, it wasn't as if he was promising to stay in her life after the job was over.
They had tonight, though, she thought. And tomorrow morning. After he left, she was only going to have her memories.
"Come here," she said, holding out her arms.
His eyes widened, as if she'd done the unexpected, and his body threw off waves of intensity as he stepped forward. She put her hand on his chest. The warmth of him came through his shirt and she could feel his heart beating under her palm.
"I'm glad you told me all that."
His eyes closed, as if he were reliving the disappointment he felt with himself.
"You've got to believe me, the last thing I want to do is hurt you,"
Grace lifted her lips for his kiss and pulled his head down. His mouth was soft on hers, a surprisingly gentle brush, and she felt him take her left hand into his.
"Will you take off those rings tonight? " he asked.
She didn't hesitate. With careless movements, she removed her sapphire and diamonds and tossed them onto the marble counter.
John picked her up and carried her to her bed. When he put her down and laid on top of her, bracing his powerful arms on either side of her body, she felt anticipation flow through her veins like a drug. As his mouth took hers, she surrendered to the desire.
* * *
Grace was sound asleep in John's arms when the phone began to ring at six-thirty the next morning. "When it started in on a third course, she picked up the receiver.
"Where have you been?" her mother demanded before Grace had time to squeeze out a hello. "And why didn't you answer the phone last night?"
"Was that you?" Grace sat up, pushing her hair out of her face.
John stirred and moved with her, keeping his arm around her waist. She was relieved he didn't leave right away.
"Of course it was me," her mother snapped. "I thought you might appreciate knowing that I took care of your little problem. I spent most of last evening entertaining phone calls from Cameron Brast. In the middle of my party, I might add."
Grace grimaced. Brast was the publisher of one of New York's rags.
Her mother went on. "The picture of that Smith man with his arms around you will not be appearing in the papers this morning. It took all my powers of persuasion to block its publication and, courtesy of your indiscretion, I am now indebted to that odious little Brast man."
