The Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series

by Jacki Delecki

  “The young couple who lives here was transferred to New York for the next three months. Or that’s the story I was told. If you’re asked, we’re renting until we find our own house.”

  “We’ll be here for three months?”

  He couldn’t decipher if the news pleased her. She twisted a curl around her finger, and her shoulders hunched.

  Three months of sharing the same house with Maddy, sleeping in the next room. He wasn’t sure if he could survive it. He let her believe it was all about sex when he’d kissed her, knowing she believed the BS that all guys are randy.

  He’d made it all about her hot little body, but there was much more to his attraction to her. Maddy was the quirkiest mix of strength and softness and vulnerability that he had ever seen in a woman. He admired her loyalty to her friends, her job, and her country. It didn’t take a shrink to understand his need for a loyal woman. Maddy had it in spades.

  “Now the act begins.” Except, for him, this didn’t feel like an act.

  Maddy put her hand on the door handle. He reached over and covered her hand with his. “Don’t get out. Let me open it for you. I’m a man in love.”

  He came around the Prius and opened her door, offering his hand to help her out. She rolled her big, wide eyes at him and extended her hand. “There is no one on the street to see us.”

  “The nosy neighbor across the street is watching from her front window. She is going to be a problem.”

  He leaned down into the car to be face-to-face. “Maddy.”

  “Yes?” She looked up at him with a question in her big baby blues.

  “Get ready for a bit of PDA.”

  “PDA?”

  He pulled her against him and kissed her lightly on her lips.

  Caught off guard for a second, she stiffened as he pressed her against him, holding her tight in his arms. Unaffected by his embrace, she talked around his gentle kiss. “If you touch my ass, I’ll nut you.”

  He laughed out loud, shocking himself. He never wanted this marriage or this assignment to end.

  * * *

  A smiling and relaxed Maddy sat across from him at the polished pine dining room table. The furnishings were like the house, filled with rustic, old-fashioned charm. Maddy ate her dinner of steak and a baked potato with gusto. For such a petite woman, Maddy packed in a lot of calories. Probably to make up for her time living on the streets during her last assignment.

  He wasn’t sure if it was the meat and potatoes, the Oregon Pinot Noir, or his company that made her look replete. He hoped it was a little bit of everything. Maddy deserved to be treated well, and while she was his wife, he planned to pamper her. Not that he’d ever tell her, or she might threaten to nut him again.

  “I can’t remember the last time I sat down to eat a home-cooked meal.”

  “The ecoterrorists didn’t dine out much?”

  Maddy giggled, a light, youthful sound that made him smile. “Unlike the Seahawks, we didn’t dine out on twenty-four-ounce steaks.”

  She did that a lot to him. Lightened his mood with her irreverent and simple enjoyment. Since meeting Maddy, Hunter had smiled more than he had his whole lifetime.

  “Thank you for cooking. Doing all this, shopping, planning. It is so nice here. Not the usual assignment.”

  He didn’t want to think about what Maddy had suffered during her past assignments or as a foster child. He wanted to take care of her, make her world a safe and better place. For the first time, he wanted little Maddy Jeffers to experience what it was like to be loved and protected.

  Hunter leaned back in the small hardwood chair. Sometimes old-world charm could be downright uncomfortable. “I didn’t do much, just grilled, but I do like to cook.”

  Maddy’s cheeks were now a rosy pink, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the wine or the heat of the summer night. He had opened all the windows and the door, but it was an unusually hot summer in the Northwest.

  She leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “You like to cook? Is there anything you can’t do?”

  Smile spontaneously, feel a deep connection with a woman, fall in love. “There are loads of things I can’t do.”

  “Name one, besides relax, hang out, or tell a joke.” She gave him the saucy look he enjoyed.

  “Little do you know.” Talking with Maddy brought out a youthful side to him. He wanted to tease back, make her laugh, have her appreciate him as more than a tight-ass soldier. “Angie didn’t tell you I had a gig as a stand-up comedian before I joined the Marines.”

  Maddy laughed out loud, making the curls bounce across her forehead. Tears were in her eyes, and she covered her mouth with one hand. “It’s mind-boggling. The image is too funny.”

  “But that’s why my act worked. Pretending I was an uptight guy versus my raunchy, weird self actually worked. I was invited to go to Las Vegas.”

  Maddy tapped her finger against her cheek. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.”

  “Only a little bit. I like to see you laugh. And finding humor in our work is the only way to last in this job. You have to see entertainment in the craziest crap.”

  Maddy’s lips curved into a small smile. “You do that?”

  “What?”

  “Find absurdity in your assignments.”

  “I try to, but you know, on the whole, Marines aren’t exactly the joking kind. But I’ve found I can make jokes with a few of the men. And you have to admit this pretend marriage is pretty amusing.”

  The brightness in Maddy’s eyes darkened. “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m a single man living with a hot woman on an assignment that requires me to touch and kiss her.”

  “Hard work for you, huh?” The mischievous Maddy was back.

  “Joking aside, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m a normal man, and you’re one sexy woman.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but he could hear the desperation showing through. “You need to relax and enjoy this home. You’re coming off a tough assignment. I promise not to hit on you.” Only in every one of my fantasies. “But you have to promise one thing. You wear pajamas, because I don’t think I can handle any sexy teddies or camisoles or any other lingerie.” It took all his self-control not to ask if she slept in the buff.

  Maddy had gone silent. Her eyes searched his face. Maddy was trained in espionage and in the military. She knew how men’s minds worked.

  “No problem. I bought PJs at Target before I started this assignment. But you have to promise me you won’t be walking around in your Trophy Boy thongs.”

  “Thongs? For boys?” His voice was high-pitched. And the way Maddy giggled and her eyes danced told him she was delighted by his shock.

  She kept snickering. The Pinot was definitely getting to her. “You don’t wear boy thongs? I had you pegged as a thong guy.”

  There was her devilish mix of tease and candor. She was the most outrageously perfect woman.

  He threaded his fingers through his hair to keep from grabbing her and kissing her until she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Bad plan. He wasn’t going to behave like an out-of-control lecher—not give in to his desire. No way. He could be tough as steel when he needed to be. He was a Marine. He was always in control.

  What a load of crap. He hadn’t been in control since he met Maddy Jeffers.

  Chapter Seven

  Maddy was more nervous today than her first day at Mercer Middle School. After being introduced by the director of the program, Maddy stood before the circle of Afghan women at the Women’s Refugee Project. As the enthusiastic, matronly woman explained that their regular teacher’s absence was due to a family illness and Maddy would be filling in, the Muslim women spoke in hushed voices and stared at their new teacher.

  In the Middle East and Asia, staring at strangers wasn’t considered rude, and these women had the stare down to an art form. Their dark eyes assessed every part of Maddy, from her blond curls to her white, long-sleeve blouse, black, calf-length skirt, an
d her ballet flats.

  Maddy refused to squirm, but middle school memories of cruel looks from the cool girls whose clothes hadn’t been from Goodwill flashed through her with every intrusive perusal.

  Before she’d left this morning, Hunter had teased her about finally dressing the way he wanted his wife to dress. She had shot back, calling him a male chauvinistic pig. And they laughed together. She was amazed at how easily the banter was developing between them. Last night and this morning had been way too cozy and comfortable. After a sleepless night, she was focused on the work and not her tempting husband.

  Maddy greeted the ten women in Dari. Ruth, the teacher she’d replaced, had shared that all the women spoke Dari and many also spoke Pashto. Afghanistan had two major languages, and lucky for Maddy, she was most proficient in Dari. Ruth had also advised her that the women practiced a range of religious observances that often led to tension in the discussions.

  The FBI had provided her with the passport pictures of Abu Abdul Hamman’s mother and sister. The images were of limited value, though, since the Hamman women were always covered by their burkas. It’d be next to impossible for a modern American woman to read their facial reactions or easily strike up a friendship with them. She’d decided to focus on developing a connection with the younger woman first.

  Maddy scanned the group. It was easy to discern the differences in the women’s religious and world views from the range of headgear. Four of the women wore niqabs, veils that covered the face, revealing only the area around the eyes. Three young women in American attire of blue jeans and blouses wore the hijab, a square scarf that covered the head and neck but left the face unobstructed.

  Abu’s mother, Guli, and his sister, Sadia, were the only ones in burkas, the most concealing of all Islamic veils, which covered their entire faces and bodies, leaving only a mesh screen to see through.

  Maddy had decided to alter the curriculum schedule. Today she planned to discuss food shopping and restaurants, hoping to bring up Abu’s restaurant and the women’s role in assisting him. The purpose of the classes was to help the women negotiate everyday barriers inherent in a foreign culture and language. Of course, the additional prohibition against speaking with any male outside the family made adapting to American society more difficult.

  She started with an icebreaker to warm up the group, inviting each woman to introduce herself and identify one thing that was hard about her adjustment to American living.

  She began on her far right so Guli and Sadia would speak last, giving her a chance to observe their body language and see how they reacted to the other women. Guli, the mother, sat stiffly, hidden and removed from the group, as did her daughter, Sadia.

  Many of the women cited how fast everyone spoke English. Two of the women described their children’s frustration that their mothers were so slow in learning the new language. The other women laughed, but neither Guli nor Sadia engaged with the group. Sadia whispered her introduction and said that everything in America was as she’d expected.

  Guli’s strident, sharp tone stopped the women’s chatting. She spoke disdainfully about Americans wanting them to adjust so they would forget their ways, forget their country, the observance of their religion. She pointedly stared at the young women in blue jeans. The silence in the room was tense and awkward. Knowing that Guli’s husband had been killed by a drone, Maddy sympathized with her feelings, to a point. It was paradoxical that the mother and daughter attended the classes to help them acculturate, when obviously the mother didn’t approve of American ways.

  At the end of the class, Maddy stood at the door to thank each woman for attending the class and tell them she looked forward to seeing them tomorrow. Guli didn’t acknowledge her, but Sadia nodded her head as she passed.

  This morning, she had been so hopeful about her ability to relate to the women. She had made a connection with all of them but Abu’s family. She learned nothing about Abu’s restaurant, but today’s class wasn’t a total waste. She had learned that Abu’s mother and sister, like all the women, shopped at the Columbia City Farmer’s Market on Wednesday. Because of their adherence to their conservative practices, Guli and Sadia most likely would be at the market with a male.

  Field work took patience and time. She was short on both. She didn’t know how long she could last on this mission when it required resisting a charming Hunter Hines. It had been easier to resist him when she considered him a rigid, humorless man.

  At least for today, she and Hunter would go to the market to observe Abu and his family, and then she’d insist they eat dinner at a restaurant. Last night’s dinner had been too intimate and too wonderful. It made a girl want things she couldn’t have.

  Chapter Eight

  Hunter took Maddy’s hand as they got closer to the Columbia City Farmer’s Market. He loved taking advantage of any excuse to touch her. They walked hand in hand down the last two blocks on Rainier Avenue before the market.

  The low-income community to the north was being transformed by art collectives, used bookstores, upscale restaurants, and, of course, a yoga and cross-fit center—all the requirements for gentrification. All that was missing was an upscale gelato and whiskey bar, and this neighborhood would look like the rest of homogenized Seattle.

  Maddy pulled on his hand. “Is all this PDA necessary? No one buys you as the doting husband type.”

  “Why do you say that? What does a doting husband look like?”

  “Not someone who scowls all the time.”

  “What you call a scowl, I prefer to label a focused look.” He squeezed her hand. “Really, I can’t remember the last time I gave my focused look.” Because of Maddy, he now spent a lot of time smiling. “Maybe this morning, when my wife didn’t make me coffee.”

  Maddy chuckled. “This wife is not making coffee.”

  “You won’t cook for your husband?”

  “I don’t have a husband. And if I did have a husband, he’d make coffee for me and serve it in bed.” A crimson flush crept across Maddy’s cheeks, matching the heat rushing through him. “I…never mind.”

  He stopped on the sidewalk and wanted to kiss her, but instead played the part he had been assigned. “The husband you choose will be happy to serve you breakfast in bed every morning after—”

  She pulled at his hand. “Don’t you dare say anything else.” Her chest rose and fell in hurried breaths.

  He was glad to know he wasn’t the only one affected by their sleeping arrangement. He hardly slept last night, tossing and turning and on alert for any sound from Maddy. “As you pointed out, I excel at many things once I determine my goal. I’d put my whole heart and every other part of me into making my wife happy. She’d be the recipient of all my devotion, skill, and undivided attention.”

  Maddy tugged again on his hand, trying to back away from the intensity between them. He wanted her to know how he’d provide for her. It was important that she understand how devoted he’d be.

  Maddy cleared her throat. “I’m sure you’ll make someone a very good husband. But right now, you’re my pretend husband, and three of the young women from my class are coming this way.”

  He looked up and tried to switch gears from the playful teasing. Maddy kept him distracted. Not good for a risky assignment. Two young women, dressed like any other mid-twenties American women, except for scarves hiding their hair, were with a traditionally-dressed Muslim woman, the three walking toward them at the entrance to the market. The woman with her face partially covered by niqab carried a curly-haired, chubby toddler in her arms.

  Maddy greeted them by name in Dari as she introduced him to the women. The women averted their eyes and didn’t acknowledge him. Hunter nodded and stepped back away from the women in polite acknowledgment of their cultural requirement that he not get too close.

  Interesting that Maddy hadn’t hesitated to introduce her husband to the women, behaving as any married woman would. The colonel had been right; it did strengthen Maddy’s cover to have a h
usband.

  The proud mother offered the toddler to Maddy, and a smile wreathed Maddy’s face with joy as she took the chunky boy into her arms. The baby carefully inspected Maddy’s eyes and hair while she smiled and cooed to him in a high-pitched, singsong voice. As Maddy bent her head to tickle his chubby stomach, the rascal grabbed Maddy’s hair, his little fist wrapping around one her curls. Maddy laughed as he held tight.

  His mother tried to unwrap his fist, but the boy giggled, playing with Maddy’s curls as if they were a new toy.

  Maddy continued to laugh, her face alight, and Hunter was mesmerized by her sheer pleasure in the little boy. He moved close and took the soft, chubby fist into his hand. The youngster looked up at him in surprise, his round, black eyes studying Hunter intently. Hunter wouldn’t have touched a female child, but even at this young age, boys were allowed more freedom.

  Hunter spoke in Dari. “You want to go up?”

  Hunter checked the mother’s face before taking the boy into his arms. The mother beamed at him, grinning broadly at her son’s antics. Hunter took the frisky child and lifted him up in the air. “You like to go high?”

  The boy giggled as Hunter swung him down in one swoop and raised him high in the air again. “You want again?” The boy’s wide smile was enough for Hunter to continue the game several more times before realizing that all the women were watching with admiration.

  He smiled sheepishly at Maddy, who studied him with apparent fascination while nibbling on her lower lip.

  The mother lifted her toddler back into her arms. The little guy glanced back and forth between Maddy and Hunter, clearly wanting more playtime with his human toys. The Afghan women smiled shyly and then spoke softly to Maddy, urging her to have a baby of her own. Maddy kept her head down; the women kept stealing peeks at him.

  After watching Maddy with the boy, he wondered if she wanted to have children. He needed to pull himself together, because he was fantasizing about having a fat toddler with blond curls who looked and smiled just liked Maddy. He wasn’t filled with his usual dread at the idea of motherly love, because he knew Maddy would never abandon a child. Never.