She wanted to cheer, to throw her arms around him and kiss him. She hadn’t lost her mind after all! But she was too nervous and excited to do either of those things. Mustering all of her courage, she said, “No it’s not. That’s the solution. It’s all that matters.”
He dipped his head, leaning a little closer. “Jules.”
His warning hung between them, but it was no match for the passion bomb ticking between them, growing hotter with every second. She wasn’t about to walk away that easily. He just needed to get out of his own way and break through those brick walls he’d erected around himself. “Don’t Jules me. We should definitely do it again tomorrow night, and I know just the place.”
His jaw clenched.
She patted those tight muscles and softened her tone. “Just say okay before you crack a tooth.”
“Jules, I don’t want you wasting your time on me. I told you that.”
“I’m a big girl, and I can waste my time on anyone I want. You’re just the lucky recipient. I get off at six tomorrow. Why don’t I swing by the marina and we can take a walk?”
“Christ, you’re stubborn.”
“And you’re not?” she challenged.
He stared at her for a beat, fire blazing in his eyes, the air between them burning. He lowered his face slowly toward hers until his mouth was a whisper away. Oh God. This is it! The kiss she’d been dreaming about. His warm breath coasted over her lips. She should close her eyes, but his stare was so intense, so full of white-hot desire, and her heart was beating so hard, she could do little more than wait for the warm press of his lips.
“Jules,” he said huskily.
“Yes,” sailed out in a long, hot breath.
“What are you doing to me?”
She made an incoherent slur of ridiculously needy sounds. His jaw tightened again, and she was this close to throwing caution to the wind and taking that kiss.
But before she could think it through, he said, “You’d better get out of here before I change my mind.”
He rose to his full height, his piercing stare boring into her, the air between them crackling with electricity. She blinked rapidly, trying to get her brain to function. “Right…” she said softly, and forced herself to act casual, instead of like the wobbly kneed, lustful mess she’d become. “See you tomorrow night, big guy.” Big guy came out low and seductive, and she slipped into her Jeep, a little shakily.
“Drive safe.” He closed the door.
She started the engine, feeling his eyes on her through the windshield. As the haze of lust began to clear, she thought about why he was sending her away. In romance novels, when the heroine stayed after saying she was leaving, the hero never changed his mind. He usually fell head over heels for her. She stole a glance at Grant, and he lifted his chin, his jaw practically wired shut, tension radiating off him.
What are you afraid of, Grant Silver? That if I stay longer, you won’t be able to resist me?
She pulled out of her parking spot and glanced in the rearview mirror as she drove away, watching him watch her, and her hopeful heart grabbed hold of that thought. She began singing to the tune of “Tomorrow.”
The truth’ll come out tomorrow. Tomorrow. Bet your hot little bottom that tomorrow, there’ll be kisses for you and me.
Chapter Seven
JULES HAD BEEN flying high all day knowing she was seeing Grant again tonight, and it was a huge relief not to have to keep everything inside anymore around Bellamy. Jules didn’t tell her how she really felt about him, but at least now Bellamy knew they were hanging out.
She sat at her desk Saturday afternoon reading one of the articles she’d found online about amputees and redeployment. Now that she understood the true magnitude of what Grant had lost in addition to his leg—his brotherhood, his career, his purpose—and how vital they were to his happiness, she wanted to help him find his way back to all of it. She was also looking into charities for veteran amputees, because she did believe that helping others would help Grant’s overall outlook. He had so much to accept with his new situation, it was no wonder he was overwhelmed by it all.
She had been researching on and off since first thing that morning, printing out articles and jotting down contact numbers and other information about charities and various civilian contractors that were similar to Darkbird. She was even looking into the military in case he wanted to go that route, and was surprised and thrilled to read that amputation was no longer a roadblock for soldiers who wanted to be redeployed. Apparently, not many of those who applied were accepted and redeployed, but Grant was strong and determined. If anyone could get through what sounded like a grueling training and complicated, difficult approval process, it was him. She was a bit terrified of the idea of Grant putting himself in danger again, and she hated the idea of him leaving when she was falling for him, but she couldn’t let her own feelings hold her back from helping him.
Despite her misgivings, she was excited to show him all the information she’d found when she saw him tonight.
She sent the article to the printer and sat back, thinking about how badly she’d wanted to kiss him last night. She knew she shouldn’t get all worked up over a man who had his heart set on leaving, but she couldn’t help the way she felt about him. What was the worst that could happen? He’d smile more, she’d get heart palpitations, and maybe if she was lucky, they’d share a few steamy kisses?
Or more…
She wanted more so badly she could taste it.
Her gaze drifted to the painting she’d fished out of his trash when she’d left more goodies on his porch earlier that morning. It was a good thing she’d thought to look for one in his trash bin, because she’d have missed an exceptional painting, so different from the others. He’d painted a soldier dressed in fatigues carrying another soldier over his shoulder. The men, the ground, and the air around them were painted in varying shades of muted greens and grays with thin streaks of black for definition. Behind them fire blazed in shocks of oranges, reds, and yellows. She didn’t know if Grant was supposed to be the man walking or the one hanging lifeless over his shoulder.
She stared at the painting, hoping that one day he’d trust her enough to talk more about the explosion that had changed his life. When she’d gotten home last night, she’d cried thinking about him lying alone on the battlefield, determined to stay alive and terrified out of his mind. Even though he claimed not to have had time to be scared, she knew he’d had to be. Just thinking about it was making her sad again. She looked at the gold arrows on her walls pointing in different directions. She’d hung them there as subtle reminders to chase away bad thoughts and look in a different direction to find a happier place.
She didn’t have to look far. His voice whispered through her mind. I had a hell of a good time. That’s the problem. She wanted to hand him a chisel and a hammer to start chipping away at the walls around his heart.
When the tightening in her chest eased, she looked at the painting again, and it dawned on her that maybe it wasn’t a depiction of war as much as it was a visual representation of the brotherhood he’d left behind. That thought made her sad, too. She wanted to ask him about the meaning behind it because it was so different from the other two paintings, but he didn’t know she’d taken them. Would he be mad? Did he have a right to be mad since he’d thrown them out? Weren’t they fair game at that point?