Chapter Twelve
it was like walking wide awake 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 cliche 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.
His grin began to spread when he came through the back door and saw that
the morning untidiness had yet to be cleared away. The washer was
rumbling in the laundry room. She hadn't finished. He started into the
living room, looking for signs of her.
The cushions were all smoothed and plumped, the furniture dust-free and
shining. And as the floor above his head gave a quiet creak, he glanced
up.