by Nora Roberts
“Stop it, both of you.” Bailey refused to laugh, though her voice trembled with it. “We’ll have a small, dignified ceremony—with Cade’s family.” She smiled at Grace. “And mine.”
“Keep working on her.” Cade rose. “I’ve got a couple things to do before I go into the office.”
Grace picked up her coffee again. “I don’t know his family well,” she told Bailey. “I’ve managed to avoid that little pleasure, but I can tell you from what I do know, you’ve got the cream of the crop.”
“I love him so much, Grace. I know it’s all happened quickly, but—”
“What does time have to do with it?” Because she knew they were both about to get teary, she leaned forward. “We have to discuss the important, the vital, aspects of this situation, Bailey.” She took a deep breath. “When do we go shopping?”
M.J. staggered in to the sound of laughter, and scowled at both of them. “I hate cheerful people in the morning.” She poured coffee, tried to inhale it, then turned to study Grace. “Well, well,” she said dryly. “Apparently you and the cop got to know each other last night.”
“Well enough that I know he’s more than a badge and an attitude.” Irritated, she pushed her mug aside. “What have you got against him?”
“Other than the fact he’s cold and arrogant, superior and stiff, nothing at all. Jack says they call him the Machine. Small wonder.”
“I always find it interesting,” Grace said coolly, “when people only skim the surface, then judge another human being. All those traits you just listed describe a man you don’t know.”
“M.J., drink your coffee.” Bailey rose to get the cream. “You know you’re not fit to be around until you’ve had a half a gallon.”
M.J. shook her head, fisted a hand on a hip covered with a tattered T-shirt and equally tattered shorts. “Just because you slept with him, doesn’t mean you know him, either. You’re usually a hell of a lot more careful than that, Grace. You might let other people assume you pop into bed with a new guy every other night, but we know better. What the hell were you thinking of?”
“I was thinking of me,” she shot back. “I wanted him. I needed him. He’s the first man who’s ever really touched me. And I’m not going to let you stand there and make something beautiful into something cheap.”
No one spoke for a moment. Bailey stood near the table, the creamer in one hand. M.J. slowly straightened from the counter, whistled out a breath. “You’re falling for him.” Staggered, she raked a hand through her hair. “You’re really falling for him.”
“I’ve already hit the ground with a splat. So what?”
“I’m sorry.” M.J. struggled to adjust. She didn’t have to like the man, she told herself. She just had to love Grace. “There must be something to him, if he got to you. Are you sure you’re okay with it?”
“No, I’m not sure I’m okay with it.” Temper drained, and doubt snuck in. “I don’t know why it’s happened or what to do about it. I just know it is. It wasn’t just sex.” She remembered how he had held her while she cried. How he’d left the light on for her without her having to ask. “I’ve been waiting for him all my life.”
“I know what that means.” Bailey set the creamer down, took Grace’s hand. “Exactly.”
“So do I.” With a sigh, M.J. stepped forward. “What’s happening to us? We’re three sensible women, and suddenly we’re guarding ancient mythical stones, running from bad guys and falling headlong into love with men we’ve just met. It’s crazy.”
“It’s right,” Bailey said quietly. “You know it feels right.”
“Yeah.” M.J. laid her hand over theirs. “I guess it does.”
It wasn’t easy for Grace to go back into her house. This time, though, she wasn’t alone. M.J. and Jack flanked her like bookends.
“Man.” Scanning the wreck of the living area, M.J. hissed out a breath. “I thought they did a number on my place. Of course, you’ve got a lot more toys to play with.”
Then her gaze focused on the splintered railing. And the outline below. “You don’t want to do this now, Grace.”
“The police cleared the scene. I have to get started on it sometime.”
M.J. shook her head. “Where?”
“I’ll start in the bedroom.” Grace managed a smile. “I’m about to make my dry cleaner a millionaire.”
“I’ll see what I can do with the railing,” Jack told her. “Jury-rig something so it’s safe until you have it rebuilt.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Go on up,” M.J. suggested. “I’ll get a broom. And a bulldozer.” She waited until Grace was upstairs before she turned to Jack. “I’m going to do this down here. Get rid of…things.” Her gaze wandered to the outline. “She shouldn’t have to handle that.”
He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You’re a stand-up pal, M.J.”
“Yeah, that’s me.” She inhaled sharply. “Let’s see if we can dig up the stereo or the TV out of this mess. I could use some racket in here.”
It took most of the afternoon before Grace was satisfied that the house was cleared out enough to call in her cleaning service. She wanted every room scrubbed before she lived there again.
And she was determined to do just that. To live, to be at home, to face whatever ghosts remained. To prove to herself that she could, she separated from M.J. and Jack and went shopping for the first replacements. Then, because the entire day had left her feeling raw, she stopped by Salvinis.
She needed to see Bailey.
And she needed to see the Stars.
Once she was buzzed in, she found Bailey up in her office on the phone. With a smile, Bailey gestured her in. “Yes, Dr. Linstrum, I’m faxing the report to you now, and I’ll bring you the original personally before five. I can complete the final tests you’ve ordered tomorrow.”
She listened a moment, ran a finger down the soapstone elephant on her desk. “No, I’m fine. I appreciate your concern, and your understanding. The Stars are my priority. I’ll have full copies of all the reports for your insurance carrier by end of business day Friday. Yes, thank you. Goodbye.”
“You’re working very quickly,” Grace commented.
“Despite all that happened, hardly any time was lost. And everyone will feel more comfortable when the stones are in the museum.”
“I want to see them again, Bailey.” She let out a little laugh. “It’s silly, but I really need to. I had this dream last night—nightmare, really.”
“What kind of dream?”
Grace sat on the edge of the desk and told her. Though her voice was steady, her fingers tapped with nerves.
“I had dreams, too,” Bailey murmured. “I’m still having them. So is M.J.”
Uneasy, Grace shifted. “Like mine?”
“Similar enough to be more than coincidence.” She rose, held out a hand for Grace’s. “Let’s go take a look.”
“You’re not breaking any laws, are you?”
As they walked downstairs together, Bailey sent her an amused look. “I think after what I’ve already done, this is a minor infraction.” She tried to block it, but a shudder escaped as they descended the last flight of steps, under which she’d once hidden from a killer.
“Are you going to be all right here?” Instinctively Grace hooked an arm around Bailey’s shoulder. “I hate thinking of what happened, and now thinking of you working here, remembering it.”
“It’s getting better. Grace, I’ve had my stepbrothers cremated. Or rather, Cade took care of the arrangements. He wouldn’t let me handle any of it.”
“Good for him. You don’t owe them anything, Bailey. You never did. We’re your family. We always will be.”
“I know.”
She passed into the vault room and approached the massive reinforced-steel doors. The security system was complex and intricate, and even with the ease of long practice, it took Bailey three full minutes to disengage.
“Maybe I ought to have one of these insta
lled in my house,” Grace said lightly. “That bastard popped my library safe like it was a gumball machine. He must have fenced the jewelry fast. I hate losing the pieces you made for me.”
“I’ll make you more. In fact—” Bailey picked up a square velvet box “—let’s start now.”
Curious, Grace opened the box to a pair of heavy gold earrings. The smooth crescent-shaped gold was studded with stones in deep, dark hues of emerald, ruby and sapphire.
“Bailey, they’re beautiful.”
“I’d just finished them before…well, before. As soon as I had, I knew they were yours.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“I thought you were dead.” Bailey’s voice shook, then strengthened when Grace looked up. “I thought I would never see you again. So let’s consider these a celebration of the rest of our lives.”
Grace removed the simple studs in her ears, began to replace them with Bailey’s gift. “When I’m not wearing them, I’ll keep them with my mother’s jewelry. The things that matter most.”
“They look perfect on you. I knew they would.” Bailey turned, took the heavy padded box from its shelf in the vault. Holding it between them, she opened it.
Grace let out a long, uneven sigh. “I honestly thought one would be gone. I would drive up to the mountains and find it in my garden, sitting on the ground beneath the flowers. It was so real, Bailey.”
Reaching out, Grace took a stone. Her stone. “I felt it in my hand, just as I do now. It pulsed in my hand like a heart.” She laughed a little, but the sound was hollow. “My heart. That’s what it seemed like. I didn’t realize that until now. It was like holding my own heart.”
“There’s a link.” A little pale, Bailey took another stone from the box. “I don’t understand it, but I know it. This is the Star I had. If M.J. was here, she’d have picked hers.”
“I never thought I believed in this sort of thing.” Grace turned the stone in her hand. “I was wrong. It’s incredibly easy to believe it. To know it. Are we protecting them, Bailey, or are they protecting us?”
“I like to think it’s both. They brought me Cade.” Gently, she replaced her stone, touched a fingertip to the second Star in its hollow. “Brought M.J. Jack.” Her face softened. “I opened up the showroom for them a little while ago,” she told Grace. “Jack dragged her in and bought her a ring.”
“A ring?” Grace lifted a hand to her heart as it swelled. “An engagement ring?”
“An engagement ring. She argued the whole time, kept telling him not to be a jerk. She didn’t need any ring. He just ignored her and pointed to this lovely green tourmaline—square-cut, with diamond baguettes. I designed it a few months ago, thinking that it would make a wonderful, nontraditional engagement ring for the right woman. He knew she was the right woman.”
“He’s perfect for her.” Grace brushed a tear from her lashes and beamed. “I knew it as soon as I saw them together.”
“I wish you’d seen them today. There she is, grumbling, rolling her eyes, insisting all this fuss is a waste of time and effort. Then he put that ring on her finger. She got this big, sloppy grin on her face. You know the one.”
“Yeah.” And she could see it, perfectly. “I’m so happy for her, for you. It’s like all that love was there, waiting, and the stones…” She looked down at them again. “They opened the door for it.”
“And you, Grace? Have they opened the door for you?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” Nerves suddenly sprang to her fingertips. She laid the stone back in its bed. “Seth certainly wouldn’t be. I don’t think he’d believe in magic of any sort. And as for love…even if that door is wide open and the opportunity is there, he’s not a man to fall easily.”
“Easy or not—” Bailey closed the lid, replaced the box “—when you’re meant to fall, you fall. He’s yours, Grace. I saw that in your eyes this morning.”
“Well.” Grace swallowed the nerves. “I think I may wait awhile to let him in on that.”
Chapter 8
There were flowers waiting for her when Grace returned to Cade’s. A gorgeous crystal vase was filled with long spears of paper-white long-stemmed roses. Her heart thudded foolishly into her throat as she snatched up the card, tore open the envelope.
Then it deflated and sank.
Not from Seth, she noted. Of course, it had been silly of her to think that he’d have indulged in such a romantic and extravagant gesture. The card read simply:
Until we meet again,
Gregor
The ambassador with the oddly compelling eyes, she mused, and leaned forward to sniff at the tender, just-opening blooms. It had been sweet of him, she told herself. A bit over-the-top, as there were easily three dozen roses in the vase, but sweet.
And she was irritated to realize that if they had been from Seth, she would have mooned over them like a starstruck teenager, would likely have pressed one between the pages of a book, even shed a few tears. She berated herself for being six times a fool.
If these appalling highs and lows were side effects of being in love, Grace thought she could have waited quite a bit longer to experience the sensation. She was just about to toss the card on the table when the phone rang.
She hesitated, as both Cade’s and Jack’s cars were in the drive, but when the phone rang the third time, she picked it up. “Parris residence.”
“Is Grace Fontaine available?” The crisp tones of a well-trained secretary sounded in her ear. “Ambassador DeVane calling.”
“Yes, this is she.”
“One moment, please, Ms. Fontaine.”
Lips pursed thoughtfully, Grace flipped the edge of the card against her palm. The man certainly had had no trouble tracking her down, Grace mused. And just how was she going to handle him?
“Grace.” His voice flowed through the phone. “How delightful to speak with you again.”
“Gregor.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulder, edged a hip onto the table. “How extravagant of you. I’ve just walked in to your roses.” She tipped one down, sniffed again. “They’re glorious.”
“Merely a token. I was disappointed not to have more time with you last evening. You left so early.”
She thought of the wild ride to Seth’s, the wilder sex. “I had…a previous engagement.”
“Perhaps we can make up for it tomorrow evening. I have a box at the theater. Tosca. It’s such a beautiful tragedy. There’s nothing I would enjoy more than sharing it with you, then a late supper, perhaps.”
“It sounds lovely.” She rolled her eyes toward the flowers. Oh, dear, she thought. This would never do. “I’m so terribly sorry, Gregor, but I’m not free.” With no regret whatsoever, she set the card aside. “Actually, I’m involved with someone, quite seriously.”
For me, in any case, she thought. Then she looked through the glass panels of the front door, and her face lit up with surprise and pleasure when she saw Seth’s car pull in.
“I see.” She was too busy trying to steady her abruptly dancing pulse to notice how his voice had chilled. “Your escort of last evening.”
“Yes. I’m terribly flattered, Gregor, and if I were any less involved, I’d leap at the invitation. I hope you’ll forgive me, and understand.”
Struggling not to squirm with delight, she crooked her finger in invitation as Seth stepped up to the door.
“Of course. If your circumstances change, I hope you’ll reconsider.”
“I certainly will.” With a sultry smile, she walked her fingers up Seth’s chest. “And thank you again, Gregor, so much, for the flowers. They’re divine.”
“It was my pleasure,” he said, and his hands balled into bone-white fists as he hung up the receiver.
Humiliated, he thought, snapping his teeth together, grinding them viciously. Rejected for a suitful of muscles and a badge.
She would pay, he promised himself, taking her photo from his file and gently tapping a well-manicured finger against it. She would
pay dearly. And soon.
With the ambassador completely forgotten the moment the connection was broken, Grace tipped her face up to Seth’s. “Hello, handsome.”
He didn’t kiss her, but looked at the flowers, then at the card she’d tossed carelessly beside them. “Another conquest?”
“Apparently.” She heard the cold distance in his tone and wasn’t certain whether to be flattered or annoyed. She opted for a different tack altogether, and purred. “The ambassador was interested in an evening at the opera and…whatever.”
The spurt of jealousy infuriated him. It was a new experience, and one he detested. It left him helpless, made him want to drag her out to his car by the hair, cart her off, lock her up where only he could see and touch and taste.
But more, there was fear, for her. A bone-deep sense of danger.
“It seems the ambassador—and you—move quickly.”
No, she realized, the temper was going to come. There was no stopping it. She eased off the table, her smile an icy dare. “I move however it suits me. You should know.”
“Yes.” He dipped his hands into his pockets to keep them off her. “I should. I do.”
Crushed, she angled her chin, aimed those laser blue eyes. “Which am I now, Lieutenant? The whore or the goddess? The ivory princess atop the pedestal, or the tramp? I’ve been them all—it just depends on the man and how he chooses to look.”
“I’m looking at you,” he said calmly. “And I don’t know what I see.”
“Let me know when you make up your mind.” She started to move around him, came up short when he took her arm. “Don’t push me.” She tossed her head so that her hair flew out, settled.
“I could say the same, Grace.”
She drew in one hot, deep breath, shoved his hand aside. “If you’re interested, I gave the ambassador my regrets and told him I was involved with someone.” She flashed a frigid smile and swung toward the stairs. “That, apparently, was my mistake.”
He scowled after her, considered striding up the stairs of a house that wasn’t his own and finishing the confrontation—one way or the other. Appalled, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and tried to squeeze off the bitter headache plaguing him.