by Lori Wilde
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That evening, Gracie decided to drown her troubles in ice cream.
“I’ll take another sundae,” she said, pushing her empty glass bowl across the table. “Hot fudge, this time.”
The waitress at Bonnie’s Diner raised her eyebrows but didn't say a word as she headed back to the kitchen. Most of the evening supper crowd had already left, but a few stragglers remained seated throughout the diner.
"Are you drowning your sorrows in calories?" Aunt Jolene teased, her hands circled around a mug of coffee.
“This is the first time I’ve eaten today,” Gracie explained. “And I think I deserve to indulge after what happened to me last night.”
“You mean spending your time with a sexy bounty hunter?”
Gracie frowned at her. “I never said Sam was sexy.”
“Honey, you didn’t have to say it.” Aunt Jolene’s green eyes sparkled. “I’ve never seen you so animated about a man before.”
"There's a first time for everything," she muttered, taking a sip of her sparkling water.
She’d told her aunt what had happened at her high school reunion, but she’d tried to downplay the part about someone breaking in to trash her house. Between Merle Fry’s antics and her struggling antique shop, Aunt Jolene had enough to worry about.
“I know you blame yourself for believing he was Gilbert, and Sam did deceive you and everyone else at the reunion.” She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “But to be honest, I really don’t see the problem with kissing him.”
The fact that she wasn't horrified made Gracie feel a little better. Then again, Aunt Jolene didn't horrify easily. "Well, you weren’t there. It was... different.”
“Different how?” Aunt Jolene leaned forward with a curious smile. “You've always been so cautious—with men, anyway. I can't wait to hear what drove you to do something so spontaneous."
Cautious.
Was that how Aunt Jolene and Gracie’s friends saw her? Aunt Jolene never minced words. It was one of the things Gracie loved most about her. But the image the word cautious evoked wasn't exactly flattering.
"How am I cautious?" she challenged.
“You’re not cautious in your business, of course,” Aunt Jolene clarified. “Like I said before, you’re setting the world on fire. But you rarely date any more, even when you have the opportunity. And you’ve spent too many Saturday nights with me when you should be out on the town with your friends Amanda and Chelsea. I love your company, Gracie, but the only man you ever talk about is Gilbert and you haven’t seen him for the past decade.”
"I date," Gracie said in her own defense. "I'm just very selective."
The waitress brought the hot fudge sundae to the table and set it in front of Gracie. “I added some extra whipped cream for you. Enjoy!”
“Thank you so much,” she said, pulling the bowl close to her.
"You've been playing it safe, girl,” Aunt Jolene continued after the waitress left. "I'm actually glad to hear you finally took a walk on the wild side."
"Not by choice. The night definitely didn't go as I had planned."
Aunt Jolene looked at her. "That's what spontaneity means, Gracie. Something you don't plan ahead."
“Well, I certainly didn’t plan to fall asleep on the love seat with fake Gilbert.” She picked up her spoon and swirled the hot fudge sauce and whipped cream together. “I wonder why the real Gilbert called me when he did. It was four o’clock in the morning.”
“Any chance the real Gilbert was at the Claremont Hotel, but the bounty hunter got to you first? I’m guessing Gilbert knows Sam is after him.”
Gracie nodded. “Yes, I’ve thought about that. It just makes me feel worse for letting Gilbert down when he needed me.”
A long silence stretched between them while Gracie dug into her sundae. Then Aunt Jolene said, “What if this Sam fella is right about Gilbert?”
Gracie looked up in surprise. “You think Gilbert’s a criminal? You’ve known him since we were in high school!”
“That’s true,” Aunt Jolene mused. “But ten years is a long time, and it seems to me that you remember a different version of Gilbert than he used to be. A more perfect version.”
Gracie had never called him perfect, but thinking back, she had talked a lot about him to her college friends. Maybe she'd even gone overboard in listing his good qualities. Now she wondered if she'd built him up in her mind with the subconscious purpose of making it impossible for any other man to live up to him.
Except Sam had more than lived up to him. That thought came unbidden to her mind and she shook it away. Sam Holden was nothing like Gilbert. She should know that better than anybody.
"Gracie?" Aunt Jolene said, breaking her reverie.
"I think you’re right. Maybe no man ever lived up to Gilbert because I was using him as shield. The last thing I want is to fall into a codependent relationship like the one my mom has with my stepfather.”
Aunt Jolene’s face darkened. “My sister should have done better by you. But I think that awful experience made you into the strong woman you are today. And I was the one who benefited by her mistake the most.”
“So how can I benefit from my night with Sam?” She put down her spoon and sighed. “It was romantic, and I knew deep down he wasn’t Gilbert. That’s probably why I was so mad the real Gilbert called me. It made me wake up to reality.”
"So, what happens now?" Aunt Jolene asked her.
Gracie pushed away her half-eaten fudge sundae. "Nothing happens. I go back to life as usual."
Life as usual.
No, that wasn't quite true. Her house was a mess. Her aunt’s business was in trouble. And she couldn’t stop thinking about Sam.
"What about Gilbert?" Aunt Jolene asked. "It sounds like he's in a lot of trouble."
Gracie realized she'd been so concerned about her own problems that she'd spent little time considering what he must be going through. "When he called me at the hotel, he told me there were a lot of people after him, but I haven't heard from him since."
"Maybe you'd better watch your back, especially after that break-in at your house. Are you sure it’s not connected?"
"I’m not sure, but I know Gilbert would never hurt me."
"I'm not talking about Gilbert," she clarified. "I'm talking about the people who are after him. If they know you're his best friend and he’s been in touch with you, they might use you to get to him."
So maybe her life could get worse.
She'd been so preoccupied with the fact that Sam had masqueraded as Gilbert that she hadn't even pondered the aftermath, even though Sam had warned her of the same dark possibilities.
But if Gilbert needed her help, she'd be there for him—just as he'd always been there for her after she’d been dumped in Hay Springs. And when he’d saved her life.
The way Sam had talked before he'd left her house today, he wasn't going to stop until he brought Gilbert into custody, with absolutely no mention of Gilbert's rights or the fact that he might be innocent.
Gracie reached for her purse, but Aunt Jolene snatched the bill off the table. “I’m paying tonight and don’t argue with me.”
"Okay, I won’t argue this time. Thanks for listening and for the sundaes."
"Anytime," Aunt Jolene said with a smile. "Where are you going now?"
"I'm going to start looking for Gilbert."
CHAPTER SIX
On Monday morning, Sam walked into the office of Delacroix Image Consultants, eager to see how Gracie had turned her dream career into a reality. In her emails to Gilbert years ago, Gracie had described the business she’d wanted to build so many times that Sam could almost recite her plans by heart.
The two-story open atrium was filled with natural light from the long windows opposite the front entrance. A large circular reception desk sat in the center of the foyer, surrounded by lush green plants in colorful ceramic pots. Spacious offices lined the walls, and the reclaimed wood flooring was polished to a
high sheen. Sam took a moment to admire the impressive architecture of the building and the stunning artwork created by local artists.
A young woman approached him wearing a beige pantsuit and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. She carried a leather binder tucked under one arm.
"Hello, I’m Amanda,” she said, smiling up at him. “Welcome to Delacroix Image Consultants. How can I help you?"
"Howdy, I’m here to see Gracie Delacroix," he replied, removing his cowboy hat. "But I don’t have an appointment."
"Oh, that’s no problem.” She moved around the reception desk and leaned down to access her computer keyboard. “Let me just to take down your information before we can go any further. Name and occupation, please?”
“Sam Holden. I just spoke with Gracie yesterday.”
She typed his name into the computer. “And your occupation, Mr. Holden?”
Hoping to save time, he pulled out his bounty hunter license and handed it to her, sensing she was the type of person who would want proof.
Amanda took the laminated license from him and studied it closely before handing it back to him. “Oh, so you’re a bounty hunter. Well, that’s a new one for us, but I’m sure we can accommodate you. How many employees do you have?”
“It’s just me, but...”
“Hold on one moment, please,” she said, her fingers flying over her keyboard. “Just looking up some information.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied the computer screen. “It says here that the average bounty hunter has about a ninety percent success rate. I’m sure we can help you raise that.”
“I don’t need to improve my success rate. It’s almost perfect.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” she said with a bright smile. “But there’s always room for improvement. Would you like to look at the packages we offer now or wait until after you meet with Ms. Delacroix?”
Before he could reply, the sliding glass doors opened behind him. He turned around to see Gracie walk inside the building. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She wore dark sunglasses and a sleeveless sapphire-blue dress that delicately hugged her figure. Her blond hair hung loose and sexy around her shoulders.
Gracie stopped short when she saw Sam, and for a moment, he thought she was going to turn around and walk right back out again. Instead, she took off her sunglasses and just stared at him, neither one of them speaking a word.
"Looks like I don't need to make introductions," Amanda mused, glancing between the two of them.
“Sorry, I was... distracted,” Gracie told her, then walked right past Sam on her way to the reception desk. “How is Michael coming along with that museum project?”
“I believe he’s finished with it and just wrapping up the paperwork,” Amanda replied. “It sounds like it was big success.”
“Perfect,” Gracie said, nodding. “Will you please ask him come to my office in ten minutes? I have a special project in mind that I’d like to discuss with him.”
“Of course,” Amanda replied. “I’ll let Michael know.”
As he watched Gracie interact with her receptionist, Sam realized she had an effortless confidence about her, the kind borne of hard work and perseverance. Something he found incredibly appealing.
“You can follow me, Mr. Holden,” Gracie said, then turned on her heel and walked briskly to the other end of the atrium.
Ten minutes. That’s how little time she was giving him. Sam followed her, his heart thudding in his chest. The pulsating heat of her anger enveloped him, just as her kiss had in that hotel room. He would accept her anger—accept any passion from her—since it was better than indifference.
When they reached her large office, Gracie closed the door behind them. He set down his cowboy hat on an empty chair, then looked up at the wrought-iron chandelier on the high ceiling. The lights cast a dappled shadow over the room and the effect was oddly intimate.
“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by unannounced,” he said. “I was just giving some information to your receptionist and...”
“Amanda’s not the receptionist,” Gracie interjected. “She’s the vice president of project development. Everyone who works at this company takes turns manning the reception desk.”
“Even you?”
She smiled. “Even me. Visitors to our office tend to reveal their true natures when they believe they’re interacting with someone they perceive as having little power.”
“Like a receptionist?”
“Exactly. As image consultants, we can’t help our clients improve their image unless we know exactly the type of person we’re dealing with.”
Sam was impressed. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“Well, I’m sure you know how important your opinion is to me.” Gracie placed her sunglasses and purse on her desk, then turned to face him. “Although, I am glad you stopped by today. There is something I need from you.”
“What?” he asked, surprised.
Gracie walked toward him; her gaze locked on his until she stood toe-to-toe with him. Then she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him hard against the wall. Before Sam knew what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed him.
For a moment, Sam was frozen, stunned by this unexpected development. But he recovered quickly and kissed Gracie back like a cowboy who’d been wandering in the desert and finally found his oasis.
Gracie kissed him like he’d never been kissed before. She felt so good in his arms that he never wanted her to let her go. But much too soon, she broke the kiss and took a step back from him, her gaze quizzical. At last, she said, “I think fake Gilbert kisses better.”
“What?” he asked, slightly dazed.
“I wanted to compare kissing fake Gilbert to kissing you. And I have to say, the fake Gilbert is the better kisser.”
Sam chuckled. “Well, you kissed me both times, so I don’t see the point in comparing.”
Gracie walked over to her desk and perched on the edge. “The point is that I kissed the man I thought was Gilbert on Saturday night. Someone I’ve known and adored since high school.” A reminiscent smile played on her lips. “And it was amazing. Makes me wonder what it would be like to kiss the real Gilbert.”
A wave of jealousy washed over him. It was a warning signal to Sam that he was getting too close to a subject in this case. But all he wanted to do was kiss her again until she forgot Gilbert Holloway even existed. To tangle his fingers in her lush blond hair and kiss her until they were both gasping for air. To prove to her that he was the better kisser. But that was just plum crazy because she was comparing Sam against himself.
And from the sparkle he saw in her blue eyes, she was doing it on purpose. But two could play that game.
She rounded her desk and sat down, her cheeks still flushed. “We only have a few minutes left, so you’d better tell me why you’re here.”
It took him a moment to remember the reason he’d come here. Gracie’s unexpected kiss had knocked him off-balance. He sucked in a deep beath and said, “I want you to help me find Gilbert. The sooner I bring him in, the safer you’ll be.”
"But will Gilbert be safe from you?”
The fact that he deserved her skepticism didn't make it any easier to take. "Look, Gracie, can we start over?"
"Why? So you can use me to locate Gilbert and collect your bounty? I'm not going to fall for any of your tricks again, Sam. I want to find Gilbert so I can help him, not you."
"I’m well aware of that," Sam said, hating like hell that she regretted their evening together—an evening he'd never forget. "But neither one of us can change what happened. The fact is that Gilbert is dangerous, and he’s involved with very dangerous people. If you help me bring him in, I promise I'll do whatever I can to protect him."
She crossed her arms. "And why should I believe you?"
"Because I’m giving you my word." He knew his word would carry little weight with her, but it was all he had to offer.
Gracie stared at him, the moment stretching out
so long that he didn't have a clue as to what she was thinking. "All right, I'll help you, Sam. But only because I don't want anything bad to happen to my best friend."
Sam chafed at the way she referred to Gilbert, but he was hardly in any position to complain. "Thank you."
"And just so we’re clear," she continued, "I won't take orders from you. Understood?"
He gave a brisk nod, realizing he didn't have much choice. If he wanted Gracie’s help, it had to be on her terms. Even if that meant delivering Holloway to her. The man she'd wanted in the first place.
"Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “How can I help?"
"Has Gilbert contacted you other than that videotape you received in the mail?"
Gracie hesitated, as if still not certain she could trust him. "He called me on my cell phone that night—at the hotel. That's how I knew you were an imposter."
Now Sam understood the reason she'd fled the hotel so suddenly. And thrown his keys in the toilet. Good old Gilbert had incredibly bad timing. "What did he say?"
"First, he had to convince me it was really him. When he found out there was someone impersonating him at the reunion, he got very nervous."
"I'm sure he did."
"He said there were people after him,” she continued. “I didn't understand what was going on, but he promised to fill me in later, when I brought him the tape."
Sam's pulse picked up. "What?"
"The His Girl Friday videotape. He wants me to bring it to him."
"When? Where?"
"He didn't say," she responded. "He told me that he'd contact me later to set up a meeting place."
There was no way Sam was going to let that happen. "You won't be meeting Gilbert or anyone else involved with this case. Just give me the videotape and I'll handle it from here."
She shot to her feet. “I knew you’d pull something like this! I'm not taking orders from you, remember?"
Sam's need to finally nab Holloway battled with his fierce desire to protect her. She was inextricably tied to this case in a way he didn't understand, a way that put her in danger.