Billie had no idea what Mrs. Allen meant, but she was more concerned with the conclusions her husband might be drawing about the cozy picture she and Grayson made, particularly with his arm still around her the way it was. She wiggled her shoulder once, hoping he would take the hint, but he didn’t.
“She’s just as elegant in person as I thought she’d be.” Anita’s voice was hushed. She was still looking toward that other table.
“My wife is fascinated by all things royal,” Mr. Allen said.
Anita lightly slapped his arm. “Tell me you’re not impressed that an honest-to-goodness British royal is sitting right over there as normal and natural as you please.” She focused on Billie and Grayson again. “I imagine that’s Lady Josephine’s new fiancé with her. I don’t care that nobody really calls her that anymore. She’s still a Lady to me. He’s a Mendoza, you know. I wonder if they’ll have their wedding here? The Mendoza Winery has become the place for weddings.”
“I don’t know about weddings,” Grayson said, holding up Billie’s phone, “but so far it’s been a great place to sit and talk about the ranch I want to buy while we grab a bite. She’s been showing me places on her cell.” He set the phone down again.
“You’re discussing business, then.” DeForest didn’t look entirely convinced, but his smile was a little less stilted.
“The Harmon ranch is one of the places,” Billie added quickly. “So far, Grayson has only seen the exterior.”
Her boss’s expression cleared and his smile warmed noticeably. Maybe at the thought of the cut he’d be taking if she were to make such a sale. “The Harmon ranch. That is a special property. You’ll want to take particular note of the wine cellar—” he gestured toward the wine bottle sitting on their table “—since you obviously have an appreciation.” Then he took his wife’s arm. “We’ll take that walk, dear, and leave these two to their business.”
Billie didn’t exhale until she saw them walk out of the restaurant. When they had, she reached for her glass of wine and gulped it down.
“You suppose that’s the last of our interruptions?”
“I hope so.” She set down her empty glass. “Thank you. I believe you just saved my bacon.”
Grayson’s grin turned wicked. “I have a pretty good appreciation for bacon.”
“Don’t start,” she warned, and flipped up the phone so they could see the display again. “Mr. Allen once canned an agent right on the spot when he was caught playing tonsil hockey with his female client.”
Grayson tugged lightly on her ponytail. “We’re not playing hockey.”
She ignored that. “When do you need to be back in Reno?”
He pulled the phone away from her again. “Later.” Then he refilled their glasses. The moment he’d drained the last drop, Alfonse whisked the bottle away and replaced it.
“Did you know who she was talking about?” Grayson eventually asked. “Lady Whatsername?”
“Not a clue.” Billie picked up her glass. She didn’t recognize the slender, silver-haired woman sitting across the restaurant, though she did have a distinctly classy look to her. “If you’d give me my phone back, I could look it up on the internet. Give me five minutes and we’ll know all about her.”
“Not a chance, darlin’. I’m just a simple rodeo cowboy and I’ve had more than my fill of internet gossip about me. ’Spect a person like Lady Whatsername has it even worse. Don’t feed the beast.”
“Simple. Oh yeah, sure.”
He settled his arm on the back of her chair once more. “Relax. Drink your wine. The food’ll be here soon, and nothing else could possibly go wrong tonight.”
Chapter Eight
He was wrong.
Not about the food, which was excellent. As was the second bottle of wine. And the dessert Grayson ordered was mind-bogglingly good. Having him coax her into tasting the chocolate confection right off the tip of his own fork might have contributed to the mind-boggling part, but the restaurant’s pastry chef deserved some credit, too.
No. The wrong came about when they actually left the restaurant.
No sooner were they walking out the front door, with Grayson’s hand lightly on her waist, than a blinding flash hit them in the face.
Billie instinctively threw up her arm to shield her eyes, belatedly realizing it was a camera flash.
“Whoa, that’s Grayson! Almost didn’t recognize you without the cowboy hat. Yo, Big G!”
Grayson grabbed her hand and pulled her past the photographer, who’d obviously been camping out in front of the restaurant.
Dizzying strobes followed them. “Who’s the new lady? Is she the reason for the five million dollar house you’re buying in Austin?”
“Y’all know me better ’n that.” Grayson sounded easygoing despite the way he hustled her along the sidewalk toward the parking lot. His stride was so long that she had to jog to keep up. “It’s just business.”
She heard the photographer laugh. “You gonna take home another win in Vegas this December?”
“You know it, buddy.” They’d reached the parking lot, where her car seemed to be parked in the farthest possible slot.
“Just one shot of you and the lady?”
“Only if you promise you’re not gonna follow us any farther.”
The photographer snickered. “Yeah, sure. Just business, right?”
She felt the sigh work through him, but his smile was pure “Grayson” as he stopped for a few seconds, just long enough for the camera to capture them again. Then the strobe ceased and she blinked against the darkness as she heard the retreating footsteps.
Grayson took her arm again and started walking once more. “Sorry about that.”
“You’ve already bought a five million dollar house?”
“Yeah, that’s why I haven’t kissed you already. Because I’m working with someone else on a secret real estate deal. You can’t listen to stuff like that, Billie. It’s all horse pucky.”
Her vision was starting to clear. They’d reached her car. “What do people like that do? Just camp out places hoping to get some little salacious tidbit?”
“Who knows? Maybe he was there for the royal Brit and got a twofer.” Grayson unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for her.
One part of her mind wondered if she ought to argue about that, but the more sensible part said she’d had several glasses of wine over the course of the night. “Maybe we should call a taxi. Uber it or something.”
He brushed his finger down her nose. “You’re the lush. I didn’t finish my second glass. In you go, now.”
She sank down into the passenger seat. There really was something awfully nice about having someone else take care of things.
Not just someone else.
Him.
When he drove out of the parking lot, she saw bright flashes of lights going off near the restaurant entrance. “Lady Whatsername?”
“Probably. Have you thought more about those shoes?”
“Grayson—”
“Keep thinking.” He closed his free hand around hers. “I’m a patient guy.”
She let out a short laugh at that. “In what world?”
His teeth flashed in a quick smile.
She leaned her head back. “Where is your hat, by the way?” He always wore that black cowboy hat. Except when he’d been in hangover mode, and then it had been a ball cap. But today was the first time she’d seen him without any kind of headgear at all.
“Gave it to a kid wanting an autograph.”
She angled her head until she could watch him. “Good thing Grayson Gear sells hats. You probably go through a lot of them if you give them away all the time.”
“I don’t give ’em away all the time. But this kid was particularly cute. Name was Billy-with-a-Y.”
Not for a second did she believe the name had prompted his generosity. “I bet you do give away a lot of hats.”
His lips twitched. “Not my favorite one.”
She was
suddenly so tired it felt like she was melting into the comfortable seat. “I am going to look up Lady Whatsername,” she told him.
“Knock yourself out, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
If she were in her right mind, she’d never admit how much she liked the sound of that.
Instead, she hugged that secret to herself through the drive back downtown to her apartment building. But when they neared, she made herself stir. Think practically. “I should drop you at your hotel.”
“Or...not.”
Slippery warmth flowed through her. If she let on how tempted she really was, he’d take that inch and pull her along for a mile. “I should drop you at your hotel,” she repeated more or less steadily. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
His smile flashed again as he drove into her parking garage. By the time he parked in her assigned spot, her heart was pounding so hard it was probably visible through her blouse. “I’m...I’m not inviting you up, Grayson.”
“Okay.” He climbed out of the car and came around to open her door.
“I mean it.”
“Okay.” He leaned over her just long enough to unclip her seat belt.
But it was long enough for her to inhale the warm scent of him and her mouth went dry. When he took her hands and gently pulled her out of the car and onto her feet, she was painfully aware that she was on the cusp of letting herself be talked into something that she would ultimately regret. She might be more infatuated with him now than she had been at sixteen, but his business was flirtation. To him, every female walking was darlin’.
He closed the car door. Locked it. Then took her elbow and walked with her to the elevator. He pushed the call button. “Give me your hand.”
Her legs felt unsteady and she was pretty sure it wasn’t the wine. She gave him her hand.
He turned her palm upward and dropped her keys into it. She closed her fingers tightly around them, as if the feel of the jagged edges would help her keep hold of some bit of sanity.
His gaze was steady. “I’ll see you after Reno.”
It was the last thing she expected him to say. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ve got to catch the red-eye back to Nevada.”
She blinked, trying to make sense of it. “You came back just for one evening?”
“I came back just for you.”
Her heart skittered around like water on hot oil. “But...but why?”
“I told you.” He slowly drew his thumb along her jaw. “To apologize.”
Her head swam. “You could have done that over the phone.”
“I don’t particularly like phones.”
“Is that why you don’t have a cell phone?”
“I have a cell phone. I just rarely use it. Particularly when face-to-face communication is called for.” His gaze dropped to her lips and she knew, just knew that once he kissed her, her life was never going to be the same again.
“H-how are you getting to the airport?”
“I’ll call a taxi.” He smiled faintly. “Or Uber it.”
The elevator door slid open.
“Without a phone?”
“I’m a big boy.” He gave a quick wink. “I can manage.” He nudged her into the waiting elevator, leaned inside and punched the number of her floor. “I’ll see you after Reno.”
She blinked, watching the doors slowly close. Okay then. The whole kiss thing was her imagination.
But then his hand came up and stopped the doors from closing.
She moistened her lips, her heart charging right back up into her throat.
“Billie?”
“Yes?”
“Think about the shoes.” Then he moved his hand away and the elevator doors shut.
She exhaled shakily as the elevator lurched gently and started to climb.
It wasn’t the extravagant shoes she was having such a tough time resisting.
It was him.
* * *
“Man, it’s going to be a helluva week,” Max crowed in Billie’s ear two days later. “If I do as good in the short round as I just did in my second go, I could walk away from Reno with more ’n ten grand!”
Holding her cell phone to her ear, Billie smiled. She was keeping an eye out for Grayson, who’d arranged—via Deborah—to meet her at her office. It was Sunday afternoon, and even though the Reno rodeo was still going strong until the following weekend, Grayson wasn’t waiting that long to see the Harmon ranch.
At least that was the plan. Right now, he was a good twenty minutes late.
She scanned the sidewalks, figuring he’d show up on foot, like he typically did, but there was still no sign of him. And Max was still jabbering away, ninety miles a minute. She waited until he stopped to draw breath. “So where are you heading after Reno?”
“Pecos. Man, I can’t wait to see his face when they hand me the trophy next weekend. Doesn’t matter how good he throws from here on out—it’d take a miracle for him to shave off enough time to beat me on the average! And there ain’t anyone else in the lineup who’s ever beat my last time on the clock.”
She spotted Grayson down the block and felt excitement slide through her veins. He was wearing an off-white cowboy hat. “Who’s face?”
“Criminy, Bill. Are you listening or not? I just told you. Grayson’s face. He won’t be leaving town with his toothpaste-endorsing grin in place when that happens, I can tell you.”
“Congratulations. But listen, I’ve got to run.” Grayson had seen her, too, and lifted his long arm in a brief wave as he jaywalked across the empty street, his long, jean-clad legs making short work of it. “I’ll talk to you later.” She didn’t wait for Max’s response as she disconnected and pushed her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. Her heart was thumping like mad and she pulled in a deep breath, trying to calm down.
It had been only two days since he’d left her in her parking garage.
Left her in a shaking mess.
He was smiling when he reached her car, and he pulled down his sunglasses, giving her a once-over. “Nice boots,” he drawled.
She looked down at herself. The rubber boots he’d given her reached nearly to her knees. “It’s been raining here since you left.” She felt oddly shy and half regretted her impulsive decision to wear them. “I’m afraid it might be muddy when we get out to the Harmon ranch.”
He looked amused. “Wouldn’t want to ruin another pair of high heels.”
She moistened her lips and opened the passenger door for him. “Let’s get going before someone puts in an offer on the place while we’re standing around here on the sidewalk.”
The lines beside his eyes crinkled as he pulled off his hat and ducked his head to get into the car. She quickly went around and slid behind the wheel, then started the engine and moved away from the curb. With traffic as light as it was, it wasn’t going to take as long as usual to get to the property. “How was your flight?”
“Bumpy.” He stretched out his legs. “How’s your weekend been going?”
She didn’t dare look his way. She’d spent way too much time thinking about him. “Busy. I signed two more new clients yesterday.”
He propped his cowboy hat over one knee. “That’s great. Congratulations. Good weekend for both of us, then.”
She couldn’t help glancing at him. “Have you had your second go-round, then?”
“First thing this morning. Got outrode hard by a guy I can hardly stand, but I’ve still got a chance of making it to the final. Won’t know until later this week. More importantly, though, Grayson Good gained another corporate sponsor yesterday to the tune of several thousand dollars.”
If he was worried at all about the rodeo, it sure didn’t show. She still couldn’t help being concerned that the guy he couldn’t stand might be her own cousin. She should have just told him in the beginning. It would have been awkward, but at least it wouldn’t feel like a lie the way it did now.
“And now I’m sittin’ next to the prettiest g
irl I’ve seen all week.”
She turned onto the interstate and picked up speed. “I saw the photos last night on the internet of you posing with the rodeo queen, so I’m not falling for that line,” she said lightly.
He gave her a long look. “Internet, huh? Find out anything interesting?”
She could feel her cheeks reddening. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. “Merely professional curiosity about a client. I did see a video of your ride there last year. You’d have won if you hadn’t had a broken barrier penalty in the final round. Must have been frustrating for you.”
At that, he did smile. “It’s all part of the ride, sweetheart.”
She wished her cousin subscribed to that theory.
While she’d been poking around on the internet, she’d also found out who Lady Whatsername was, but decided to keep that to herself. Lady Josephine Fortune Chesterfield.
For all Billie knew, the woman might be some distant relation of Grayson’s. The more she’d read about the Fortune family, the more confusing the connections had become. Particularly when the only detail she knew for certain to be true was what Grayson had told her himself. That Ben Fortune Robinson was his half brother. Gerald Robinson—or Jerome Fortune—was his father. The man whom Grayson said had left his mother high and dry before Grayson and his brothers had been born.
That was pretty much the only nugget of gossip that hadn’t appeared on her computer screen when she’d made the mistake of following Gerald Robinson’s name. The man had founded Robinson Tech and turned it into a household name, but he’d evidently also turned a lot of women into mommies along the way. Women who were not his equally moneyed, society wife, Charlotte. There’d been dozens and dozens of news mentions about his affairs.
Billie’s parents might drive her up a tree, but at least they weren’t internet fodder like that.
The only complications going on with her family right now were strictly attributed to Billie representing her cousin’s competitor and not telling either Max or Grayson.
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