The Millionaire Comes Home

Three

Panic paralyzed her.

Stay. He didn’t mean that, not for a minute. He was just jerking her chain again. That had to be the case. It just had to. She almost laughed at the very idea.

In an unsteady tone, she voiced her thoughts. “You’re really joking.”

His eyes took on a warm, lazy cast as they swept over her. “Is that your way of saying I’m not welcome?”

She swallowed, quelling the urge to slug him. He was baiting her, and she didn’t have a clue why. After all, he’d been the one who’d walked out on her. If anyone had an ax to grind, it was she.

“Of course, you’re welcome. It’s just that—”

“It’s just what?” he pressed.

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to stay here.” There, she’d said it. She’d been as blunt as she knew how to be. If that didn’t do the trick then nothing would.

“Can’t you?”

Denton’s tone suddenly matched his eyes, adding to her confusion. Was he flirting with her? Suddenly the feelings of acute sexual awareness that hung between them was overridden by a sense of outrage. How dare he think he could just show up on her doorstep and behave in such a brazen manner? She had to call a halt to such madness right now. She wasn’t about to let him back inside her life only to have him walk out again.

“No, I can’t,” she said through tight lips. “You don’t belong here anymore.”

A flash of anger darkened his eyes. Yet, when he spoke his tone was even. “Is a room available?”

Say no. Tell him that you made a mistake and that it’s promised. She couldn’t lie, and even if she did, he wouldn’t believe her. “Yes.”

“Good. I’ll take it.”

“For how long?”

Several heartbeats of silence followed during which Grace forced herself not to bite a hole in her lower lip.

“Couple days max.”

“Fine.”

A smile of sorts suddenly lightened his features. “I promise not to be any trouble.”

“You’ll be treated like all my other guests,” she said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Fair enough.”

Their gazes met again, and only by sheer force of will was Grace able finally to turn away.

“Yo, we’re back.”

Grace almost wilted visibly with relief at the timely arrival of the Brenners. “In the garden room,” she called out.

When the elderly couple walked in and saw Denton, they pulled up short. “Sorry,” Zelma said. “Are we interrupting anything?”

Grace smiled. “Of course not.”

She introduced them, then watched as Denton smiled and shook their hands.

If ever two people appeared mismatched, it was Ed and Zelma. Ed was short and robust while Zelma was tall and thin. Though both were in their late seventies, they were full of boundless energy. Grace dreaded the day they left Ruby. She would miss them terribly, though they had already promised to return countless times.

“You’re going to love your stay here, Mr. Hardesty,” Zelma said, taking a seat across from Grace.

“I bet you’re right about that,” Denton said, smiling at Zelma.

Grace groaned inwardly as she watched him mesmerize the old lady. As a young man, he’d had plenty of charm. As a grown-up, he had perfected it and knew how to use it to his advantage.

With Ed and Zelma he was welcome to go all-out, to turn it on full blast if that would make him happy. As far as she was concerned, he was wasting his time. She planned to avoid him the entire length of his stay.

“Just wait till you taste her cooking,” Ed was saying. “It’s the best this side of heaven.”

Zelma made an unladylike noise, though there was a twinkle in her eye as her gaze landed on her husband. “Are you saying I can’t please you?”

“How would I know, honey bun? You haven’t ever tried.”

“Uh, right,” Zelma said with a blush. “Well, are you ever in for a surprise.”

He cut her a look. “I bet you can’t cook.”

“How’d you guess?”

They all chuckled, then Ed turned to Denton and asked, “You just passing through, young man?”

Grace looked on in silence as Denton explained about his vehicle. She tried not to concentrate on him, but it was hard. He was so easy to stare at she had to force her gaze away.

“Lucky man to have trouble in such an ideal spot,” Ed responded. “We’re both from Houston, but we’re thinking about pulling up stakes and moving here.”

Grace stared at them in amazement. “You are?”

“We’re talking about it,” Zelma said, sounding less enthusiastic.

Ed rested his gaze on Denton. “You couldn’t ask for life any easier. It’s sure nice not to hear the constant sounds of engines and horns. Instead you hear chirping birds and prattling insects.”

“That’s not Mr. Hardesty’s cup of tea,” Grace said without thought. “I’m sure he’ll be bored with all that serenity.”

Denton rested his intense gaze on her which made her want to squirm, but she didn’t.

“I’m counting on you to see that doesn’t happen,” he said in an easy drawl, in contrast to her rather sharp one.

Ed and Zelma exchanged looks before bouncing their gazes between Grace and Denton as if picking up on the undercurrents in the room.

Deciding it was time to call a halt to this little chat, Grace stood. “Kitchen duty calls.”

“I wish you’d let me help,” Zelma said.

Grace shook her head. “Not a chance.”

“Point me toward my room before you go, will you?” Denton asked, facing Grace.

“Now that I can do,” Zelma said, claiming Denton’s attention. “You just follow me.”

“Thanks,” Grace murmured, relieved she was spared being alone with Denton again. Her nerves were far too frayed to push her luck.

Ed shuffled toward them. “Wait for me.”

Several minutes later Zelma walked back into the kitchen.

“What did he say?” Grace asked.

“He thanked me, then said he was going across the street to check on his car.”

Grace merely nodded, her hands busy placing the fresh fruit on the tray.

“So what’s with you two?” Zelma asked, a slight twitter in her tone.

Grace’s head popped up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Now, honey, you can’t fool this old fuddy-duddy. I know when electricity’s crackling between two people.”

“You’re imagining things.”

Zelma eyed her carefully. “I don’t think so, but for now I’ll mind my own business. But when you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.” She paused with a wink. “I’ll meet you back in the garden room.”

Grace sagged against the counter, her heart beating far too hard and fast against her chest.

“It won’t be long now, Mr. Hardesty, and I’ll have you up and running.”

Denton put his sunglasses on, then stared at the mechanic. “So you think you found the problem?”

“I know I have. It’s just taking a tad longer than I thought to fix it.”

“No problem. You take all the time you need.”

Raymond gave him a puzzled look. “You mean you ain’t in no hurry?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Raymond rubbed his slightly grizzled chin. “Whatever you say.”

Denton slapped a couple of bills in Raymond’s hand then turned and headed back across the street.

A few minutes later he was opening the door to his room when a man strode by without so much as a nod. Strange-looking dude, Denton thought, comparing the stranger to someone out of a Star Wars movie. He was tall and thin to the point of gauntness. A hank of dark hair hung over his left eye.

He certainly didn’t appear as if he belonged at Grace House, but then neither did he, Denton reminded himself scathingly.

Once he was in his room, he walked to the window and peered out at the front lawn. Though glorious beauty filled his vision, he failed to appreciate it, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a roll of antacids. After popping one in his mouth and chewing it, he released a deep sigh, then turned and stared at the antique four-poster bed with a step stool enabling a person to climb aboard. He smiled with no humor.

What the hell was he doing here? Had he lost his mind?

Yes.

No doubt about it: he’d taken complete leave of all his faculties. And why? Grace. It didn’t take anyone with smarts to figure that out. Still, his actions made no sense.

Granted, when she’d opened the door, he’d felt as if he’d been hit upside the head with a crowbar. For some unknown reason, he’d assumed she hadn’t hung around Ruby, either—that she’d flown the coop long ago. So much for that assumption. She’d not only remained but she’d gone into business here and apparently was very successful in her endeavor, which made him glad for her.

What a looker she’d turned into. Oh, she’d always been pretty, especially at eighteen, blessed with a natural beauty that few women could claim but all envied. That naturalness had stayed with her; only now it was enhanced by maturity and a hint of makeup.

Little else about her had changed, though, especially that delightful dimple. That had always captivated him and still did. He’d found himself wanting to dip his tongue in it the way he’d done so many times in the past.

A frown marred his face at the same time his loins stirred. Suddenly he fought the urge to grab another antacid, turn and get the hell out of there as fast as his legs could carry him. Yet he didn’t move a muscle. It was as though his thoughts had him welded to the spot.

And that apron. He couldn’t forget about that. He hadn’t been making fun when he’d called attention to it, either. He’d been intrigued. And delighted. How quaint. How uncitified. But again, only someone with Grace’s whimsical beauty and charm could pull it off. The thought of any of his women friends donning an apron was so ludicrous he almost laughed out loud.

For his own peace of mind he wished Grace were married with 2.3 children and sported wrinkles and a little more fat. Instead she had remained thin, but not too thin, because her breasts seemed to fill her knit shirt to his standard of perfection.

Of course, her hair had changed. She now wore it in a short style that was a little edgy, a little messy. However, its color remained intact, the light-brown locks with blond streaks still contrasting sensationally with her dark eyes and luscious thick lashes.

She oozed a natural sexuality that he’d bet she wasn’t even aware of. When he was in the room with her, he found it difficult to breathe. He was sure other men had been affected the same way.

So why had she been content to stagnate here where obviously there were no available men? No wonder she wasn’t married. Suddenly he felt a small pinch of gladness at the thought, which was absurd since he was only passing through.

No matter. After he had walked out of her life the way he had, he was surprised she’d let him in the door. Maybe he’d been just as much a passing fancy for her as she’d been for him. Again it didn’t matter. He had sworn off women, at least those with marriage in mind.

One wife, followed by a nasty divorce, was enough for him.

Yet he realized now more than ever that he’d never forgotten Grace or that night of passion they’d shared. He’d been nuts about her and hadn’t wanted to leave her. He remembered that all too clearly. However, nothing had worked out according to either of their plans.

But that was then and this was now. He was no longer the horny college student who thought he’d die if he couldn’t make her his, thinking he was in love. Lust. That was the emotion that had driven him. Love hadn’t had anything to do with it, or so he’d convinced himself, having felt rotten at the outcome of their relationship.

“Damn,” he muttered, reaching for another antacid.

This time there was no relief for the sour taste in his mouth and in his stomach. All he had to do was walk out of the room, tell Grace he couldn’t stay, and that would be that. His life would be back on track once again, back to Dallas, back to his job.

And back to his nightmares about the plane crash that had brought him sleepless nights and restless days. Why had he been the only one spared that fateful day? He had walked away from the scattered debris and the mangled bodies of his best friend and the pilot.

It had been nearly a year since a malfunction in the engine had sent the small plane to the ground. Would the dark end of that bright spring day haunt him forever?

As if his body had suddenly become detached from his mind, Denton reached for his cell phone and punched in the number of his firm in Dallas.

Four

“See you later, dearie.”

“I’m counting on that,” Grace said, mustering up a sincere smile for Zelma.

Zelma winked, then whispered in a conspiratorial tone,” I’m going to join the old man for a late siesta.”

This time Grace grinned openly. “Works for me.”

Zelma’s attractive features sobered. “You really ought to think about—”

“Don’t you dare say it. Don’t you dare think it.”

“Oops, looks like I stepped in over my head again.”

“Close to it,” Grace countered, though her smile was back intact.

“It’s just that you’re so lovely, it’s a shame—”

“Zelma!”

“I’m gone. I’m gone.”

Once Grace was alone, she took a deep breath. She knew Zelma meant well, that she wanted her to find and experience the kind of love that she and Ed shared. And while Grace appreciated that, she couldn’t let Zelma think for one second that Denton might be the one.

A shiver darted through her. She had no intention of trekking down that rocky road again, though Zelma knew nothing of her and Denton’s past and never would. Even so, she wasn’t about to stand for Zelma’s matchmaking, even if it was from the heart.

Grace glanced at the clock and saw that it was later than usual. But then, snack time had been later. Now, with the exception of Denton, the guests had all exited the garden room after having devoured the snack.

Since he’d returned from the gas station, he hadn’t left his room. Most of the time he’d been on the phone. Because his room was the closest to the living areas, all had heard the sounds of his muffled voice. Although she couldn’t decipher the exact words of his conversation and certainly didn’t try, she had gotten the gist of them, anyway—all hell seemed to have broken loose in his office. No wonder he popped antacids as if they were going out of style.

What a dreadful way of life. Still, that was his choice, and he seemed to thrive on pressure. That was why she expected him to renege on his stay and leave at any time, regardless of his client and regardless of the status of his vehicle. She crossed her fingers that would be the case. Having him underfoot for even one night was not good. Seeing him again had affected her much more than she cared to admit. Her mind’s eye suddenly conjured up the whipcord leanness of his body at the same time her senses smelled the slightly musky odor that was exclusively his.

And when he looked at her in that certain way, her entire body tingled. Stop it! she told herself. Stop adding fuel to an already smoldering fire. Those memories were not welcome. Besides, she could feel the anxiety building inside her, and she couldn’t afford to let that happen. She’d been doing so well. No way was Denton Hardesty going to undermine that.

Suddenly unable to stand her idle hands, Grace scooped up the remains of snack time and almost ran into the kitchen. Keeping her momentum, she grabbed a bowl out of the cabinet, then crossed to the pantry where she latched on to a box of coffee cake mix, rationalizing that something different would be an extra attraction for tomorrow’s breakfast. That way she could get ahead and keep her mind and hands occupied at the same time.

She was stirring the batter as if it was the enemy when she looked up and watched Zelma walk back in. “I thought you were taking a nap.” Grace grinned. “Or something.”

Zelma’s mouth turned down. “Ed’s snoring. What does that tell you?”

Grace’s grin spread. “That you struck out.”

“What’s that you’re whipping up on?” Zelma asked.

“Coffee cake.”

“Ah, more fat for these hips.”

“Pooh. You don’t have an ounce of fat on you.”

“Well, Ed does, but he’s working on it.”

“Think he’ll forgive me for throwing temptation in his wake?”

“He won’t forgive you if you don’t.”

They both chuckled, then Zelma said, “I came to see if you wanted to go dancing with us.”

“Dancing?”

“Yeah, in Austin. We accidentally stumbled on a place that caters to old folks like us. Last week, though, there were several singles that joined in. So how about it?”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. It’s been a long day.”

Zelma eyed her curiously. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Ah, come on and go. It’ll do you good to shake a leg.”

Both women turned and watched as Ed strolled in. Grace frowned, thinking something was not quite right about him, but she couldn’t say what. For starters his color wasn’t good; he looked almost pasty. She wondered if Zelma had picked up on that. Should she express her concern? No. It could just be her imagination which meant she would set off an alarm for nothing. But what if it wasn’t?

“Ed, are you okay?” Grace asked.

“Yeah, honey,” Zelma said, frowning in his direction. “You look—”

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” Ed interrupted. He winked at Grace. “You’re feeding me too good. That’s the problem.”

Still not convinced, but deciding to let the matter drop, Grace smiled. “So you two go ahead and shake all the legs you want. I’m heading for the bathtub.”

“We’ll see you later, then, hon,” Ed said, taking Zelma’s arm and steering her out.

Grace watched as they left the room, then turned her attention back to the cake batter, noticing that it had lumped on her. She began stirring it harder than ever.