by Lori Foster
Mouths fell open, eyes bugged, but no one said a word.
Feeling vaguely uncomfortable with the watchful silence, Noah turned and walked out. The finality of the moment filled him with mixed sensations.
He wanted Grace, and that sensation was the strongest and most alarming of all.
As Noah headed for the front doors, nodding to regulars and giving casual greetings along the way, the sounds of a guitar began filling the dining room.
He paused, glancing toward the center of the floor, where Enrique Deltorro eased into a soft, romantic ballad ripe with subtle suggestion and teasing heat. The tune was enhanced by his Spanish accent.
He was dressed in black jeans and boots with an open-necked gunmetal gray silk shirt. Several silver chains hung around his neck. His overlong hair had been tied back, and a diamond stud gleamed in one ear. He sat on a stool with a microphone in front of him, his guitar held gently in his arms. The audience loved him.
Deltorro was one hell of an entertainer, Noah had to admit. The restaurant’s young, female clientele had grown swiftly with Enrique’s performances. He had exceeded Noah’s expectations and then some.
Black eyes gleaming, Enrique tipped his head at Noah.
Noah folded his arms and waited until Enrique transferred his gaze toward a table full of young ladies. They were all dressed to the nines, and with Enrique’s attention, they appeared ready to swoon. At the mature age of forty, Enrique Deltorro—the Bull—still exuded enough sex appeal to draw plenty of females, even those half his age.
Dean and Michael and Greg were alternately watching the show, taking drink orders, and sparing covetous glances at Kara. They had always admired her, and Noah had no doubt lustful thoughts often plagued their young minds.
Kara was lovely, no two ways about it. On top of that, she was genuinely nice, if a bit too proper. Looking at the waiters now, Noah accepted that he wasn’t the only man who’d fantasized about turning Kara into a wild woman.
After making love to her just once, those fantasies had been long gone.
Kara had seldom visited the restaurant without an escort, either himself or her parents or a friend. So her solo appearance tonight was enough to draw speculation. But she also looked very melancholy. She wasn’t just alone. She was…lonely.
Noah did his best to ignore that fact. Her moods no longer concerned him.
Andrew stood straight and silent at his podium in the restaurant’s entrance. He had a fixed expression on his face, and when Noah followed his gaze, he realized it was Kara the maître d’ watched so intently.
Damn, did she have everyone’s attention tonight?
Kara, her face softly lit by a fat candle in the center of her table, idly toyed with a napkin. She was either unaware or uncaring of being eyed by several men.
Noah considered approaching her but changed his mind. There was no point to it. She was old enough to make her own decisions, and in his opinion, it was past time she started doing just that.
Andrew stopped him before he could make his escape. His gaze speculative, he said, “Kara looks beautiful tonight.”
Noah gave him a lazy look. “Kara always makes a nice appearance.”
“True, true.”
Noah started to leave again, and Andrew added, “It’s none of my business, but—”
“It’s none of your business.”
Holding up his hands, Andrew said, “Fine. I understand. No problem.”
“Glad to hear it. And if you should run into any problems, take them up with Agatha.”
“But…”
“I mean it, Andrew.” Noah made sure there was no way for Andrew to misunderstand. “I’ve told the others, and I’ll make calls tomorrow to anyone who wasn’t here tonight. I’m totally out of it, and I won’t take it kindly if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into it again.”
“Right. Got it.” Andrew hesitated, then said, “I hope we’ll at least see you around?” His gaze flashed to Kara and back again. “You know, just as a friend.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” Noah glanced at Kara, too. She was turned in her seat, watching him.
Refusing to be drawn in by her lost act, Noah coldly turned away—and caught Enrique’s narrow attention. With a sound of disgust, Noah looked around and realized Greg and Dean and Michael were also peering at him.
He had no idea what they all expected of him, but whatever it was, they were doomed to disappointment.
Annoyed at himself, Noah walked out. Once in his car, he tried calling Grace on his cell phone, but her number was busy. Then he decided not to call her at all. He’d see her again in the morning, and that was soon enough.
He’d make it soon enough—even if it felt like forever.
Grace snatched up the phone on the fourth ring. Her hair was soaked, leaving rivulets of water trailing down her back, her legs, and onto her small decorative rug.
Because she’d raced straight out of the shower, she was a bit breathless when she said, “Hello?”
“I was just about to hang up, young lady.”
Disappointment seeped in. Though it was late and she’d seen him only a few hours earlier, Grace had hoped it might be Noah calling just to tell her good night. How dumb. The man had better things to do than spend his every thought on her.
“Hello, Agatha.” Grace tried to infuse a little enthusiasm into her voice. She wasn’t overly successful. “Sorry, but I was in the shower.”
“Well, that’s better than what I was beginning to imagine.”
“Oh?” A touch of caution struck Grace. Anytime she dealt with Agatha, she had to be on the alert. “What did you imagine?”
Agatha huffed. “After that lurid display you and my grandson put on, you have to ask?”
Grace frowned and refrained from replying. She’d have been happy with a phone call from Noah, yet Agatha thought he might still be with her? That was too ridiculous.
“Is he there?” Agatha asked impatiently.
“Noah? No, he’s not.”
A long pause filled the line, and then Agatha sighed. “Grace, we must talk.”
The towel Grace held around herself wasn’t substantial enough to ward off the evening chill of her apartment. She shivered and started down the hall to her bedroom with the portable phone caught against her shoulder.
She wondered if Noah was still at the restaurant. Had he worked things out? If Kara did in fact have a lover there, would Noah attempt to confront him?
That thought filled Grace with worry. Noah could more than handle himself physically; that wasn’t a concern. But she knew he’d regret causing a scene.
“He’s using you, Grace.”
The bald, blunt statement made Grace stall just inside her bedroom and scattered every other thought away. Her stomach cramped. She drew a calming breath. “This isn’t your business, Agatha.”
“Don’t you take that attitude with me, young lady. He’s my grandson and you’re my employee—”
“Ex-employee.” For the first time, Grace took pleasure in pointing out that fact. With equal pleasure, she tacked on, “I think I’ve found a new job.”
A heavy silence, fraught with disappointment, filled the line.
“Agatha,” Grace said gently, “you did fire me, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” she snapped. “I’m not so old that I can’t remember what happened hours ago.”
“True. You’re still sharp as a tack—except where Noah is concerned.”
Because she knew Agatha well, Grace could easily imagine the way she was now pacing in her anger, how her spine would be rigidly straight, her mouth tight.
“If anyone is acting blind about my grandson, it’s you.” Agatha’s tone trembled with annoyance. “He’s using you, Grace, and you’re letting him, when I always thought you had more sense than that.”
“He’s not using me.”
“You know what he did to Kara, and he genuinely loved her.”
“I know what you know,” Grace replied
, “that he broke the engagement. But he wouldn’t have done that without good reason.”
“Whatever his reasons, they’re moot at this point. He’s with you on the rebound. But you’re too naïve, too…well…” Agatha’s voice rose. “Grace, you won’t hold his interest long.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Grace said. She had no illusions, despite Agatha’s assumption of her naïveté.
“On the contrary, you don’t have a clue. You just told me how sharp I am. Well, you’re right. I’m sharp enough that I’ve noticed you never date. Doesn’t matter what time I call, you’re always at home alone. I doubt you were ever that popular in school, either, were you, Grace?”
Taking a firm grip on the phone and her own insecurities, Grace admitted, “No.”
Agatha softened. “I want you to be happy, Grace, I really do. But my grandson is out of your league. And I’m not just talking about your weight, dear.”
Grace wanted to curl in on herself. She had no idea what to say to Agatha.
“You’re not homely or anything like that, Grace.”
Dryly, Grace muttered, “Thank you.”
“But…I’m going to be blunt here.”
“Yes, Agatha, don’t hold back.”
“Noah is used to beautiful women who present themselves perfectly. Far as I can tell, you’ve never had a manicure or been to a salon. You don’t know how to dress right and your hair…Oh Grace, your hair.”
Grace held herself silent. What could she say? It was all true.
She reached up and tugged on a long, thick lock of sopping hair. It was slightly tangled—just as it had been the entire time she’d been with Noah.
Only once in all the time she’d spent at his apartment had she even thought to brush it out. He’d seen her this way, pretty much a mess.
Yet…it hadn’t seemed to Grace that he cared.
“You’re a lovely person, Grace, and you’re very sweet.”
Grace wrinkled her nose. Sweet.
“But you need to find a man more on your own level.”
Grace briefly wondered what level Agatha referred to. Probably something subterranean, where all the homely, overweight, unpopular people hung out.
When Grace didn’t answer, Agatha asked impatiently, “Are you still there, Grace?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean to be cruel, Grace.”
Hoping to use that as a means to end the conversation, Grace said, “That’s great. I appreciate your restraint, Agatha, so maybe we should—”
“But Noah has to be my number-one concern.”
Resigned, Grace sighed and dropped to the edge of her mattress. She stared at her feet. Agatha evidently had a lot to say and there’d be no dissuading her.
“Noah will be happy with Kara as his wife. He’ll have everything he didn’t have growing up. Respectability, stability, all the luxuries and comfort money can buy. And he’ll have the influence necessary to make his own way.”
Personally, Grace felt Noah already had those things, just not in the abundance Agatha apparently deemed necessary. She made a noncommittal sound.
“You can’t bring him those things, Grace.”
Grace held the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Did Agatha think she had dreams of marrying Noah? Well, dreams, yes. But reality? Grace was a very reasonable, logical person, and marriage to Noah defied logic.
She loved him, and she, too, wanted what was best for him. For now, she was his sex slave.
It worked for her.
Replacing the phone to her ear, Grace said, “You know, Agatha, you should really be saying all this to Noah.”
“You think I should tell Noah that you have no fashion sense? Don’t be absurd.”
Grace almost laughed. Almost. “I’m sure Noah has come to that realization all on his own. No, I meant that you should be telling him how you have his best interests at heart. Disowning someone isn’t the nicest way to get that across.”
“He’ll be back,” Agatha said, “and then we’ll talk.”
On her terms, Grace assumed, shaking her head at the older woman’s stubbornness. “I hope it won’t be too late then.”
“What does that mean?” Alarm caused Agatha’s voice to rise again.
“It means that Noah is a man full of potential, and more than capable of making it on his own. He has a fast mind and a lot of energy, and he’s proven that he knows how to make money grow. He’s a natural leader, and all your business associates know it. Once word is out that he’s no longer working for you, how long do you think it’ll be before others try to hire him?”
It was Agatha’s turn to fall silent. After a moment, she asked, “You’re suggesting that Noah would betray me?”
“I’m saying Noah isn’t a man to sit around mentally or physically idle. He likes a challenge, and he likes to stay busy. He’s going to be working, and if you want him working for you, you’d better rethink a few things.”
“Grace Jenkins, that sounds like a threat!”
Grace shook her head, all but fed up with the conversation. “Agatha, how could I threaten you? I don’t even work for you anymore.” The more she said it, the easier it got. “And as you’ve just pointed out, I don’t carry any influence with Noah. All I’m trying to do is point out a few things you might not have considered.”
“I see.”
Grace could almost hear Agatha’s mind working.
“You were always good at that, Grace.”
“Thanks.” Personally, Grace thought she’d been a fantastic secretary. But Agatha had fired her easily enough.
“That aside, Grace, you have to understand. If Kara—who is beautiful and elegant and comfortable in any social setting—is having difficulty maintaining Noah’s interest, how in the world do you think you can compete?”
Rather than repeat herself, Grace said, “I really need to go, Agatha. Was there anything else you wanted?”
“I want you to stay away from my grandson.”
Because she had no intention of doing any such thing, Grace said, “Your wishes are duly noted. Now I gotta run. Good-bye.” And she hung up with Agatha in mid-protest.
Grace tossed the portable phone onto the bed and turned to her dresser. The triple mirror reflected her image back at her, and Grace winced.
She stood frozen for a moment, staring at herself then on impulse, she flashed the towel open. Seeing her own fleshy body made her wince again, and she quickly covered back up and turned away.
Throughout the years, she’d tried a few diets and exercise programs. She hadn’t been overly triumphant with any of them. She’d lose ten pounds only to regain them right away. Since her high school days she’d weighed about the same, fluctuating only five pounds or so. Sometimes she weighed more, sometimes less. She always weighed too much.
Her doctor claimed it to be her natural weight and pronounced her fit.
Fit was not the same as sexy. Or desirable. Or popular. But, Grace decided, she liked herself, she really did.
And Noah seemed to find her desirable, so she wasn’t going to beat herself up over a few insensitive remarks by her former employer.
That decided, Grace indulged in a secret little smile while she took underwear and a sleep shirt from her dresser drawers.
She might be overweight and ordinary, but people, even Agatha, were labeling her as the “other woman.” That insinuated she possessed a certain amount of feminine wiles, didn’t it? People credited her with the ability to steal Noah away from Kara, and darn it, it was…fun. Complimentary. Grace’s smile widened into a grin, and in the next moment she chuckled.
Grace Jenkins, femme fatale.
It was almost as exciting as being a sex slave.
What a strange twist her common, boring life had taken, thanks to Noah. He might not want her for more than a plaything, but to Grace, that was pretty darn special, and more than she’d ever dared hope for.
Chapter Nine
Kara watched her lover as he moved, so smo
oth, so sexy. Her heart sank a little when he flirted with other women, when he teased and touched.
Her stomach fluttered in the way it had when she’d been young and had sneaked off to the carnival. Riding the roller coaster without permission had filled her with the contrasting sensations of guilt and fear and excitement.
The guilt now was stronger, of course. It pushed at her, almost smothering; she’d hurt so many people.
At the same time, she felt daring and brave and sexier than she ever had in her life. How could she possibly regret that?
But the fear…God, the fear was the worst. What would her parents do if they found out? What would dear Agatha do? Their disappointment would be unbearable. They expected so much from her, because all her life, she’d been the perfect daughter, the perfect lady.
With her lover, everything was different. She wasn’t proper, but she was alive. With him, her body sizzled and burned, her heart expanded. He made her sweat and cry and laugh. He made her feel.
Which was probably why she’d stupidly fallen in love with him.
Kara drew in a shuddering breath and pondered all the awful possibilities. What if he didn’t really care for her as she did him, if he was just using her as a novelty, a woman normally out of his range?
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back panic. Dear God, if he didn’t really care for her, she didn’t know how she’d cope. No man had ever made her feel this way. No man had ever treated her as he did, a little coarse, a little rough.
She shivered, just remembering the base, carnal things he’d done to her—the things he’d relished doing. He’d wallowed in the unwilling responses of her body, licked at her sweat, at her belly, between her legs.
Kara gasped and looked around her. So many of the employees were watching her, wondering why she was still there when Noah had left. She’d witnessed signs of pity, curiosity, and even some interest.
Yet her lover ignored her. Oh, she understood it was necessary. By her own insistence, they couldn’t allow anyone to know of their involvement. But it still hurt. She wanted him to herself; she wanted to taste him again, to have him devour her.
In a rush, Kara grabbed up her small leather purse and rose to her feet. People stared, but she managed to politely ignore them. Enrique watched her go. Greg and Dean nodded her way. Andrew rushed to get her wrap.