by Lucy Farago
“I really don’t—”
But Grace was on a mission. “Senator, I think I can help with you with your campaign. The press has been particularly nasty and with this last incident…” She paused, letting her meaning sink in. Not that she had to spell it out. Stanton’s approval rating had taken a hit, and this close to the election, if he didn’t turn it around he’d be saying goodbye to his seat.
“This isn’t the first and I’m sure not the last time the media have used me to sell papers,” he argued.
“Yes, but wouldn’t a positive account about you be beneficial?”
“And you would do that? Why?” he asked.
“I report the truth,” she said. “I don’t want to hang you out to dry. It’s been done and is no longer news.” Meaning it wouldn’t help her career? She was sneaky, this one.
Then upon seeing Cowboy, Stanton’s frown vanished.
“Mr. Bailey,” he said, surprisingly pleased to see him. “You’re still here.” He turned his attention to him, ignoring an unhappy Grace. “Good. I was going to look you up on my way to the airport. I was wondering if you’d mind coming out to the ranch tonight. I have a few more questions. This horse was my wife’s idea, and as she’ll be away until the party”—Cowboy knew she’d be in rehab until the party—“I would like to be assured that our new stables are ready for the animal. I’m not much of a horseman. My mother passed that particular passion on to Ella. But since this is my granddaughter we are talking about, I don’t want anything to go awry.”
Well, paint him a rainbow and toss him over a bridge. He’d sat and talked to the man for nearly an hour with no hint of recognition from either the senator or his father and now here he was, being invited to the man’s house. He’d counted on Stanton Sr. forgetting yet another faceless kid he’d bossed around.
While saddened to hear Mrs. Stanton had passed, if she were around, no way could he go out there. There was also the ever-present danger of getting too close to his own parent’s place. And then there was Irvine’s daughter to consider. He’d like to find Jessie, but his job was to keep an eye on Grace. “Let me check my schedule. Can I get back to you?” ICU had a man in San Antonio and he could be called to fill in while he checked out the ranch.
He snuck a peek at Grace, now standing with her arms crossed studying the two men and doing her best not to appear impatient.
The senator followed Cowboy’s gaze and apparently realized he’d left Grace hanging but ignored her anyway. “Ms. Katz, would you give Mr. Bailey the address?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, sir. And I’ve notified your grandson he’s to meet you at the car.”
Grandson? That’s right, Amanda had two kids. He remembered the shower her grandmother had thrown for her at the ranch. He’d never said two words to the senator’s daughter. The likelihood of her remembering him was hopefully nil.
“I’m sorry, I really have to leave now,” he said, extending his arm to shake Cowboy’s hand. “Please try to clear your schedule.” Then without waiting for a reply, he started for the elevator. “And Ms. Katz, give Ms. Irvine the address too. Eight p.m. tonight, Ms. Irvine. Don’t be late this time.” Stanton turned and gave her a practiced smile before disappearing behind the closing doors.
Grace, having gotten her appointment, grinned at Ms. Katz.
“I’ll message his security gate and let them know to expect you. As the senator said, Ms. Irvine, don’t be late. He’s invited you to his home, somewhere the press doesn’t have access to.”
In other words, don’t screw up.
Stanton must really want the story. Cowboy wasn’t much for politics and he certainly stayed clear of anything to do with Stanton and his family, for obvious reasons. But in this day and age would a screwy family and messed up wife really hurt his chances of reelection or did Stanton have something else in mind? Regardless of Stanton’s offer, with Grace having been invited, he now had another reason to go to the ranch he’d once worked on. One missing woman was enough.
After taking the business cards from Ms. Katz, they too headed for the elevator. Normally Cowboy took the stairs but mindful of the black strappy heels Grace was wearing, he chose not to. “Would you like a ride to the hotel?”
“That would be nice, thank you. Hey, you want to take the stairs?” she asked, looking him over. “You don’t look like you’d mind. We’re only three stories up.”
He glanced at her shoes but she beat him to the punch.
“You let me worry about my feet.” She laughed. “The heels may be high but they beat out the sweaty cowboy boots you’ve got on.”
He glanced down at his boots. “They’re not sweaty and they’re comfortable,” he said, leading the way to the stairs. Unlike newer buildings this one had no fire door to block out the marble steps. “I’ll go first. If you stumble, you can land on me.”
Grace quirked an eye at the man’s statement. It conjured up all kinds of images and she had a hard time pushing them out of her mind. It was a good thing his back was to her because she was sure her face had turned red. Plus the image of that man’s ass and the way the muscles in his back moved when he walked was a bonus on what had turned out to be a good day. She’d not only gotten her interview but an invitation to Senator Stanton’s ranch.
“Comfortable? How long did it take you to break them in?” She’d owned a pair of boots. Living in Texas she had to at least try. But she’d been impatient for the comfy worn-in stage everyone talked about and had given them to Jessie.
“That’s not the point.”
That was exactly the point. “What good is it to buy footwear that is only comfortable once they’re broken in?”
“’Cause,” he said over his shoulder, “once they are, it’s like walking in slippers.”
“After walking on nails. No, thanks.”
“Not the patient type, are you?” he said, shaking his head.
“Nope.” She wanted it when she wanted it. Life was short. She didn’t mind working for things, but wearing in shoes and waiting in lines was a waste of time. “I’m not a seed kind of girl. I’d rather buy the plant.”
Much to her disappointment, he reached the last step. There been something supremely satisfying in staring at his ass without him knowing it. He turned and waited for her to join him.
“Sometimes watching it grow is more satisfying, and like it or not, some things need time to grow.”
“You do it your way and I’ll do it mine.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Why do people do that? How do I know what to say if I don’t know the question? You can ask what my favorite color is and I won’t care, but ask what color underwear I’m wearing and I might smack you.” She made it to the landing and had to tilt her head. She’d need stilettos that even she wouldn’t wear to look him in the eyes. Damn, the man was tall … and trying really hard not to laugh. She’d bet he had a great laugh.
He didn’t say anything; instead he chose to admire the ceiling. After a long pause he finally returned his attention to her. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to avoid looking at … I mean… you know, use my x-ray vision and all.”
“X-ray vision? Who are you, Spiderman?”
“Superman.”
“Huh?” Now she was confused.
“Superman has the x-ray vision, not Spiderman. Superman is the one who can see through clothes.”
She scratched the back of her neck, amazed at the stuff they put in comic books. “You mean to tell me Superman is a pervert? I thought he could just see into buildings and stuff like that. Who wants kids reading about a guy who can see under people’s clothes?” Her eyebrows shot up, finally getting his meaning. Her face heated and she quickly turned for the exit, Daniel Bailey following and twice now making her blush.
“First off,” he was saying, “Superman isn’t a pervert. He doesn’t actually look at women in their skivvies, and second, how do you not know this? Even if you never picked up a comic book…” He beat her
to the entrance and opened the door for her. “They’ve made numerous movies about Superman.”
“Thank you,” she said, waiting for him on the sidewalk. “I don’t go to movies.” She preferred real life.
“Are you kidding? Never? No chick flicks?”
“Rarely.” On occasion Jessie had dragged her to some romantic comedy. The movies hadn’t been all that bad but she couldn’t see the attraction. It only gave women a false idea of what a romantic relationship should be. Maybe if people stopped looking to Hollywood to tell them how their own lives should be they’d figure it out and cut the crap. “Movies give people the wrong idea of about life. Kids might understand guns better if they didn’t watch their heroes walk away from gunshot wounds. Films taint perception.”
“Films provide escape, entertainment, and sometimes a very real message.”
“I don’t believe in escape. Deal with what life gives you and move on. I’d rather spend time with real people, and the messages coming out of the movie industry do more harm than good.”
“Dang, have you always been this cynical or did someone, excuse my language, piss in your cornflakes?”
“I’m not a cynic. I’m a realist. And you don’t have to watch your language around me. I’m not some shrinking violet. They’re words. Words only hurt if you let them. Actions count.”
“Holy—” He shook his head. “What was the asshole’s name?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Who was the asshole that broke your heart?”
“Is that it?” she asked.
“Is what it?” he said, his head tilting in confusion.
“The personal question you wanted to ask?” Although it was personal, it was one she could answer because no one had broken her heart. Not a man anyway.
“Well I guess. In a roundabout way. You said you weren’t a seed person. You wanted it when you wanted it. But there are things in life that take time. Relationships and children, to name a few. I was going to ask if you were in a relationship and didn’t that require time, but I can see now why you said what you said.”
It wasn’t like her to discuss her personal life with a complete stranger. For starters, the only man she trusted was her father and she was never one to give someone else ammunition to use against her. Her feelings were her own and no one needed to know her soft spots and weaknesses, to exploit them later. But for some odd reason, Daniel reminded Grace of Jessie. She knew she should be leery. Charm was a ploy to get people to follow your agenda. Still, she found herself liking him. Maybe her friendship with Jessie had softened her up a bit. Maybe Jessie’s disappearance was making Grace vulnerable. Either way, she warned herself to tread carefully. “It’s hot out here. Can we go?”
“Sure.” He gave her a half-smile. “And I’m sorry. This is none of my business. My car is in the lot across the street.”
They walked in silence, him having dropped the subject, probably thinking he’d overstepped; her weirdly at odds with herself. Part of her wanted to answer his question. She wanted to tell him her parents had had a shitty and bitter divorce. Her mother, who as it turned out had been cheating on her father, had filed for divorced after he was lying in a hospital bed, having been shot in the line of duty for the second time. What kind of person did that? Their screwy relationship only added to Grace’s views on life. People sucked and the world was a dangerous place, and if you didn’t have someone to watch your back, then it was best to be on your toes and on guard, not standing around watching the pretty flowers grow. Jessie had almost convinced her otherwise, then she disappeared and the truth Grace had always known came back to slap her in the face.
After he opened her door and she got inside—tamping down her unease with sitting in the front seat with a man she barely knew—she waited until he joined her before she spoke. “My father is a cop.” How high on the food chain he actually was didn’t matter. “When other kids got Cinderella bedtime stories, I got crime stats. My friends took dance lessons, I took self-defense. I was applying to law school when my dad was almost shot for a third time. I thought I could do more good exposing corruption and crime than trying to defend scum who thought nothing of killing cops, so I changed my major. I removed my rose-colored glasses a long, long time ago. Now, to answer your question, no one broke my heart. It’s just that bad things happen to good people and if you’re picking daisies while trying to play offense, your head gets crushed.”
He snapped his seatbelt into place and pushed the starter, the engine turning over. “Why not just enjoy picking the daisies? Life can’t be lived waiting for something bad to happen.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?” He pulled out of the parking lot, signaled right, and merged onto the road. “You go looking for the bad,” he said, turning his head to take a long look at her, “and it will find you.”
“No. I just prefer to be prepared.” And him to keep his eyes on the road.
“Same thing. You anticipate the worst.” He shot another long glance her way. “That can’t be healthy.”
“My health is just fine. I passed my yearly medical with flying colors.”
“Yeah, how about your mental one?”
“Are you telling me I need a shrink?” Being a realist didn’t make her nuts.
“I’m saying waiting for the other shoe to drop isn’t great for your sanity…or your stress level.” He gave her another long stare.
“What isn’t good on my stress level is you not keeping your eyes on the road.” She pointed to the front of the car.
“Please,” he snorted “I’ve been driving since I was ten years old.”
“Ten? You grow up on a farm?”
His shoulders tensed, not a lot but enough to indicate he hadn’t meant to tell her that. What was the big deal? It was the wrong move to pique her reporter’s curiosity.
“Yeah,” he answered, clearly not happy about it. Or not happy about telling her?
“Not good times?”
“Nope.” They stopped at a red light. “It’s a time in my life I’d rather forget. Would you like a ride to the ranch tonight?”
Normally she wouldn’t allow a change in topic. Jessie said she was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing something someone wanted to hide. But he wasn’t her story… or her reason for being in San Antonio. “Yes, thank you. But you have to let me chip in for gas. It’ll be the third time you’ve driven me somewhere.”
“Nah, keep your money. You’re just hitching rides and making the drives more enjoyable. I should pay you,” he grinned, the tension she’d created with her question vanishing.
“You have to let me return the favor somehow.”
“Okay. I’m going to work out, but we’d still have a few hours to kill. Have dinner with me?”
She considered saying no. Having dinner with a handsome man while Jessie was somewhere out there alone, and who knew what else, seemed wrong. But it was just dinner and she had to eat. “Okay, sure.” Plus, she had good instincts—her father had made sure of that—and her instincts told her Daniel would prove an asset. The senator liked him. She didn’t know how she could use that to her benefit but it was always good to have extra in your pocket.
Chapter Four
When they got to the hotel they each went to their rooms, him she guessed to get ready to go to the gym, her to freshen up and change. Thirty minutes later, she got a call to meet him in the lobby, if she was ready. She was. She’d chosen her tangerine fit and flare sundress. It fell just above her knees, the square neckline conservative enough to wear to work but the wide skirt and cinched waist was feminine enough for dinner with one very handsome cowboy.
He’d exchanged his jeans for black slacks, and he’d put on a royal blue shirt. Only his silver buckle and hat distinguished him as a cowboy. As she’d never seen him without it, it made a girl wonder if he ever took it off. She mentally gave herself a slap. She had no business letting her mind go there. “What happened to the gym?”
“They were closed for renovations.”
“Sorry. Where are we going for dinner?” she asked as he wordlessly offered his arm, which she took without thinking. She couldn’t help it. There was something so southern about him. In all the years she and her father lived in Texas, she’d never fallen for the good ole boy act. Call her stupid, but something about Daniel said it wasn’t an act. And for a little while, she was okay with believing that. After tonight she’d never see him again.
“I’ve been going back and forth between a couple of places, and it seems I chose wisely. A pretty lady, wearing that dress, deserves a little more upscale.” He smiled down at her.
“It’s just a dress.”
“On other women, maybe, but on you, it’s not just a dress.” He opened the lobby door.
She was never one to fall for compliments. Usually it was just someone trying to suck up. “Thank you,” she said and meant it. “But you’re not exactly dressed for the rodeo either. You look very nice.” He looked beyond nice but she wasn’t about to drool over him. Again.
“I had a lady to impress.”
She shook her head. No one this charming could be real.
They made it to the street, where to her surprise he flagged down a carriage. And not just any carriage. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Now why would you say that?” he said, opening the door.
She gave the carriage a once-over, not entirely sure she was up to embarrassing herself. “It’s Cinderella’s coach,” she pointed out, just in case he hadn’t noticed. He was a man, after all. White, pretty, and ornate, there wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t recognize it for what it was—even her.
He took a step back as if to examine the thing. “I guess you could say it could be.”
He was trying to be cute, and damn if he wasn’t succeeding. She’d seen the brochure in the hotel lobby and knew this particular carriage had to be preordered. On any other man the gesture would have been corny; on Daniel, however, it was… sweet. “Are you trying to be cute?”
“Is it working?” he asked with that good ole boy smile.