Rising Tides Page 38


"He kissed you?" Anna repeated, and immediately began to feel better.

"He was mad." Grace pressed her face into the towel, breathing deep until she could regain some control. "It was after what happened at the pub. I've never seen him like that. I've known him most of my life and never knew he could be like that. I'd have been scared if I hadn't known him—the way he tossed that man aside like he was a bag of feathers. And he had this look in his eyes that made them hard and different, and…" She sighed and admitted the worst. "Exciting. Oh, it's horrible to think that."

"Are you kidding?" Anna reached over and squeezed her hand. "I wasn't even there and I'm excited." With a watery laugh, Grace mopped at her face. "I don't know what came over me, but he was yelling at me. It got my back up, and we had a fight when he took me home. He was saying that I should quit my job and talking to me like I'd lost every working brain cell in my head."

"Typical male reaction."

"That's right." Abruptly angry all over again, Grace nodded. "It was just typical, and I never would have expected that from him. Then we were rolling around on the grass."

"You were?" Absolutely delighted, Anna grinned.

"He was kissing me, and I was kissing him back, and it was wonderful. All my life I'd wondered how it would be, and then there it was and it was better than anything I'd ever imagined. Then he stopped and said he was sorry."

Anna closed her eyes. "Oh, Ethan, you idiot."

"He told me to go inside, but just before I did he said he thought about me. That he didn't want to, but he did. So I hoped that things would start to change."

"I'd say they'd changed already."

"Yes, but not the way I'd hoped. The day you and Cam came back, I was here when he got home. And it seemed like, maybe… but he took me back to my house. He told me he'd thought it through and he wasn't going to touch me again and I was to steer clear of him for a while." She let out a long breath. "So I am."

Anna waited a moment, then shook her head. "Oh, Grace, you idiot." When Grace frowned, Anna leaned across the table. "Obviously the man wants you and it scares the hell out of him. You have the power here. Why aren't you using it?"

"The power? What power?"

"The power to get what you want if what you want is Ethan Quinn. You just need to get him alone and seduce him."

Grace snorted. "Seduce him? Me seduce Ethan? I couldn't do that."

"Why couldn't you?"

"Because I…" There had to be a simple and logical reason. "I don't know. I don't think I'd be good at it."

"I bet you'd be great at it. And I'm going to help you."

"You are?"

"Absolutely." Anna rose to fuss with her sauce and to think. "When's your next night off?"

"Tomorrow."

"Good, that's just enough time. I'd keep Aubrey for you overnight, but that might make it too obvious, and we'd better be subtle. Is there someone you'd trust with her?"

"My mother's been wanting to take her overnight, but I couldn't—"

"Perfect. You might feel inhibited with the baby in the house. I'll figure out how to get him over there." She turned around, studied Grace. Cool, classic looks, she mused. Big, sad eyes. The man was already a goner. "You'll want to wear something simple but feminine." Considering, she tapped a fingertip against her teeth. "Pastel would be best, a fragile color, soft green or pink." Because her head was starting to spin, Grace put a hand to it. "You're going too fast."

"Well, someone has to. At this rate, you and Ethan will still be circling each other when you're sixty. No jewelry," she added. "Just the bare minimum of makeup. Wear your usual scent, too. He's used to it, it'll say something to him."

"Anna, it doesn't matter what I wear if he doesn't want to be there."

"Of course it matters." As a woman who had a long-term love affair with clothes, she was very nearly shocked at the suggestion. "Men don't think they notice what a woman wears—unless it's next to nothing. But they do, subconsciously. And it helps click the mood or the image." Lips pursed, she added fresh basil to the sauce and got out a skillet for sautéing onions and garlic. "I'm going to try to get him over there close to sunset. You should light some candles, put on music. The Quinns like their music."

"What would I say to him?"

"I can only take you so far here, Grace," Anna said dryly. "And I'm betting you'll figure it out when the time comes."

She was far from convinced of that. While new scents began to romance the air, Grace worried her lip.

"It feels like I'd be tricking him."

"And your point would be?"

Grace chuckled. And gave up. "I have a pink dress. I bought it for Steve's wedding a couple years ago." Anna glanced over her shoulder. "How does it look on you?"

"Well…" Grace's lips curved slowly. "Steve's best man hit on me before they cut the cake."

"Sounds like a deal."

"I still don't—" Grace stopped as her mother's ear caught the tinkling music from the living room. "That's the end of Aubrey's show. I have to finish up in there."

She rose quickly, panicked at the thought of Ethan coming home before she was gone. Surely everything she felt must show on her face. "Anna, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I just don't think it's going to work. Ethan knows his own mind."

"Then it won't hurt him to come around to your house and see you in a pink dress, will it?" Grace blew out a breath. "Does Cam ever win an argument with you?"

"On the rare occasion, but never when I'm at my best."

Grace edged toward the door, knowing that Aubrey's sit-and-behave time was nearly up. "I'm glad you came home early today."

Anna tapped her wooden spoon on the lip of her pot. "Me, too."

Chapter Ten

the following day assunset approached, Grace wasn't certain she was glad at all. Her nerves were stretched so tight she could feel them straining and bubbling under her skin. Her stomach continually jumped in quick little rabbit hops. And her head was beginning to throb in a sharp, insistent rhythm. It would be just perfect, she thought in disgust, if Anna managed to get Ethan over, and she simply pitched forward, ill and babbling, at his feet.

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