An Unforgettable Lady (An Unforgettable Lady #1)(67)

As Smith shut the door to his room, he felt like an idiot. A stupid idiot.

A vision of her in that goddamn silk robe taunted him with what he had been denied.

That Walker and she were together at this very moment was—

He was having trouble finding the right words.

Jesus.

And he'd thought getting through dinner was bad? Being cooped up in a room across the hall from the bed she was putting to good use was intolerable.

He disarmed himself with jerky motions, thinking the last thing he needed was to be anywhere near a gun.

What he needed was air.

Using the door at the end of the hall, he went out and walked around on the terrace until he had a full view of the ocean. Hearing the waves and feeling the cool, damp air on his face, he took a couple of deep breaths while trying to remember when he'd felt so out of control.

It had been awhile.

He'd had a damn fine stretch of being on top of his game until he'd met Grace. Courtesy of destiny's vicious little whim, he was feeling a lot of things, but in control wasn't one of them. He was frustrated. Horny as hell. Juiced up with aggression.

Smith braced his hands against the railing and leaned forward. Staring off into a dark, star-studded horizon, he realized he was searching for some kind of answer in the night sky and this surprised him. He typically wasn't one for moments of reflection and the yearning he felt was as unfamiliar as the ache in his chest.

Turning away from the silent heavens, he faced the house, only to realize he was standing outside Grace's bedroom. Through the glass, he saw her talking with Jack and then he watched her step into the other man's arms.

Pain ripped through him, sleek and cold.

His first instinct was to tear down the door and rip the two of them apart. To keep from acting on the impulse, he reached behind and gripped the cool wood of the railing until his palms burned.

When she lifted her head from Jack Walker's shoulder and met the man's eyes, Smith absorbed the image like it was a stain. With terrible clarity, he saw her body arching toward Walker's, her blond hair tumbling in waves down her back, her arms reaching up and coming to rest around the man's shoulders.

Walker stroked her face and then slowly bent down toward her lips.

Smith wheeled away, heading back to his room.

He didn't want to see any more for fear of what his reaction might be.





chapter

16





Early the next morning, Grace went to the gardens looking for a little peace of mind. As she wandered among the flower beds that had been prepared for the coming winter, she remembered what they looked like in full bloom. Planted in a studied manner, the tea roses and the foxgloves, the peonies and the lilies, the many hybrids that her father had enjoyed cultivating, all of them blossomed into a great profusion of color and life in the summer months.

As she continued down the lawn, the sound of the ocean grew more insistent. Overhead, a few gulls surfed high above the water as the dawn's rays fanned out across the pale blue sky. It was chilly and she was glad she'd put on a thick sweater.

At the edge of the property, overlooking the drop to the sea, there was a shingled bathhouse, white-trimmed, green roofed. It had a shallow porch with two white wicker chairs on it and she sat down in one, hearing the weave creak as her weight was accepted in the seat. She kicked off her flats and stretched out her legs so that her heels rested on the railing.

Wiggling her toes at the arriving sun, she watched as a gull shifted direction and came in for a smooth landing,a couple of yards away. She was about to tell him she wasn't a good bet if he was looking for breakfast when she realized she wasn't alone.

Grace shifted in the chair and saw Smith standing at the other edge of the property under the arms of an old maple tree. He was leaning up against the trunk and staring out at the ocean. She wondered how he knew she'd left the house. She'd been so quiet.

Figuring she had nothing to lose, she got out of the chair and walked over to him. When he didn't acknowledge her approach, she was tempted to leave him alone.

"Hi." She wasn't surprised when all he did was nod at her. Wearing a black T-shirt under his leather jacket and a pair of well-washed jeans, he was very handsome in the morning light, in a hard and remote kind of way.

"You know, Jack is just a friend," she blurted.

He frowned. "Who you sleep with is none of my business."

"I'm not—" When he shot her a look of disbelief, she let out an exasperated breath. "You know, I feel pretty asinine defending myself over something I haven't done."

When he didn't reply, frustration got the best of her. "Come on, John. Why don't you just admit you're upset? And while we're at it, why can't we talk about what's happening between us? "

He sounded disinterested when he answered her. "Unless you want to alter the terms of our employment agreement, there's nothing to say about us."

"Jack is not my lover. Last night—"

He cut her off with a harsh laugh. "This may come as a royal surprise, Countess, but the world doesn't revolve around you. You may have an interest in rehashing your nocturnal exploits but I find the subject boring."

He looked back out to the ocean.

Maybe she was going about this the wrong way, she thought.