Eight Years Gone, page 3
He sent her another one of his yummy grins.
She held his dark-blue gaze, forever trying to figure him out. He never had a whole lot to say. And he always played it cool—like he didn’t give a crap about much of anything.
But over the last nine weeks, she’d caught on to the fact that he was smarter than he let on. Today she’d gotten proof when she snuck a peek at the letter she’d found crumpled in the kitchen trash.
It had been a two-page explanation of the results of the standardized test he’d taken at the public school he attended his freshman year. He’d scored off the charts—in the nation’s top one percent. Pennsylvania’s governor had sent a personalized letter of congratulations to keep up the great work.
Looking down at her notebook, she got back to work, clenching her jaw when she realized she’d solved the problem wrong. Again. “Damn it.” She tossed her pencil down. “Why can’t I get this one right?”
Jagger dropped his chair back to the carpet, leaning closer. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know. This is the third time I’ve solved this one wrong. I get a different answer every time.”
He frowned as he studied her work. “You’re forgetting to solve for zero first.” He pointed out her error on the page. “You’ve assigned your values for A, B, and C, but you need to make this a negative seven before you do anything else.”
It was her turn to frown as she worked the problem out the way he’d explained. And she got the right answer.
“See? There you go. Solve for zero first. It’s a game changer.”
She stared at him. “You nodded off during the entire class. I watched your chin hit your chest several times.”
“Mr. Wright’s boring.”
Her frown returned. “You’re smart. Why do you spend so much time pretending you’re not?”
He jerked his shoulders, tipping back in his chair again. “Because then people start expecting stuff.”
She swallowed her annoyance as she stood, heading for the door. Over the last few weeks, he’d shown her little glimpses of a different version of himself—the guy whose eyes lit up whenever he talked about taekwondo or cracked an excellently witty joke.
That Jagger was irresistible and distracting. That Jagger made her want to forget about her camera for a while and get lost in him—something that had never happened before. But this guy wasn’t worth her time. “I’m done for now.”
His chair rested on all four legs again. “Where are you going?”
She didn’t bother sparing him a look. “I need a break.”
“Grace, come back.”
She kept walking.
“Gracie.”
She stopped in her tracks, more than a little surprised when he used her long-forgotten nickname. She turned to face him. “Why did you call me that?”
He shrugged his shoulders again. “I don’t know. I guess you look like a Gracie.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, loving how her name sounded rolling off his tongue. “No one’s called me that since my mom died.”
“It has a nice ring. Gracie Evans.” He cleared his throat as he picked up her pencil, holding it out to her. “Will you study with me?”
She moved to her seat, staring into his eyes as she sat down. “Dumb’s disappointing, Jagger.”
He smiled as he gave his attention to the laptop. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
Grace snapped to the present when Jagger gained more speed as he moved down another path deeper into the heart of the park.
“Slow down,” she pleaded to his back when he skirted the next road.
She rounded the sharp curve and blinked when he was gone.
“No.” Slowing, she settled her hands on her waist as she caught her breath, turning a slow circle, then began to pick up her pace again, trying to figure out where he could have gone.
Then she gasped, trying to scream and fight herself loose when someone yanked her into the forest, tightly gripping her back against the front of their body.
“Why are you following me?” he panted out next to her ear.
She closed her eyes, standing rigid as his hand covered her mouth. He felt different—harder and more muscular—but he sounded exactly the same. It had been eight years, but she would have known his voice anywhere. “Let me go,” she said against his palm.
He relaxed his hold.
Turning, she stared into harsh blue eyes and a gorgeous face disguised by two or three weeks of a scruffy beard. How many times had she imagined…? But this was real. Jagger was right here. “Jagger—”
“What do you want?”
She blinked her surprise at his biting tone while she continued to hold his gaze—as he looked at her as if he had no idea who she was.
“It’s Grace. Your Gracie,” she trailed off in a whisper as she grew perilously close to tears.
She’d hoped for a moment like this for so long. But in the numerous scenarios of the chance encounters she’d dreamed up, their seeing each other again never played out like this.
“What do you want?” he repeated.
“I don’t—” She had no idea what to say—how to talk to this cold stranger.
She tore her eyes away from his, glancing toward his sweat-soaked muscle shirt. Taking a step closer, she yanked the damp cloth covering his left pec to the side, staring at the block of puckered scarring where her name had once been.
He yanked the shirt back in place. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
With a last look, she stepped away. Turning for the pavement, she hurried back in the direction she came, trying to find a way to live with the fact that when the man she loved kissed her goodbye for a quick trip across town nearly a decade ago, what he’d meant was goodbye forever.
Jagger lay in the center of his California King, boxer-clad and restless, staring at the ceiling while rain battered against the windows at The Ritz. He’d been awake for hours, replaying his run-in with Grace at the park.
When he’d stepped out the door at his temporary home, the goal had been a little early-afternoon exercise after two solid days of sleep.
He’d been itchy to move a body that was well used to the grueling workouts he’d paced himself through for nearly a decade. His plan had been a swift six-mile sprint, then a shower and some lunch. Nothing could have prepared him for the rest.
She’d smelled amazing—had felt even better pressed up against him. Her slim, five-foot-six frame had always lined up just right with his.
She was still gorgeous. The roundness of youth had left her face, creating stunning results with slightly sharper cheekbones. Her creamy, flawless skin, Cupid’s bow lips, and small dainty nose had always been a pleasure to stare at. But her eyes—the shocking crystal blue accentuated by darker rings—had been his ultimate fascination.
Grace had had his attention from the beginning—from the first second she’d walked into her big-ass house to introduce herself after her summer away at her aunt’s.
But when her dad had insisted that they start studying together, he’d been forced to fight his attraction to her for months.
Jagger rolled his Stingray to a stop behind Grace’s brand-new Audi A6. Her hazard lights flashed in the dark, alerting any vehicles passing by on the quiet backroad that she’d pulled off to the side.
Grace got out of her driver’s seat as he stepped out of his. She looked as pretty as always in her white cashmere hat and bulky pale-blue jacket as she tossed him a quick wave. “Thanks for coming. I tried Logan first, but he didn’t pick up.”
He shrugged as he adjusted his coat collar in defense of the winter wind. “I was heading home anyway.”
She moved toward the hood. “Something’s wrong with the engine. It started doing this shaky thing before it died on me.”
He frowned because she’d just gotten the thing a couple of months ago. She’d turned sixteen in July, but her dad had made her wait until Christmas to surprise her with the car.
He’d had his license for over a year—long before he moved into the Evans’ mansion. He missed taking Grace places now that she had wheels of her own. “A shaky thing?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“Did you run out of gas?”
She glared at him. “No, I didn’t run out of gas. It has nothing to do with the gas.”
Opening her door, he got in behind the wheel, breathing in Grace’s subtly sexy shampoo, giving the key a turn. Nothing happened—just a clicking sound.
Grace got in the passenger seat. “It’s freezing out here.”
“I think it’s your alternator. We’re going to need a tow truck.”
She sighed as she let her head fall back against her seat. “Great.”
“They’ll get you a loaner for a couple of days, or you can catch a ride with Logan or me.”
Grace closed her eyes. “Lucky me.”
He stared at her in the glow of his headlights. “It’s not a crisis.”
She opened her eyes, sitting up again. “It is to me. Not everyone has the luxury of shrugging their shoulders at the world.”
He raised his brow in surprise. Grace was usually fun and easygoing. “What’s crawled up your ass?”
She shrugged. “Just a long day.” She looked at him again. “You don’t have to stick around. I can wait for the tow truck.”
He tried the key again. Nothing. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”
She jerked her shoulders a second time. “I’m sure if I try Logan, I’ll get him this time. I bet you have a date or something.”
“Nope. No date.”
She fiddled with her nails. “That’s something new.”
He restlessly scratched at his head because he had no idea what to do or say.
“This is probably a good time for me to tell you that I can’t tutor you anymore.”
Now he frowned. He looked forward to studying with Grace. It was the best part of his day. “Why?”
“Because we both know you don’t need a tutor. Plus, I have too much yearbook stuff going on, and you’re busy doing whatever it is that you do.”
All of this was coming out of left field. But he hadn’t seen her much over the past couple of days. Not since the pep rally.
Grace had been laughing and having a good time—taking her pictures for the yearbook. Then she’d disappeared after Katie Weiss sidled up next to him in the bleachers and pressed a hell of a kiss against his lips. “I haven’t seen you since we all sat together in the gym.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Are you jealous or something?”
She huffed out a laugh. “Jealous of what?”
“Of Katie.”
Her sassy laugh was back. “Hardly. She’s about as dumb as they come. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not exactly like you’re into girls like me.”
“And who are girls like you?”
She jerked her shoulders. “Intelligent. Ambitious. Going somewhere in life. We have high standards. You’d actually have to work to get into my pants.”
He grinned. “Girls like you are out of my league.”
She frowned. “Only because you don’t see us.”
If only she knew. “I see you. Trust me.”
She sat up straight in her seat, holding his gaze. “Are you and Katie dating?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then kiss me.”
He blinked, taken aback, trying to figure out if she was joking. He couldn’t tell, so he laughed. “You’re Logan’s little sister.”
She scrambled out of her side of the car, slamming the door.
He got out as she moved past the hood. “Grace—”
She whirled. “I’m not Logan’s little anything. The last time I checked, we were all sophomores. You guys are only a few months older than me. But just forget it.”
He picked up his pace to walk next to her. “I don’t— I’m not what you want. Guys like me are no good. I’m not good enough for you.”
She stopped. “Why do you continually sell yourself short?”
“I’m a white trash kid who can catch a football and run fast. Apparently, I happen to be an accurate marksman, too, which is a surprise to me.”
“You’re great at a lot of things. You can be whatever you want to be.”
He shook his head, even when he was starting to believe it. Grace’s unyielding faith in him was beginning to rub off. “I live with you so I can play sports—the Evan’s family charity case.”
She shook her head. “That’s not true.”
“It’s one hundred percent true.”
“You’re more. My dad wanted to help you because he cares about you.”
He huffed out an incredulous chuckle. “Your dad wanted to help me because he likes to win. I win games, Grace. I put points on the board. If Logan’s private coach hadn’t seen us tossing the ball around after taekwondo practice, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I wouldn’t even be here.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Okay, yes. That’s entirely accurate.”
He looked to the sky and laughed again—at the ridiculousness of it all.
She grinned. “I’m sorry he’s so awful.”
He shrugged because he liked that Steve spent most of his time in Philly with Logan and Gracie’s bitch of a stepmother. It was cool that he, Grace, and Logan mostly had the mansion to themselves. “We have a housekeeper who washes my clothes and cooks for me. Overall, it’s a pretty sweet deal.”
She laughed. “Bea’s the best.”
He nodded. “Yes, she is.”
Grace chuckled and then cringed before she sighed. “I’m sorry, Jagger. You came out here to help me, and I made things really awkward.”
“All’s forgiven.” He held her gaze in the headlights. She was so damn pretty—and she was into him, which was pretty cool, too. “For what it’s worth, I’ve thought about kissing you. I’ve thought about it way more than I should.”
Saying nothing more, she closed the distance between them and gained her tiptoes, brushing her lips against his.
He let his eyes close, absorbing the softness of her mouth when she came back again. This was everything he knew he couldn’t have.
“Grace,” he murmured, stepping back. “We can’t.”
Nodding, she turned toward their cars.
How was it possible that something so simple could feel so right? He snagged her hand before he let himself think—before she could walk away, knowing in his depths that he would regret it if she did. “Gracie, wait.”
She turned back.
He stepped closer, sliding his knuckles along her soft cheek, the white puffs of his breath mingling with hers.
She swallowed. “What—”
“I can’t let you go,” he whispered, bringing his mouth to hers.
He kept his pace gentle and slow, sensing her innocence—something he hadn’t been for a long time. When she made a small sound in her throat and sagged against him, he teased her lips open, touching his tongue to hers, taking her deeper with skillful strokes.
She gave him more, meeting his easy demands as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Gracie,” he mumbled as he pulled her closer, knowing for the first time what it meant to be home.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he scrubbed his hands over his face, reeling from his memories. What was it about her that made him ache?
There was no one he loved more—no one he’d tried harder for. There’d never been anyone as important as Grace.
He’d taken his time with her, never pushing, always letting her lead. Grace had been the one to sneak into his bed and fall asleep in his arms night after night.
He’d been gentle when she’d eagerly given him her virginity late that summer on a blanket by the lake. She was the only woman he’d shared his dreams with—the only woman he’d ever wanted.
He’d never been able to get enough of her. More often than not, he was afraid he never would. That’s why he’d stayed far away.
He’d let his career consume him—“The Unit” and top secret CIA missions for the Special Activities Division, then private contracting—anything to distract him from his thoughts of the sweet, blue-eyed blonde who’d turned him into a man.
When he left her that long ago night, he’d known he would never see her again. He’d walked away for her own good. But today, she’d knocked him flat on his ass.
He hadn’t known what to do when he pulled her into the woods other than to be cruel. He’d needed her to walk away this time because if she had reached for his hand, he damn well knew he wouldn’t have been able to.
He settled on his side, staring at the drops rolling down the window. Maybe calling Jason Gray was exactly what he needed to do. Perhaps he just didn’t have it in him to be an average Joe.
Four
Grace spotted her opportunity for escape and took it, hurrying down the hallway toward the restaurant’s exit.
She pushed through the back door, shutting out the happy noise of a hundred wedding guests dancing. She was always up for celebrating her friends’ big moments. But not tonight.
Sighing, she walked farther into the dark, leaning her arms against the metal railing in the parking lot, letting her shoulders relax as she stared up at the bright half-moon in the starlit sky.
For the first time in hours, she didn’t have to fake a smile and pretend that all was well. Because it wasn’t.
It had been two days since she’d left Manhattan—since she’d seen Jagger. For the last forty-eight hours, she’d forced herself to move through her schedule and get on with her life—the way Jagger so easily had.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at her. He’d been so harsh—so awful. It was as if the years they’d spent together had meant nothing.
Her sigh returned as she touched her hand to her heart, remembering the marred skin on his chest.
Grace nibbled her lip as she held Jagger’s hand, watching as the tattoo artist used his machine to start tracing the looping A stenciled on Jagger’s left pec.
