her driveway. "I had no business touching you that way. I'd promised
myself I never would."
"I wanted you to."
Though the quiet words caused his stomach to clench, he shook his head.
"It's not going to happen again. I've got reasons, Grace, good ones. You
don't know, and you wouldn't understand."
"I can't understand if you don't tell me what they are."
He wasn't going to tell her what he'd done, or what had been done to
him. And what he was afraid still lurked inside him ready to spring out
if he didn't keep that cage locked. "They're my reasons." He shifted to
look at her because it was only right to say what he had to say facing
her. "I could have hurt you, and I nearly did. That's not going to
happen again."
"I'm not afraid of you." She reached out to touch, to stroke his cheek,
but he grabbed her hand and held her off.
"You're never going to have to be. You matter to me." He gave her hand a
quick squeeze, then released it. "You always have."
"I'm not a child anymore, and I won't break if you touch me. I want you
to touch me."
Full, shapely, unpainted lips. Phillip's words echoed in his head. And
now Ethan knew, God help him, exactly how tasty they were. "I know you
think you do, and that's why we're going to try to forget that the other
night happened."
"I'm not going to forget it," she murmured, and the way she looked at
him, her eyes soft and full of need, made his head swim.
"It's not going to happen again. So you stay clear of me for a while."
Desperation tinged his voice as he leaned across and shoved open her
door. "I mean it, Grace, you just stay clear of me for a while. I've got
enough to worry about."
"All right, Ethan." She wouldn't beg. "If that's what you want."
"That's exactly what I want."
This time he didn't wait until she was in the house but backed out of
the drive the minute she closed the truck's door.
For the first time in more years than he could count, he thought
seriously about getting blind drunk.
Chapter Eight
seth kept watch for them. His excuse for being in the front yard as the
shadows grew long was the dogs. Not that it was an excuse, exactly, he
thought. He was trying to teach Foolish not just to chase the battered,
well-chewed tennis ball but to bring it back the way Simon did. The
trouble was that Foolish would race back to you with the ball, then
expect you to play tug-of-war for it.
Not that Seth minded. He had a supply of balls and sticks and an old
hunk of rope that Ethan had given him. He could toss and tug as long as
the dogs were willing to run. Which was, as far as he could tell, just
about forever.
But while he played with the dogs, he kept his ears tuned for the sound
of an approaching car.