Grissom (In the Company of Snipers #26)

Chapter Seventeen

At last, this emotionally draining day was drawing to an end. Game night turned out to be endless video games for the kids and conversation with adults. It was easy to see the respect these tough, warrior-types had for their women. The soft glow from the fireplace added a touch of romance, but it was the real friendships on display that saturated the air and conversation.

Unfortunately, all that comradery also worked against Tuesday. Seeing Maverick with China, both strong personalities who seemed to read the other’s mind, as often as they’d finished each other’s sentences. Seeing big, tough Walker Judge, so tender with Persia wrapped up in his arms since they’d drifted into the family room. And Harley. Man, Harley. Tuesday could’ve spent all night watching him with Judy. The way he teased her, incited her temper, and turned her creamy complexion nearly as fiery red as her hair. Which was often. How her sharp green eyes softened when she snapped back at him. They were the embodiment of opposites attracting, Harley being the carefree jokester and Judy his practical, no-nonsense other half.

Witnessing the love these couples shared made Tuesday think twice. Grissom had flip-flopped often today. How could she trust that being cozy with him now, wouldn’t end with him pushing her away the minute everyone left? She was the fraud, allowing the illusion of being a happy couple to continue, when they weren’t really anything at all. Not even friends. Merely acquaintances who’d shared a kiss or two. If anything, she was an empty-headed Disney princess. One kiss did not a future make, and there was no such thing as happily-ever-after. It was a fairytale and a lie, a risk she refused to take.

She’d feel better once she found a motel or nearby bed-and-breakfast, after she showered and had a good night’s sleep. Things would make better sense in the morning. All too soon, this time with Grissom, Tanner, and Luke would be just another memory to revisit when times got tough, which they always did. As if any time in her life hadn’t been difficult. But she’d known plenty of people who’d dealt with worse catastrophes than she had, so she wouldn’t complain. Not as wealthy as she was, another thing that stood between her and Grissom. She wondered how much he knew. If he knew anything at all. Other than she was the woman who’d rescued his boys.

At the moment, her comfy boots were leaned beside the leather couch. She couldn’t remember where she’d set her blazer, but it had to be somewhere in this fabulous house. She’d taken the corner of the couch opposite Grissom, going for distance instead of too much, too soon. Her legs were extended out straight, and he’d corralled her feet the moment she’d sat down. They were talking. Just talking. But his fingers massaging the bottoms of her weary feet were working wonders on her frayed nerves.

It was easy to see how much Harley, Maverick, and Walker respected Grissom. Judy, China, and Persia were just as generous when they’d invited her to Kelsey Stewart’s place for their regular girls’ night out before they’d left. Tuesday wasn’t sure she was staying in Virginia long enough to make that happen, but the invitation was kind and the concept of having girlfriends again was tempting. She’d been on her own for so much of her adult life that, honestly, the drama between the TEAM wives tonight wore her out. She wasn’t part of their intimate circle. Didn’t know if she’d ever belong anywhere again.

The Tuesday Smart the world knew was a world traveler, used to the hubbub and chaos of international airports and flights, as well as the isolation of a hundred private landing strips and destinations the world over. She knew the pinch of having stayed too long in some of those places, after her food supply ran out, all for the sake of getting the perfect shot. She’d faced down a few wild animals, and she’d even eaten a rodent or two, when roasting their little bodies over a can of Sterno meant the difference between living and dying, waiting for the bush plane to take her home. Tuesday excelled at her craft, that much was true. She was worth every penny Robert paid her, and she’d received more than her share of awards and notoriety.

But in the end, she was still, and always would be, alone. That was her lot in life and she’d accepted it. Most photo assignments were tiresome bag-drags, getting herself and her gear from one airport to the next and then back again. Since her parents’ and Freddie’s deaths, she preferred silence in the middle of nowhere than sitting in any theater packed with today’s self-absorbed fans. At the end of the day, she’d rather sit by herself while the colors of the sky changed from clear bright blues to inky pitch blacks, listening to the whistles, warbles, and chatter of birds searching out places to roost for the night. Mother Nature was the same the world over, gracing all living things with the same lights of day and of night, the same sun, moon, and stars. One had only to look up to appreciate how insignificant one was in the grand scope of creation. Tuesday was feeling every bit of that insignificance tonight.

The world of men was not her specialty, certainly not her strength. If anything, she put everyone she touched in danger. Being with all of these people emphasized everything she lacked. Grissom had his sons. The TEAM wives had their husbands and children. And there she sat, caught like an itty-bitty fly in a sticky trap of honey, the honey being the handsome man rubbing her feet with his magic fingers. The danger being the threat of falling in love with the gentle side of Grissom, then being pushed away the moment his anxiety took over. Or worse, of getting him killed, too.

This was as close as she’d been with any man since she’d traveled with Shane Hayes and Heston Contreras. But being with them hadn’t been intimate. They’d never kissed her or made passes. They were friends. Guy friends. Grissom was something else. A large brooding beast one moment, then so kind and sweet the next she couldn’t keep up. Being with him was like being the ball in a ping-pong match. Tuesday refused to waste the rest of her life being pulled in close one minute, only to be batted away and sent flying the next. And she’d never risk the life he had with his boys.

Tonight, he’d opened a bottle of white wine and turned the gas log in the fireplace on, then asked her to sit with him. The only light in the family room came from the orange glow cast by the flames. Tanner and Luke were asleep in his bedroom. Grissom had left his door cracked, then turned on the baby monitor sitting on the mantle, saying, “I need to be able to hear them. Usually us guys go to bed at the same time, but they’re really tired tonight, and” —he’d shrugged— “who knows what the night will bring?”

He hadn’t said that suggestively, just poured two glasses and handed one to Tuesday. He set his wine glass on the coffee table between the couch and fireplace, then reached for her ankles and slipped her socks off. Now they were playing a version of truth or dare, but had yet to come up with questions the other couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. She knew his favorite color, his birthday, where he was born, and that his parents still lived in his hometown, Portland, Oregon. He knew the same minutia about her. They’d talked about her role in taking Maeve Astor down, and everything that demented woman had done to frame Tuesday for several murders. Grissom knew Tuesday went to college in New York City. She knew he hadn’t graduated high school, but had his GED and nearly enough credits for the business degree he was working on.

“The problem with attending college full-time is soldiers deploy a lot. Statistics is the next class on my to-do list, though. It’ll happen.”

“What then? Will you stay with The TEAM or do you have other plans once you have that degree under your belt?”

“Not sure. It’s been a tough year, between me being in that wreck and almost losing my boys. Plus, Pam trashed our old house before she fled the States. Murphy took care of the mess and selling it, and my buddy Taylor found this home for us. All the furniture’s second hand. I sure couldn’t afford buying new stuff. Maybe once the boys are back in school and things settle down, I’ll know what I should do. Until then…” He tipped his glass to his lips, emptied it in one swallow, and set it back on the table.

Tuesday watched the muscles in his neck flex with that manly swallow. Grissom’s beard and sideburns were neatly trimmed. She had no idea what style it was, but it was more manicured than shaggy. His neck was clean-shaven, and he’d recently splashed on some brand of heavenly fragrance, maybe when he’d put the boys to bed.

He tapped her kneecap and teased, “Am I boring you?”

Startled out of her fanciful wondering, she chuckled. “I was just wondering if beards have styles and what style yours is.”

He scratched his fingers over the shadow on his chin. “Don’t know about style, just know it itches if I let it grow too long. So… boyfriends? Girlfriends?”

Tuesday scoffed. “Who, me? Not hardly. I was married before college, remember, so no boyfriends. No girlfriends.” No friends at all. This was where Grissom found out what a pathetic loser she was. To forestall the inevitable, she focused on swirling the fruity Moscato in her wine glass, coating as much of the bowl as she could without spilling a drop.

“I don’t have any girlfriends, either,” Grissom said, with just enough tease behind his words that Tuesday’s head came up. His hazel eyes were bright. The joker was grinning.

But this was a serious subject, and he’d already figured her out, so Tuesday admitted her biggest secret. “No college kid, male or female, wants to hang out with married women, much less one whose bodyguard stands ten feet behind her wherever she goes, and yes, even to class. I was a media target even back then. I was toxic. Me, a girl with no class, from Duluth, Minnesota, all because of my famous husband. Trust me, the paparazzi’s worse than a pack of starving hyenas. They don’t mind spilling blood or tearing you apart if it gets them a photo and story.”

“No significant other?”

She met his frank stare. “No, Grissom. Nobody but Robert Freiburg in my life, and he’s fifty-something and married. I did have a lot of fun with Heston when he accompanied me to New York City for that interview, though.”

Grissom’s head canted. “Oh?”

Tuesday knew what she was doing was dangerous, but she was doing it anyway. “Yes!” She feigned gushing excitement. “He took me dancing at a club and then to a Broadway play. We ate at the best restaurant in China-Town, and he tracked down the most delicious New York cheesecake in the city. We even saw the Naked Cowboy! Heston took me on a wonderful river tour, bought us delicious Gray’s Papaya hotdogs, and—”

Oomph! The glass was out of her hand, and Tuesday found herself pulled away from the armrest and flat on her back, staring up into Grissom’s handsome face. Her legs were now trapped between his knees. His hazel eyes were dark, and, oh, so dangerous.

His thighs were thick and powerful. He was a beast, a bull, the heft of his body weighing her down, holding her in place, and she was a quivering caged rabbit beneath him. There was no escape. She’d never felt so small before. Or so alive.

A scorching wave of heat swept through her like a hurricane. Tuesday tried to swallow but settled for licking her suddenly dry lips. A gush released between her legs. Her mouth seemed parched, yet she was overly wet in other places. How’d that work?

Oh my, my, my. All the naughty things, those nasty, compromising things she’d been taught in school that good girls never, ever did, wouldn’t think of doing, she wanted to do with the beast breathing his heavenly wine-scented breath over her face. Something strange and wonderful was happening to her body. She was on fire, burning with fever and want and—lust. Her. An untried virgin who had no idea what lust felt like until now. Or what to do with it now that it was burning her. What to do next.

Stay perfectly still? She could do that; she’d done it often enough before—if she could get her nerves to settle down and her body to stop quivering.

Should she take a risk? Reach out and pet the fierce animal gazing down at her through thick, black velvet lashes? Her arms and hands weren’t caged. She could do that. Maybe. If her heart would stop pounding like the entire percussion section in her high school band.

Be brave? Throw caution to the wind and kiss him?

The perfect question.

Cautiously. Slowly. Terribly afraid she was wrong and that he might ridicule her, Tuesday reached one hand up to Grissom’s face and nervously cupped that prickly masculine chin. His eyes closed. He growled, the deep bass vibrating through his body into hers. His eyes shuttered. Lines of pain stretched out from their corners and etched his brow. He was a mountain and she was a tiny mouse. Everywhere their bodies touched became a flame, a burning, glowing brand soaking into her skin. Insanely intoxicating. Downright indescribably tempting.

“You’re a New Yorker. Hadn’t you already done all those things?” he bit out, his voice husky and threateningly deep.

“N-not with anyone my age. Freddie was high-class. He took me to operas and charity affairs. B-b-ut Heston was fun-class.”

“And…?” Grissom growled. “What else was Heston?”

Tuesday knew she’d poked the bear and now she had to deal with it. Him. “Are you going to kiss me or what?” she asked breathlessly. “Because if you aren’t—”

She’d no more than finished when his mouth was on hers, and the tip of his tongue was ardently testing the seam of her lips, and…

Yikes. Trembling like the damned virgin she was, Tuesday licked Grissom’s lips the same way he was licking hers. His whiskers rubbing her chin were softer than she’d expected, but those lips of his tasted like wine, only better. Sweeter. Full of dark magic she’d never experienced. With trepidation, she opened her mouth, intending to, at least, act like she knew what she was doing. How hard could it be?

The moment his tongue swept inside her mouth, lightning struck. Her eyes rolled back in her head at the decadent taste of his mouth. Her body tingled. Her toes. Her belly. The suddenly dripping wet place between her legs. While Grissom licked, nibbled, and devoured her, like she had that messy New York hotdog, a fire sprang to wiggling, twisting life inside of Tuesday. With every warm, wet caress of his tongue, the flame leaped higher and burned hotter. Her head buzzed. A muscle deep inside tightened with extraordinary tingles that felt a lot like pain and pleasure combined. Her heart pounded. Her breath came quicker. Before she could control her terribly unexpected, feral response to this man, that inner muscle snapped, unleashing a warm flood.

Grissom pulled her upright, then rolled over until she was straddling his hips, her knees digging into the couch. His hands still cupped her jaws, and he was French kissing the daylights out of her.

She dug her fingers into his bulky shoulders while his impressive erection pressed—right there. Between her spread legs. Oh my, oh my . Grissom, err, it was no small thing. Her body unleashed another embarrassing flood at the mere thought of what that long, thick organ would feel like inside of her.

“I’m just a man, Tuesday, and men are pigs and…” He growled, his fingers slipping down her ribs.

Lost in the fog of decadent sensations, Tuesday had no idea what he meant. Did he want her to move?

Grissom’s back arched when she tipped away from him. “No, no, no! God, no. Don’t move, Love. Please. Hold still. Give me a minute.” That pained expression was back on his face.

Tuesday stilled, not understanding what he wanted, her to stay or go, but for sure not going to hurt him again. Everything was wrong. Not like in the movies. She’d ruined what could’ve been a romantic evening. Pursing her lips, she bowed her head and tried slowing her breathing and heart rate. When confronted or challenged by wild animals, not moving usually worked. She’d played dead often enough. She knew a few things about surviving in the wild. But she couldn’t very well do that now or here, could she?

“Sorry I frightened you, love,” Grissom whispered hotly against her lips. “I got carried away. I went too far and too fast, too soon. But you’ve never done this before, and I should’ve taken better care of you, and… Shit!” His eyes slammed shut and his body turned to steel beneath hers. His handsome face contorted. His heartbeat hammered beneath her fingertips. The veins up his neck and forehead bulged. He was in pain again.

What have I done? “I don’t know how to do this,” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut tight, so damned embarrassed. ‘It’ was twitching like a beast between her legs, but he seemed angry and—

“No, no, it’s truly not you, it’s me. I’ve… I’ve…” Shuddering, he raked a hand over his head and whispered throatily, “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” With that, he gently set her against the back of the couch, and all but ran to the hallway. Maybe he just really had to go?

Tuesday didn’t have much time, not if she’d somehow hurt him. Hurriedly, she shoved into her boots, sans socks. She had no idea where those socks or her blazer were, and she didn’t care. But keys? Them, she needed. Patting her pockets down, she tried to remember where she’d put them after Grissom and Walker had retrieved her rental for her. She had to leave. It had been a long day and her poor brain was scrambled. Would he ever forgive her?

“Where are you going?” Grissom asked, surprising her from the hall.

Man, he was quick.

“Ahh...” Her heart climbed up her throat, as he walked back to where she stood at the opposite end of the couch. There was no easy way out of this.

Grissom held a hand out to her, the features in his face softer and his gaze so darned tender. Just like it had been when he’d dropped to the floor of that ratty hotel room in Puntarenas before his boys had run to him.

Tuesday stayed where she was, not sure what to do. “I have to leave.”

He didn’t grab her, didn’t touch her. Just held out that great big, callused hand of his and cocked his head, as if coaxing her to give him a second chance. Him, when she was the one who’d spoiled what had been an incredible evening.

His beautiful hazel eyes glistened as if his heart were breaking. That couldn’t be right. He was a man. He knew how sex worked. All men did. He’d had a wife, and they’d had two kids together. But Tuesday was still a teenage girl at heart. Didn’t matter how old she was or that she’d been educated in the best schools. She was still dumb to the most important thing in the world, the goings-on between men and women. She never should’ve watched all those stupid Disney movies.

“Please stay,” Grissom said quietly. “I got carried away and I frightened you, I know and I’m sorry. I messed up. I knew you’d never been with a man before, and, God, I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but…” He’d gotten too close, and the grip she hadn’t realized he had on her hips gentled. “Trust me, love. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my life. Stay. I promise to be the gentle man you deserve. Give me another chance.”

It was hard to relax, especially since she’d been close to bolting and never coming back. “I…” She huffed, needing to admit her mistake, too, but needing more air to do it. “I, umm” —deep breath— “made a mess of things.” There. That said enough, didn’t it?

“Is that why you put your boots on?”

Darn. There was no way out of this disastrous night, so Tuesday plowed through. Again. Like Freddie’d taught her. “Can we just talk?”

Stepping aside, Grissom gestured her to join him on the couch again. “Deal. More wine?”

Falling in love shouldn’t be so hard! But what did she know about it? Nothing. She had no experience, no finesse, and no clue what was happening with her own body. Shaking like a ninny, she settled back onto the couch but kept her boots on. Just in case.

“Sure.” Because I need a drink!

She’d learned about sex in high school biology. Who hadn’t? But after her life fell apart and she’d gone so quickly from being plain Tuesday Smart to the infamous Mrs. Frederick Lamb, she’d set aside any thoughts of physical romance, dating, and sex. Why wouldn’t she? She’d never been in the backseat of a car with a guy. She’d been earnestly into sports, not into jocks like most other girls her age. She hadn’t dated. She’d been competitive, and, long story short, traumatized teenage girls didn’t think about sex. All she’d wanted then was her parents back, and since that wasn’t happening, she’d sunk into a depression that Freddie’d recognized and addressed. She’d seen her share of counselors, but nothing could bring her parents back. Or Freddie. He was just as gone as everyone else she’d ever loved.

Reading about the biology between men and women was one thing. Practicing it? Experimenting? Something else. She’d never, not once, bought a sex toy or practiced pretending. Because why? The only men who’d wanted her since Freddie’s death were con artists and liars. They’d never wanted her, just her for herself. They’d only wanted her money and the notoriety of being seen with Frederick Lamb’s young widow on their arms.

But Grissom was different, and that was a large part of his appeal. He seemed to have no idea how wealthy she was, and he’d only ever seen her as the woman who’d rescued his boys.

Okay then. Feeling a tiny bit more confident, Tuesday lifted her shoulders and sucked in a breath. She was no dummy. She’d faced down bossy male elephant seals, protective mother camels, and a few rowdy bears in her life. Even a pesky African lioness once. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted the tense gentleman sitting by the fire. The man she’d almost run away from.

Sure, Grissom was moody and damaged, but she was, too. Scrubbing her sweaty palms down the sides of her jeans, she prepared to stare down another kind of beast. The horny male she’d turned on. If she did it once, she could do it again.