“There’s more,” she said.
He shook his head. “I appreciate the honesty, but you don’t have to do this.”
Her gaze met his. “Yes, I do. You need to know one last thing. All that money I mentioned doesn’t do a bit of good if you’re unhappy or you lose yourself in the process.” She shrugged and her cheeks turned pink as if she was embarrassed by the admission.
He’d known the facts from Emma, yet hearing Grace’s view of her world, he could almost believe she’d walked away for good. Almost. He knew she meant every word she’d uttered. But once she found herself and everything she was looking for, going back to the money and the life she’d left behind wouldn’t be as difficult as she thought. As she’d said, it was second nature.
But right now, that world was far away. And what he saw in front of him was a vulnerable woman. One who’d gotten to a heart Ben would have sworn wasn’t capable of deep emotion. Before Grace, he’d never felt so much before.
And that was yet another reason to back off. He reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it briefly. For reassurance. For selfish need. “We’d better get back to work.”
She let out a slow breath but was obviously relieved the subject was closed for now. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a slave driver?”
He laughed but it sounded harsh to his own ears. “I can think of worse things to be.” Like a liar, he thought in disgust, wondering when in the hell doing his job had become something that turned his stomach.
For the next hour, they worked side by side. Rather, she worked and he admired… He admired her attention to detail, her diligence at scrubbing coffee stains off the dashboard, and the way her behind moved in tight denim as she scrambled to her knees and wiped down the center console.
He shook his head. He had no doubt every move was calculated to capture his attention. Damned if he wasn’t mesmerized anyway.
“Time to call it a day.” She climbed out of the truck looking wrinkled, messed, and every inch not the Grace Kelly image he’d tried to paint her in. She was as beautiful, regal, and striking as the young Princess of Monaco had been, but at this moment, she was also dirt-streaked and rumpled.
His Grace wasn’t a princess. She was real. Enough to make him forget her background and his case—if he was looking for trouble. He told himself he wasn’t.
But his throbbing body didn’t agree. And neither did the part of his brain that both liked and admired Grace Montgomery.
She wiped her hands on the front of her jeans, drawing his attention to the pull of material at the fly. He tried to swallow but his mouth had grown dry.
“I’m through here. Take a look and take a whiff. The fresh scent of clean.” With a bow, she waved, meaning to give him a look at the inside of his truck.
What he got was a glimpse down her makeshift shirt instead. Pale flesh swelled over delicate lace. He shook his head to distract himself, then bent and peered inside the vehicle, hoping to get sidetracked. His seats shone and the scent of lemon-lime surrounded him, but his mind was firmly on Grace.
He straightened and met her gaze. “Good job, Gracie.”
“Really? Thanks.” The flash of white teeth told him she was proud of her handiwork and even more pleased by his compliment.
“How long has it been since someone told you you’ve done good?” He was suddenly certain her discomfort with her background was related to her occasional bouts of insecurity.
“Too long. Especially from someone I… care about.” Her cheeks grew pink at the admission.
So, his instincts had been right on. Ben had no doubt Emma bolstered her granddaughter’s self-esteem as much as she could, but nothing could replace parental pride. From all the insinuations, Grace’s father’s parenting tactics could use some work. Ben had been fortunate with his parental luck of the draw; both his mother and father had supported him emotionally and had always shown their love. But Grace apparently hadn’t been as lucky.
He looked into her beautiful face and was glad he’d been able to contribute something positive to her life after all. Even if she didn’t realize it, he did.
“I really have to be going,” she said.
He reached for her, but she stepped back. “Where to?” As if he didn’t know.
“The park. And playground. The sun’s out and tomorrow’s forecast says rain.” She backed up another step.
“Okay. Give me ten minutes to clean up and I’ll go with you.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.” She stepped backward again. “I need to do this alone. And I know you understand that—respect it, even. If you can just put those caveman instincts aside and trust me on this…”
“Can’t, Gracie.” He wished like hell he could, if only because she wanted it so badly. But he had Emma to answer to, for one thing, his conscience for another. And he had to—wanted to—look out for her.
“I thought not. Bye, Ben.”