have inflicted a life of celibacy on Nina, either.
Maybe the guilt was muted by something more than a different perspective. Because, after the way she had reacted last night, it seemed that going any further down that path was very unlikely?
The more he thought about it, the more his curiosity about Grace was intensifying.
She had felt the same level of need, he knew she had. She had responded to that kiss in a way that had inflamed that desire to a mind-blowing height.
And then she’d flinched as though he had caused her physical pain.
Why?
It wasn’t really any of his business but curiosity was becoming a need to know.
Because, as unlikely as it was, could the small part he had played in Grace’s life in the past somehow have contributed to whatever it was?
A ridiculous notion but, if nothing else, it seemed like a legitimate reason to try and find out the truth. Not that it was going to be easy, mind you. Some people were very good at building walls to keep their pain private. Like his mother. Thanks to that enormous effort he’d made to try and keep his family together during the worst time of that scandal breaking, however, he had learned more than anyone about exactly what was behind Vanessa Davenport’s walls. Because he’d respected that pain and had had a base of complete trust to work from.
He could hardly expect Grace to trust him that much. Not when he looked back over the years and could see the way he’d treated her from her point of view.
But there was something there.
And, oddly, it did feel a bit like trust.
Stepping over train tracks that his father was slotting together, smiling at the delight on his sons’ faces as they unwrapped a bright blue steam engine with a happy face on the front, Charles moved towards the couch and bent to kiss Vanessa’s cheek.
‘Awesome present, Mom,’ he said with a smile. ‘Clever of you to know how much the boys love Thomas the Tank Engine.’
* * *
That kiss had changed everything.
Only a few, short weeks ago Grace had been so nervous about meeting Charles Davenport again that she had almost decided against applying for the job at Manhattan Mercy.
What had she been so afraid of? That old feelings might resurface and she’d have to suffer the humiliation of being dismissed so completely again?
To find that the opposite had happened was even scarier. That old connection was still there and could clearly be tapped into but... Grace didn’t want that.
Well...she did...but she wasn’t ready.
She might never be ready.
Charles must think she was crazy. He must have sensed the connection at the same moment she had, when they’d shared their amusement about the spiders that had eyes on their legs, otherwise he wouldn’t have touched her like that.
And he must have seen that fierce shaft of desire because she had felt it throughout her entire body so why wouldn’t it have shown in her eyes?
Just for those few, deliciously long moments she had been unaware of anything but that desire when he’d kissed her. That spiralling need for more.
And then his hand had—almost—touched her breast and she’d reacted as if he’d pulled a knife on her or something.
It had been purely instinctive and Grace knew how over the top it must have seemed. She was embarrassed.
A bit ashamed of herself, to be honest, but there it was. A trigger that had been too deeply set to be disabled.
The net effect was to make her feel even more nervous about her next meeting with Charles than she had been about the first one and he hadn’t been at work the next day so her anxiety kept growing.
She had sent out mixed messages and he had every right to be annoyed with her. How awkward would it be to work together from now on? Did she really want to live with a resurrection of all the reasons why she’d taken herself off to work in the remotest places she could find?
No. What she wanted was to wind back the clock just a little. To the time before that kiss, when it had felt like an important friendship was being cemented. When she had discovered a totally unexpected dimension in her life by embracing a sense of family in her time with Charles and his sons and Houston.
So she had sent through that photo she had taken of Max and Cameron waiting for the cookies to cool. Along with another apology for the mess they had all created. Maybe she wanted to test the waters and see just how annoyed he might be.
He had texted back to thank her, and say that it was one of the best photos of the boys he’d ever seen. He also said that they were going to a family birthday celebration that afternoon and surprised her by saying he didn’t think it would be nearly as much fun as baking Halloween cookies.
A friendly message—as if nothing had changed.
The relief was welcome.
But confusing.
Unless Charles was just as keen as she was to turn the clock back?
Of course he was, she decided by the end of that day, as she took Houston for a long, solitary walk in the park. He had as big a reason as she did not to want to get that close to someone. He had lost the absolute love of his life under horrifically traumatic circumstances. Part of him had to want to keep on living—as she did—and not to be deprived of the best things that life had to offer.
But maybe he wasn’t ready yet, either.
Maybe he never would be.
And that was okay—because maybe they could still be friends and that was something that could be treasured.
* * *
Evidence that Charles wanted to push the ‘reset’ button on their friendship came at increasingly frequent intervals over the next week or two. Now that his nanny, Maria, had recovered from her back injury enough to work during week days, he was in the emergency room every day that Grace was working.
He gave her a printed copy of the photograph, during a quiet moment when they both happened to be near the unit desk on one occasion.
‘Did you see that Horse photobombed it?’
Grace laughed. ‘No...I thought I’d had my thumb on the lens or something. I was going to edit it out.’
She wouldn’t now. She would tuck this small picture into her wallet and she knew that sometimes she would take it out and look at it. A part of her would melt with love every time. And part of her would splinter into little pieces and cry?
She avoided looking directly at Charles as she slipped the image carefully into her pocket.
‘Did your cleaning lady resign the next day?’
‘No. She wants the recipe for your homemade mac and cheese.’
It
