The Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series

by Jacki Delecki

  Toni put her hand on Davis’ arm. “Davis, did you hear about the rescue down on the Duwamish?”

  Grayce waited for Davis to finish his conversation. Officer Maclean sidled up next to her.

  “I seem to have forgotten silverware.” He pressed against her, his shoulder rubbing against her back, reaching across her.

  She moved away from him, moving closer to Davis. “May I get something for you?”

  “Thank you. I’ve got it.”

  His long, manicured fingers stretched across the table to the stack of rolled silverware. A dark blemish was partially exposed below the cuff of his crisp white shirt—a purple striated scar.

  Her heart skidded and stopped for a micro-second, leaving a hollow feeling, like a cave in her chest. Was this the scar from Mitzi’s vision?

  He leaned closer to her. “Have you seen the Sculpture Garden?” She could smell his expensive musky aftershave.

  She needed a closer look at his scar. Was it the scar from her vision after Mitzi’s poisoning? He was very knowledgeable about Mitzi’s near-death experience. Her heartbeat did skips and leaps defying normal sinus rhythm.

  “No, I haven’t yet, but I would like to.” Her voice was rushed, breathless.

  He stood too close, leering down at her. “You shouldn’t go home until you’ve seen Richard Sarro’s piece—right outside the doors, down the steps.” His bleached white teeth exaggerated their size-large canines in his large mouth.

  “It’s called Wake—walls of steel, shaped like hulls of ships moving through the water. Impressive, massive.” He turned to walk away. “Don’t miss it.”

  “Thank you. I won’t.” Was he trying to get her outside to prove his sexual prowess or for something more dangerous? She was more familiar with the nearby dog park than the sculpture garden. Both had been built on an old railroad bed running along Puget Sound. Several of her clients were regulars at the dog park. They had the same aggressive and territorial behavior as the assistant chief.

  “Let’s find a table?” Davis’ voice made her jump. He was half-turned toward Toni, listening to her story. He gestured with his head toward an expanse of window looking down on the gardens. “How about over by the windows?”

  Grayce was confused. The scar on the assistant chief’s arm was very similar to her vision. Most of the men and women at this party probably had scars, occupational hazards, even Brunhilde from Ladder Seven. Davis had most likely explored each and every one of her scars, judging by his obvious discomfort introducing Grayce.

  “I’ll get us drinks and be right over.” Davis bent close. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She wanted to add. I’m fine, if thinking your boss might be a criminal because he has a scar on his arm that I’ve seen in a vision from your dog is fine. I’m fine if I don’t have a concussion from being pushed down steps by a man who might have started the wharf fire. Sure I’m fine, darn fine. She walked to an empty table by the windows, the heels on her boots clicking on the concrete floor of the cavernous space.

  People were busy eating at nearby tables; no one paid attention to her. She put her plate down on an empty table. A door was open to a deck, overlooking the gardens. She turned to look for Davis. He was walking toward the bar.

  She scanned the room for the assistant chief. He sat with his back to her, at a table filled with men in identical blue suits.

  Last night’s experience was affecting her, clouding her judgment about the assistant chief and his scar. She couldn’t intuit if the man was a threat.

  The room felt crowded and claustrophobic. She walked outside to the end of the deck, away from the door, out of view of the party goers. She drew fresh air into her lungs. Inhaling deeply, she ignored the throbbing of her bruised ribs. A train rumbled below the park.

  “You must be new in the department?”

  A man twice her size towered over her. Were there any average sized people in the fire department?

  “I’m a guest.” Shivers ran through her body, another side effect of her nighttime activities and pain medications.

  “I’m Niles Olsen, the chaplain.”

  She had felt paranoid at the party and now she felt paranoid talking with the chaplain. He moved out of the shadows. His face was round with baby fat, although he was at least in his fifties. It was time to go home, if she was too afraid to talk with a chaplain.

  “I’m Grayce Walters. I’m here with Ewan Davis.”

  “Grayce Walters, I’ve heard that name before. You’re the witness to the wharf fire?”

  Her scalp tingled. “I really didn’t witness much.”

  He stepped closer, his large frame blocking the light from the party. “I thought you saw someone.”

  She had to crane her neck to look up at him. Shards of light broke his face into harsh slats. She didn’t know if she was supposed to talk about evidence. It couldn’t be a problem to tell the chaplain, could it?

  “I did see a man, but Davis thinks he was a fisherman.” Discussing the man on the wharf stirred the memory of his rage, the same rage as last night’s attacker. She remembered how hard he had gripped her, squeezed her. Trying to blot out the memory, she rubbed her arms, as if she could erase his fingerprints from her skin.

  “Are you going to walk in the sculpture garden? I personally love Richard Sarro’s piece Wake. I believe he meant it as a metaphor for death.”

  The little hairs on her neck stood up. She tried to keep her voice steady. “The piece seems to be very popular. I may need to see it.”

  He had stepped back into the shadows. She could no longer see his face. “Pleasure to meet you, Grayce, who didn’t see our culprit.” He wandered back into the party.

  Why did both men want her to go into the garden and see the same sculpture?

  The immense sculpture stood, beckoning from below. Lights, strategically placed on the sculptures, gave the space a surreal, other-worldliness.

  She followed the small lights on the steps. Sarro had curved forty-foot walls of steel into soft waves, giving the colossal inert pieces a feeling of movement. She walked between the gigantic slabs with shadows as big as the monsters of childhood dreams. Wake wasn’t a metaphor for death. It was a blatant demonstration of uncompromising male power.

  She felt minuscule against the strength of men who shaped steel to their whims or planned attacks on women. She wasn’t the size of a Valkyrie, but she was strong when it came to protecting the vulnerable, not that Davis would ever perceive himself as vulnerable.

  The sound of footsteps on the gravel ricocheted off the steel barrier. It came from the path that wove through the park. She peered toward the pavilion. Bright lights from the deck reflected back in her eyes.

  This was her reoccurring nightmare, except she wasn’t asleep or safe in her bed. In the nightmare, an unknown adversary chased her between walls of steel. She always awoke in a panic, never knowing if she had escaped. Her hand pressed to her mouth, she tried to smother the rising fear.

  The footsteps stopped. She was visible to anyone coming down the path. She stepped into the shadows and inched her way along the icy steel, away from searching eyes. The sound of feet grinding into the gravel came closer.

  She held herself rigid, afraid to breathe, taking tiny steps toward the lights and the party. Each step in the gravel shouted her location. She paused at the end of the sculpture. To reach the stairs, she would have to step into the open. Her heart thundered in her eardrums.

  “Grayce?” Davis walked down the stairs, looking into the darkness. “Grayce, is that you?”

  “Davis.” Her voice was barely audible over the throbbing in her head.

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  She walked toward him and the deck. She didn’t turn around to see if anyone followed her, ready to grab her like last night. A shiver wracked her body.

  “What’s wrong?”

  When she didn’t answer, Davis pulled her into his arms.

  “Why are you out here in the col
d?”

  “I wanted to see the sculpture. Did you know it’s called Wake, a metaphor for death?” She was talking fast, trying to gather her wits, trying to control the feelings of shock that replayed from last night.

  “Grayce, are you okay?”

  She didn’t want words, just his heat. She breathed in the scent of Davis and pressed her head against his chest.

  A shadow moved in the right corner of her eye. On the path above them was Niles Olsen. She had panicked and hid from the chaplain. Her nervous system had imploded. Her defenses were fried, as if someone had failed to flip the safety switch.

  “You’re freezing. Let’s get you inside,” His voice was jagged, tender.

  “I don’t want to go back to the party. Can you take me home?”

  “Are you upset about Toni? Is that why you came outside, why you want to go home?”

  Why did he mention Toni? Was she another one of his ex-girlfriends? Did he know Toni was involved with the assistant chief?

  She knew the adrenaline pumping through her made her giddy because she wanted to laugh out loud. She wished her problems were as mundane as an ex-girlfriend, instead of violent assailants and visions of scars.

  Rubbing her face against Davis’ chest, she talked into his shirt. “I just needed some air. Truly. Toni wasn’t my reason for leaving.”

  “Toni and I…”

  She felt his chest move with each breath. She kept her arms wrapped around him, wanting to hold on to solid Davis, hold onto his integrity and decency.

  “Uh, we did consider dating but there just wasn’t a connection…for me.”

  She didn’t want to talk about Toni, but it seemed Davis did. She wanted to tell him about last night, about the fear crushing her. “She seems perfect for you. She’s your type.”

  “My type? What does that mean?”

  “She’s your size, strong, and she obviously likes danger.”

  Laughter burst out of him. His warm breath rustled through her hair. “Your size fits me perfectly.” He pulled her against him. “You’re the dangerous one with your softness.” He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her jaw. He spread kisses along her neck, kisses that skidded and skimmed over her cold skin, heating her.

  “I’m going to disgrace myself if we stand like this too long.” He chuckled.

  She loved the lightness in his laughter. His enjoyment made the darkness fade in the starlit night. She pressed her lips into his, wanting a taste of him.

  He tightened his grip. His tongue invaded her mouth, searching, possessing. She kissed him back, moaning into his mouth. Davis’ hands came down her back, squeezing, lifting her against him. She wasn’t cold any longer.

  “Get a room.” The shout from a firefighter on the deck jolted her away from Davis.

  “Hell…those adolescent bastards.”

  She must be in shock. She had been kissing Davis in front of the entire fire department’s holiday party.

  “Grayce, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I only meant to warm you.”

  “Well, I’m definitely not cold now.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  They climbed the stairs. Davis put his arm around her, anchoring her next to him. The men disappeared from the deck. At least the boys showed some discretion.

  She cringed. “I don’t want to go back in there, not now.”

  “It’s my fault.”

  “Davis, it was mutual.”

  “Don’t look at me like that, or I might have to start kissing you again. Right here in front of all the windows.”

  “Now that the entire fire department has seen us, why not?”

  He laughed, his mouth wide open, the lines around his eyes crinkled, the strain gone from his face.

  “Let’s walk around the building and go through the entrance to get our coats. I don’t trust the guys. They never miss the chance for a practical joke.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Can I make you tea? Coffee?” Grayce tried to sound nonchalant but her voice quivered with the question. Davis’ six foot broad frame and male force overwhelmed her tiny kitchen. Little trills of anticipation hummed low in her stomach.

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” His manner was relaxed, but she felt the tension radiating off his body, igniting white sparks of awareness in her.

  He inspected the photos covering the refrigerator. Napoleon was wrapped around his feet.

  “These all your patients?” He seemed genuinely impressed.

  “Yes.”

  “And who’s the Chinese man?” He pointed to a picture of her and Dr. Zao in China.

  “He’s my acupuncture mentor.”

  “He doesn’t look like a veterinarian.”

  “No, Dr. Zao only treats people.”

  Davis looked down at his feet. “Do you think Napoleon’s comfortable with me now?”

  Her cat wasn’t the least bit nervous around Davis. He rubbed against Davis’ leg, leaving marmalade-colored hairs all along the cuffs of his black pants.

  “I would say he’s ready.” They weren’t speaking only about Napoleon.

  “He’s gigantic. Is he a special breed?”

  Davis bent down and rubbed Napoleon’s head. The cat, not in the least bit shy, stretched on his back and allowed Davis to stroke his generous stomach.

  “He’s a Maine Coon cat, one of my first patients.”

  Davis peered up at her. “What was wrong with him?”

  “Oh, he’s never been sick.”

  Napoleon’s purr revved up to small motor boat volume. Davis continued to rub the cat.

  An odd half smile came to his lips. “I’m jealous.”

  “You’re jealous?”

  “How did he get to be your roommate?”

  She laughed. He didn’t laugh. He closed the space between them, his eyes hot and predatory. “I think he’s one lucky guy.” His voice was gravelly.

  His intense stare caused her to lose her concentration. “Uh, I guess…” He stood so close she could smell the lime in his scent. Warmth spread through her, pooling in sensual heaps of heat.

  “How did Napoleon come to live with you?”

  “His elderly owner asked me to take Napoleon if he died. I couldn’t say no.”

  “Saying no is hard for you, isn’t it?”

  “I guess.” His nearness scattered her thoughts. “How could I say no? I liked Mr. Johnson a lot.”

  “That’s my point.”

  She was having trouble following the conversation. “What point?”

  “I know you don’t like to hurt people. Don’t worry about disappointing me tonight, if you’ve changed your mind.”

  His breath rushed fast and hot against her cheeks.

  “If you want to wait, I’m okay, but once I start kissing you, I’m not sure I can stop.”

  Her heart accelerated pulsating to every pressure point. She had never met a man like Davis. He didn’t want her to feel pressured, to feel she couldn’t say no. She could see the dark grains of stubble on his chin, his chest rising and falling with an uneven force.

  “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  He let out a shaking breath. “Now, I’m worried about disappointing you.”

  Her heart expanded, danced. Davis, the tough, invincible male, showing his vulnerability. “Davis, you could never disappoint me.”

  His calloused hands held her face and his lips explored her jaw, nibbling playfully. He teased her ear, whispering how sweet she was and how much he wanted her.

  She outlined his full lower lip with her tongue, tugging on the sweet fullness. She felt the hitch of his breath against her chest. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she explored his mouth with her tongue, searching.

  He pressed her against the refrigerator. The cold metal against her back with the heat of Davis moving against her front sent waves of pleasure. She wanted to feel his skin, to touch all of him.

  “Can we move to the bedroom?” His voice strained against her ear, his breath burning.


  She took his hand and led him the five steps to her bedroom. He pulled her back and kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting in and out, showing her what he wanted from her. She sucked on his tongue, pulling it deep into her mouth, pulling them both into passion.

  “We’ve got to get out of these clothes,” his voice came out as growl.

  His hand had descended down her back, his finger working its way between the pulsating crevices.

  “Let me light a candle.” She walked to her bedside stand. She could hear him kick off his shoes.

  He peeled out of his dress shirt. Black hair covered his chest and narrowed to a V above his belt buckle. His wide torso glistened in the shadows.

  “Come here, Grayce. Let me help you get out of that little skirt—it’s been driving me crazy all night.”

  “Really?’

  “Did you see the way the men were staring at you? I thought at one point I might have to put my coat on you.”

  She ran her hands along his chest, exploring the wiry hair. The taut muscles flexed under her hands. His heart beat fast, furious against her palm.

  He eased her sweater over her head, released her bra and began to caress her breasts. He squeezed her breasts hard, causing pleasure to shoot down between her legs. He explored each nipple, circling, rubbing them between his fingers. “Perfect.”

  He bent and took her breast in his mouth. Sensations streaked to the back of her knees, making it hard to stand. She ran her fingers through his hair, followed the curve of his neck, and back, feeling his heat and moisture.

  He suckled her other breast. She held his head on her breast, wanting to keep him there, wanting more, wanting everything.

  He lifted her off her feet and lowered her to the bed. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you like this?” He gazed at her body, leaving a trail of sensations with his fervent look. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

  The passion in his eyes and the huskiness of his voice made her squirm on the bed. She reached her arms to him. “Can you warm me like you did at the party?”

  “Oh, I plan to more than warm you.” He took off his pants, reaching in his pocket for a condom. He knelt next to her and began to place wet kisses along her neck, taking his time to search for the sensitive hallow behind her ear.