Dying for Love

by Angel Nicholas

  Her head began to throb.

  His eyebrow arched. “You didn’t get your locks re-keyed, did you?”

  Shoulders drooping, she shook her head. The urge to rest her head against his broad shoulders was strong. She resisted.

  Matt’s lips tightened, then he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll call a locksmith while you get dressed.”

  She nodded, numb. He was taking this so seriously it made it hard to pass it off as some teenage prank. His arm tightened around her, then let go. The bedroom door shut behind him with a quiet click.

  Grace allowed a moment to wallow, then straightened her shoulders and pulled on a pair of blue jeans. Reluctantly, she went into her closet and dug through the pile on the floor. Something was odd about some of the clothes.

  The arm of a red sweater seemed too long, while a black skirt was oddly misshapen. She held them up and gasped. Hands trembling, she dug through the pile. About half of them were torn or ripped. Her lower lip quivered and she bit it, blinking back tears.

  Sitting on her closet floor and having a good old-fashioned sob-fest sounded appealing, but her boss was waiting in the other room. They were moving into dating territory, and she didn’t want to start out with puffy eyes and a red nose. Not attractive. She yanked a lightweight cashmere sweater off the floor.

  A jagged-edged piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Her breath caught. The white square lay on top of the tweed skirt she’d worn to work a few days ago. Innocuous. Apprehension coiled inside. Not another one.

  With the same cautious respect she would show a boa constrictor, she picked it up. She took a breath. Squeezed her eyes shut and flipped the paper over. She opened one eye and peered at the paper.

  Both eyes open, she sat back on her heels.

  Think you’re something special, don’t you? A fancy job, big condo

  and expensive clothes won’t change anything.

  You’re nothing but trailer trash, slut.

  Trailer trash?

  A shudder trembled the paper in her fingers. On the edge of hysteria, she rubbed her forehead. Be rational. Deep breath. Her chest rose and fell on a deep inhalation. Okay, good. You’re life hasn’t been a bed of roses. You can cope without falling apart. It’s just words on a piece of paper. Yes, someone was in your home. Someone damaged your clothes. No biggie. Clothes are replaceable. The important thing is, whoever was here is gone. Right now, there’s a big, handsome man waiting in your living room. For you. Focus on that.

  Grace straightened her shoulders, wiped a stray tear from her cheek and stood. She set the paper on her bed and pulled the intact cashmere sweater over her head. Her thoughts ran in circles as she tugged on socks and tennis shoes. Looping a strand of hair round her finger, she stared at the paper. What she wouldn’t give to crumple it into a ball and toss it. Instead, she grabbed the scrap and headed into the living room, resigned to the inevitable.

  Matt glanced up from where he sat on her floral couch, her cordless phone and the phone book in hand. Her lips twitched. Like a physical caress, his gaze moved over her. Appreciation gleamed in the dark depths. His eyes narrowed on the paper in her hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “I found it on the floor mixed in with the clothes—most of which have been slashed.” She placed it face up on the coffee table. Matt leaned forward.

  “Trailer trash?”

  She settled on the couch beside him. “I’ve never even lived in a trailer.”

  “I don’t like this, Grace. The note makes it more personal.”

  She bit her lip, not wanting to mention the other note. The one she’d found in her car. A stress headache bloomed into life right behind her eyes. He picked up her cordless from the coffee table and handed it to her. “Call the police.”

  “You know you’re incredibly bossy, right?”

  “Hazard of being the boss, I guess.”

  He leaned back against her pillows. He didn’t even appear offended. Relaxed and comfortable came to mind, despite the frown drawing his dark brows together and the tight set of his lips. Sprawled on her couch, he also looked entirely too sexy for her peace of mind.

  His gaze dropped to the phone lying in her limp hand, then back up to her face, with a lift of his brow.

  “Bossy,” but still she dialed. Bossy, yes. But right too. At least he provided a distraction from her fear.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Matt settled into the booth across from Grace. Sharing her side of the table held more appeal, but that would probably be pressing his luck. Besides, he’d been patient for six of the longest months of his life, admiring her intelligence, spirit, fire and beauty from afar. He could be patient a while longer.

  Dusky rose spread across her cheeks. To his amusement, she avoided eye contact, perusing her menu with great interest. The past week had shown she wasn’t immune to him. Before that, she hadn’t revealed the slightest awareness of him as a man. He had started to worry.

  He wasn’t worried anymore.

  He glanced at the menu. Angell’s Bar & Grill tended to be fairly quiet, even during the dinner rush. Classy, great food and they weren’t too fussy about how their customers dressed.

  They placed their orders and he rested his arms on the table. If he wasn’t mistaken, Grace had enjoyed riding on his bike. He’d certainly gotten a rise out of her riding behind him. Literally and figuratively. She’d wrapped herself around him in a way that went beyond the mere physical.

  He sipped his water, searching for a safe topic of conversation. Something to keep her mind off the creep breaking into her place. “Have you made it out of the city yet?”

  “I went to McCall. The Winter Carnival was fun, and the ice sculptures were amazing.”

  “They’re different every year too. I try not to miss it.” He grinned. “They can get pretty goofy. There was a toilet one year.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Matt shrugged, laughing. Grace chuckled, but a few seconds later her gaze drifted to the window. She had to be pretty upset about what happened at her condo. A woman living alone… He didn’t like her vulnerability with some freak on the loose. May as well address the elephant in the room.

  “Is there anyone you’ve met since moving here that seemed off?”

  Her expression didn’t so much as flicker, which told him her mind had been in the same place. She shook her head.

  “I’ve been searching my brain. No one comes to mind. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened. No creepy vibes. No strange men following me.” She shrugged.

  “All you can do at this point is be extra vigilant.” He wished he could offer her something more tangible.

  “You’re right. It’s just so…I don’t know. Out of left field. I haven’t even lived here that long. This kind of stuff happens in the movies, to other people.”

  Their food arrived and Grace poked at her steak, swirled the tines of fork in her mashed potatoes, stabbed a piece of lettuce, then set the fork down without taking a bite. He hated not knowing what to do and longed to find a way to comfort and reassure her. He’d dreamt about having her all to himself for months, and while he’d take it any way he could get it, knowing she was upset dimmed his pleasure. His mother had taught him that most women preferred a sympathetic ear to Mr. Fix It, but it was a difficult urge to resist.

  Grace rubbed the back of her neck, cast him a soft smile, and began eating her meal. His shoulders relaxed.

  Man, he had it bad.

  Grace glanced up. “What made you get into construction?”

  “My father was in the business, so I grew up around it. Starting up my own business was a natural extension. I just grew it bigger and better.”

  Grace laughed. “Nothing wrong with your ego.”

  “Hey, I won’t lie.” He grinned. “I’m proud of the company I’ve built from the ground up.”

  “You have every reason to be proud of your accomplishments. What’s it feel like, when you’re driving around and look at a restaurant, a store
, or someone’s home, and know you made that happen? You’ve left your fingerprint on this valley. That’s gotta feel good.”

  He shrugged. No one had ever put it like that. She made him sound like more than he was, which felt damn good.

  “I don’t think about it.”

  Her eyes widened and she leaned forward. The low neck of her sweater gaped and no force on earth could have stopped him from enjoying the view. Beautiful, smooth skin the color of fresh cream. The lace at the top of her bra was just visible. He jerked his gaze back to her face and shifted the napkin in his lap a little higher.

  “How is that possible?”

  “I guess when I see the buildings my crews have put up, I’m still looking at them with a critical eye. Either that, or they blend into the landscape. It’s just business.”

  Obviously unable to comprehend his lack of emotional depth, she shook her head. Great. Now she was probably rating him alongside a caveman. Desperate to save her opinion of him, he racked his brain. And came up empty. He frowned. Was he really that lame?

  “Well, I have no room to talk.” She sighed. “I’ve never created anything. I still think it’s awesome, being able to leave your mark on the world like you do. I’d love to be able to do that.”

  Relief flowed. Admiration laced her voice. She sure made an impact with him, but he doubted she’d been referring to that kind of mark.

  “You’re part of the machine that puts those buildings in the ground, you know.”

  She tilted her head and stared at him. Having her undivided attention made his hands clammy. How could one woman make him feel like an awkward teenage boy? He could handle a room full of businessmen, the wealthy couple who thought they could have the world at a bargain and the contract gone bad, with ease. Sit a black-haired, green-eyed woman in front of him and his nerve went out the nearest window.

  When it came to romancing a woman, he didn’t have a clue. If a woman wanted him, he’d never had to work for it. If she didn’t, why bother? It was the twenty-first century. Women were aggressive; they went after what they wanted.

  Grace shrugged. “I may be a small part—very small, but it’s not the same. Still, I appreciate you saying so.”

  “If you want to leave a mark, have an impact, why are you working behind the scenes? Why not go for something more? There has to be something you love, some other desire behind that statement.”

  She flushed and dropped her gaze. So there was something.

  “Not really.”

  “That’s a yes. You just haven’t decided whether to pursue it. Life is short, Grace. Go for your dreams.”

  “You make it sound so easy. So simple. It’s not.”

  “Why? Because it’s something that scares you? Chasing your dreams can be terrifying. The thrill of catching them is worth it.”

  She stared.

  He shifted in his seat. “What?”

  “You have the soul of a poet, Matt.”

  A slow smile bloomed and sparkled in her eyes, tugging at his very non-poetic soul. He swallowed. Just because he admired her, cared for her and wanted her, didn’t mean forever. Hell, she hadn’t even seen him as anything but her boss until recently.

  “However…”

  “Ah.” Matt grinned. “There’s always a however.”

  “I’ve never been exactly ‘normal.’” She made air quotes. “Not many foster kids are. Heck, I don’t even know who my parents are.”

  “That’s rough.”

  She shrugged. “I survived. After being shuffled from home to home for years, I landed on Laura’s doorstep. She was a great foster mom. Taught me how to open up to people and shaped me into who I am today.”

  “Sounds like she was an amazing woman. I’m glad you found someone to nurture you, sweetheart.”

  Grace glanced up, eyes widening, and he cursed his slip. He wasn’t a teenager. He knew better than to wear his heart on his sleeve.

  He cleared his throat. “Would you like dessert?”

  “No thank you. This was plenty. I’m stuffed. I can’t believe I ate that much.”

  He grinned and lifted a finger for the check.

  His hand on the small of her back, he escorted her out of the restaurant. He leaned a fraction closer, dropped his chin and inhaled. She smelled like heaven. A sweet musky scent that was pure woman. She turned and smiled, her hair brushing across the back of his hand like strands of silk.

  “Thank you for dinner. And for the ride.” Her gaze went to his Harley. A woman after his own heart, lusting after power and a rumbling engine. He could get into that.

  Down, boy.

  Handing her the spare helmet, he threw a leg over and settled on the low seat. He pulled on his helmet and started the bike, then held out his hand to help her on. He turned to make sure she got on safely. Grace grinned like a kid in a candy store, her eyes glinting behind the visor.

  She climbed on like an old pro, hands clutching his sides while she settled. Her legs came to rest alongside his, her arms wrapped around him, and he revved the motor. The bike vibrated between his legs, and he could have sworn Grace moaned. Her arms tightened around him.

  She did things to him he wouldn’t have thought possible. He’d perfected self-control. Or so he’d thought, until she came into his life.

  Matt eased away from the curb, Grace clinging to him like a second skin. About as close to heaven as a guy could get. He rumbled to a stop at a red light and glanced back.

  Grace raised her head and met his eyes. Cheeks pink, lids half-closed and moist lips parted, she was the picture of a woman on the verge of an orgasm. He bit back a groan. What he wouldn’t give to tip her over the edge.

  He lifted his visor and Grace followed suit.

  “How about a ride before I drop you at your place?”

  She nodded, eyes sparkling. He revved the engine again. She bit her lip and her eyelids slid down. Holy crap. A visual slammed into his brain of Grace’s sweet pussy pressed against the vibrating seat. Of course, she was naked.

  Her hips shifted, her heat pressing against him. Her eyes opened, bright with arousal. Watching her was the biggest turn-on he’d ever experienced. Two more seconds of this and he’d be useless. He winked, slammed his visor shut and faced the intersection.

  The light changed and he rumbled forward, slow and easy, muscles tight. Damn, he needed to get a grip. So what if the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen was hot, bothered, and wrapped around him like a well-worn leather jacket. He was a grown man, not some horny teenager.

  The vibration of the powerful engine beneath him increased as he accelerated. He could have sworn Grace whimpered as she pressed closer, rubbing against him like a cat. Unable to resist, he revved the motor again. Her head dropped against his back. Her sweet, drawn-out moan reached him over the low rumble of the bike. The painful erection wearing the imprint of his zipper throbbed in time with his pulse.

  Had what he thought just happened, happened?

  *****

  Grace kept her eyes shut. Matt’s heat soaked into her and the Harley vibrated beneath her. Her cheeks burned. She’d never been so mortified in her entire life.

  In the middle of downtown Boise, in full view of cars and pedestrians, she’d gyrated against Matt like a cheap hooker and had an orgasm. How pathetic. So what if sitting on the bike was like riding a giant vibrator? She had more self-control than that. Except she obviously didn’t.

  She couldn’t wrap her brain around such a complete loss of inhibition. If she hadn’t felt the contractions shredding her sense of reality like nothing before, she wouldn’t have believed it. How was she going to look him in the eye again? Matt would forever think of her as the woman who orgasmed on the back of his bike.

  Fresh waves of humiliation washed over her and she swallowed a groan. She’d done too much of that already. The lack of certainty was another slap in the face. Did he know? It wasn’t like she had laid back across the seat and screamed her pleasure to the cloudless sky overhead. A very aroused Matt
between her legs, both of them naked—she bit her lip. Her body throbbed to life again.

  Grace stared blindly at the dignified old homes along Warm Springs Avenue. Her day had spiraled out of control. A break-in at her condo and a solo orgasm on a Harley behind her boss. Her boring, ordinary life had become a soap opera.

  Stark silence filtered into her senses, pulling her out of her memories. Matt had shut off the bike and was just sitting there. Not that she gave him any other option. Tight as she was holding on, the poor man would need a crowbar to pry her off him and the bike.

  Heat suffused her cheeks. Yanking off her helmet, she clumsily scrambled off the bike and onto the pavement in front of her condo. Her knees buckled.

  Heavily muscled arms snatched her up inches from the unforgiving pavement. Grace buried her hot face in the crook of Matt’s neck.

  “Think I’ll go ahead and die of mortification now, thank you.”

  “No worries, sweetheart. It happens when you’re not used to riding. My fault. I shouldn’t have taken you so far.”

  His voice rumbled above her ear and vibrated through his chest. The arousal that had never quite gone away found new life. Held tight in his arms, her breasts nestled against him, his heat enveloping her, she fought a silent battle.

  So it’d been a rough day. So her emotions where splattered like bugs on the grill of a semi. That was no reason to molest her boss. Even if he was sweet and considerate and sexy as hell.

  “Grace?”

  Finding intense fascination in the tight weave of fabric in his shirt, the smell of leather and man and rich cologne, she refused to look up. Matt jiggled her a little in his arms. She stared at the column of his throat, miserable with want and fear and who knew what else.

  Did he have to be so freakin’ gorgeous? The darkening shadow of beard stubble marking his strong jaw drew her gaze. She wanted to feel that stubble scraping against her bare skin. Grace stared at his lips and sucked her lower lip into her mouth. She had about a thousand places in need of his lips. Reluctantly, she met his eyes.