Grounded: Michaela Page 11

  Heart pounding furiously in her throat, she moved out of her room to the next door, the bathroom door. She raised her hand to knock, but stopped herself. The women in the books didn't knock. No, they just…went in. She needed to catch Ty off guard, fall naked into his arms so he had no choice but to return her kisses. Once he saw her naked, he wouldn't be able to control his lust and he'd finally make love to her.

  A shiver of excitement raced down her arms, made her fingers tingle. And then he'd tell her he loved her, that he couldn't live without her.

  Silently, she turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. Steam rolled out of the tiny bathroom into the hallway. Even better, she thought with a smile as she stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. He wouldn't see her until she was in the bathtub with him.

  She opened her robe and slipped it off. She heard Ty moan, as if he were in pain. Little flutters set up in her stomach as she tucked the robe onto the towel rack.

  "Yes, baby," Ty groaned.

  Her pulse raced. Did he know she was there? Did he know what she'd planned? Careful not to alert him to her presence, she silently pulled the cloth curtain back and peeked into the shower. He stood with his back to her, his head bowed forward, one hand braced on the wall and the other…

  Excitement coursed through her, making her feel weak and powerful at the same time. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! It looked so much more interesting than she'd imagined from the books. And he was touching himself, just the way she wanted to.

  Stepping into the tub, she didn't bother pulling the curtain back into place. She just wanted to touch him. Oh my goodness, he was muscled all over. Even his posterior looked firm and so…she couldn't think of a word to describe him. Almost giggling at the thought that came to her, she thought he looked yummy. Better than the chocolate cake she'd had at the party. She had an overwhelming urge to nibble him, to find out what his firm flesh would feel like between her teeth.

  He groaned again. Rubbed himself faster. "Yes baby, yes baby, yes baby," he said in a hoarse whisper that made Michaela's flesh tingle.

  Taking the two small steps that separated her breasts from his back, she pressed against him, wrapped her arms around him and laid her hands over his.

  "Michaela!" He growled, throwing his head back as his entire body tensed and shook.

  His hot, slicked back sent shocks of intense pleasure from her breasts to her stomach. He took two gulping breaths, the motion sending more spiking heat racing through her body. A little moan escaped her lips before she could stifle it.

  She opened her lips over his shoulder blade, let her teeth graze his taut skin. Then it seemed he quit breathing altogether. She moved her hands from his, wanting to touch more of him, his arms, his chest, his buttocks.

  He jerked his hand off the wall and grabbed both her wrists, holding them away from his flesh.

  "Do you not know the meaning of the word no?"

  Chapter Ten

  "No?" Michaela asked, stunned at the angry tone in his voice. "But you kept saying yes, yes, yes!"

  His grip on her wrists tightened before he released her, folded his arms on the wall, and laid his head against them. "Get out."

  "But—"

  "Out! Get the fuck out."

  "Ty." She laid her hands on his back. Oh, he felt good. His skin was so hot, his muscles so hard beneath.

  He tensed. Her eyes were drawn to his firm buttocks, how the muscles scrunched up. She licked her lips, the urge to take that bite so strong she had to look away.

  "Why are you doing this to me?" he groaned. "Would you please just go away and leave me alone?"

  "I don't want to go away, Ty Brock. I want you to make love to me." She ran her hands down his sides, over his hips, reveling in his sleek body so different from hers.

  He turned so fast she nearly lost her balance. He grabbed her by the upper arms and lifted her from the tub. "No."

  She got one look at the front of him, but something was wrong. Something had happened. Where did his penis go? It'd shrunk! "Ty," she whispered, unable to look away. "Ty, what…"

  He grabbed her chin, lifting her head so she met his dark, angry eyes. "No," he growled. "Not now, not ever. No. No. No. If you don't know what it means, go look it up in that damn book of yours. I won't take your goddamned virginity!"

  He released her, grabbed a towel off the rack, and draped it around his hips. Then he shoved her robe at her. "Put it on."

  This hadn't worked like it was supposed to. Seeing her naked was supposed to send him into a frenzy of lust and longing. He wanted her to cover up and go away. Was there something wrong with her body? She glanced down at herself. She looked like every other woman she'd seen at Jess's party, so why was he glaring at her as if she were something disgusting on the bottom of his cowboy boots?

  She poked her arms into the robe's sleeves and crossed the lapels, covering her body from his view. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe the reason wasn't that he didn't feel worthy, it was just that he didn't want her. She frowned up at him. Nothing made sense. He'd said he wanted her.

  "I don't understand any of this," she admitted.

  "You don't understand what?" he growled and placed his hands on his hips. He was doing a lot of that lately, the growling thing. Kind of like Stryker.

  "Isn't making love a good thing when you want to be closer to someone? I want to be close to you, Ty." She willed him to understand. But, it was true, she didn't understand it all herself.

  His eyes shut for a moment, his head dropping forward. "You need to make love with a man who is going to pledge his life to you, his love. Why can't you understand that I am not that man?"

  Oh.

  He didn't love her.

  And he was one of those honorable men the romance manual spoke of, a man who wouldn't have sex with a woman unless he loved her.

  She couldn't fault him for that, she supposed. She folded her arms around herself, feeling a big empty hole in her chest. Why couldn't he love her?

  She turned and grabbed the doorknob. "I'm sorry, Ty. I didn't know." She rushed from the steamy bathroom before the tears could fall.

  * * * *

  Ty slammed the posthole digger into the still damp earth, twisted it, and jerked out a chunk of dirt. The sun was nearly below the horizon and the air was finally cooling.

  He'd avoided Michaela like the plague all day. She hadn't set foot outside the house, thank God, and he hadn't had the nerve to go inside. His stomach rumbled with hunger but he ignored it. He had no idea what to say when he did face her.

  He'd hurt her so badly this morning. When he passed her door on his way outside, he'd heard her crying. The urge to go to her, hold her, make love to her as she'd asked him to, was so strong he'd practically run out the front door.

  Manual labor hadn't tempered the fire burning in him. He wanted her. Wanted her as he'd never wanted any other woman he'd ever known. And damn it, he thought as he thrust the digger into the ground, he didn't just want her body. He wanted her love. Wanted to hold her not for just one night, but forever. What stopped him was that she didn't have a clue what love was. He was sure she didn't even know why she was feeling the things she was feeling. From the expression on her face, the heat simmering in her beautiful green eyes, she was experiencing plain old lust.

  Throwing the digger on the ground, he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and swiped his sweaty forehead, cheeks and arms. His T-shirt was stuck to his back with sweat. He'd cleaned the entire barn, rode the north fence line, and dug two-dozen postholes so he could expand his paddock for the horses he hoped he'd soon be boarding. With the ranchers he'd spoken to at Jess's party, within two weeks, he was going to have at least three more horses to break. "If Michaela doesn't tell me they don't want to be ridden," he muttered as he stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket.

  "Ty."

  Ty whipped around at Michaela's soft voice. "What?"

  She winced. "Supper is ready," she said in little more than a whisper. S
he was wearing one of his work shirts. It was too big on her, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the ends tied in a knot at her waist. It looked sexy as hell. "You haven't eaten all day."

  "Thank you." He picked up the digger and headed for the barn. His stomach grumbled at him, feeling as if it were eating a hole through itself.

  By the time he reached the house, the smell of beef stew and fresh baked bread wafted to him, making his mouth water. He hurried to the bathroom for a shower, locking the door behind him.

  * * * *

  Michaela set the table just like the picture in the cookbook. She'd found a white candle in one of the kitchen drawers and put it in a small glass. She'd picked a few sprigs of the sweet smelling clover from behind the house and put that in another small glass—she couldn't find any vases in the house. The napkins were folded to look like a bird, and the silverware was lined up just right. She'd made a pot of beef stew and a loaf of heavy flat bread—Ty didn't have any yeast, so she had to make a recipe without it.

  The prettiest bowl Ty had held the stew in the center of the table. The bread was sliced, and a tall glass of milk sat beside his plate. Now she waited for him, her stomach twisted in a hard knot, as he took his evening shower before dinner.

  She didn't know what to say to him. She'd apologized this morning, and saying it again would seem foolish. He hadn't come in the house all day, which she assumed meant he hadn't wanted to see her. It was impossible for her to understand how badly she'd misinterpreted him. She'd been so sure he truly had love feelings for her.

  "It smells great," he said as he slid into the seat opposite her, his freshly showered scent of soap and shaving cream made her ache inside. "I haven't had stew in ages."

  Her lips trembled when she tried to smile, so she gave up and just nodded, unable to raise her gaze to his.

  She watched him scoop out meat, vegetables, and the thick sauce, then he picked up a fat slice of bread and slathered it with butter. He dipped the bread into the stew sauce and took a huge bite.

  "Mmmm. This is so good," he said around the bite. "Aren't you going to eat?"

  "I…um…" She picked up a slice of the bread and put a bit of butter on it, then set it on her plate when her stomach twisted in on itself. "I'm not very hungry."

  Ty threw his bread down on his plate and swiped the napkin off the table, not even noticing that she'd folded it special for him. Tears gathered in her eyes. That had been happening all day. At the least thought, she wanted to start crying again.

  "I can't do this." He reached across the table and grabbed her hand.

  She glanced at his face. She thought he'd still look angry, instead he looked sad again. She didn't understand him. When she tried to pull her hand from his, he held her tight. She jerked her hand away and stood up. "Can't do what? I don't know what…" She bit her lip. "You want me to go away, don't you?" She picked up her napkin bird and held it toward him. "I thought this was enough to say I'm sorry. I told you this morning I was sorry. I just—" Dropping the napkin on her plate and struggled not to cry. She sucked in a deep breath. "I don't understand anything. My books don't tell me how to deal with mortal emotions. Not when the man doesn't do what he's supposed to."

  "Mortal?" He came out of the chair and stepped toward her. Holding her hands up, she backed away, hoping he wouldn't touch her. Right now, if he touched her, she was sure she'd burst into tears.

  He stopped. "What do you mean, 'mortal'?"

  Oh no, oh no, oh no. Now she'd done it! "Goodnight, Ty Brock," she said hurriedly and rushed from the room, into her bedroom, and closed the door.

  "Gabriel," she whispered fiercely, looking up toward the ceiling. "What am I supposed to do?"

  * * * *

  Ty shook his head and sat back down at the table. What the hell was she talking about? Mortal. She thought she wasn't mortal? What the hell kind of life had she lived? Who'd messed with her head?

  He set into his stew with gusto, needing the sustenance after too many hours without food. Halfway through his second helping the phone rang. He leaned back in his chair and grabbed the phone off the wall. "Brock," he said around a bite of the remarkable bread Michaela had baked. For him. Hoping it was enough to say she was sorry. God, he was such an ass.

  "Ty. It's Ben. This is the second meeting in a row you've missed."

  "Ah, shit." He swiped the napkin over his mouth. Benny was his GA sponsor, and Ty hadn't even thought about meeting night. "Benny, things have been…"

  "What's going on? You've been doing so well. Today was supposed to be your one-year chip. Did you slip up?"

  "No! No, nothing like that. Truth is, I've been so busy around here I didn't even think of the meeting."

  "Well," Benny chuckled, "I suppose that's a good thing."

  Ty swiped his hand down his face. "A good thing," he muttered. He hadn't done a good thing since Michaela arrived on his doorstep almost two weeks ago.

  "What's going on with you, man? You sound upset. If it's not gambling, it's got to be a woman."

  Ty chuckled. "Yeah, you got that right, Benny."

  "Why don't you head on down here? I'll buy you a cup of coffee and we can talk." Benny's cheery voice lightened Ty's mood a little. "Take some advice on women from an old married guy."

  Ty figured Michaela wasn't going to come out of her room as long as he was in the house. She needed to eat. She didn't eat enough, as far as he was concerned. When she did eat, it was mostly vegetables. He wasn't sure how healthy that was. Didn't a body need protein?

  "Your wife have any vegetarian cookbooks?" Ty asked without thinking.

  Benny's hysterical laughter came over the phone line. "Vegetarian? Oh, Lord! If you're going vegetarian, she must be really somethin'."

  "For Christ's sake, Benny, it's not for me."

  Scowling with disgust at his friend, Ty noticed the candle burning in the center of the table. A candle? And flowers. And the napkin sitting on her plate… He reached over and picked it up. Shaped like a bird. Shit, he was a bastard.

  "Well, no, Sally's not a vegetarian and I doubt she has any books on it either."

  Ty swallowed, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. He'd gone and hurt Michaela. Again. This time because he hadn't noticed what she'd done. That's what she meant by she thought it was enough to say she was sorry. "Hey, Benny, I gotta get out of this house for a while. I'll take you up on that coffee."

  "Great. See you at Moe's in about a half hour?"

  "Make it forty-five minutes. I gotta…put some stuff away."

  "See you then," Benny said, then disconnected the call.

  Ty hung up the phone and started clearing the table. How was he supposed to apologize for this? How could he make her understand that it wasn't her fault? None of this was her fault. If he hadn't kissed her that first time, she wouldn't be so confused right now. If he'd been able to keep his hands to himself…

  He was an idiot of the first order.

  He did not want her to leave. He loved having her around. Seeing things through her eyes helped him view the world differently. She took in the landscape as if it were spectacular instead of…brown and hot. He shook his head in disbelief as he put plastic wrap over the big bowl of stew and stored it in the fridge. She even found mud interesting.

  But how could he ask her to stay when all he did was hurt her feelings and make her cry?

  Bastard. Idiot. Screw up. He couldn't think of enough bad words to call himself. Selfish. That was the worst of them all. He was selfish to want to keep her close.

  The table clean, Ty went to the door and whistled for Stryker. The dog came running from the side of the house, bounded up the porch steps, pushed passed Ty and went straight to Michaela's door.

  "Traitor," Ty mumbled to the dog.

  After pulling on his boots, Ty realized Michaela hadn't let Stryker into her room. He went to her door and knocked. No answer. "Hey, Michaela, Stryker wants to come in."

  She gave some sort of muffled reply, so he eased the door open. Stryker
pushed through the opening and leapt up on the bed. In the darkened room, all Ty could see was the shape of her body on the bed, and a pillow pulled over her head.

  "I'm heading into Placer to meet a friend for coffee."

  "Okay," came her mumbled replay through the pillow.

  "I put the food away in the refrigerator, but I think you should eat something."

  "I can take care of myself, Ty Brock."

  "Yes, ma'am," he said softly. "Goodnight then." He backed out of the doorway and closed the door. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

  * * * *

  "Greetings, Michaela."

  Just drifting off to sleep, Michaela sat bolt upright and blinked. "Gabriel?"

  The angel nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "Yes, it is I."

  Relief washed through her and she sagged back on the pillows. "Oh, Gabriel, what am I supposed to do now?"

  Stryker crawled across the bed and nudged his nose against Gabriel's leg. The angel laid his hand on the dog's head and scratched his ear. Stryker gave a groan of contentment.

  "We've been watching you, Michaela."

  Michaela's heart lurched. Had she done something wrong? He sounded so…serious.

  "You've accomplished your goal. Ty Brock has come to realize that he's not the misfit he believed he was. He's realized that he's accepted by the community and by his friends."

  She sighed with relief. "Thank you."

  Gabriel cocked his head to the side and met her gaze full on. "Michael has softened in his view of you. He will allow you to return Home, if you wish to do so."

  "Return?" Michaela sat up again, hugging the blanket to her chest. "But I thought I was here to live out my mortal existence."

  "Well, yes, that was the original plan." He moved to scratching Stryker's belly when the dog rolled over. "But Raphael and I have been talking with Michael, and he realizes the punishment was too harsh for you. Electra must stay. She's become too mortal for her to return, but you have yet to…"