There was no more talk about the kiss during the drive to the house he maintained in a gated neighborhood on the Arkansas River. In fact, there was very little talk at all. Bryan leaned back against his seat, trying not to be too obvious about watching Grace as she drove. And while they might not have talked about the kiss, that didn’t mean he stopped thinking about it, replaying it in his mind, wondering what might have happened if he’d taken the risk of carrying it further.
He’d kissed Chloe a couple of times during their few dates. They had been friendly kisses at the end of the evenings. Warm and affectionate, but hardly passionate. At the time, he’d considered himself holding back until Chloe had a chance to decide what she wanted from their relationship. Only now did he realize that he’d subconsciously sensed that they weren’t right for each other, no matter how diligently he had tried to convince himself that they were.
It had been easier with Chloe, in some ways. He’d known exactly where they stood and what he had thought he wanted from her. He had liked her, admired her, respected her. She’d met almost every qualification he’d listed for a potential mate.
When she’d been kidnapped, he had been frantic with worry about her, and guiltily furious that her association with him had put her in danger. But even then, Grace had occupied his thoughts almost as much as Chloe. He’d spent those days reassuring her that he would bring her sister safely back to her, and dealing with her fear and anger. He’d sat quietly while Grace had released her roiling emotions by yelling at him, and he had watched over her when stress and exhaustion had finally caught up with her and she’d fallen asleep on his couch.
His resigned acceptance when Chloe told him there would be no future for them had proved his heart had never been involved in their experimental courtship. The quiet pleasure he’d felt when he’d realized that Chloe and Donovan had fallen i
n love demonstrated once and for all that he’d never thought of Chloe as more than a good friend.
His feelings about Grace weren’t nearly as clear-cut. Nor was he at all confident about how to proceed from here with her.
Grace was always uncomfortable in Bryan’s house. Though there was nothing she would describe as ostentatious about the place, she saw signs of his wealth everywhere she looked. The strict security measures established by the community. The marble and crystal and fresh flowers in his foyer. The awareness that he could have almost anything he wanted at the touch of a button. And, even more incredible to her, the knowledge that this wasn’t his only home. He maintained apartments in at least two major cities—that she knew of, at least.
“Is there someone here to take care of you if you need anything?” she asked, moving around the quiet entryway. “A housekeeper or bodyguard or valet, maybe?”
“My housekeeper doesn’t sleep over. I don’t employ bodyguards for myself, and I’ve never in my life had a valet,” he replied, his expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Grace.”
Feeling a bit foolish—what did she know about how the very rich lived?—she shrugged and handed him the plastic container of pills he’d been given at the hospital. “Take these when you need them. They’ll help you rest tonight. And don’t forget to see your doctor tomorrow, just to make sure there are no complications.”
“I’ll remember.”
“Do you want me to take your car to work in the morning? You can have someone pick it up there and I’ll hitch a ride home with Chloe.”
“That will be fine.”
She nodded. “Then if there’s nothing else you need, I’ll be on my way.”
“Are you going straight home?”
She gave him a look. “Don’t worry. I’m not going joyriding in your car.”
“That isn’t what concerns me, and you know it.”
She sighed. “Yes, I’m going straight home. I plan to spend the rest of the evening doing laundry and watching mindless TV programs, okay? I’ll lock myself in and I won’t open the door to strangers. You can give your security guy the night off.”
He looked at her for a moment as if he were trying to decide whether he could believe her—which only annoyed her more, of course—and then he nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She turned toward the door.
His hand was on the knob before she could reach for it. “Grace?”
Instinctively she tensed, anxious about what he might say now. “What?”
“It was more than blowing off steam.”
She didn’t have to ask him to clarify the quietly spoken remark. He was referring to the kiss she had been trying very hard not to think about. Nor did she intend to ask him why he had kissed her, if not as an emotional release. When it came to Bryan Falcon, she had decided that her new motto should be, “Better safe than sorry.”
Because she couldn’t think of anything at all to say, she kept her mouth shut, simply gazing at him until he smiled ruefully and opened the door for her. “Drive carefully.”
She nodded and stepped through the door, saying over her shoulder, “G’night, Bryan. Take care of your arm.”
She almost ran to the car. She couldn’t help glancing into the rearview mirror several times on her way home to make sure Bryan wasn’t having her followed—for her own good, of course.
He was becoming entirely too embroiled in her life. If she wasn’t very careful, he could invade parts of it that she had fiercely protected for years.
The rescue made the headlines, of course. Grace heard about it the minute she walked into the shop Monday morning.