“Being monitored.” Johanna picked up the baby and climbed the steps to the deck. “So far she’s doing okay, but at thirty-two weeks…”
“They want to buy her—and the baby—some more time.” Grace followed Johanna inside, standing back as Maren was placed in her high chair.
“Exactly. The doctor said that even another couple of weeks can make a big difference with the baby’s lungs. Of course Connor’s worried sick.”
Johanna put a sippy cup in front of Maren. “Connor’s spending almost all his time at the hospital, and Mike isn’t meant for bookwork, so I’m glad you’re here to help.”
“I’d do anything for…to help,” she finished, coloring at her almost mistake. Even if she knew she’d do anything for Mike, she didn’t need the rest of the world to know it. Thankfully Johanna seemed oblivious as she busied herself making cool tea.
The front door slammed and Grace jumped. When Mike strode into the kitchen, she took a step back, her gaze drawn undeniably toward his.
God, he looked fabulous. All coiled strength in his faded jeans and corded muscles beneath a blue T-shirt. His hat, the cream-colored Stetson he never worked without, was on his head, but when he saw her standing there he automatically reached up to remove it.
His hair clung to his scalp in dark curls and Grace watched as one solitary bead of sweat trickled from one temple down his jaw.
Maren smacked her cup on the tray of her chair while Johanna watched, clearly intrigued with the silent interplay between the couple.
“Grace.”
“Mike.” His name sounded strangled to her as it came out of her mouth. And she knew she was glad she’d chosen a skirt and pretty blouse after all.
“I, uh, just came to get something to drink.”
“I think Johanna’s making some iced tea.”
Still their gazes clung and she remembered the feel of his hands on her arms yesterday morning. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Goodness, they were staring at each other like idiots.
He broke away first. “Iced tea sounds perfect, but you’re not here to look after me, Mrs. Madsen.”
Johanna poured three glasses without batting an eye. “I’d like to know where all this Mrs. Madsen nonsense came from all of a sudden. I’ve known both of you so long I used to wipe your runny noses, so call me Johanna or Gram like everyone else.”
Mike’s lips quivered as he struggled not to smile. The Madsens were as close to family as he had, not counting his cousin Maggie.
Johanna took one look at Maren and plucked the girl up from her chair. “I’ll just go change the baby,” she suggested blandly. “Grace, I’m sure you remember your way to the office.”
“Of course I do. I’ll sort things out, not to worry.”
“I’m sure Mike will help you. Won’t you, Mike?”
His lips pursed together and he let his eyes twinkle at the older woman. “Indeed I will…Gram.”
Her rusty laugh disappeared with the baby and he was left with Grace.
She looked beautiful today. As usual. But he thought he saw hints of purple beneath her eyes. Lord only knew what work she’d taken on now. She was always working. And now he’d helped her exhaustion along by asking for a favor. He should have found another way.
But another way would have meant that he wouldn’t have an excuse to see her. And after she’d let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, at the Rileys’s anniversary party, he thought about seeing her more and more. He’d been shocked to say the least, but not unpleasantly. Knowing Grace still felt some attraction for him seemed to legitimize his own for her. He’d let her get away once before, and had always been sorry. But knowing she still thought of him in that way changed everything. Heck, not that he’d admit it to her, but he’d made the excuse for a midmorning drink just because he’d seen her car pull into the yard.
Her hair was sneaking out of the twist, curling around her temples in damp tendrils. The warmth of the morning gave a glow to her skin. To him, she was a picture of femininity, of innocence, purity. Certainly too fine of a woman for a man like him to tangle with.
“You’re looking tired. I hope this extra work won’t put unnecessary strain on you.”
That was it? Grace tried to keep her lips from falling open but failed. All those long stares and all he came up with was “you’re looking tired”? Her elation at seeing him flew out the window.
“Your compliments make a girl all warm and fuzzy.”
He at least had the decency to look chagrined. “I didn’t mean to say you looked bad.”
“Even better. You know, I can’t imagine what the women around here see in you.”
It was out before she could think better of it and she instantly flushed. They both knew it was a lie. He knew very well that she was one of those women. She’d said it herself as they’d danced. She covered the slip with more offensive:
“But I can assure you I can handle a little unnecessary strain, as you put it. I’m not made of china, Michael.” She used his full name and watched his lip curl a little. She knew how much he hated being called Michael.
Mike had put his hat back on, the brim shading his eyes and making him look even larger than his six-foot-two frame.
“Is there anything I can do to help you then?”
Grace looked up and saw his eyes were earnest even though his tone was cold, and she nearly backed down. She acknowledged the attraction, but that was where it stopped. Mike didn’t feel anything for her, that much was clear. Men who were interested told you how nice you looked, gave you compliments instead of remarking on the presence of bags beneath your eyes or asking you to balance the books. She’d done the longing gaze thing for far too many years, and it had gotten her nowhere. It hadn’t been enough before. And it wouldn’t get her anywhere in the future, either. Men didn’t want women like her, not once they realized that she was more than the quiet, girl-next-door that they thought she was.
“Yes, Mike, there is something you can do for me. You can get out of the way and let me do my job.”
CHAPTER TWO
GRACE SHUT THE checkbook and sighed. Alex had done a good job with the books, but she was behind by a month or two. Not much wonder, Grace thought, taking a brain break. She leaned back in the desk chair and took a sip from her pop can. Alex was pregnant, chasing after a toddler and summer was the busiest time on a farm. Now it was up to Grace to straighten things out and keep things up-to-date. Even if Alex did get home soon, she was under orders for bed rest, and then after the baby came she’d be too exhausted to worry about payables and receivables. Grace wasn’t sure if being close to Mike so often was going to be a blessing or a curse.
But she was all too happy to fill in. She loved accounting. It was gratifying to see all those numbers line up just right and have things balance out at the end of the day. It was neat and orderly, and every time she finished printing a report or balancing an account, she got this great sense of accomplishment. With so much of her life feeling arbitrary and out of sync, balancing those columns was like something in her life was where it was supposed to be.
The downside was, in order to put food on the table, she had to do other jobs just to make ends meet. It was a small town, and without her C.P.A., she didn’t make enough to pay the bills with the few accounting jobs she had. She hired herself out as a cleaning lady as well. It supplemented her income and, to be honest, kept her from being too lonely. Yesterday she’d spent the entire day cleaning for Mrs. Darrin. When the cleaning was finished, she’d planned to go back home and finish painting the trim on her house. But Mrs. Darrin was feeling poorly and had asked Grace to tend to her garden as well, so Grace