everything, hiding nothing of herself with no more need for caution. No more holding back.
Making love with him was wild abandon—a growing madness within the storm above them and the one within her.
And then it happened.
The climax—breaking her into a million little pieces.
She was falling, falling, too fast, and then John's arms were around her, and he was whispering her name. She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes.
Loving John was going to save her.
The storm passed near sundown.
They'd made love again and were still lying in each other's arms, counting down the moments they had left before he had to take her home.
John felt peace in a way he never had before. They were lying face to face, legs entwined, hands still mapping the shape of—
His chin.
Her brow.
Tracing the shape of his nose.
Cupping the side of her face.
"Love you, Gracie," he said softly, and then kissed the palm of her hand.
"I, Gracie, love you more," she said, and then threw back her head in laughter when he nipped the hollow at the base of her throat. But that soon turned to a moan as he kissed his way down to the valley between her breasts.
"One more for the road?" John asked, as he slid between her legs.
"Yes, please," Gracie said, as he swelled within her.
Taking Gracie home and then driving away without her was harder than John could have imagined. Their relationship was new, but the depth of his feeling for her didn't feel that way.
She was in his blood.
Gracie stood in the darkness of her apartment, watching from the window as John drove away. For nine long years she'd buried every personal wish, every emotion she'd had, to be focused enough to do what had to be done for her mama.
Until today.
She'd felt it happening—this coming back alive.
But never would she have believed it would be this sudden, soul-gripping, gut-wrenching bond to a man she barely knew.
It was the scariest, best thing that had ever happened to her, and watching him drive away had been the hardest.
He was in her blood.
Going to work the next day, Gracie was certain the girls in the Majestic would see her rebirth as she entered the shop. She felt awkward and uncertain, like a baby learning to walk. But it didn't happen. They waved. They smiled, and their chatter continued.
She got her apron, and as she got settled at her workstation and picked up the first order, the uncertainty faded.
Understanding there were layers to a life was a relief. She could be strong and vulnerable. She could be happy and sad. She could be a fabulous floral designer, and the woman in John Gatlin's bed. What she never had to be again was her mama's nurse—her mama's advocate—her mama's voice.
The days flew by.
One day, a check for twenty-five thousand dollars from Mama's life insurance policy was in her mail when she came home.
The moment she saw it, she burst into tears, remembering the day her mama had bought it.
You're gonna earn it, Delia had said. And she'd been right.
She turned around, got right back in her car, and took it to the bank to make a deposit. Her salary was supporting her. Her nest egg was growing. She was still taking care of business.
Every day before John left town, he stopped by Gracie's apartment. Sometimes just for a hug. Sometimes he brought food. And sometimes they made love in her canopy bed.
Labor Day came and went with the same heat and humidity.
John's family arrived to spend the holiday, pulling her into their silliness and their world.
She saw John in his father, David.
Tall, dark hair sprinkled with strands of gray, eyes crinkled up from smiling, big hands callused from a lifetime of work.
She adored him.
His mother, Nola, was the peacemaker. Always soothing over misunderstandings, loving on her grandchildren, backing up the people she cared for. And without pushing the issue, she pulled Gracie into the mix as if she'd always been there.
John's sister, Linda, was a sweetheart. Gracie found companionship with her that she'd never felt from her own sisters, because they'd always had each other.
John's nephews were funny, little versions of their father, Lee, and they kept everyone busy trying to keep track of them.
Gracie thrived on the feminine influence she'd been missing like rain soaking into dry ground.
Life-giving.
Life-saving.
By the time they left, Gracie knew she belonged to someone and his people. She had the beginnings of a family again, and that began to mend a tear in her