of this was necessary, Tielle knew that. She’d handled much tougher crews than the Clegg family while manning her business, yet the memories those people instilled only dredged up deeper ones of herself and Grae—memories she’d forced herself to shut away when what they’d had fell apart.
Tielle gave a quiet, triumphant sigh when she worked her way through the large, industrial-equipped kitchen. The staff garage was attached just off the area. She efficiently secured the door leading into the garage and headed through it to where she’d left her car parked outside earlier that day. Tossing her purse on the passenger seat of the Audi, she prepared to plant herself behind the wheel.
“Jeez, all this cloak-and-dagger stuff just to get out of spending a few days with my family, Tel?”
The wind had picked up, masking her gasp when Grae’s rich octave cut through the air. She helped herself to a few deep breaths before closing the car door and turning to face the man, who was slyly grinning down at her from beneath a toboggan as dark as the whiskers shading his face.
“Don’t try telling me you were doing anything other than making a run for it.”
“Can you blame me?” Tielle shrugged, swatting at a lock of hair that slapped her cheek.
“It’s that hard for you to be around them. Around me,” he asked in that question-non-questioning way of his.
“What are you up to, Grae? Why would I want to be around any Clegg at all? Especially you?” She didn’t raise her voice, yet the temper that had become increasingly difficult to manage over the past year came through as though amplified. “We’re divorced, in case you forgot,” she tacked on.
Aside from the erratic dance of a jaw muscle, he was utterly still. “Yeah, Ti, I forget that all the time.”
“Well, it may be something you’ll want to remember the next time you end a marriage.” Her temper was on a slow simmer then.
Grae’s own temper skipped simmer and dashed straight to boil, something it had done excessively during the past twelve months.
“Dammit, Tel.” He invaded her space with an impressive swiftness for someone his size. “You weren’t supposed to leave me.” His voice was a gravel rumble that effectively unsettled most.
“I left you?” Her laughter was short, ill-humored. “That’s good, Grae. Do you happen to recall that ultimatum of yours? ‘Stop trying to fix things in my family, Tel. I’m the only one you should concern yourself with satisfying. Forget that one more time and consider us finished.’” The wind whistled as she recited the speech verbatim and then raised her hands defensively. “What was I supposed to do with that, Grae?”
Her words—his words—eased the rigid set to his shoulders. “You weren’t supposed to let me get away with that ultimatum, dammit.” His voice held its steely resilience. “You were supposed to tell me to go screw myself. You were supposed to lock me out of the bedroom, give me the silent treatment and then—”
“Do what you wanted me to anyway?” The anger left her voice to be replaced by a weak bewilderment.
“Don’t leave, Tel.” He crowded in a bit more.
The pressure of tears emerged. “We aren’t going to fix things, Grae. Not here of all places, you know that.”
“And you know I can’t do this without you.”
Curiosity added more sparkle to her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I need you, Tel. I’m not—” He wasn’t quite ready to admit that he wasn’t strong enough. “I’m sorry for making you a part of the very thing I once ordered you to stay out of. As much as I don’t want to do this with you, I can’t do it without you.”
Tielle considered him a moment and then shook her head. “I’m sorry, Grae. I’m not doing anything except getting the hell out of here unless you tell me what it is you can’t do without me.” Determinedly, she folded her arms across the teal sweatshirt she wore. “I want to know all of it, and I’ll know if you’re holding anything back.”
Amen to that, Grae acknowledged and then went to lean against the side of Tielle’s car.
“I don’t have many details—”
“Grae...”
“I swear it.” He spread his hands. “But Faro is up to something and—”
“This again...” Tielle muttered along with a curse. She reached for the driver’s-side door handle, but Grae slid over before the door, effectively blocking the handle and absorbing her slight frame when she bumped into him.
Grae had unintentionally crushed Tielle against him, and she couldn’t resist taking an unnecessarily deep breath. She thought of her nipples grazing his pecs and drew virtual pleasure from the memory. Tielle both celebrated and mourned the position. While it supported her—a thing her legs were incapable of just then—it sparked a potent tingle throughout her body, targeting her every nerve ending.
He proceeded to tell her what he knew, but Tielle could hear only the blood rushing through her ears. Her pounding heart provided accompaniment.
She sent a message to her brain. In it, she begged her eyes not to shut, thus clueing him in to how much his nearness affected her.
Cautiously, she curved her fingertips into the fabric of his shirt. The layers of clothing did relatively little to mask the unyielding plane of muscle that was his chest.
“I’m sorry, what?” she blurted when he called her name to recapture her attention. As she’d demanded, he’d given an explanation and was awaiting her response.
“When I figure all this out, I know I won’t be able to confront my brother without you there with me.”
Tielle hated herself for laughing, but her ex-husband’s thought process prompted the action. “Have you thought about how well that’d go over? Your family doesn’t need another reason to hate me, Grae.”
“They don’t hate you.” His hands flexed on her arms at the notion.
“The women in your family would rather kick me than kiss me.”
“None of the men feel that way.” He sounded hopeful.
When she laughed and bowed her head, Grae dropped his easy expression to replace it with a tortured, needy one. Deeply, he inhaled the soft, floral scent of her hair. He could smell it through the fuzzy cap she wore. Taking further advantage of her closeness, he applied a subtle massage to her hips, cupping them faintly and then closing his eyes as though ordering himself not to do more.
“Can’t you be wrong?” Her eyes were fixed on a fine strand loosed at the tip of his shirt’s collar.
“I hope to heaven that I am wrong.” He shrugged when her eyes flew to his face. “I want to feel what you do about Faro. I always have.”
“Maybe if you told Faro—” She cut herself off when he shook his head.
“You know I won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because
