The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

by Stephanie Queen

  “I’m glad. I was worried that you might rather someone else play your bodyguard.” He melted her heart with a smile that was a mere twitch of his sensuous lips. She found herself staring at his mouth and had to remind herself to keep packing. She went back into the bathroom and put everything that wasn’t nailed down into a plastic bag, threw it in her luggage and folded it closed. She zipped it up and then lugged it off the couch and slid the handle up so she could pull it out the door.

  “I’m ready if you are,” she said with her pink fake-alligator bag over one shoulder, Noodles in her arm and the luggage handle in the other hand.

  Dan turned to her with a look of surprise on his face.

  “You have to be shitting me—I mean kidding me—sorry. I’m shocked. You have to be the only woman alive who can pack in such a short time,” Dan said.

  She saw David beam with pride. She was surprised at his rare show of expression. He really was concerned about her, and not only her safety, but also her well-being. Because he knew he was going to let her down? She took a breath. It hitched. No more worrying. It was time for her to go into minute-to-minute crisis response mode. She reminded herself that she excelled at this. Her immediate task was to walk out the door. She did and the men followed.

  She arranged for the movers over the phone while she drove David to the Parker House Hotel. There, a valet took their bags and the car. Then she had to call Pixie. Her friend was bound to be more upset about this than she was. Pixie would, of course, invite Grace to stay with her at her parents’ home out in the suburbs in Waltham. It would be wonderful and heartrending for her at the same time, to be a part of that blissful household. But she wouldn’t really be a part of it, only a visitor. And when she left she would be sadder and more wistful than ever. She had no desire to envy her best friend more than she already did. There was no way she could stay with Sophia-the-Pixie.

  David handled the front desk, and they were escorted up to their suite of rooms in a matter of three minutes after they stepped from her car. The door was opened before her and she instantly felt the warm security of David’s protection. In spite of her dire circumstances, she would allow herself to indulge in the good feeling for a while. The reality of her homelessness and the fact that she was the target of a murderer would come back to hit her again soon enough. For the moment, she was too shocked for it to sink in all the way. And she needed to stay in her crisis mode. After all, this was not the first time she’d been homeless in her life. She knew how to deal with this problem.

  Grace glided into the Mayor Curley Suite and turned around, taking in the decor in a sweeping glance. “Interesting. It’s more eclectic than I would have guessed. More romantic than I would have hoped.” She arched a brow at David. He had followed her into the room. She gave him a flirtatious laugh when he arched his brow back at her. “I’ll be spoiled with all this space.” She flung an arm around and soaked in the romantic ambiance along with the notion of sharing it with David. To say her skin tingled would sound corny, but the feeling was exquisite.

  “I like the idea of spoiling you,” he said and walked to the windows in the main living area. “Excellent location. We’re right near police HQ and Beacon Hill. This is where we’ll stay for the duration of the case—at least while the decorating work is being finished on my townhouse,” he said in his clipped detective voice while he checked the phone lines and all the windows. She warned herself not to read anything into his words. Including her in a possible move to his townhouse was strictly because he was her bodyguard.

  She wandered into the bedroom on the right, where her luggage was placed. She put Noodles down on the bed. All she ever wanted was a home and to belong with someone—and have a family. Now here she was, homeless, without even a pretend home. She had friends, but was her makeshift family the same as a real family?

  The moment her thoughts took this depressing turn, she felt David standing behind her in the doorway. It was as if he could read her thoughts and was protecting her even from herself.

  “Don’t be sad, Grace. It’ll all turn out in the end. How can it not? You are an irrepressibly charming and beautiful woman,” he said in a much warmer voice than before.

  She turned. “Oh, David. What a perfect thing to say. I don’t want to, but I haven’t felt this out of sorts since…since the orphanage.” Grace, much to her horror, nearly choked on the words. The reality of the predicament she was in nearly overwhelmed her.

  David stepped up and enveloped her in his arms. She shouldn’t have, because he wasn’t hers, but she let the strong reassurance of being in the circle of his arms wash over her and replace everything else she thought or felt. It was as if he had magic power to make every bad thought disappear. And why not? She only felt positive, wonderful things being in his arms. All her problems were in her mind, memories of past insecurities, and it was up to her to banish them. Allowing David to help her was all right, wasn’t it? She wasn’t sure, but it had to be and so she squeezed her eyes closed and held onto the circle of security around her.

  He was at least her friend. And she could rely on the support of friends. She only hoped his friendship was not going to disappear, even if she wished it would turn into more, much more. She sighed. He let his arms loosen and stepped back from her.

  She was still there, and he was in the room with her. While they were together, she knew there was still a chance for a romantic future for them. So that’s what she would hope for and whatever happened, she would make it be okay.

  “We need to talk about tonight’s so-called celebration.” He paused.

  She saw him get that most distant professional look on his face.

  “I’ll be going alone.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “You won’t be going.”

  “But Dan invited me…” She felt the familiar sting of not belonging. Her focus disappeared. She wasn’t seeing David standing in front of her. She couldn’t let her old fears slice into her gut and take over this way. She froze her features and forced herself to back away from the memories flashing through her head. Then she made herself listen to David and get herself back in the present.

  “It has nothing to do with being invited—of course you are. But there’ve been some changes since Dan originally made that invitation. I’m afraid we’ve turned the party into a sting operation. We’re gambling that the bad guys may come after you again, so we’ve practically invited them to the soiree. There’ll be undercover detectives at the dinner, Grace. To lure the conspirators out of hiding, we’re making it known that everyone will be there and that you’ll be bringing the vase. Dan’s spreading the pretense that we believe we’ve caught the killer—the soccer player—and that this dinner is to celebrate solving the case.” His seriousness sent shudders through her.

  “Oh,” she said in a croak.

  “But you won’t be the target—a police woman dressed up as you will take your place.” He told her this in his clipped tone; his most intense look boring into her as if to infuse her with his gravity.

  “You can’t be serious. A policewoman… Look, I may not be a lot of things, like a professionally trained police woman for one, but there’s one thing I am, and that is a very distinctive character.” She put her hands on her hips and felt blood and confidence return to her. “There’s no way in heck you’d fool anyone.”

  He looked at her with that same seriousness, almost long enough for her to wonder if she’d turned him into stone.

  “We’ll have to take that chance. It’s too dangerous for you.” He skewered her with his sharp hazel eyes as if he needed to read her thoughts and feel her emotions because he wasn’t about to trust whatever the heck came out of her mouth. Well, let him.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m not going with you,” she said. She had never been more serious. “I’m going. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Then with a softening of her confidence she added, “Except protect me.”

  He sighed so deeply he gave t
he appearance of deflating all his resolve to be serious. Now he looked at her with breathtaking longing, sadness and unmistakable desire. She dropped her hands from her hips and took a step forward.

  “You’re right. You know I will protect you—with my very life if need be.”

  She sucked in a quick breath.

  “Get some rest. We’ll leave in three hours,” he said. He arched his brow at her before closing the door behind him on the way out of her room. Grace stood with her hands dangling at her sides, staring at the closed door. He was exasperatingly one way. He had no problem with her sharing all her feelings and crying in his arms, but he refused to give up an ounce of how he truly felt. She was hoping that he might trust her as a friend before the end of the case so that he might share his feelings with her. Maybe not as much as he shared with Dan, but more. That would be a true measure of progress in their relationship.

  The primary thought on her mind should have been either finding a new place or worrying about who the murderer was and whether they would catch him before he murdered anyone else, especially her. Instead, as she zipped opened her luggage, she was concerned most about David and his career—his life. He needed to prove himself with this case. Tonight could be a big night. She would play the bait and they’d catch the bad guys. Glad to be back to her practical self again, her primary concern, as she stared at the jumbled contents inside her bag, was figuring out what to wear.

  Maybe she should wear black.

  Grace emerged from her room wearing not only an elegantly sexy little black dress, but also a black veiled hat and black gloves, with only Noodles’s fluffy white fur in her arms for contrast. David nearly dropped the hotel phone he’d been holding, but he quickly gathered himself. Then, in spite of everything, he laughed—heartily.

  “What’s so funny? I was going for a somber look,” she said.

  He noticed the twinkle in her eye. “And you just happened to have that ensemble lying around?”

  “No, actually I called in a favor from a boutique manager I know,” she said. “They delivered the packages while you were showering. Very convenient for a surprise effect.” She smiled a devastating smile, stepped forward and turned a few times to pose, and stopped directly in front of him.

  “Are we ready?” she said.

  “For something,” he said and took a deep breath. She looked like a cross between Daisy Mae and Elvira—only better. He resigned himself to bringing her along. Admittedly, only half of him was concerned. The other half was relieved to be watching out for her himself. “Let’s go. They’re bringing a car around and now I suddenly can’t wait to show up with you on my arm. I take back everything I said sarcastically before. This really is going to be fun.” He escorted her out the door while she laughed with that infectious enthusiasm.

  “Do you have your gun?” she asked as they stepped out of the room, mischief dancing in her eyes.

  “Never leave home without it,” he said and realized the quip might be striking too close to home. He’d better watch himself and not get too carried away with her. Because he knew he could.

  They arrived on Newbury Street at six. Grace was at the wheel. Traffic still clogged the street with the day’s business crowd, but she knew she’d find a spot to park.

  “No need to look for parking—they have valet parking at the restaurant,” David said.

  “Valet parking is cheating,” she told him as she drove by the entrance. Brake lights flashed up ahead.

  “Pardon? Did I hear you correctly? Did you say that valet parking is cheating?” He looked at her with a double arched brow, and she laughed.

  Then she concentrated on her timing to snag that spot at the critical point when the driver was looking to ease into the traffic. She put on her blinker and stopped to let him out, slid her car behind his, and then backed her Mustang, with wild maneuvering of the steering wheel, into the spot in one shot. She threw the car into park, turned the ignition off, threw her keys into her bag and then faced David.

  His look of incredulousness was now genuine and not that mock look from before. She smiled and shrugged one shoulder.

  “It’s a talent,” she said and turned to push her car door open. But he grabbed her by the arm and stopped her before she got out.

  “Where have you been all my life? Do you want a job training grown men, professionals at Scotland Yard, to park their cars?” They both laughed before she realized he thought of himself as Scotland Yard.

  “How about if I start with you?” she said it in a way to make sure he knew she might not be talking about teaching him to park the car.

  “I’m yours. To hell with the rest of them at Scotland Yard.” His face was intense for a split second, his hazel eyes piercing her when he pulled her close and pressed his mouth to hers for a shock of moist intimacy. But the kiss was quick, and he pushed her away in the next second, getting out of the car in his usual elegantly cool manner and walking around to her door to let her out.

  She would never get used to him. And wasn’t that half the fun?

  Chapter 17

  DAVID was alert to his surroundings in spite of the kiss—for fortification, he told himself, but it had been more pure overwhelming admiration with the usual underlying lust that had affected him. She carried her sensuality around with her like a cloud of stardust that afflicted all who were near her, and some who merely glanced her way. The effect on him seemed permanent.

  While he was keyed up and attuned to watching, seeing and hearing everything—looking for even one small napkin out of place—he was equally keyed and looking forward to walking in the doors to this place with Grace on his arm and enjoying the effects of her starry spell.

  Plus her get-up was bound to get some reactions, and he looked forward to watching that show.

  He placed his hand at the small of her back and luxuriated in the feel of her under the thin slinky material of her dress as he stepped through the open door with her. They were shown to their private room by the same maître d’ he remembered from the night of the attempted murder a week ago, only now he was smiling widely at Grace.

  “Lovely place,” she said and then leaned in to whisper in David’s ear, which caused a flutter in his heart that would make his aunt Mabel proud if she knew—he would make sure she never did. He remained calm, took an inconspicuous deep breath and continued his visual review of the room and everyone in it.

  “I can’t imagine a murder taking place here—not even a fake murder,” she said. The words blew into his ear and caused a frisson of nerves. He hid it and gave her the expected smile. His system was on high alert and he had to remain so, but his sensitivity to all things about Grace was killing him. He couldn’t distance himself from her. He would have to steel himself to her and pay extra attention to his surroundings.

  They walked into the room where all the other guests had been waiting, and she surprised him by stepping in front of him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to present to you our guest of honor, Mr. David Young, the new reincarnation of the late—or was that fictional?—Sherlock Holmes,” she said. People chuckled. The look on her face was a brilliant, joyful and open smile. “The Director of the Scotland Yard Exchange Program with the Boston Police Department!” Because her joy was infectious, everyone laughed. Dan caught his eye with one raised brow and a shake of his head. There was clapping all around and they moved into the room, where he started shaking hands and mingling. Dan brought him a drink.

  “Don’t worry—it’s ginger-ale,” he said. “Looks like our Grace is quite a performer, costume and all. You’d never know she was under the stress of being a murderer’s target.” He waited for a response.

  “She’s not performing. It’s all strictly genuine. And for some reason,” David said, shaking his head, “she’s not one bit worried about being in danger of being murdered.”

  “Ah. That’s because she has you as her bodyguard, no doubt. And she has complete blind-adoration-enhanced confidence in you. She
thinks of you as Sherlock or Batman or whatever, never mind that they’re fictional characters and you’re real. You’re in trouble, buddy.” Dan clapped David on the back and stepped aside for others to wish him well. David wasn’t at all sure that his friend’s prediction of trouble wasn’t the truth.

  After shaking everyone’s hand and rustling Jason’s hair, they all took their seats at the table. Grace finally removed her hat and hooked it on the corner of her chair. In some bizarre twist of fate—or purposely plotted by someone’s evil sense of humor—Frenchie was seated next to Grace.

  “That was a lovely speech, Grace. And your outfit is perfect! Especially the hat. Should you hang such a delicate hat on your chair that way?” Frenchie asked her.

  “Oh, don’t worry about the hat. My friend loaned it to me. She said she’d never be able to sell it except as a prop for a low-budget film noir. And I told her perfect. That’s just what I need it for.” Grace smiled.

  David almost dropped the glass of water he was about to raise to his lips. He did spill some.

  “Watch out, David,” Frenchie said to him. He noticed she looked worried—that pinch between her pretty eyes had deepened. “This could actually be a dangerous scene, after all.” He nodded his agreement.

  Jason heard the comment and so did Theresa, and their faces turned from smiling to wary at once. Whatever lightheartedness Grace brought when she walked into the room had been dispelled, as one by one, each of the guests recalled the true nature of the night’s purpose. They’d had to tell everyone about the sting in good conscience. But they’d volunteered to go along anyway.

  Dan stuffed himself into the chair on David’s right and said for his ears only, “We’ll give it ten minutes and then check with the undercover staked out at Rick’s loft. I’m hoping your theory is right and they’ll look for the vase at the loft. They want the vase with the artifacts more than they want Grace. With us all here pretending the case is over, they just might try again to lift it.”