Grayson's Vow (40)
“I didn’t sleep with Jade, Kira. I didn’t even kiss her. You were right. It wouldn’t have been discreet, and it wouldn’t have been right. Not to mention, I didn’t want to. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear to you sooner than now.”
I scoffed, but relief was a cool balm spreading through me—not only hadn’t he slept with Jade, but he’d realized his actions could have caused our relationship to look far less than legitimate. “I’m glad you realized you weren’t acting discreetly, but I hardly care what you did with Jade for any reason other than that,” I insisted, lifting my chin.
He just smiled. “So what do you say? About…us?”
Fear trickled slowly through me. No. No, I had no interest in going there with the Dragon. He’d likely been with countless women who knew exactly what to do in his bed. I wouldn’t be compared to them. But on the heels of the fear, came resentment. Now that he’d deemed me attractive after all, I was supposed to fall at his feet? Nope. I shook my head. “It’s not a good idea and I’m not interested anyway. I don’t like you much and I find you…unattractive. Hideous actually. Sorry if that’s blunt, but it’s the truth.”
He chuckled as if I hadn’t just insulted and rejected him. God, he knew no woman in her right mind would ever find him unattractive. Also, there was the small matter of the way I’d responded to his kiss less than fifteen minutes ago…
“Also,” I went on for further emphasis, “you have the manners of a dyspeptic reptile.”
The corner of his lip trembled. “I can be civilized if I put my mind to it,” he said.
“I doubt it,” I muttered under my breath.
“I’ll prove it to you. Be ready at six o’clock. I’ll pick you up. We never did have that wedding dinner.”
Wait, what? No. “I’m busy,” I shouted as he turned away.
“Six o’clock,” he shouted back.
I gritted my teeth, considering standing him up. But the truth was, I was pitifully lonely and had been bored for a week. A dinner out was hard to resist—even if it had to be with my husband.
I sighed, shifting from one foot to the other. And also? Maybe it would be good to talk, try to get to know each other a little, and start over on a better foot. A one-time dinner date. And then, I’d be less inclined to come up with Very Bad Ideas once I was involved in doing his books. Not to mention, he’d be extremely busy soon too, when the trust money came through. Things would smooth out, and before I knew it, I’d be able to leave here and wipe Grayson Hawthorn from my memory forever.
I stepped toward my suitcase. But first…what did I have to wear to my overdue wedding dinner?
* * *
Grayson’s truck pulled up in front of my cottage at precisely six o’clock. I took a deep, fortifying breath and walked slowly through the brush. He was standing at the passenger side door, holding it open. “My, my,” I said, “you do have manners when you care to use them. Who would have guessed?” His smile was that of a very satisfied, decidedly non-dyspeptic reptile—sweet, with a devilish twinkle. I took his hand and stepped up into the cab. He was freshly shaven and his still semi-wet hair glinted in the sunlight, the almost-black strands glossy and tousled. I looked away, making a vow to harden my heart against him. If there was one thing I knew, men like him were adept at getting what they wanted by using charm, and I wouldn’t fall for it.
Once he was seated in the cab and we were pulling through his front gate, I asked, “So where are you taking me?”
“A local place I think you’ll like.” He said it casually, but a worried expression settled on his features for a brief moment before it flitted away.
I twisted the necklace I was wearing as I watched his profile, wondering what he was thinking. He looked over at me and his eyes moved to my hand, where I had one finger wrapped around the chain at my chest, and then lowered to my cleavage, his gaze lingering for several beats before he looked back to the road. I had settled on an empire-waisted yellow sundress and a pair of navy wedge heels. But at the moment, with the way Grayson’s eyes had lingered on my exposed skin and with the feel of the low simmer of sexual tension in the cab of the truck, I was simultaneously wishing I’d chosen something less revealing and feeling a surge of satisfaction.
“So, Kira, you said you were in Africa up until recently. What was it you were doing there?” Grayson asked conversationally. Ah, now that he suddenly wanted to explore things, he’d decided to take an interest in me. How typical. Still, if we were going to get to know each other, we’d need to talk.
“A friend of mine was building a hospital. I decided to help with the effort,” I told him.
He glanced at me. “A friend?”
“Well, actually, a boy I had sponsored through a charity program. Anyway, Khotso had become a good friend over the years—through letters of course. His mother had suffered with something called an obstetric fistula after his birth when she was only thirteen, and it fueled his lifelong dream to become a doctor.” Pride filled my chest as I considered Khotso’s determination.
“A fistula?” he asked.
“It’s a childbirth injury. It’s practically unheard of here in America, but it’s a big problem in some parts of Africa due to the very early age many girls marry and become pregnant. Their young bodies simply aren’t ready to bear children and they have a wretched time—often in labor for days and frequently losing their baby too—and then they live in a terrible state due to the fistula they develop. Anyway, Khotso opened a hospital to provide medical care for those women, some of whom have lived with the condition for years. It’s an amazing accomplishment for someone so young.” I suddenly stopped talking, realizing I’d gotten caught up in the passion of the project. “Sorry, I…”