The Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series

by Jacki Delecki

  Grayce and James were the only ones in the salon so late in the day. Tucked behind two fake Ficus trees, they had a sense of total privacy.

  “White and virginal to match my incredible ensemble, a white satin peignoir and slip of lace around my shoulders—Grace Kelly in her seduction scene in Rear Window.”

  The memory of their Friday movie nights and their love of film noir, the black and white films of the 40s and 50s, coalesced into a warm reassurance, lifting the dread from her nightmare.

  “Remember when Jimmy Stewart asked Grayce Kelly what she had in the little suitcase? How many times have we watched Rear Window?” Grayce asked.

  “Not as many times as The Lady Vanishes or The 39 Steps.”

  Grayce didn’t share James’ obsession with Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn or vintage clothing, but she and James both fantasized about playing one of the gutsy, cool, blondes in the Hitchcock movies.

  “I’m going to carry a 50’s make-up case. And wait ’til you see the blond wig Tony Tequila did for me,” James said.

  “Will people get that you’re Grace Kelly?”

  “Honey, are you kidding? This is a ballroom filled with queens.”

  “What’s Tony wearing?”

  “Madonna in a black bustier and fishnet stockings. I tried to warn him that he’ll be so outdated. The room will be filled with Lady Gagas and Beyoncés. Besides, nobody wants to be reminded of the 80’s. But Tony remains obsessed with Madonna.”

  “What’s the theme for the soiree?”

  James fluttered his long eyelashes. It was unfair that James had thick, black eyelashes that matched his dark, wavy hair and black eyes. “Racy and Lacey. And I’m not leaving Gay Bingo this time no matter how frantic your phone call.”

  “You loved coming out in drag and playing the damsel in distress,” Grayce said.

  James combed his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair then threw his head back in his very practiced affectation. “Honey, I won’t risk my peignoir to save your boyfriend’s ass this time.”

  “You won’t have to rush out of Gay Bingo. We’re going to the Mariner’s game.”

  James’ face twisted in merriment, trying hard not to laugh. “But…but…you hate sporting events.” His dark eyes danced. “Oh, my God. It must be love.”

  “It’s Davis’ first season without his dad. He couldn’t go last year. It’s going to be a tough night for Davis.” Grayce sat back in the chair and breathed deeply of the eucalyptus.

  “And you’ll be his support.”

  Grayce shrugged. “Well I suppose that’s true.”

  James winked. “Yes. His supportive supporter. His athletic supporter—you might say.”

  “Don’t get fresh, princess.” Grayce shot back.

  James stretched languidly as Lon buffed the toes on his left foot. “Perish the thought honey—this one’s every inch a queen.”

  Besides their shared quirkiness, Grayce and James also shared traumatic losses at a young age. In high school, Grayce’s sister had died in a car accident and James’ mother had succumbed to breast cancer.

  James lost his affectation and became serious. “I understand where Davis is coming from. I hated going into Fredrick and Nelson after my mom died. I’d tear up every time I walked into the store. The smell of Estee Lauder perfume at the front door would bring back all the memories of my mom, shopping in her fur coat with her Chanel bag.”

  Grayce squeezed his arm. Her friendship with James had saved her when her adolescent world had fallen apart.

  “Still doesn’t explain why you’re going to an event with a shouting mass of drunk people,” James said.

  “Thanks for making it sound like so much fun. Davis could’ve taken one of his sisters or brothers-in-law, but he asked me. I couldn’t say no.”

  “Honey, this is Uncle Jamesie. You can tell me the truth.”

  “I want to go.”

  “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” James rhymed.

  Grayce punched James’ arm. “Very funny.”

  “But you hate loud noises and crowds.”

  “I don’t hate them. The noise and energy levels are somewhat overwhelming.”

  “Blend, have a beer, eat a dog… I mean a hot dog.”

  “I knew what you meant. And for your information, homie, I can blend. I just don’t want Davis to be disappointed that I’m not into baseball. His ex was a total sports fanatic.”

  “Yeah, and Daphne slept with his best friend.”

  Grayce winced. James wasn’t known for subtlety.

  “Honey, he gets who you are. He doesn’t care if you like baseball.” James faked a cough behind his hand. “Hard to imagine that handsome hulk wanting you over me.”

  Grayce was tired from her nightmares and couldn’t enjoy James’ banter. She understood at a level that couldn’t be explained that her involvement with the Hineses was taking her down a dangerous path.

  James, sensitive to the change in Grayce’s mood, asked, “How was your visit with the missing woman’s cat?”

  Grayce shook her head. If she couldn’t tell James, her best friend, about the overwhelming awareness that she needed to find the missing woman, how could she explain it to Davis? After her involvement in Davis’ arson case, she had promised never again to venture into criminal investigations.

  James leaned sideways in his chair to get a better angle. He slowly scrutinized Grayce’s face. “You’re not telling me something.”

  “I’m going to the missing woman’s apartment.”

  “What?” James sat up quickly and inadvertently lifted his feet out of the water. “Sorry, Lon. I got excited.” The slight woman eased James’ foot back into the pedicure bath.

  “I don’t understand. You let that reporter browbeat you into seeing these people, and now you’re going to the apartment?”

  “I know.” Grayce sat back in her chair and hit the neck and back massage button. “But something’s not right about the whole situation.”

  “You got that from the cat?” James asked.

  In a rare moment, James wasn’t joking about her ability to communicate with animals.

  “Ossie is a beautiful, sweet cat, but I didn’t learn anything about Angie’s whereabouts.”

  “You better not let Napoleon hear you talk about Ossie in glowing terms.”

  “It wasn’t the cat, it was Angie’s brother. I don’t trust him.” She wasn’t exaggerating that she didn’t trust Hunter Hines. Her intuition went into high alert around him. She needed time with Hunter Hines to assess whether or not he posed a threat before she confided her suspicions to James or Davis.

  “The brother? Maybe you picked up on his frustration at not being able to find his sister.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She didn’t know if Aunt Aideen had influenced her perceptions about the tall, dark stranger or not, but she aimed to find out.

  “Why? What’s he like?”

  “Tall, dark, brooding…”

  “God, he sounds perfect.”

  “Not likely into men who dress as Grace Kelly.”

  “You’d be surprised.” James arched one of his carefully shaped eyebrows. “The appearance of a tall, dark, brooding stranger. Time to check your horoscope.”

  A strange uneasiness flashed through Grayce. Although James was joking, he was getting too close to Aunt Aideen’s prediction. She wasn’t ready to tell James about her evening with Aunt Aideen since she knew the prediction was true. James wouldn’t be able to control the endless jokes about the crystal ball, incense and moonstone.

  “Hunter Hines was skeptical about the acupuncture treatment. He made it quite clear that he only tolerated the visit for his mother’s sake. And he wasn’t nice to his mom. And she’s a sweet woman. I want to help her.”

  James rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. He definitely had mastered the diva eye-rolling better than Hollie. “Here we go again. Grayce, you can’t fix everyone’s problems.”

  “I had hoped I could bring some comfort to Angie
’s mom.”

  James gave a loud, dramatic sigh. “Sweetie, this isn’t your problem. What can you do for Angie’s mom? She knows her daughter with PTSD is out wandering the streets of Seattle.”

  “Exactly, my point. Who is going to help her?” Grayce understood, at some level, that her need to help Angie’s mom was related to her inability to help her own mom after her sister’s death. She had to trust her deep instinct that she was meant to help Angie’s mom.

  “Didn’t you hear a word I said?”

  Grayce leaned forward, inspecting Lon’s work on James’ toes. “The white looks great.”

  “I won’t say anything else. But don’t forget, I tried to warn you. Now tell me more about the suspicious brother. He sounds delicious.”

  Grayce turned toward James and recited, “Distrustful, serious demeanor, disciplined.”

  “He sounds like Davis.”

  “No, he’s nothing like Davis. Hunter is cold and clinical. He didn’t show any brotherly concern for his missing sister.”

  “God, are you saying you think he’s responsible?”

  “No, of course not.” Grayce’s foot jerked when Lon scrubbed with the loofa. Grayce’s hands and feet were very sensitive to touch.

  “Are you sure you’re not reacting because he didn’t appreciate your talents?”

  It was more than his disapproval that caused her misgivings about Hunter Hines. “It’s hard when someone responds that I’m a quack.”

  “He said that?”

  “No, it was the way he looked at me during the treatment. He’s rigid.”

  “Rigid. I like a man…”

  “Don’t go there, James.”

  “I’d like to be a fly on the wall when you tell Davis about the handsome brother.”

  She had a pretty clear vision of how Davis, who had already decided not to like Hunter Hines, was going to react to her further involvement. “What color for me? I was thinking something dramatic, maybe even red?”

  James laughed again.

  “What?” She didn’t mean to sound impatient, but she hated when her friend understood her too well.

  “Nice try. I think you should do the red…but back to the more interesting tidbit. What are you going to tell Davis?”

  Davis definitely would understand her compassion for Angie’s mother, but he definitely wouldn’t understand her need for further association with the missing woman’s brother or the connection between his aunt’s prediction and Hunter Hines.

  “I don’t want to ruin the baseball game. I’ll tell him after.”

  “Coward.”

  Was James right? Was she a coward? This relationship stuff wasn’t easy. Being single, she was used to making her own decisions, following her intuition. “Since I’ve never been to a baseball game, what should I wear?”

  “You haven’t fooled me by switching to my favorite topic. Although your relationship with the hot fire investigator is in my top picks of juicy discussions.”

  James sat back and inspected her blue jeans, t-shirt and ponytail. “Wear your usual…” He coughed into his hand as if it was difficult for him to speak. “Style.” Grayce’s disinterest in fashion was an ongoing debate between the friends.

  “I don’t always wear blue jeans.”

  “Really?”

  “Okay. I do. They don’t take any thought.”

  “Why don’t you let Uncle Jamesie help you shop?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  James rubbed his chin back and forth as if contemplating a serious crime. “You won’t have to worry about getting cold in Safeco Field since my idea will definitely warm things up between you and Davis. He’ll be in a great mood to hear about your next rescue mission.”

  “I’m not going to wear anything outrageous.”

  “Outrageous? When have you seen me wear outrageous?”

  This from the man dressing as Grace Kelly. But James had sophisticated taste and always looked as if he’d stepped out of GQ magazine. He read both men and women’s fashion magazines. Vogue, Elle. French Vogue. The list went on.

  “You have fabulous taste,” she said.

  “Since I’m in a Grace Kelly kind of mood. I think we should start with Castaner espadrilles. Grace Kelly made his espadrilles into icons. Do you remember the great 50s black and white shot with Grace and Castaner? Oh, God, I’ll have to buy a pair, too.”

  “I’d love to have new sandals.”

  “You can’t call Castaner espadrilles sandals. They are much more than sandals. I predict it’s going to get blazing hot at Safeco Field when Davis sees you in the sexy Castaners.”

  Everyone seemed to be in the mood to make predictions about Grayce’s life this week. She agreed with James that it was going to get hot in Safeco Field—not from her sexy espadrilles, but from Davis’ blistering reaction to her involvement in a dangerous case.

  Chapter Six

  A hot summer night—perfect for Mariners baseball. Davis gazed over at the empty seat and swallowed against the feelings tightening his throat. These were the same seats he and his dad had shared for years of cold, rainy baseball seasons. His dad should have been here, awaiting Felix Hernandez’s first pitch.

  He needed his dad tonight. His dad would be a great sounding board as he debated the tough choice he faced. The chief had promoted him to captain, but also offered Davis the chance to work on the national level in Washington DC. After the wharf fire, he realized how much satisfaction he got from solving serious crimes, not just arson. This move was a chance to assess his next career step. There was only one problem with his making his next career decision. He had to leave Grayce for six months.

  Davis kept scanning the crowd for Grayce as the stadium filled. She had been detained in her office to take care of a yellow lab that had indulged in an overdose of chocolate.

  He watched Hernandez go through his warm up. Armed with his wicked split finger fastball, Hernandez had the mojo to go up against tonight’s strong Red Sox batting order. The pitcher’s predictable ritual of rubbing down the ball with both hands, smoothing the mound with his right foot, didn’t bring the usual comfort. For Davis, the familiar rituals of baseball were fused with loss.

  “Davis, what great seats.” Grayce scrambled over the men in the aisle to get to the center.

  What the hell was she wearing? His dad’s cronies, the old lechers, were watching her sashay toward the middle seat in her short shorts and a tight top showcasing her snug yoga body.

  He was suddenly hot and irritated. What was she thinking wearing that outfit? Where were her usual blue jeans? And her ponytail? She had pinned her dazzling blonde hair on top of her head and little wisps of hair clung to her graceful neck. Davis took a deep breath. He was in shorts and a t-shirt, but hell, he looked nothing like luscious Grayce.

  “Davis, what’s the matter?” Grayce slipped into the seat next to him. She had no clue that she had just heated the entire male fan section.

  He pulled her close and pressed a hard, possessive kiss to her lips.

  Shouts came from behind. “Davis, you’re killin’ us man.”

  There were more hoots and loud laughs. He knew what was on the men’s minds; the same thing that rampaged through his body. Grayce’s face turned red, either from the heat or his demanding kiss.

  Her green eyes were rounded in surprise. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

  “How’s your patient?” His voice was gruff.

  “Recovering. Gus ate half of a Martha Stewart chocolate ganache cake. He had a few tremors, nothing like Mitzi.”

  “Mitzi was poisoned.” He still couldn’t believe that bastard had come after his dog during his last investigation.

  He looked down at Grayce. His height gave him full view of Grayce’s cleavage. His mind drifted away from criminals.

  “Davis, your face is bright red. Is this heat bothering you?”

  It took all his control not to comment that it was her exposed body causing the blood to flow in hot rushes through his b
ody. He had learned early from his sisters never to criticize what a woman wore. Never. He was struggling to find a happy balance, somewhere between frustration and lust.

  “Do you like my new shoes?” Grayce stretched out her toned leg. “They’re called espadrilles. James talked me into them.”

  Davis admired her finely shaped leg. Her shoes tied with a ribbon that wrapped around her delicate ankle. He wanted to untie that ribbon. He took a deep breath, trying not to betray his rapid breathing. How could a woman’s shoe affect him this much? Damn James. It was just like him to find the sexiest shoes.

  The blood thundered in his head. Oblivious to his friends and the game, Davis stood, pretending interest in Felix’s position at home plate to give himself time to control his need to ravish Grayce. Grayce stood when he did. She pressed her warm woman’s body against his side. He was in trouble.

  “Man, Davis, down!”

  Davis and Grayce both sat.

  “Do you know everyone in this section?” Grayce asked.

  “Just the ones you’re driving crazy.”

  “What?”

  “Your outfit…men like that kind of outfit. And your shoes are…”

  Grayce looked at him. “My outfit? I’m in shorts and tank top…just like every other woman here.”

  Davis ran his hand along her toned thigh. “But you don’t look like every woman here. You look…you look so damn perfect.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. “You make me forget I’m at a baseball game. You make me want to go home.” He controlled his urge to run his fingers along the edge of her tight top.

  “What? And miss Felix Hernandez’s splitter?”

  Davis jerked his head up. “What did you say?”

  He had been sure Grayce had never been to a Mariners game. He had assumed she barely knew about the elementary rules of balls and strikes.

  She laughed out loud, and her incredible, soft, curvaceous body shook with delight to have surprised him. Like a big buffoon, he couldn’t stop smiling at her enjoyment. He kept smiling, knowing at that moment, he would never let Grayce Walters go. He’d do anything to keep her in his life. He’d fly home every weekend from DC.

  “Davis, the shock on your face was worth all the research.”