The door shut, and Grace grabbed a chair back for support. When a hand touched her arm, she flinched.
“Are you okay?”
She drew in a shaky breath and nodded at Dottie’s question. “Yeah.”
“You don’t look okay. Come sit down.”
Grace followed the redhead to a table and dropped onto the nearest seat.
“What did that man say to you?”
One arched brow shot higher. “The young hottie in the Seville Row jacket? He asked me to give you a message. Said he’d do it himself but he was running late.”
“Oh?”
She frowned. “He acted like he knew you. Is something wrong?”
“I know him. What’s the message?”
“Just that he’s sorry he hasn’t been in touch sooner because it’s long overdue.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
“Grace?”
“Hmm.”
“When he walked away, he muttered something strange. ‘Eighteen years overdue.’ Why would he say that?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
Chapter 21
Grace sat at a table with a chubby brunette wearing a little rhinestone crown and a woman who looked like she’d been embalmed. Not dead yet. Bright black eyes blinked in the leathery face. Travis slid onto an empty chair.
A bony hand clamped down on his arm. “I suppose it’s too much to hope I’m the attraction here?” A piercing cackle assaulted his eardrums.
Grace grinned. “Phyllis, Jen, this is my friend, Travis.”
Jen let out a sigh and drained her cocktail glass. A bleary gaze settled on him. “I was hoping you hired me a stripper.”
Her grin broadened, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe next year.”
“Nice meeting you, ladies.” He glanced at Grace. Something was definitely off. “Are you ready to go?”
She nodded and stood. “Happy birthday, Jen. Promise me you’ll call a cab.”
“I may be drunk and old, but I’m not stupid.”
“Forty isn’t exactly ancient.”
Phyllis patted her companion’s arm. “If you want to talk ancient…”
Travis ushered Grace from the bar with a hand at the small of her back. When they stepped outside, she glanced around and shivered.
“This fog is colder than Moose Flat in January. Where’s your jacket?”
“I forgot it this morning.” She headed toward the Porsche. “I see you double parked.”
“I didn’t want to waste time.”
He clicked the remote on the key fob to unlock the doors, and she slid inside. Wylie whined and wiggled and licked her face before settling on her lap. When the engine purred to life, he turned up the heat.
“Do you want to go get something to eat? I’m pretty sure the refrigerator was about empty.”
She hugged the dog. “What I’d really like is a take-out pizza with everything on it.”
“No onions.”
“I can probably live with that.” She pulled out her phone and made the call then stuffed it back in her purse. “It should arrive about ten minutes after we get home.”
He cast a glance her way as he pulled up at a stoplight. “What’s wrong?”
A sigh shuddered through her. “He showed up at the bar.”
Travis turned and stared. When a horn honked behind him, he shifted into gear. There was no question in his mind who he was. Cursing beneath his breath, he whipped into a parking spot and tugged on the emergency brake.
“What happened?”
She touched his arm, fingers cool against his heated skin.
“Nothing happened. Let’s go home, and I’ll give you all the details. If we aren’t there when the delivery guy arrives, we won’t get our pizza, and quite frankly, I want it. I need a little comfort food.”
He unclenched his hands from around the wheel and released the brake. “Since when is pizza comfort food?”
“It is to me.” She leaned back in the seat, and some of the tension seemed to drain out of her. “How was your trip to Vine Haven?”
“Interesting. I really like your dad. We didn’t have a chance to talk much the other night.” He accelerated up a hill then let off the gas as they coasted down. “He certainly has a passion for grapes.”
“The vineyard’s been in our family for a couple of generations. It would have killed him if none of his children wanted to carry on the tradition. Lucky for the rest of us, Will cares about grapes almost as much as Dad does.”
“You don’t like wine?”
A hint of a smile curved her lips. “Oh, I like wine. I just don’t like digging in the dirt.”
“I don’t know. There’s something about living off your own land that appeals to a baser instinct.” He pulled up at the pink house and waited for the garage door to rise then drove through. “You and Wylie hang out for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”
“I know the drill.” She slammed the car door harder than necessary. “Maybe one of these days I’ll be able to walk home without skulking in the damn garage first.”
He squeezed her arm. “The trial starts in another week. After that, life should return to normal.”
“Because Mason Rogers will have either put a bullet through Casey’s brain or failed and left town with his tail tucked.”
“I’m hoping for option B.” He left the garage and took a quick tour of the neighborhood, nearly drawing his weapon when a cat scurried out from behind a garbage can sitting by the curb. When his heart slowed, he turned back. Idiot. His nerves were strung way too tight for safety.
Grace waited just inside the garage door, one hand stroking Wylie’s ears. “No preppy assassins lurking in an alley?”
“Just a cat.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You look spent.”
“Seeing him standing there with that freaking, smug look on his face shook me, I’ll admit. I just want to crash on the couch and eat my pizza.”
“Sounds good.”
He punched in the security code and opened the door. When a delivery van with a restaurant logo pulled up, Grace went upstairs with the dog while he paid the teenage driver and took the oversized box.
Entering the apartment a few moments later, she was nowhere in sight. “Grace?”
“Be out in a minute.”
Travis set the pizza on the counter and toed off his shoes. When Wylie walked over to his bowl and stared at it, he lifted the food bag out of the cupboard and poured out the dog’s dinner.
“That smells heavenly.”
He glanced up—and dropped the bag with a thump. She wore cropped cotton sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt, nothing unusual, but on Grace they looked spectacular. Her face was washed free of makeup, and her hair hung down her back. She could have been the same age as her niece.
“I assume you mean our dinner, not Wylie’s.”
That got a smile, and some of the worry faded from her eyes.
“I may slip him a slice out of sympathy. I ordered a large, so there should be plenty.”
“Sit.” He pushed out one of the bar stools. “Do you want wine or beer or something with a pink umbrella?”
Another smile. He was on a roll.
“Water is fine. I had two cocktails at the bar, but go ahead.”
After filling a glass with water and adding ice, he pulled a beer from the refrigerator and took down a couple of plates. Pushing a basket of napkins closer, he sat beside her and dug into the pizza.
Closing her eyes, she chewed and swallowed. “Tony’s makes the best pizza on the planet.”
“It is pretty damn good. Enjoy your meal. Then we’ll talk.”
“I can do both.” She leaned on one elbow and took another bite. “He was there when I came out of the bathroom.”
Travis dropped the slice back onto his plate. “Outside the bathroom door?”
“No, he was talking to Dottie in the seating area. She left before you got there.”
“Dottie is a cowo
rker?”
Grace nodded. “She didn’t know him. He just asked her to give me a message.”
He scowled at his plate. “I don’t like that. It means he’s been watching you at work if he recognized the people you were with.”
“Or he was lurking outside the bar, spying on me through the window. I was talking to Dottie before you called.”
“He didn’t approach you?”
She slowly chewed and swallowed before answering. “He said something to Dottie after he turned and saw me, then he headed toward the door. ‘Next time,’ he called across the room with a stupid smirk on his face. I was still gaping like a moron when the door shut behind him.”
Travis held tight to the edge of the counter. Grace wouldn’t appreciate it if he punched a hole in her wall. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What did he say to your coworker?”
“Something about catching up with me being long overdue—eighteen years overdue.”
“That’s an odd number to choose. I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I. It sounds almost personal.”
“You’re sure you’ve never met this guy before?”
“I’d remember. His looks are pretty distinctive.” She started on a second piece of pizza, and some of her energy seemed to return. She straightened then frowned. “Eighteen years ago Mason Rogers would have been a little kid.”
“Eighteen years ago you were—”
“Sixteen. I thought about it while Jen and Phyllis guzzled cocktails. No matter which way you turn them, the pieces don’t fit.” Her brows pinched. “I didn’t have contact with any kids back then except the ones I used to babysit. Definitely no connection there. I…knew a family named Rogers, but they didn’t have a young child.”
“Then we won’t worry about the why. We’ll just make sure he doesn’t have another opportunity to get anywhere near you.”
She shuddered. “The guy freaks me out, the way he looks at me like he knows something I don’t.”
“The guy’s a freak. Period. I thought this was all about Sutton, but I’m beginning to wonder. Maybe he just has a thing for you.”
“Since I’m with you, and he can’t have me, he’ll shoot me or you or both of us to end our affair?” Grace broke off a piece of crust and tossed it to the dog. “Sounds like bad melodrama. If it was the movie-of-the-week, I wouldn’t watch it.”
“I could understand a fixation like that.” He popped the last bite of pizza into his mouth and wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’m pretty sure I’m not the first guy who’s been crazy about you.”
She turned to face him. “There’s crazy good and crazy bad. Did you run around shooting at people when I didn’t return your phone calls?”
“I have phenomenal self-control.”
Smiling, she slid off the barstool. “Why don’t you take Wylie out while I clean up in here? I’d offer to do it, but I’m not in the mood to waste my breath.”
He stood and laid his hands on her shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. Her skin was silky smooth beneath his fingers when he stroked her neck. “Smart. Very smart. Then what?”
She tipped her head downward, exposing the vulnerable nape, as a sigh rocked her. “Forget vegging on the couch. I’m ready for bed. It’s been one hell of a day.”
* * * *
In the other room, the door opened and shut softly. Toenails clicked on the floor followed by footsteps. Grace spit and rinsed her toothbrush. Flipping off the light, she walked into the bedroom.
Travis sat on the edge of the bed, untying his shoes. He glanced up and smiled. “Finished in there?”
She nodded, bent to pat Wylie’s head and then slid into the bed on the other side. Just like an old married couple. She would miss this when he went home. She’d miss him—so much she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand it.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
The lamp on the nightstand cast a muted glow over the lavender-painted walls and deep purple comforter. Girly. She’d be willing to bet Travis’s bedroom was navy blue or tan. Something boring and masculine. She’d never lived with a man. Never had to compromise her own taste. Sad, when she thought about it. Maybe a little pathetic.
He left the bathroom wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. The hair on his chest was slightly damp, as if he’d run a wet cloth across it or dripped water washing his face. An evening scruff darkened his chin and cheeks. Nothing girly there. Just looking at him curled her toes.
Tonight, she wasn’t in the mood for sex. Tonight she wanted to talk.
He stepped over Wylie and climbed into bed then pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. One big hand stroked her hair.
“He really got to you, didn’t he?”
“Not just him—his comment.”
“Why?” His voice rumbled above her ear.
She closed her eyes. “It brought back memories both good and—ugly. I fell in love for the first time when I was sixteen, and a boy died because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”
The hand stilled, and the muscle beneath her cheek contracted.
“Maybe not literally, but that’s how I felt. I changed because of it. The girl I’d been, the one full of starry-eyed dreams, died that night, too.”
“Whatever happened made you a strong, self-reliant woman.” The hand resumed stroking. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Talking never helped before, not with any of my many therapists, anyway. I discussed it with Lark and actually felt a burden lift. Helping her helped me. I want to tell you.” She let out a breath. “It was all so long ago, but hearing ‘eighteen years overdue’ brought it back.”
“What happened when you were sixteen?”
“Nothing that hasn’t happened to a million other girls, but my little soap opera had a tragic ending. My boyfriend wanted to sleep with me after the prom. I said no, and he got pissed. The idiot went out drinking and smashed his car into a big rig on the freeway.” She paused as his heart beat steadily beneath her ear. “No one blamed me for his death—except me. I never told anyone but Rachel what happened earlier that night, but I’m sure he complained to his friends while he was partying with them.”
His arms tightened around her. “I don’t know what to say. Even at sixteen you should have been smart enough to know you weren’t at fault. He made a bad decision and paid the ultimate price.”
Her breath fluttered the hair on his chest. “Afterward, I didn’t want another boy to get hurt—or worse. I stopped saying no.”
“Oh, Grace.” He pulled her up and kissed her. “My heart aches for the girl you were all those years ago. Surely with counseling—”
“I didn’t want anyone to make me feel better. I wanted to wallow in my grief. It took years, but I finally realized I was worth more than that.” She blinked hard to force back tears. “I worked out my own form of therapy.”
“I’m not surprised.” He rocked her against him. “You’re such a fighter.”
“My five date rule. By date number five, I could be sure I was sleeping with a guy because I really wanted to, not because I felt I had to.”
“God.”
The pain in his voice twisted something deep inside her. “It works for me.”
“We didn’t wait five dates. I pushed you, and you were worried about the hit man—”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “With you, I knew it was real, right from our first conversation on that poor excuse for a plane. I broke my rule because I wanted to, because you’re different.”
A long sigh shook him, and he pulled her so close every inch of their bodies touched. “We’re not going to make love tonight.”
“Why not?” Her arms wrapped around him and squeezed.
He couldn’t hide his need.
“Because what I feel for you isn’t just about sex. It’s so much more—you’re so much more. Sometimes holding you is enough.”
Tears dampened her lashes and slid down her che
eks. “Thank you.”
Chapter 22
Travis clicked off his cell phone and dropped it on the counter. “I have a problem.”
Glancing up from her computer keyboard, Grace frowned. “I would have guessed from your totally pissed off tone during that call. What’s wrong?”
“Work. A client.” He let out a breath as frustration simmered in his gut. “I need to personally deal with the situation.”
She turned in her chair. “You can go home, you know. I’ll be fine.”
“No.” He regretted the sharp command the second it left his mouth.
Her lips set in a firm line. “That’s the second time you’ve told me no recently. Just to be clear—I don’t like it.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, but I’m not going to put you at risk over a client. He may be a lucrative, important client, but you mean too damn much to me.”
“Gee, a compliment, and in such a friendly voice.”
“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” He’d need blood pressure medication at this rate. Pressing his fingers to his throbbing temples, he counted to ten. “Look, I said no about interviewing Casey because it’s an unnecessary risk.” When she opened her mouth, he held up his hand. “Doesn’t matter what either of us thinks because Fritz would never let you talk to him before the trial. I’m saying no to leaving you here alone because it’s beyond stupid. It’s practically criminal. After what happened yesterday, I can’t believe you’d even suggest it.”
“So I’m just supposed to sit around and watch you lose clients because you’re here instead of at home where you belong?”
“Until Rogers is arrested, where I belong is with you.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “You could fly to Seattle with me. It’s Friday. I need the weekend and a couple of extra days to get caught up at work. Tell your editor you’d like some personal time off.”
She tapped her fingers on the desk. “I could take today off. I was going to go in late anyway, after I finish the piece I’m working on. I’ll have it done in another hour, and there isn’t anything else of critical importance I can’t put off for a few days. The weekend won’t be an issue.”
Every Step She Takes (Who's Watching Now Book 2) Page 19