CHAPTER 6
Grace was fighting with the garland hanging from the chandelier when she heard the knock on the door. Blowing a curl out of her eyes, she descended the ladder to answer. Her parents and younger siblings had decided to visit Grandma Rose for the weekend. She, however, had felt the need for solitude and managed to get out of going with them. Living with Aunt Millie for so long she had learned to love the times when she was completely alone. Especially in the last few months before returning to New York. She didn't know of anyone who would be stopping by.
She definitely didn't expect to see Joey Doherty when she opened the door.
She hadn't talked to him in several weeks, since the night of the ballet. When he'd tried to kiss her. And she'd panicked and slammed the door in his face. She'd been careful that they were never alone on the few occasions they'd been at the same place. While she'd not spoken to him, he'd never been far from her thoughts, which didn't exactly set well with her.
"Hi."
Grace remained silent, neither opening the door wider to invite him in nor closing it. A cold gust of wind sent her further behind the door seeking warmth.
"Can I come in?" He was hunched down into his coat, his bag hanging over his shoulder.
She almost refused. But common sense won out. He didn't look like he was going to leave without talking to her and standing with the front door open in twenty degree weather wasn't going to accomplish anything. Silently, almost hesitantly, she opened the door allowing him entrance.
Joe looked at the mounds of boxes scattered about the usually spotless foyer. What was she doing?
Grace caught his expression. "Excuse the mess."
"What is going on?" He asked, following her in the front room where they'd waited the night of the ballet. The "Morning Room."
Wanting to help out at home since she wasn't working, Grace had undertaken the day-long plus task of taking down and packing up the Christmas decorations throughout the Boscorelli home. A feat in itself when being done by one person. "Taking down the Christmas decorations."
She stood beside the ladder occupying the center of the room, one hand on the upper rungs. "Are you here for any particular reason?"
Joe tried to contain his grin. And failed. You couldn't accuse Grace of beating around the bush. When she wanted to know something, she didn't waste time. "I came to see you." Uncomfortable, she shifted her stance, glancing at the floor and back at him. "Why?"
It was Joe's turn to be uncomfortable. He'd been haunted by the night of the ballet. When he tried to kiss her and she'd rushed off - almost terrified at the action. In some way, he felt he owed her an apology. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know I was a bit forward the night of the ballet and -."
"I'm fine," she interrupted, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. She'd thought way too much of Joey Doherty since that night anyway. "Are you finished?"
Joe wasn't so sure about the 'fine' part. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"
Yes. "No, I just have a lot of work to get done before everyone gets back tomorrow."
He looked around, focusing on the ladder obviously in use. "You're the only one here?"
"Yes."
"And you're climbing on that thing?" He indicated the tall ladder.
"Yes."
"Grace!" He couldn't believe this. What if something happened?
"What?" What was he getting so testy over?
"What if you fell?"
"I'm not going to fall," she said rolling her eyes and ushering him toward the door. She wasn't incapable of climbing a ladder. She wasn't wild about climbing a ladder either; she preferred to stay on the ground but sometimes you didn't get what you wanted.
"And you know this how?" Joe asked sarcastically, following her to the foyer. He looked around. No way was Grace going to get all this done by herself. And no way was she getting back on that ladder when she was alone in the house. He could just see her falling and getting hurt. Or worse. "You want some help?"
Grace paused in the act of opening the front door for him. She would love help. Would she love help from Joey Doherty? How long was she going to get to think on that one? She glanced back at him. He did have a point about the ladder. "You want to stay here and help me put away Christmas decorations?"
Though it was phrased as a question, Joe heard the sarcasm in her tone. He grinned. He wasn't leaving if she was getting back on that ladder and he made sure she knew it. "Sure."
She closed the door and started back to the morning room. She wasted enough time arguing with him. She had better things to do. If he wanted to stay, let him. She strolled to the ladder and started up again. Only this time, eager to prove him wrong, she went a little too quickly and ended up tripping on one of the rungs, narrowly catching herself from sliding - or falling- down.
'Okay, that did it,' She heard before feeling a strong arm circle her waist and lift her clear of the ladder, before setting her down on the oriental carpet.
She whirled to face Joe, who was at present, hovering over her. "Don't you tell me what I can and cannot do, I-"
"I don't want to tell your parents that you were killed because you were too stubborn to let me help you!" He roared back at her. The image of her losing her balance on the ladder was still fresh in his mind - complete with an ending of her laying unconscious in the remains of the antique coffee table setting next to the base of the ladder. He got control of his temper before continuing, "I'll do any ladder climbing that needs to be done. You keep your feet on the ground, got it?"
Stunned, Grace nodded. What just happened? She held the ladder steady as Joe started up.
"Oh, and Grace?"
She looked up. He was grinning again.
He glanced at her tiny, bare feet. " Put some socks on - it's twenty degrees outside; you're going to get sick."
Unable to think of a proper comeback, she stuck her tongue out at him, which earned her nothing more than that irritable grin of his.
They worked all day, various music keeping them company, exchanging questions and answers about what went where. After continuously 'suggesting' she put on socks, she explained she didn't like to wear socks or shoes when she was in the house. She hadn't always been like that but once she got used to it, she couldn't go back. Besides, she'd never gotten sick before from running around barefoot, so it wasn't likely to start now - so, shut -up about it.
On his last trip up to the attic with a box, he saw light coming from the end of the hall. The ballroom, he thought, remembering Grace's reference to it when he followed her up to the attic earlier. Closing the door to the attic, he went to investigate. And see if that's where Grace disappeared to.
Joe stood half-hidden in the doorway. It wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't stayed in the shadows. Gracie was so lost in the music, she would have had to collide with him to see him.
This was a Gracie he'd not seen. So this was how she expressed herself, he thought. She looked beautiful. Except for the demons haunting her.
Her eyes held an anger and sadness that reflected the words in the music.
**-What is - what is this- this mess of my existence-**
He wasn't sure how long he stood watching her dance. She didn't dance just one style he noted. Instead, she used several - ballet, hip hop, belly dancing and others Joe didn't know about. If someone else had done what Gracie did, Joe didn't think it would look the same but Gracie made it flow; made it part of her that mesmerized.
The music ended. Grace held her final pose: head thrown back, arms outspread, back curved at an impossible angle which only an experienced dancer could obtain. Straightening, she stared at herself in the mirror lining the bigger part of a wall before moving to the CD player.
"How long have you been there?" She asked, seeing him leaning against the door frame. She hadn't danced before anyone in years. The fact that Joey might have seen her set her on edge. She had just stopped to pick up some other CDs before heading downstairs. However, the stereo was programmed to sound through the entire house and this - one of her favorite songs came on - and she thought she might work out a little of that nervousness that had been present since Joey lifted her off the ladder earlier that day. She never expected him to search her out. Or to see her.
He shrugged. "A few minutes."
Joey watched her pick up a few CDS from the enormous collection of music lining one corner before leading him out of the ballroom-turned dance studio. Until he'd seen her dancing, Joey hadn't realized she had such talent. He remembered she liked to dance; had even taken lessons. All the Boscorelli children, Jackson included, had taken dance classes. "I see you've kept up the dancing. You're good."
Grace frowned at him. She had tried to give it up, thinking it was something to be left with her childhood. She loved it though. The interpretation of music, reflecting one person's thoughts and feelings at any given time: playful, joyous, enticing, angry, graceful. The music may be the same but the interpretation never was. "I didn't 'keep it up' as you put it. I just dance for exercise sometimes."
"Sure," he snorted, following her down the hall. "And I do my job for the big paycheck."
Grace got the distinct feeling he was laughing at her. She never could lie. But the truth was even harder for her to understand. Had she really been so eager to please? Had she really felt such desperation to be someone else's vision of ideal? How had she lost herself?
"I mean it, Grace. You're good."
He wasn't teasing her or making snide remarks. Or insinuating she be anything than what she was. He wasn't looking at her differently even though he knew, it seemed, everything about her. "Thank you."
Feeling gracious for his help, Grace offered dinner to Joey in thanks for his help. Sitting at the island in the kitchen, Joey finally had the chance to ask her about the huge, old house.
"It was Mrs. Grayson's," she explained setting out plates as they waited for the pizza to arrive. "It was built at the turn of the 20th century. It was very modern at the time - indoor plumbing, electric lights. Of course, the kitchen was updated and the electric and plumbing modernized over the years. It's very rare that you find a home in it's original state like this; usually they've been demolished or turned into apartments."
"But how did you're family end up with it?" he asked, knowing it was really none of his business but he was curious. "I mean working for the city doesn't exactly bring in the big bucks."
Setting out glasses and utensils, Grace continued, "Oh, we're really very blessed there. You see, the home was always in the Grayson family, passed down for generations. And the Grayson family was very, very wealthy. The Depression was really nothing for them. Anyway,-"
"So, you all got in good with Mrs. Grayson and got the house," Joey stated firmly.
Grace grinned. "Well, I suppose you could put it that way. Mrs. Grayson - Elenor Grayson -didn't have any living relatives to leave the house to when she passed. She and MaMa attended church together when MaMa first came to the city. Mrs. Grayson and MaMa formed an attachment, I guess you could say. MaMa loved Mrs. Grayson - we all did. We didn't know she was leaving her estate to us. So, when MaMa and Daddy were notified, they initially denied taking the estate. They only did it when they found out that the house would be demolished if we didn't take it - that was a stipulation in the will. It was after the papers were signed that we were told that there was a trust to take care of the expense of upkeep or changes that would need to be done. As long as the house stayed in the family, the house is ours at basically no expense."
"So you basically had your home given to you?" Joe asked, trying to comprehend the tale she'd just told.
Hearing the doorbell, she picked up the money from the counter. "I guess if you want to look at it like that. MaMa said we were outgrowing the apartment after Jackson came, so it was really God providing for us."
Jaoe was still shaking his head at the matter-of-fact attitude Grace portrayed at her tale when she returned with the pizza. Gathering the dishes she set out earlier, he followed her through another door to another room. This one not so authentically correct to the time period of the house as the other rooms. The family room. A fluffy sectional sofa sat against one wall facing a large television/entertainment center. A small wet bar had been installed to his left.
"I thought you might be more comfortable in here," she said, turning on a lamp. "The dining room is kind of formal."
Setting the dishes down on the coffee table, next to the pizza, Joe made himself comfortable a suitable distance from Grace.
She flipped on the television, finding a classic movie to occupy them while they ate.
Over the next few hours, they devoured the pizza and watched the Titanic sink - again. Joe wasn't sure how it happened but Grace ended up stretched out on the sofa under a chenille throw - she had finally gotten cold. Her head, cushioned by a small throw pillow, resting on his lap. She was sound asleep.
Unwilling to wake her just yet, Joe rested his head against the back of the sofa, reflecting on the Grace he'd seen today. She was obstinate, stubborn and so very vulnerable about something. She was downright loveable.
****************************
Grace became aware of the incredible heat under her cheek and not really a morning person, she was hesitant to open her eyes and face the day. The sound of a second breath brought her to full consciousness to see Joey Doherty's full profile, entirely too close to her face. She was partially laying on his chest, his arm wrapped around her comfortably. Too comfortably.
She thought she could manage to extricate herself from his embrace without waking him and head to her room. It briefly crossed her mind what she must look like, maybe she would have time to make herself presentable - somewhat. And get him out of the house.
"Grace?"
She hesitated, hearing his sleep-laden voice calling to her. She half- turned.
"Be right back. There's a bath just past the library if you -" she broke off, realizing what she was saying and how it sounded, and fled before he responded.
It occurred to her halfway up the back staircase, to look down and check her state of dress. She had slept soundly last night. She didn't remember dropping off. Joey Doherty wouldn't dare -? No. He wouldn't take advantage of her, that much she knew.
She ran a brush through her disheveled hair and brushed her teeth and hurried back downstairs. She would have to shower later - after Joey was gone. She couldn't look any worse than what he'd already seen. What was she supposed to say? She'd spent the night with Joey Doherty! Well, not *spent* the night but spent the night with him. This was a mess.
She looked around the kitchen, spying the coffee pot next to the sink. Coffee! She thought. She needed coffee! She needed a lot more than coffee - she needed -
"Morning."
She whirled at his soft-spoken greeting. And stared.
Evidently, fifteen minutes was more than enough time for Joey Doherty to shower and look - , Grace swallowed to moisten her dry throat. - yummy. Bare chested, barefoot, bark hair wet and curling and clad in jeans, he leaned against the island where they had talked the night before, arms crossed in front of him.
"Morning," she murmured, turning back to the task at hand. Coffee, she thought, they needed coffee. She tried to separate the coffee filters without success.
"Grace."
She felt him close behind her and refused to turn. This was a situation she thought she'd never find herself in. What was she supposed to say?
"Grace," he repeated, physically turning her around to face him, keeping his hands on her hips. She still wore the satin pyjamas she'd changed into last night. "Nothing happened."
She nodded, heart pounding, unable to make eye contact. He was standing mere inches from her. The slightest movement would bring them into bodily contact. "I know."
"Then why won't you look at me?" He persisted, nudging her chin up, forcing her dark eyes to meet his gaze.
It was the undoing. Of both of them.
Joe saw the anticipation in her eyes. Her lips parted either in unconscious invitation or because her breath increased or both. He felt the coolness of her hands come up between them as if to push him away instead of just lightly resting on his bare chest.
Grace looked at where her hands had come to rest on his chest. She had done it initially to keep some distance between them. What she hadn't counted on was the heat that emanated from his body. His touching her had been stupid; she felt vividly where his hands rested on her hips. Her touching him had been even more stupid. She met his gaze again.
He was going to kiss her, she thought frantically. Even more surprising for her was the realization that she wanted him to. So very much.
He lowered his head and ever so lightly brushed his lips against her lips. Encouraged when her head tilted back, eyes closing, he tempted her again with a feather light kiss. Her head fell further back and a sigh of frustration sounded from the back of her throat when he pulled back slightly. Now was not the time to do this. However much he wanted to. He made to straighten and pull away.
Grace, frustrated with his teasing and damning the consequences for the moment, snaked a hand around his neck firmly bringing his lips to hers.
Neither heard the door open.
"What the hell is going on?"
Grace was fighting with the garland hanging from the chandelier when she heard the knock on the door. Blowing a curl out of her eyes, she descended the ladder to answer. Her parents and younger siblings had decided to visit Grandma Rose for the weekend. She, however, had felt the need for solitude and managed to get out of going with them. Living with Aunt Millie for so long she had learned to love the times when she was completely alone. Especially in the last few months before returning to New York. She didn't know of anyone who would be stopping by.
She definitely didn't expect to see Joey Doherty when she opened the door.
She hadn't talked to him in several weeks, since the night of the ballet. When he'd tried to kiss her. And she'd panicked and slammed the door in his face. She'd been careful that they were never alone on the few occasions they'd been at the same place. While she'd not spoken to him, he'd never been far from her thoughts, which didn't exactly set well with her.
"Hi."
Grace remained silent, neither opening the door wider to invite him in nor closing it. A cold gust of wind sent her further behind the door seeking warmth.
"Can I come in?" He was hunched down into his coat, his bag hanging over his shoulder.
She almost refused. But common sense won out. He didn't look like he was going to leave without talking to her and standing with the front door open in twenty degree weather wasn't going to accomplish anything. Silently, almost hesitantly, she opened the door allowing him entrance.
Joe looked at the mounds of boxes scattered about the usually spotless foyer. What was she doing?
Grace caught his expression. "Excuse the mess."
"What is going on?" He asked, following her in the front room where they'd waited the night of the ballet. The "Morning Room."
Wanting to help out at home since she wasn't working, Grace had undertaken the day-long plus task of taking down and packing up the Christmas decorations throughout the Boscorelli home. A feat in itself when being done by one person. "Taking down the Christmas decorations."
She stood beside the ladder occupying the center of the room, one hand on the upper rungs. "Are you here for any particular reason?"
Joe tried to contain his grin. And failed. You couldn't accuse Grace of beating around the bush. When she wanted to know something, she didn't waste time. "I came to see you." Uncomfortable, she shifted her stance, glancing at the floor and back at him. "Why?"
It was Joe's turn to be uncomfortable. He'd been haunted by the night of the ballet. When he tried to kiss her and she'd rushed off - almost terrified at the action. In some way, he felt he owed her an apology. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know I was a bit forward the night of the ballet and -."
"I'm fine," she interrupted, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. She'd thought way too much of Joey Doherty since that night anyway. "Are you finished?"
Joe wasn't so sure about the 'fine' part. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"
Yes. "No, I just have a lot of work to get done before everyone gets back tomorrow."
He looked around, focusing on the ladder obviously in use. "You're the only one here?"
"Yes."
"And you're climbing on that thing?" He indicated the tall ladder.
"Yes."
"Grace!" He couldn't believe this. What if something happened?
"What?" What was he getting so testy over?
"What if you fell?"
"I'm not going to fall," she said rolling her eyes and ushering him toward the door. She wasn't incapable of climbing a ladder. She wasn't wild about climbing a ladder either; she preferred to stay on the ground but sometimes you didn't get what you wanted.
"And you know this how?" Joe asked sarcastically, following her to the foyer. He looked around. No way was Grace going to get all this done by herself. And no way was she getting back on that ladder when she was alone in the house. He could just see her falling and getting hurt. Or worse. "You want some help?"
Grace paused in the act of opening the front door for him. She would love help. Would she love help from Joey Doherty? How long was she going to get to think on that one? She glanced back at him. He did have a point about the ladder. "You want to stay here and help me put away Christmas decorations?"
Though it was phrased as a question, Joe heard the sarcasm in her tone. He grinned. He wasn't leaving if she was getting back on that ladder and he made sure she knew it. "Sure."
She closed the door and started back to the morning room. She wasted enough time arguing with him. She had better things to do. If he wanted to stay, let him. She strolled to the ladder and started up again. Only this time, eager to prove him wrong, she went a little too quickly and ended up tripping on one of the rungs, narrowly catching herself from sliding - or falling- down.
'Okay, that did it,' She heard before feeling a strong arm circle her waist and lift her clear of the ladder, before setting her down on the oriental carpet.
She whirled to face Joe, who was at present, hovering over her. "Don't you tell me what I can and cannot do, I-"
"I don't want to tell your parents that you were killed because you were too stubborn to let me help you!" He roared back at her. The image of her losing her balance on the ladder was still fresh in his mind - complete with an ending of her laying unconscious in the remains of the antique coffee table setting next to the base of the ladder. He got control of his temper before continuing, "I'll do any ladder climbing that needs to be done. You keep your feet on the ground, got it?"
Stunned, Grace nodded. What just happened? She held the ladder steady as Joe started up.
"Oh, and Grace?"
She looked up. He was grinning again.
He glanced at her tiny, bare feet. " Put some socks on - it's twenty degrees outside; you're going to get sick."
Unable to think of a proper comeback, she stuck her tongue out at him, which earned her nothing more than that irritable grin of his.
They worked all day, various music keeping them company, exchanging questions and answers about what went where. After continuously 'suggesting' she put on socks, she explained she didn't like to wear socks or shoes when she was in the house. She hadn't always been like that but once she got used to it, she couldn't go back. Besides, she'd never gotten sick before from running around barefoot, so it wasn't likely to start now - so, shut -up about it.
On his last trip up to the attic with a box, he saw light coming from the end of the hall. The ballroom, he thought, remembering Grace's reference to it when he followed her up to the attic earlier. Closing the door to the attic, he went to investigate. And see if that's where Grace disappeared to.
Joe stood half-hidden in the doorway. It wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't stayed in the shadows. Gracie was so lost in the music, she would have had to collide with him to see him.
This was a Gracie he'd not seen. So this was how she expressed herself, he thought. She looked beautiful. Except for the demons haunting her.
Her eyes held an anger and sadness that reflected the words in the music.
**-What is - what is this- this mess of my existence-**
He wasn't sure how long he stood watching her dance. She didn't dance just one style he noted. Instead, she used several - ballet, hip hop, belly dancing and others Joe didn't know about. If someone else had done what Gracie did, Joe didn't think it would look the same but Gracie made it flow; made it part of her that mesmerized.
The music ended. Grace held her final pose: head thrown back, arms outspread, back curved at an impossible angle which only an experienced dancer could obtain. Straightening, she stared at herself in the mirror lining the bigger part of a wall before moving to the CD player.
"How long have you been there?" She asked, seeing him leaning against the door frame. She hadn't danced before anyone in years. The fact that Joey might have seen her set her on edge. She had just stopped to pick up some other CDs before heading downstairs. However, the stereo was programmed to sound through the entire house and this - one of her favorite songs came on - and she thought she might work out a little of that nervousness that had been present since Joey lifted her off the ladder earlier that day. She never expected him to search her out. Or to see her.
He shrugged. "A few minutes."
Joey watched her pick up a few CDS from the enormous collection of music lining one corner before leading him out of the ballroom-turned dance studio. Until he'd seen her dancing, Joey hadn't realized she had such talent. He remembered she liked to dance; had even taken lessons. All the Boscorelli children, Jackson included, had taken dance classes. "I see you've kept up the dancing. You're good."
Grace frowned at him. She had tried to give it up, thinking it was something to be left with her childhood. She loved it though. The interpretation of music, reflecting one person's thoughts and feelings at any given time: playful, joyous, enticing, angry, graceful. The music may be the same but the interpretation never was. "I didn't 'keep it up' as you put it. I just dance for exercise sometimes."
"Sure," he snorted, following her down the hall. "And I do my job for the big paycheck."
Grace got the distinct feeling he was laughing at her. She never could lie. But the truth was even harder for her to understand. Had she really been so eager to please? Had she really felt such desperation to be someone else's vision of ideal? How had she lost herself?
"I mean it, Grace. You're good."
He wasn't teasing her or making snide remarks. Or insinuating she be anything than what she was. He wasn't looking at her differently even though he knew, it seemed, everything about her. "Thank you."
Feeling gracious for his help, Grace offered dinner to Joey in thanks for his help. Sitting at the island in the kitchen, Joey finally had the chance to ask her about the huge, old house.
"It was Mrs. Grayson's," she explained setting out plates as they waited for the pizza to arrive. "It was built at the turn of the 20th century. It was very modern at the time - indoor plumbing, electric lights. Of course, the kitchen was updated and the electric and plumbing modernized over the years. It's very rare that you find a home in it's original state like this; usually they've been demolished or turned into apartments."
"But how did you're family end up with it?" he asked, knowing it was really none of his business but he was curious. "I mean working for the city doesn't exactly bring in the big bucks."
Setting out glasses and utensils, Grace continued, "Oh, we're really very blessed there. You see, the home was always in the Grayson family, passed down for generations. And the Grayson family was very, very wealthy. The Depression was really nothing for them. Anyway,-"
"So, you all got in good with Mrs. Grayson and got the house," Joey stated firmly.
Grace grinned. "Well, I suppose you could put it that way. Mrs. Grayson - Elenor Grayson -didn't have any living relatives to leave the house to when she passed. She and MaMa attended church together when MaMa first came to the city. Mrs. Grayson and MaMa formed an attachment, I guess you could say. MaMa loved Mrs. Grayson - we all did. We didn't know she was leaving her estate to us. So, when MaMa and Daddy were notified, they initially denied taking the estate. They only did it when they found out that the house would be demolished if we didn't take it - that was a stipulation in the will. It was after the papers were signed that we were told that there was a trust to take care of the expense of upkeep or changes that would need to be done. As long as the house stayed in the family, the house is ours at basically no expense."
"So you basically had your home given to you?" Joe asked, trying to comprehend the tale she'd just told.
Hearing the doorbell, she picked up the money from the counter. "I guess if you want to look at it like that. MaMa said we were outgrowing the apartment after Jackson came, so it was really God providing for us."
Jaoe was still shaking his head at the matter-of-fact attitude Grace portrayed at her tale when she returned with the pizza. Gathering the dishes she set out earlier, he followed her through another door to another room. This one not so authentically correct to the time period of the house as the other rooms. The family room. A fluffy sectional sofa sat against one wall facing a large television/entertainment center. A small wet bar had been installed to his left.
"I thought you might be more comfortable in here," she said, turning on a lamp. "The dining room is kind of formal."
Setting the dishes down on the coffee table, next to the pizza, Joe made himself comfortable a suitable distance from Grace.
She flipped on the television, finding a classic movie to occupy them while they ate.
Over the next few hours, they devoured the pizza and watched the Titanic sink - again. Joe wasn't sure how it happened but Grace ended up stretched out on the sofa under a chenille throw - she had finally gotten cold. Her head, cushioned by a small throw pillow, resting on his lap. She was sound asleep.
Unwilling to wake her just yet, Joe rested his head against the back of the sofa, reflecting on the Grace he'd seen today. She was obstinate, stubborn and so very vulnerable about something. She was downright loveable.
****************************
Grace became aware of the incredible heat under her cheek and not really a morning person, she was hesitant to open her eyes and face the day. The sound of a second breath brought her to full consciousness to see Joey Doherty's full profile, entirely too close to her face. She was partially laying on his chest, his arm wrapped around her comfortably. Too comfortably.
She thought she could manage to extricate herself from his embrace without waking him and head to her room. It briefly crossed her mind what she must look like, maybe she would have time to make herself presentable - somewhat. And get him out of the house.
"Grace?"
She hesitated, hearing his sleep-laden voice calling to her. She half- turned.
"Be right back. There's a bath just past the library if you -" she broke off, realizing what she was saying and how it sounded, and fled before he responded.
It occurred to her halfway up the back staircase, to look down and check her state of dress. She had slept soundly last night. She didn't remember dropping off. Joey Doherty wouldn't dare -? No. He wouldn't take advantage of her, that much she knew.
She ran a brush through her disheveled hair and brushed her teeth and hurried back downstairs. She would have to shower later - after Joey was gone. She couldn't look any worse than what he'd already seen. What was she supposed to say? She'd spent the night with Joey Doherty! Well, not *spent* the night but spent the night with him. This was a mess.
She looked around the kitchen, spying the coffee pot next to the sink. Coffee! She thought. She needed coffee! She needed a lot more than coffee - she needed -
"Morning."
She whirled at his soft-spoken greeting. And stared.
Evidently, fifteen minutes was more than enough time for Joey Doherty to shower and look - , Grace swallowed to moisten her dry throat. - yummy. Bare chested, barefoot, bark hair wet and curling and clad in jeans, he leaned against the island where they had talked the night before, arms crossed in front of him.
"Morning," she murmured, turning back to the task at hand. Coffee, she thought, they needed coffee. She tried to separate the coffee filters without success.
"Grace."
She felt him close behind her and refused to turn. This was a situation she thought she'd never find herself in. What was she supposed to say?
"Grace," he repeated, physically turning her around to face him, keeping his hands on her hips. She still wore the satin pyjamas she'd changed into last night. "Nothing happened."
She nodded, heart pounding, unable to make eye contact. He was standing mere inches from her. The slightest movement would bring them into bodily contact. "I know."
"Then why won't you look at me?" He persisted, nudging her chin up, forcing her dark eyes to meet his gaze.
It was the undoing. Of both of them.
Joe saw the anticipation in her eyes. Her lips parted either in unconscious invitation or because her breath increased or both. He felt the coolness of her hands come up between them as if to push him away instead of just lightly resting on his bare chest.
Grace looked at where her hands had come to rest on his chest. She had done it initially to keep some distance between them. What she hadn't counted on was the heat that emanated from his body. His touching her had been stupid; she felt vividly where his hands rested on her hips. Her touching him had been even more stupid. She met his gaze again.
He was going to kiss her, she thought frantically. Even more surprising for her was the realization that she wanted him to. So very much.
He lowered his head and ever so lightly brushed his lips against her lips. Encouraged when her head tilted back, eyes closing, he tempted her again with a feather light kiss. Her head fell further back and a sigh of frustration sounded from the back of her throat when he pulled back slightly. Now was not the time to do this. However much he wanted to. He made to straighten and pull away.
Grace, frustrated with his teasing and damning the consequences for the moment, snaked a hand around his neck firmly bringing his lips to hers.
Neither heard the door open.
"What the hell is going on?"
