Rising Tides
Page 46
"I'd have given it to you last night, but it was late when I got back, and you were in bed. I ran into Jim when I left Grace's."
"Jim?" Puzzled annoyance showed clearly on her face.
"Went on over to his place to help him tune up this outboard that's been giving him trouble."
"You were at Jim's last night?"
"Stayed later than I meant to, but there was a ball game on. The O's were playing out in California." She could have cheerfully smashed him over the head with his own beer bottle. "You spent last night working on an engine and watching a ball game?"
"Yeah." He sent her an innocent look. "Like I said, I got in kinda late, but it was a hell of a game."
She huffed out a breath, yanked open the refrigerator to get out cheese and milk. "Men," she muttered.
"All of them idiots."
"What's that?"
"Nothing. Well, I hope you had a fine time watching your baseball game." While Grace was home alone, miserable.
"I can't remember enjoying myself more. Went into extra innings." He was grinning now, just couldn't help it. She looked so flustered and furious and was trying desperately to hide it.
"Well, hot damn." Fuming, she shifted to get the fettuccine out of the cupboard and saw his face. She turned slowly, holding the package of pasta. "You didn't go over to Jim's to watch a ball game last night."
"Didn't I?" He lifted a brow, glanced thoughtfully at his beer, then sipped. "You know, come to think of it, you're right. That was some other time."
"You were with Grace."
"Was I?"
"Oh, Ethan." With clenched teeth she slammed the jar down. "You're making me crazy! Where were you last night?"
"You know, I don't believe anyone's asked me that since my mother died."
"I'm not trying to pry—"
"You're not?"
"All right, all right, I am trying to pry and you make it impossible to be subtle about it." He leaned back in his chair, studying her. He'd liked her, almost from the first—even when she made him uneasy. Wasn't it funny, he mused, to realize that sometime over the last few weeks, he had come to love her. Which mean that teasing her was, well, required.
"You're not asking me if I spent the night in Grace's bed, are you?"
"No. No, of course not." She snatched up the pasta, then set it down again. "Not exactly."
"Were the candles her idea, or yours?"
Anna decided it was a good time to get out a skillet. She just might need a weapon. "Did they work?"
"Yours, I imagine; probably the dress, too. Grace's mind doesn't work that way. She's not what you'd call… sneaky."
Anna hummed and prepared to make her cheese sauce.
"And it was sneaky, underhanded, meddling, to send me over there that way."
"I know it. But I'd do it again." More skillfully next time, she promised herself. "You can be annoyed with me all you want, Ethan, but I've never seen anyone more in need of some meddling."
"You're a pro at it. I mean, being a social worker, you make a living meddling in people's lives."
"I help people who need it," she said, firing up the skillet. "God knows you did." She yelped when his hand dropped on her shoulder. She half expected him to give her a quick shake, so when he kissed her cheek she could only blink at him.
"I appreciate it."
"You do?"
"Not that I'd care to have you do it again, but this once, I appreciate it."
"She makes you happy." Everything inside Anna softened. "I can see it."
"We'll see how long I can make her happy."
"Ethan—"
"Let it stand." He kissed her again, as much in warning as affection. "We'll take it a day at a time for a while."
"All right." But her smile bloomed. "Grace is working at the pub tonight, isn't she?"
"Yeah. And just so you don't have to bite your tongue in half to keep from asking, I'm thinking of going by for a while after dinner."
"Good." More than satisfied, Anna got to work. "Then we'll eat soon."
Chapter Twelve
it was like walking wideawake into a dream, Grace thought, where you couldn't be sure what was going to happen next, but you just knew it would be wonderful. It was living inside a familiar world that had been polished into a constant state of anticipation and excitement. Days and nights were still filled with work, responsibilities, small joys and petty annoyances. But for now, with this full rush of love, the joys seemed huge, the annoyances minute. Everything she'd ever read about love was true, she discovered. The sun shined brighter, the air smelled fresher. Flowers were more colorful, the songs of birds more musical. Every cliché became her reality. There were stolen moments—an embrace outside the pub during her break that left her jittery and delighted and unable to sleep long after she went home. A slow, intense look filled with awareness if she managed to linger long enough at the Quinn house to see him. It seemed she was in a constant state of yearning, only more acute now that she knew what could be.
What would be.
She wanted to touch and be touched, to take that long, slow ride into pleasure and passion again. Side by side with the yearning was the endless frustration that life constantly intruded on dreams. There was never enough time to be alone, to simply be.
She often wondered if Ethan felt the same edgy need dogging his heels throughout his day. She thought it must be something inside her, some long-hidden sexual greed—and she didn't know whether to be delighted by it or mortified.
She only knew that she wanted him constantly, and that with every day that want passed into another night alone, that want increased. She wondered if he would be shocked, worried that he would be. She needn't have.
He only hoped he'd timed it right, and that his excuses to Jim for taking in the catch before checking all the pots weren't as ridiculously transparent as they'd seemed. He wasn't going to let guilt eat at him either, Ethan promised himself as he secured his boat at his home dock.
He would work a couple extra hours that evening in the boatyard to make up for leaving Cam on his own that afternoon. If he didn't have one hour alone with Grace, if he didn't release some of this pressure that was building up, he'd go crazy. Then he'd be no good to anyone. And if she'd already finished up at the house and left, well, he'd just have to hunt her down, that's all. He had enough control left not to scare her, or shock her, but he just couldn't get through another day without her.
"Jim?" Puzzled annoyance showed clearly on her face.
"Went on over to his place to help him tune up this outboard that's been giving him trouble."
"You were at Jim's last night?"
"Stayed later than I meant to, but there was a ball game on. The O's were playing out in California." She could have cheerfully smashed him over the head with his own beer bottle. "You spent last night working on an engine and watching a ball game?"
"Yeah." He sent her an innocent look. "Like I said, I got in kinda late, but it was a hell of a game."
She huffed out a breath, yanked open the refrigerator to get out cheese and milk. "Men," she muttered.
"All of them idiots."
"What's that?"
"Nothing. Well, I hope you had a fine time watching your baseball game." While Grace was home alone, miserable.
"I can't remember enjoying myself more. Went into extra innings." He was grinning now, just couldn't help it. She looked so flustered and furious and was trying desperately to hide it.
"Well, hot damn." Fuming, she shifted to get the fettuccine out of the cupboard and saw his face. She turned slowly, holding the package of pasta. "You didn't go over to Jim's to watch a ball game last night."
"Didn't I?" He lifted a brow, glanced thoughtfully at his beer, then sipped. "You know, come to think of it, you're right. That was some other time."
"You were with Grace."
"Was I?"
"Oh, Ethan." With clenched teeth she slammed the jar down. "You're making me crazy! Where were you last night?"
"You know, I don't believe anyone's asked me that since my mother died."
"I'm not trying to pry—"
"You're not?"
"All right, all right, I am trying to pry and you make it impossible to be subtle about it." He leaned back in his chair, studying her. He'd liked her, almost from the first—even when she made him uneasy. Wasn't it funny, he mused, to realize that sometime over the last few weeks, he had come to love her. Which mean that teasing her was, well, required.
"You're not asking me if I spent the night in Grace's bed, are you?"
"No. No, of course not." She snatched up the pasta, then set it down again. "Not exactly."
"Were the candles her idea, or yours?"
Anna decided it was a good time to get out a skillet. She just might need a weapon. "Did they work?"
"Yours, I imagine; probably the dress, too. Grace's mind doesn't work that way. She's not what you'd call… sneaky."
Anna hummed and prepared to make her cheese sauce.
"And it was sneaky, underhanded, meddling, to send me over there that way."
"I know it. But I'd do it again." More skillfully next time, she promised herself. "You can be annoyed with me all you want, Ethan, but I've never seen anyone more in need of some meddling."
"You're a pro at it. I mean, being a social worker, you make a living meddling in people's lives."
"I help people who need it," she said, firing up the skillet. "God knows you did." She yelped when his hand dropped on her shoulder. She half expected him to give her a quick shake, so when he kissed her cheek she could only blink at him.
"I appreciate it."
"You do?"
"Not that I'd care to have you do it again, but this once, I appreciate it."
"She makes you happy." Everything inside Anna softened. "I can see it."
"We'll see how long I can make her happy."
"Ethan—"
"Let it stand." He kissed her again, as much in warning as affection. "We'll take it a day at a time for a while."
"All right." But her smile bloomed. "Grace is working at the pub tonight, isn't she?"
"Yeah. And just so you don't have to bite your tongue in half to keep from asking, I'm thinking of going by for a while after dinner."
"Good." More than satisfied, Anna got to work. "Then we'll eat soon."
Chapter Twelve
it was like walking wideawake into a dream, Grace thought, where you couldn't be sure what was going to happen next, but you just knew it would be wonderful. It was living inside a familiar world that had been polished into a constant state of anticipation and excitement. Days and nights were still filled with work, responsibilities, small joys and petty annoyances. But for now, with this full rush of love, the joys seemed huge, the annoyances minute. Everything she'd ever read about love was true, she discovered. The sun shined brighter, the air smelled fresher. Flowers were more colorful, the songs of birds more musical. Every cliché became her reality. There were stolen moments—an embrace outside the pub during her break that left her jittery and delighted and unable to sleep long after she went home. A slow, intense look filled with awareness if she managed to linger long enough at the Quinn house to see him. It seemed she was in a constant state of yearning, only more acute now that she knew what could be.
What would be.
She wanted to touch and be touched, to take that long, slow ride into pleasure and passion again. Side by side with the yearning was the endless frustration that life constantly intruded on dreams. There was never enough time to be alone, to simply be.
She often wondered if Ethan felt the same edgy need dogging his heels throughout his day. She thought it must be something inside her, some long-hidden sexual greed—and she didn't know whether to be delighted by it or mortified.
She only knew that she wanted him constantly, and that with every day that want passed into another night alone, that want increased. She wondered if he would be shocked, worried that he would be. She needn't have.
He only hoped he'd timed it right, and that his excuses to Jim for taking in the catch before checking all the pots weren't as ridiculously transparent as they'd seemed. He wasn't going to let guilt eat at him either, Ethan promised himself as he secured his boat at his home dock.
He would work a couple extra hours that evening in the boatyard to make up for leaving Cam on his own that afternoon. If he didn't have one hour alone with Grace, if he didn't release some of this pressure that was building up, he'd go crazy. Then he'd be no good to anyone. And if she'd already finished up at the house and left, well, he'd just have to hunt her down, that's all. He had enough control left not to scare her, or shock her, but he just couldn't get through another day without her.
