Guardian Groom Read online

  He reached the door just as Cade came through it. The brothers hesitated, grinned, then threw their arms around each other.

  “Cade, you son of a gun! Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”

  “To tell you the truth, I didn’t know it myself until a few hours ago.” Cade smiled. “But when I realized I was going to be changing planes in New York, I figured, hey, could I touch down in this city and deny my big brother the chance to enjoy my presence for an evening?”

  “One evening? That’s it?”

  “I’m afraid so, pal. We were in London when they ran into a problem in Dallas.” Cade chuckled. “Not that a well coming in is a problem, you understand.”

  “A well? You mean that Texas oil company we were going to deep-six has struck oil?”

  “You got it. There’s some technical stuff needs the personal attention of the best oilman in the business—”

  “You,” Grant said, smiling.

  “Who else?” Cade said with a modest grin. “So we booked ourselves on the first flight out of London, which meant landing here at Kennedy, and—”

  “Slow down, buddy. Who’s this ‘we’ you keep talking about?”

  A slow flush spread across Cade’s high cheekbones. “It’s me—and, ah, and Angelica Gordon, the woman who headed up that company.”

  “You mean you offered her a job in London? But I thought she didn’t know a damned thing about oil…” Grant’s brows lifted as he looked at his brother’s face. “Cade, you sly old fox.”

  “Grant.” Cade’s Adam’s apple bounced up and down as he swallowed. “Grant—I’m—I’m getting married.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m getting married.” Cade laughed selfconsciously. “I know, I know. I can’t believe it, either, but—hell, man, wait until you meet Angelica. You’ll understand then. She’s incredible. I mean, she’s not just gorgeous. She’s smart, and funny, and she knows me better than I know myself—Hey. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” Grant said. “I’m just—I’m surprised, that’s all.” He smiled and slapped his brother on the back. “Congratulations, and when do I get to offer my sympathies to the lady?”

  “I told her to give us a couple of hours to talk man talk and then to meet us for dinner at that steak house over on East 54th. Is that okay—or do you have plans for the evening?”

  Grant thought of Alicia Madigan, of her cool smile and eager sexuality, of how it had taken him the better part of a month to even consider giving her a phone call, and he smiled.

  “Not a one,” he said. He put his arm around Cade’s shoulders and they walked out the door.

  The lounge was a quiet, dimly lighted haven just off Third Avenue, and the brothers were on their second round in one of the rear booths before Cade cleared his throat and asked the question he’d been wanting to ask for the past hour.

  “Listen,” he said, “I hope I’m not out of line here, but—are you okay, Grant?”

  Grant looked at Cade, saw the concern in his eyes, and decided to misunderstand the question.

  “Sure.” He managed what he hoped was a big smile. “Hey, just because we don’t all get the chance to work out in the sun and develop year-round tans—”

  “I talked to Zach. He said you’d called him a while back and that you didn’t sound so hot.”

  “How’s he doing? I can’t believe he’s still out on the West Coast—”

  “I’ve got to tell you, you don’t look so hot, either.”

  “Hey, I just told you, you’ve got this year-round tan while I—” The brothers’ eyes met. After a moment, Grant shrugged. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just that I had this deal that was driving me up the wall… You remember that thing of the old man’s I got saddled with after he died?”

  “The kid’s guardianship?”

  “Yes.” Grant smiled tightly. “The only thing is, the ‘kid’ was all grown up. And I—she and I—we—”

  “You got involved with her.”

  “Right. I knew it was wrong. Hell, the ethical and legal considerations of my position were—”

  “Come on, don’t give me a load of mumbo jumbo. What happened?”

  Grant made damp circles on the tabletop with his ale mug.

  “Nothing I’m terribly proud of. We—we had a thing going for a while and then I came to my senses and turned her over to somebody else.”

  Cade’s brows lifted. “You turned her over to somebody else? You mean you introduced her to some guy and now she’s sleeping with—hey!”

  Grant had shot from his seat, grabbed his brother by the collar, and hauled him halfway across the scarred oak table before either man could blink. Now, he stared at Cade’s stunned face and felt the blood drain from his own.

  “Jesus,” he whispered. “Cade, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I’ve never—”

  “No,” Cade said. He sank back into the booth and grinned. “No, you never have. All the years we were growing up, when Zach and I got teed off at something, we’d toss a few punches at the wall or a bale of hay or even each other, but you were always Mr. Cool.”

  “Yeah.” Grant looked at his trembling hands. “Hell,” he muttered, wrapping them around his mug of ale, “the woman was bad news. I never lost my temper in my life until I met her, and then there didn’t seem to be a day went by I wasn’t yelling or cursing or grabbing her and—and—”

  “Sounds to me like she did you a world of good,” Cade said mildly.

  “That’s ridiculous. Civilized people don’t—”

  “Zach and I used to talk about it. You know, the way you were as fed up with the old man as we were but how you never flew off the handle. Me, I’d do a disappearing act, and Zach—Zach would pick a fight with every bozo who looked at him cross-eyed, but you?” He shook his head. “Hell, you never let the old man get to you, no matter how nasty he got.”

  “It’s just the way I was.”

  “It’s the way you made yourself, big brother. Only trouble is, you never got past it. I’d bet you never let a woman get under your skin—until this one.”

  Grant wanted to deny it all, but what was the point? No woman had ever turned his world upside down and inside out, except Crista. It was a month—hell, it was four weeks, two days and five hours since she’d left him—and instead of thinking about her less, he thought about her more. How many times had he awakened in the dark of night and reached for her soft warmth?

  But his bed was cold and empty, and so was his life. His elegant apartment felt more like a monochrome prison. He found himself looking for the brightness of her face and her clothing, listening for the tinkling sound of those tiny silver bells she’d worn in her ears, and a couple of days ago, walking along Lexington Avenue, he’d been horrified to find himself standing at a pet-shop window, smiling foolishly at the antics of a couple of puppies…

  “Grant?”

  He blinked. Cade was watching him, his eyes filled with compassion. Grant cleared his throat, did his best to choke out a laugh, and drank down the last of his ale.

  “Okay, maybe she did dig under my hide a little, but in the final analysis, she was just a woman. Beautiful, yes. Smart as a whip. And—”

  “You poor, dumb bastard,” Cade said softly. “You’re in love with her!”

  “In love? Me?” Grant tried to manage another laugh but this time he couldn’t even come close. “Listen, Dr. Freud, I hate to disappoint you but—but…”

  But what? Something within his chest seemed to expand. But what? he thought again.

  “Why did you break it off?”

  Grant shook his head. “It was just no good. I mean, she was—she’s different. She’s from Greenwich Village—she grew up there—and she designs jewelry and she’s crazy about dogs and cats and—and—”

  “Sounds like a real tough cookie to me,” Cade said, trying not to smile, “the kind it would be hard to like.”

  “And then there was this guy—”

  “Was she in
love with him, or with you?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  Cade grinned at the returning irritation in his brother’s voice.

  “Well, I suppose you might have asked her.”

  Grant stared at him. “You’re right,” he said slowly, “I guess I might have. But I didn’t. I just got angry because—because…”

  Dear God. He’d gotten angry because he’d been so crazy in love with Crista that the thought of letting her into his life had terrified him. It had been easier to shove her away than to run the risk of really caring…

  Grant shot to his feet. “Listen,” he said, “is there any chance you and—”

  “Angelica.”

  “Right. Is there any chance you guys can hold over until tomorrow? I know you’ve got to get to Texas, but I’d really like to meet her and—”

  “Go on.” Cade smiled. “We’ll be at the Plaza.”

  “Stay at my place.” Grant dug into his pocket and tossed his keys on the table. “After all, my apartment looks more like a hotel than any hotel in town.” He turned and started for the door, but Cade called him back.

  “Hey, big brother.” Cade got to his feet and held out his right hand, palm down. Grant grinned and laid his hand over it. “Remember,” Cade said solemnly, “Deadeye Defenders never lose…”

  “…no matter how tough a path they choose.” Grant’s smile faded. “I hope that’s still true,” he said softly.

  Then he turned and hurried out of the lounge.

  Crista was sitting at her kitchen table, carefully braiding three slender silver wires into one when the downstairs buzzer rang.

  Annie gave a questioning bark and looked at her mistress.

  “No, we’re not expecting anyone,” Crista said. “Somebody probably rang our bell by mistake.”

  The buzzer sounded again. Crista looked at the clock and frowned.

  “It’s too late for anyone to just drop by…”

  Unless it were Danny. She put down the wire and her long-nosed pliers, gently pushed the one-eared cat from her lap, and got to her feet. Danny had moved out two weeks ago, but she’d told him to come by anytime to say hello.

  The gray cat and the scrawny puppy followed her down the hall and watched as she pressed the wall buzzer.

  It would be good to see Danny, she thought as she lifted Sweetness into her arms. He’d met someone and fallen head over heels in love—“just like in an old Preston Sturges flick,” he’d said.

  Crista was happy for him—and happy that he’d left. She still loved him like the big brother she’d never had, but he’d been driving her crazy with questions.

  Like, how could she have ever thought herself in love with Grant Landon? And how could she still be in love with him after the way he’d treated her?

  She didn’t know how to answer the first without admitting to Danny what she hated admitting even to herself—that she’d been incredibly naive and talked herself into thinking sexual desire was love.

  As for the second question—she’d sworn a thousand times that she wasn’t in love with Grant, but Danny, who saw life through the frames of every sappy old movie ever made, refused to believe her.

  “You’re turning into a pile of skin and bones,” he’d said, “and I hear you crying in your sleep. Crista, the guy’s a jerk, and you ought to forget all about him.”

  Well, she was working on that. Danny just didn’t understand. Dreaming about Grant didn’t mean she still cared for him. People had bad dreams all the time.

  Sooner or later, the dreams would go away. She’d meet someone else, a man she’d really fall in love with, and until then, she had a full, rich life to lead.

  Annie yipped, stood on her hind legs, and pawed at Crista’s skirt. She smiled, put the cat down, and took the puppy in her arms.

  She had these two for family, she had volunteer work, and just last week, Mr. Abraham, who was the kind of guardian she should have had all along, had put his stamp of approval on the lease for a shop off Seventh Avenue with space in the back where she could design and make her jewelry, and plenty of room out front for her to display it.

  The doorbell rang. Crista smiled, put Annie down on the floor, and flung open the door.

  “Danny,” she said with a big smile, “I’m so glad you’re back. Give me a big kiss and…” Her hand flew to her throat. “Grant?”

  “Hello, Crista.”

  She stared at him while her heart thudded painfully in her breast. He looked just as she remembered him, as she’d dreamed of him, big and broad-shouldered and sternly, magnificently masculine.

  “May I come in?”

  Everything in her was telling her to slam the door in his face—but Annie was dancing excitedly around his legs and even Sweetness was rubbing his head against Grant’s ankle.

  She, at least, could manage to be polite.

  “Yes,” she said coolly, and she stepped aside and let him pass.

  She shut the door and stood behind him, watching as he looked slowly around the cramped living room.

  “You don’t seem to have changed anything,” he said.

  She took a breath, stepped briskly around him, and made her way to the kitchen.

  “No. Why would I?”

  “Well, I thought, with your inheritance—”

  “The money hasn’t changed me,” she said more sharply than she’d intended. “I’m still the same person I always was.”

  He looked at her. She was wearing a royal blue skirt embroidered with silver stars, a long-sleeved white sweater, and a silver vest. The tiny bells he loved swayed from her earlobes.

  But it was her face he looked at the longest. That beautiful face, with its violet eyes, its soft, sweet mouth, its determined chin…

  “Yes,” he said quietly, and smiled, “yes, you are the same person you always were.” His smile dimmed. “But you’re thinner. You’ve lost weight, haven’t you?”

  A shudder went through her. Don’t look at me like that, she thought, please, don’t…

  She straightened, wrapped her arms around herself, and gave him a cold look.

  “Why have you come here, Grant? If it’s some bit of legal nonsense you overlooked, I’d prefer you to take it up with Sam Abraham.”

  “Are you in such a rush to get rid of me?” he said softly.

  Her eyes flew to his. No, she thought, oh no, I don’t want to get rid of you. I want you to stay, I want—I want…

  “I gather you’re waiting for Danny to come home.”

  Crista turned quickly and took the kettle from the stove.

  “I—yes,” she said, filling it with water, “that’s right. He’s—he’s out, and—and—”

  “Do you love him?”

  Grant’s voice was harsh, filled with the anger he felt. No, he thought, no, it wasn’t anger. It was—it was pain.

  “Answer me, dammit!” His hands closed hard on her shoulders. “Do you love him, Crista?”

  She closed her eyes and carefully put the kettle on the countertop.

  “Go away,” she said, her voice trembling despite all her efforts to keep it cool and steady. “If you’ve any decency in you, Grant, please, go away.”

  His hands tightened on her as he turned her unyielding body toward him. His hand went under her chin and tilted it up until she was looking at his face.

  His eyes were so dark. And he had lost weight, too; she could see the fine, hard bones standing out under his taut skin. Crista began to tremble. She wanted to lift her hands, lay them against his cheeks, bring his mouth down to hers…

  Tears rose in her eyes. Please, she thought, please, God, don’t do this to me…

  But it was too late. Her lonely, aching heart was beating out the truth, telling her what she had known all along—that she loved Grant, that she adored him, and that she always would.

  Grant saw the tears fill her eyes, saw her mouth begin to tremble, and his heart turned over in his chest.

  “Crista?” he whispered.

 
“Please.” Her breath whispered on a long, indrawn sigh. “Please, just—just go away. Just—”

  He took her face in his hands, bent to her, and kissed her. It was a kiss filled with tenderness, and sweetness, and all the love that had so long been walled within his heart.

  “Crista,” he said, “I love you.”

  Her eyes flew to his.

  “If—if Danny means more to you than I do, I’ll—I’ll wish you happiness and walk out that door.” He took a deep breath. “But I can’t believe you love him, not after what we shared. I have to believe, with all my heart, that I’m the only man you want, the man you’ll spend your life with.”

  The tears that shone in her eyes spilled down her cheeks.

  “Oh, Grant! Grant, I love you so much!” She gave a sobbing laugh as his arms went around her. “I’ve always loved you, only you. Don’t you know that?”

  “But Danny…”

  “The only thing I ever shared with Danny was this apartment.”

  “I don’t understand. You said—”

  “You said. You said he was my lover, and I let you think it. But he’s never been anything to me but a friend.” She took a breath. “There’s never been anyone but you, Grant. You’re the first man I ever loved—the first I ever made love with.”

  Grant crushed her lips beneath his. After a long time, he lifted his head.

  “Crista, sweetheart, can you ever forgive me? I think I must have fallen in love with you the minute I saw you—”

  “The minute I ran you down, you mean.”

  He smiled, and then he sighed. “I was just so afraid of letting myself feel anything that—hell, I lied to myself.” His arms tightened around her. “When you left me, I felt as if my life had drained away.”

  “I’ll never leave you again,” she whispered. “Never!”

  They kissed until a faint “yip” drew them apart.

  “I see the shelter managed to find Annie a good home,” Grant said, laughing as he bent down and scratched the puppy’s ears.

  “I hadn’t intended to keep her,” Crista said. “You’d asked me not to, and I knew how you felt about cats and dogs, and—”