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Nice frigging simile, he thought.
While he was cursing Eddie and his candor, Grace appeared in his doorway. She was wearing one of those nightgowns that hung from her delicate shoulders like a cloud of mist, the kind he could almost, but not quite, see through. His eyes traced the outline of her hips and waist and traveled up to her breasts.
"What is it?" he asked roughly.
"We're all set for tomorrow?”
"Yeah."
Silence stretched between them and Smith could feel the air change as their eyes met. Time began to melt. Slow down. Halt altogether.
He went over to her, thinking there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her.
Even if that meant leaving.
He reached out to touch her, his fingers brushing across her collarbone and continuing downward over silk and lace. He came to a stop at the low point of the gown's bodice, right over her heart. He felt it pounding.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her body against his and put his lips down to hers. She let out a long sigh which he swallowed, better than air, into his lungs.
He lifted her from the ground and carried her to his bed. Pausing before lying down with her, he drank in the sight of her head thrown to one side, her back arched, her hair spilling over the fine fabric of the pillowcase. It was how he had wanted to see her, those many days and weeks ago when she'd first showed him her home. It would be how he would remember her always.
An unforgettable lady.
Wrenching off his shirt, he felt her hands come hungrily to his skin and he shuddered as she explored his chest and stomach. His need to be in her was so great, he felt his own hands shake as he slid the nightgown from her body and tore off the rest of his clothes. He pleasured her over and over again with his mouth before he entered her in a powerful thrust that carried them to another world.
After he came back to reality, he rolled over, taking her with him so that Grace was sprawled over his body.
"I will never be free of you," he whispered against the sweat-covered skin of her neck.
"Promise?" she asked huskily.
He nodded, feeling cursed.
Because he knew he had to leave.
Rolling over again, he tucked her into his side.
As she fell asleep, he thought it wasn't right to torture them both by delaying the inevitable. The sooner the transition was made, the better; he would ask Tiny to come right away.
And as for their long-term future, after the danger to her was gone, he didn't think it was fair of him to bring it back into her life. She deserved a normal existence, with normal trials and tribulations. She didn't need to be exposed to the kind of baggage he dragged around with him. The last thing she should have to deal with would be some madman showing up with a gun in her bedroom, ready to shoot her lover in the head.
When he was sure she was sleeping, he slipped out of bed, picked up his phone, and went into the living room. He wasn't going to wait for Tiny to call.
His oldest friend was the best man he had at Black Watch, almost as good as Smith himself. Actually better, in this case, because the guy would be coming at the situation with a clear head as well as a strong body.
If he could trust Grace with anyone, it would be Tiny.
As soon as the man's voice came through, Smith said, "What are you doing right now?”
Tiny laughed. "I'm up to my balls in spiders, to tell you the truth. God, I hate these tropical details. There's always something crawling into your clothes, only it's rarely of the feminine persuasion."
"I need you to take over a project."
"When?"
"Now," Smith said gruffly.
"Sorry, what?"
"Now."
Tiny let out a little hiss. "Jesus, you're bailing on the countess. What the hell'd that woman do to you?"
Smith let that one fall by the wayside. "When can you be here?"
"Ah—I'll see what I can do. Does this mean you'll be free to cover Senator Pryne on his trip to the Middle East? Flat Top was going to do it, but he'd be better down here."
"If you can get to New York, I'll go."
"Good deal. I'll call you tomorrow with my ETA."
Smith clipped the phone shut.
He stared ahead without really seeing anything. It was a while before he realized he was staring at the piano.
He walked over to it. Anytime he'd run across one, he'd made a point of playing if he could. They'd been few and far between while he was in the Army, but once he was out, he'd played in hotel lounges, in private homes, the occasional bar.
He raised his hands and looked at them. They had been trained to do many things, few of which were uplifting.
The playing had come naturally, though.
* * *
Grace came awake the moment she heard the music. It was soft and low, powerful yet quiet.
She picked her nightgown off the floor, slipped it over her head, and went out to the hall. She paused before going into the living room, entranced by the sounds but afraid if John knew she was listening he might stop playing. Leaning against the wall, turning her head to the sound, she closed her eyes. He was good. Better than good.
