Guarding Grayson by Cathryn Cade Page A

irritation, and then strode along the hall.
    The sitting room was in perfect order as well, the old oak furniture polished, the magazines on the coffee table arrayed as if for a photo shoot. His shoulders tightened. He could feel Brynne’s anxiety, her eagerness to please rising up around him like warm, scented water, so pleasant but if he didn’t watch out it would rise right over his head and drown him in her neediness.
    He stalked into the kitchen and stopped short. It was spotless too, something simmered on the stove in one of his Gran’s big cooking pots, and Brynne stood at the counter, arranging a centerpiece out of flowers he recognized from the neighbors’ gardens and stems of sage and other brush. It looked unique and pretty, and he wanted to stand and just admire her with it like a study for a painting … no, no! He wanted to grab the arrangement and throw it out the open back door. This was his space.
    “What are you doing?” he asked, keeping his voice level with an effort.
    She started, and then looked over at him, her brown eyes going wide, her lower lip sucking in under her teeth. Did she have to do that right now? It always made him want to do his own nibbling on that lip.
    She rubbed her hands up and down her shorts, another move he recognized. “Oh, hi. I’m … um, I’m just fixing a nice supper and I thought these flowers would look pretty on the table.”
    “You didn’t have to do all this,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be … napping, or something?” Anything but straightening up his world and messing up his libido?
    “I wanted to do it,” she said quickly, her words tripping over themselves. “You know I like to do things for you, Gray. Are you ready for a cold beer? I’ll make the salad, and we can—"
    “No,” he interrupted, because he had to stop this before it before she went any further. “Brynne … just, no. I’m going out. I’ll eat later.”
    And then, even though his stomach was growling at the smell of good food, and his mouth was watering not just for the food, but for the damp, sweet curve of her lips and his palms itching to fondle other curves, he turned and walked away from temptation.
    It would only make it worse if he stayed. He was going to hurt her sooner or later—better to make it clear now that this was only temporary. And damn him for a fool that as he walked away, he felt the weight of her soft gaze pulling him to go back, to stay with her, to go under without a murmur of protest.
    * * *
    E’ea woke with the sure knowledge that all was not well in Brynne’s world. She unfurled carefully, staying in the background of Brynne’s mind, watching, listening, sensing. Brynne was crying again. This meant she was deeply upset, even hurt.
    “ Brynne ?” she asked. “ What is wrong ?”
    “Nothing. Just … same old, same old. Gray’s never going to love me,” Brynne said brokenly. “No matter what I do. I thought … this was my second chance to have him as mine. But he—he doesn’t want me here. I want to go home.”
    “ Not yet ,” E’ea said briskly. “ Brynne, I think it is time I shared some of the knowledge I have gleaned from studying your human race—and your Grayson Stark. ”
    Brynne started. “You’ve been studying him? Stop it—he’s mine. Except he’s not, is he? I guess you can take him if you want to … he won’t mind.”
    E’ea sighed. “ I do not wish to take him from you, Brynne. I am here to keep both of you alive. But since I am here, I will counsel you. ”
    “What, like Oprah?” E’ea felt Brynne’s astonishment.
    “ Hmm, yes ,” E’ea replied. “ And also Chuck Norris .”
    Brynne snorted. “ Chuck Norris? He's some old MMA fighter. What on earth would he know about relationships ?”
    “ I have no idea. But he knows a great deal about self-defense. And you, my Earth friend, need both. Come into the sitting room and we will get started. Then we will enjoy some of the delicious supper you have prepared