Trusting Danger (Danger, #2)(60)

Once this case was wrapped up, he’d return to Scranton to deal with the house and its contents. Hopefully by then, he’d be in a better frame of mind.

Grayson glanced at the cardboard box in the passenger seat. Before he’d left his mother’s, he’d grabbed her photo albums, a few framed family photos, and her favorite teapot. Just as he was about to walk through the front door with the box in his arms, he’d turned and gone back for the package of Earl Grey tea she’d liked so much.



His heart in his throat, Grayson pressed the button for Claire’s condo in the foyer of her building. She buzzed him in, and when he stepped off the elevator, he found her standing in her open doorway, waiting for him. Her eyes large and luminous, she said nothing as she drew him inside and gave him a hug.

Wrapping his arms around Claire, Grayson found himself relaxing for the first time in days. He absorbed the warmth of her body as he ran his hands over the softness of her sweater and inhaled the coconut scent of her hair. When Alex entered the living room and came over to greet him, Grayson released her reluctantly.

Gripping his shoulder briefly, Alex said, “Sorry about your mother, Gray.”

“Thanks.”

“When’s the service?”

“We had something small already. Sunday afternoon.”

Alex scanned his face. “Sure you’re ready to come back to work?”

Grayson gazed down at Claire. She was studying him, apparently wondering the same thing. “I’m sure.”

“Okay then. I’ll get my things.” Alex headed for the guest room and returned a minute later, hefting his backpack over his shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Once the door closed behind him, Claire hugged Grayson again. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said against his chest. “It seems like such a trite thing to say, but I really mean it.”

He held her close, accepting her sympathy, and gave himself a moment to soak it up before he stepped out of her embrace.

Claire sat on the sofa, her expression beckoning, and he took a seat on the other end. She said nothing for a moment, just letting him be, which was so unusual for a woman. The females he knew normally peppered him with questions, determined to examine him from the inside out, but not this woman.

No, Claire was unique, and he found himself appreciating her gentle acceptance more and more.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Claire shifted her body toward him and drew one bare foot beneath herself, facing him. The casualness of her position was so open, so welcoming, Grayson found himself opening up to Claire without her even saying a word.

“It was so hard,” he said, “watching Mom die. She wasn’t conscious by the time I got there, so I never got to say good-bye.” His breathing hitched, and he took a moment to compose himself. “She dictated a letter to me that my aunt wrote up, but I can’t bring myself to read it.”

Claire reached out and laid a hand on his knee. “You will when the time is right.”

Grayson shook his head. “She should have been able to say what she wanted to in person. I should have been there.”

“Maybe it was easier for her to express her feelings in a letter.”

Grayson considered that. He and his mother had been close and he’d loved her, but he’d always kept a slight emotional distance from her, just like he had from everyone else. His aversion to loss, his fear of being hurt again as he had been after his father’s death, had dictated the shallow depth of his relationships for as long as he could remember.

“I’m so sorry,” Claire whispered.

When she shifted closer and leaned against his chest, Grayson closed his eyes. Her compassion was going to be his undoing. He shouldn’t be taking comfort from her, but what else was he supposed to do when it felt so good, so right?

He opened his eyes and dropped his gaze to her lips. Bad move. Now all he wanted to do was taste them.

Move away before it’s too late.

But he couldn’t. His arms and legs wouldn’t cooperate. And his hands—they seemed to have a will of their own. They threaded through Claire’s hair, angling her face upward.

His mouth met lips just as soft and warm as he’d imagined. Desire shot through him, jolting him with its intensity.

Does she even want this?

When Grayson forced himself to pull back, Claire let out a groan of protest.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was completely unprof—”

But before he could finish, Claire was kissing him.

This time, Grayson grabbed her wrists as he leaned back. “We can’t.” He released her and stood. “I’ll be in the guest room.”

“Wait.” Claire’s eyes were wide with confusion as she rose from the couch. “You weren’t doing anything I didn’t want you to do.”

Not wanting to meet her gaze, Grayson focused on the delicate dip at the base of her throat. Why couldn’t she make this easier? Why couldn’t she be mad at him again?

I need to call Alex back. Ask him to stay after all.

“Please, Grayson.”

He looked into her eyes. If the softly spoken plea wasn’t enough to convince him, her look of yearning was. She reached out her hand and Grayson had no choice but to take it.

Claire’s delicate fingers wrapped around his as she led the way down the hall. Even after they entered her bedroom, Grayson tried to come up with the words that would put a stop to this, but his desire for her overpowered any kind of logic.