Chapter Seven

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As Grace sat at the table in the bakery, she felt the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes upon her and looked up from the heart she’d drawn on her copy of the agenda.

“Anything you want to contribute, Grace?” Madison grinned, obviously aware her mind had been elsewhere.

Grace gave herself a mental pinch, returning her attention to the topic at hand. Just because she’d rather be upstairs with her husband and son than here debating the merits of holding a hamburger-eating contest on the Fourth of July didn’t excuse her lack of participation. She was vice chair of Christmas’s Economic Development Committee, after all. “If Holly and Hailey are willing to organize the event, I don’t see the problem. But for food-safety reasons, we should have someone oversee the person cooking the burgers. We… What?” she asked when Hailey snorted and Jill rolled her eyes.

“We agreed to the contest.” Madison pressed her lips together in an effort, Grace imagined, to hold back a laugh. “We’ve moved on to the dignitaries who will be attending.”

“Oh, sorry,” Grace murmured.

Sophia, a Latino beauty who sat beside Grace, patted her hand. “If I had a husband who looked like yours waiting for me, my mind would not be here, either.”

“Forget her mind not being here. Grace, you shouldn’t be. You have a lot of lost time to make up for. If Jack was my husband, you wouldn’t see me for at least a week. We’d be locked in my bedroom, and we’d only come out to eat. Maybe,” Brandi said with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows beneath her teased, bottle-blonde hair.

“Yeah, who needs to eat when you have Jackson Flaherty taking care of all your other appetites. Although, strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce wouldn’t go amiss. You could slather all that sweet goodness over that hot body of his,” Hailey said with a wink.

“Come on, you guys. He’s my brother,” Jill complained when Hailey and Brandi continued to describe what they’d do to Jack… in detail.

Grace released a heartfelt sigh. Their suggestions sounded good to her. But until Jack got his memory back or miraculously fell in love with her in the next few days, she’d have to be satisfied with a very active fantasy life.

A pink-cheeked Mr. Hardy of Hardy’s Mountain Co-op cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, can we get back to the topic at hand?”

“Mr. Hardy’s right, get a grip on your hormones, ladies,” Madison said, shuffling through the pile of papers in front of her. “As of now, our only dignitary attending the Fourth of July celebration is Ethan. What about your father, Grace? Has he agreed to come?”

“I haven’t asked him yet, but I will.”

Jack was rumored to be up for another medal after leading his crew and Maria DeMarco to safety. The committee members thought Christmas’s Independence Day celebration was the perfect place for him to receive the honor. What they didn’t understand was approval for a Purple Heart took much longer than a few weeks. But Grace’s father was good at pulling strings—like the string he’d pulled to have her husband attached to the mission that led to his going MIA.

Grace squashed the memory and added, “What do you all think of inviting Jack’s crew and Maria to come? We could—”

“Why?” her sister-in-law interrupted her, looking at Grace like she’d sprouted another head. “Did you talk to Jack about this?”

“Well, yes, and he thinks…” Grace began, then realized she wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea. He’d been rather noncommittal, which initially had struck her as odd. Until she’d reminded herself that he’d just finished reliving his experience as a POW and it probably hadn’t been the best time to broach the subject. Then little Jack had interrupted them before they could explore the idea further.

“He thinks what?” Jill prompted.

Grace didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t sure of his opinion. She didn’t want them thinking she didn’t have a clue as to what was going on in his head. It was hard enough having everyone know he’d forgotten her. “That it’s a nice idea. And I don’t understand why you apparently think it’s not, Jill. But I’ll discuss it with him again tonight.”

“Don’t bother. If we invite them, we’ll have to pay for their flights and accommodations, and our budget can’t handle the added expense.”

Since when did her sister-in-law worry about budgets? That was Madison’s department. Jill was there as a representative of the sheriff’s department to deal with security issues. “I’m sure they wouldn’t expect us to cover their expenses, Jill.”

“You’re a better person than me, Grace. No way would I invite that woman to come to town. She has man-eater written all over her,” Brandi said, arms crossed over her black-and-white-striped uniform T-shirt.

Grace frowned. “You’re not talking about Maria DeMarco, are you?”

“Who else would I be talking about? Did you see the pictures of them coming off the plane? The woman was on your husband like white on rice. What? It’s true,” Brandi said when Hailey elbowed her.

Of course Grace had seen the pictures. She’d devoured them. And Brandi’s interpretation of the images didn’t match hers. “Don’t be ridiculous. Jack’s a gentleman and was simply helping her down the steps. After what she’s been through, it’s no wonder she’d need someone to hold on to.” Brandi didn’t understand the camaraderie that developed between soldiers like Grace did. They became family, and Maria was now a member of theirs.

Brandi went to say something, but Madison gave her a pointed look before directing her attention to Grace. “I think it’s a great idea. Talk to Jack about it tonight, and I’ll have a look at the budget.”

Jill made a show of checking her watch then pushed her chair back. “I, ah, I have to meet someone. E-mail me the minutes, Maddie.”

Without saying good-bye, Jill strode out the door into the teeming rain, pulling her jacket over her dark, shoulder-length hair. Something was obviously up with her sister-in-law, but Grace didn’t have time to think about it. Madison was already moving on to the next item on the agenda.

“Okay, guys, to date, forty people have signed up for the Fourth of July Triathlon. If we can get our numbers up, we can make money off the event, and it’s great exposure. Plus, we’re giving half of what we raise to The Home Front Cares. So, any ideas on how we can generate more publicity?”

Mr. Hardy volunteered to put flyers up around town, and Hailey had a list of Colorado running clubs she was going to get in touch with.

“Okay, that’s a good jumping-off point, and I’ll send out another press release. Nell’s taking care of social media.” Madison eyed the registrants’ sheet with a frown. “How come none of you have signed up?”

Grace sunk down in her chair. The Home Front Cares provided support for veterans and was a cause near and dear to Grace’s heart, but she couldn’t sign up. Not only were the 5K running and 10K biking events beyond her current endurance level, she couldn’t swim. Well, she could, but she hadn’t been in the water since the day her sister drowned.

Obviously Grace wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be steamrolled—and Madison was very good at steamrolling—because Hailey quickly intervened with a question about the plans for Christmas in July. Since the event was near and dear to Madison’s heart, the tactic worked. And Madison, much to everyone’s relief, began going over the plans for the week of July 24.

“Now, next year”—Madison passed around copies of an artist’s rendering of Santa’s village—“I’d like to have the first phase completed in time for Christmas in July. What do you guys think?”

They all agreed that it was a great idea and would be a good way to increase summer tourism, but Mr. Hardy worried about financing the venture.

“As to the costs,” Madison began, addressing Mr. Hardy’s concerns, “I’m putting together a deal with a couple of suppliers who will give us a substantial break on the cost of material in exchange for advertising on-site. And, as you know, the council has agreed to reinvest the profits from the sale of the house on Sugar Plum Lane into the development fund.”

Grace loved the idea of a Christmas village and was already thinking of ways to incorporate the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy into the plan, but she had to work to put a smile on her face. Now that the house on Sugar Plum Lane was being put up for sale, she could forget her dream of one day living there. She’d fallen in love with the old, abandoned pink Victorian the moment she saw it. The once-grand house reminded her of the one down the road from her grandmother’s. Grace had spent many an afternoon enviously watching the happy family who lived there.

But she’d always known it was a pipe dream. Even if they could afford the Victorian, Jack would never agree to it. He didn’t like the idea of being tied down to a house. His aversion to putting down roots had never been an issue for Grace, not until they had little Jack. An anxious knot tightened in her chest at the thought of all they had yet to resolve. One thing at a time, she reminded herself. For now, she’d concentrate on helping Jack get his memory back. They’d deal with everything else later. The thought loosened the knot in her chest.

Twenty minutes later, Madison adjourned the meeting and everyone pitched in to help move the tables and chairs back in place. Madison cast a speculative eye at the window as she and Grace pushed a table beneath it. “You should build a ledge here and use it as a showcase, Grace. You could do a Christmas theme in July. Actually, we should discuss window displays at the next meeting.”

“That’s a great idea. I’ll—” She frowned at the sight of Jill walking by with little Jack in her arms. She was followed closely behind by Jack, who held an umbrella over their heads.

“I’ll be right back,” Grace told Madison, then went outside. Standing under the awning, she called down the street, “What’s going on?”

Jill opened the door of her SUV, glancing from her brother to Grace. “Little Jack’s coming for a sleepover.”

Grace ran down the sidewalk. Jack angled the umbrella so she could duck beneath it. “I wish you would’ve asked me,” she said as a gust of wind tugged on the edges of her son’s yellow raincoat. Grace began doing up the snaps. “Didn’t you have to meet someone?”

“They canceled at the last minute. And little Jack wants to come for a sleepover, don’t you, buddy?”

“Me go auntie.”

Of course he’d want to spend time with Jill. Now that they weren’t living under the same roof, her son undoubtedly missed his aunt. “I guess it’s okay,” Grace reluctantly agreed and cupped little Jack’s face with her hands. She kissed him. “Be good for auntie and call me before bed.”

“ ’Kay.” He nodded.

As Jill belted him in the car seat, he blew Grace a kiss. She smiled, fighting back a wave of emotion, and blew him one back.

Jack ducked his head to look into her eyes. “We’ll go get him if he’s lonely.” A smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. “Or if you are.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” He gave her ponytail a gentle tug before handing her the umbrella, then leaned into the SUV to stuff the bag on the floor. “See you tomorrow, buddy,” he said as he backed out, ruffling his son’s hair.

Jill closed the door behind him. “You know he’s safe with me, don’t you?”

Unlike her brother, Jill knew exactly what her nephew was like. Although, after finding Jack and little Jack passed out when she’d checked on them earlier, Grace had a sneaking suspicion her husband had discovered what a handful he could be. “Of course I do. It’s just that I’ve never been away from him all night before.”

Jill hugged Grace and whispered in her ear, “You guys need some time alone. Maybe you could, you know, try out some of Hailey and Brandi’s suggestions. Just don’t tell me about it if you do.” She pulled back with a grin and opened the driver-side door.

Thankfully Jack was too busy to hear what his sister said. He was responding to the greetings from several committee members as they ran for their vehicles.

“Bye, guys. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” Jill laughed as she got in the SUV and closed the door.

Jack raised a brow. Before Grace could make light of his sister’s remark, Jack held up a container. “Murray called to see where his supper was, and he’s got a leak he wants me to check out while I’m there. I shouldn’t be long.”

She went to return the umbrella.

He closed his hand over hers. “No, you take it. I’m good.” His voice was gruff, his eyes no longer holding hers.

She followed his gaze. Her rain-splattered beige blouse clung to her, her lacy white bra clearly visible. Self-consciously she placed her arm across her chest, pretending to rub her shoulder. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his lips curved in that dangerously sexy smile she remembered. He’d smiled that way before he kissed her the first time. She wondered if he wanted to kiss her now. She didn’t realize she’d tipped her head, her lips parted expectantly, until he turned and walked away.

A disappointed sigh drifted past her lips as the rain tapped on the umbrella. She watched Jack head up Mr. Murray’s flower-lined walkway, remembering how her husband used to kiss her. How he used to make love to her as passionately and as tirelessly as he did everything else. As though he sensed her watching him, he turned on the porch’s top step. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice. Now get going before you catch a cold.”

He hadn’t changed. Some women might find his protective, take-charge attitude a little off-putting, but Grace had always been a sucker for an Alpha male. Probably because she’d grown up surrounded by them. Besides that, he was an incredibly gorgeous Alpha male.

Jill was right. All they needed was some time alone together. No doubt Hailey and Brandi would make good use of the opportunity if they were in Grace’s shoes. Too bad Grace wasn’t as confident in her ability to seduce her husband as her friends were. As he raised his hand to knock on the door, she took in the wide expanse of his shoulders beneath the black Windbreaker, the well-worn jeans molded to his amazing butt and powerful thighs. Maybe it was time she got her sexy back.

*     *     *

Jack walked into the apartment and set down the purple lilacs the old man had given to him for Grace. Shrugging out of his jacket, he gave an appreciative sniff. His wife was one hell of a cook. He’d been inhaling one of her meatballs when his sister walked in earlier. A meatball he promptly choked on when Jill repeated the conversation going on in the bakery.

He knew he should’ve shot down Grace’s suggestion last night, but he hadn’t been able to figure out what to say without raising her suspicions. And now, from what Jill said, he’d better come up with something fast, because Grace was determined to pursue the issue. His wife may appear fragile and sweet, but when she wanted something, she was as single-minded as a heat-seeking missile. He froze with the coat hanger in his hand.

Where had that come from?

No matter how hard he tried to push on the door to his memories, it remained firmly closed to him. At least when it came to his wife and son. He had no trouble remembering why he’d been hell-bent on leaving Christmas as soon as he was legal. Which was something he had to talk to his wife about. He’d been too busy calming his sister’s fears about Maria to question her about what Sawyer had inferred. No matter what Jill said, no matter how much he’d supposedly loved his wife, he wouldn’t have agreed to live in Christmas permanently.

“Jack, is that you?”

“Yeah,” he said and hung up his jacket. Toeing off his sneakers, he picked up the flowers and made his way to the kitchen. His wife stood by the stove wearing a frilly white apron over black slacks and a white blouse. She looked put together in a don’t-mess-me-up kind of way. He doubted she owned a pair of jeans. Something else they didn’t have in common. He lived in his.

She rested the wooden spoon across the top of the pot and turned to him with a smile. “They’re beautiful.”

He handed her the lilacs. “I think old man Murray has a crush on you. He was singing your praises the entire time I was there.” When he wasn’t reminding Jack what a tool he’d been as a kid.

She opened a cupboard and went to reach for a crystal vase on the top shelf. “Do you mind?” she asked.

His body brushed against hers as he retrieved the vase, and a slow burn of awareness heated his skin. He’d had the same reaction when he stood under the umbrella with her, inhaling her floral scent while his gaze took in the intriguing hint of curves that her wet blouse revealed.

Turning on the tap, she said, “You used to bring me wildflowers.”

Huh. That surprised him. He wasn’t a hearts-and-flowers kind of guy. He wondered if the man she thought he was ever existed. “Probably because you smell like them.”

“Oh.”

“That’s not a bad thing, Grace,” he said in response to the face she made. “You smell nice.”

“Nice. Nice is good,” she said as if it was anything but.

Flaherty, do yourself a favor and keep your mouth shut.

She placed the vase in the center of the white tablecloth, then began rearranging the candles and salt and pepper shakers. It took her several tries before they met with her satisfaction. Jack had to hold himself back from taking the candles from her and plunking them on the table, and saying, That’s it. Underneath her calm and cool demeanor, his wife was a control freak. She looked at the table, smoothed the linen tablecloth one last time, and walked over to the stove.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, dumping a fistful of pasta into the boiling pot of water.

He wasn’t. “Starved.”

“Good. I wasn’t sure you would be. I seem to be missing half the meatballs.” She gave him a dimpled smile.

He laughed, the leftover tension from his visit with Murray melting away. Odd how, since Grace was so tightly wound, she had that effect on him. “Busted. But it wasn’t only me. Jill took some, and I gave a couple to Murray.”

“I’m surprised you shared.”

“Me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted meatballs that good. What’s your secret?” Her smile faded. “Did I say something wrong?” Did he even have to ask?

“No, it’s just… I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I keep forgetting you have absolutely no memory of us.” While she stirred the sauce, she glanced at him. “We spent our honeymoon at this amazing bed-and-breakfast in Casperia, Italy. Roberto, one of the owners, taught us how to make these incredible dishes. Everything was fresh. They produced their own olive oil and cheese. We’d pick tomatoes from the garden, and they were warm from the sun and smelled real, you know.” She scooped up a meatball with the spoon and cupped her hand beneath it. “Close your eyes and see if you can guess the secret ingredient.”

There was something incredibly sexy about Grace at that moment. It was the way she talked about the food. Her eyes lit up with passion. Her face captivated him. He could look at her all day and never get tired of it.

“You have the most amazing eyes. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You.” She smiled and lifted the spoon to his mouth.

He rested a hand on the curve of her hip and opened his mouth, then did as she asked and closed his eyes while savoring the moist, spicy meatball. “Hot Italian sausage,” he guessed, although he wasn’t sure it was a guess. Somehow he’d known, even before he said it, that hot sausage was the secret ingredient.

Her eyes widened. “You rem…” she started, then corrected herself. “You’re right. I was going to bet you that you couldn’t guess. Good thing I didn’t.”

“What would I have gotten if we had?” Answers, that’s what he wanted. An answer as to why his sister had lied. But he liked this playful, lighthearted side to Grace and didn’t want to ruin the moment. No sense in upsetting her when he could just as easily ask Jill.

She cast him a sidelong glance, her delicate jaw setting in a determined line before she said, “A kiss.”

“Sounds good to me.” It did. He hadn’t been able to get the kiss he’d shared with the woman in the meadow out of his head. A woman who looked like his wife.

“It does?” she asked in a surprised tone of voice.

He took the wooden spoon from her and rested it across the top of the pot before placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Yeah, it does,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she leaned in to him. Her body a warm, supple weight. He smoothed his hands down her back, brushing his lips, slowly, gently, over hers, drawing her closer. He wanted her closer.

A needy whimper escaped her parted lips as she wound her arms around his neck. Bringing her body snug against his, she tangled her fingers in his hair. Jack had thought to take it slow, to get one small taste of her, but from the way she drew the tip of her tongue across the seam of his lips, she wanted more. She coaxed him to open, short-circuiting his brain with the feel of her tongue caressing the inside of his mouth with hot, greedy strokes. It was an unbelievable kiss—passionate and uninhibited.

Grace was the woman in the meadow.

She rose up on her toes, and he looped one arm around her waist, threading the fingers of his other hand in her soft, sweet-smelling hair. Mine. The thought echoed in his head at the same time the phone rang.

Her frustrated groan reverberated against his mouth. He wanted to voice his own frustration when she drew away from him. Cheeks flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded with passion, she gave him an apologetic smile and went to answer the phone. “It’s probably little Jack.”

By the time she finished talking to Jill, he’d laid their dinner on the table.

Jack pulled out a chair for her. “He okay, or do you want me to go get him?” He’d made some progress with his son today, but selfishly, he wanted Grace to himself tonight. Especially after that kiss.

“Thank you,” she said, taking her seat. She placed a napkin neatly across her lap. “Jill doesn’t think he’s going to last through the night. But he’d probably pitch a fit if you went to get him now. She said she’ll bring him home in a while.”

“Inherited the infamous Flaherty temper, did he?”

She smiled and nodded. “I’m surprised you didn’t see any signs of it today.”

“Nope.” The kid might be Houdini and a little stubborn, but he hadn’t thrown a tantrum.

They talked while they ate, mostly about their son. As he’d noticed yesterday, his wife was an entertaining conversationalist. But unlike last night, it was harder for him to stay focused on the conversation. He’d catch himself staring at Grace’s soft lips, reliving that kiss.

“Would you like some coffee and dessert?” she asked as she got up to clear the table. “I made tiramisu. It’s one of Roberto’s recipes.”

“That would be a definite yes, then. Do you have any pictures of the place?”

“Tons. I’ll get them.” She set the dishes on the counter and went into the living room, coming back with three albums in her arms. “I should’ve done this yesterday. Dr. Peters thought it might help you remember.”

Once she served coffee and dessert, she pulled her chair closer and opened the first album. It was of their honeymoon. She worked her way backward to the wedding. “If this is hard for you, we can stop,” she said as she closed the second album.

It wasn’t easy. Charlie, as Jack’s best man, was in most of the photos. But Jack instinctively knew he had to do this. He wanted his memory back, and somewhere in these albums might be the key to unlocking it.

He knew the instant she opened the third album that he’d found the key.

She turned the page to a picture of her wearing a feminine white sundress, her arms held out from her body as she twirled in a lush meadow of vibrant red Indian paintbrush and white columbine. Her honey-blonde hair swung across her shoulders, her face lifted to the sun. “This is when you proposed. You planned a picnic for us. I had no idea what you were up to.”

One by one, the memories flooded his senses: the night he met her, the first time he kissed her, the first time they made love, and the day he realized she was the only woman for him. He had fallen so completely in love with her that his reasons never to marry no longer mattered or made sense. Her military upbringing made her his perfect match. He knew whatever happened she wouldn’t break. She’d stick by him, never give up on him.

Emotion swamped him as he looked at Grace, a soft smile playing on her lips, a strand of hair falling across her cheek, her delicate, fine-boned fingers tracing the photo. He loved her now as much as he did then. Theirs was a forever kind of love, an unforgettable love.

But he had forgotten her. If the situation had been reversed, he knew how that would’ve made him feel. He opened his mouth to tell her, and that’s when the final memory clicked into place.

He remembered their last night together and what she’d said to him.