Sweet Talk

by Julie Garwood

  He noticed a pair of worn tennis shoes under the coffee table and a pair of flats in the doorway of a small room off the living area that Olivia obviously used as an office. Her laptop sat on an old, dark cherrywood desk that had been beautifully restored. Bookcases flanked the desk, the shelves bowed from the heavy books.

  Grayson was an armchair architect at heart and appreciated the unique features of these older buildings. He would have loved to see the rest of the apartment.

  Olivia came back into the living room and noticed Grayson staring at her ceilings. He caught her watching and said, “I like the moldings.”

  “I do, too. That’s one of the reasons I bought the apartment.”

  “Ten-foot-high ceilings? That’s rare.”

  “Yes.”

  “Bet it gets cold in here in the winter, doesn’t it?” he asked when he noticed the old-fashioned radiators.

  She pointed to the afghan draped over a chair. “I wrap up in that.”

  He nodded. “How many bedrooms?”

  “Two.”

  “One large, one small?”

  “No, both are quite spacious.”

  “Has the kitchen been remodeled?”

  Puzzled by his interest, she answered. “Yes, the whole building was remodeled a few years ago.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “A little over two years. Are you interested in the neighborhood? Thinking about moving?”

  Grayson didn’t explain that he bought buildings, renovated them, and either sold them or rented them out. It was an expensive, yet profitable, hobby.

  “Just curious. Are you ready?”

  He took the key from her and locked the deadbolt on their way out. Neither said another word until they were in his car and on their way.

  “Tell me what Jorguson is saying happened,” she began.

  He glanced at her. “You attacked him.”

  She was properly outraged. “That is absolutely not true.”

  “Special Agent Huntsman has been after Jorguson for some time. He wants to know if you’ll testify should he take him to court.”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “But do you really think it will get that far?”

  He grinned. “Those were the exact words my partner, Agent Conrad, said. Jorguson knew you worked for the IRS, so, in fact, he attacked a representative of the IRS, didn’t he? It’s my understanding the Internal Revenue Service doesn’t like it when one of their own is assaulted.”

  She laughed. “No, they don’t.”

  “Huntsman wants to push this.”

  “I’ll help in any way that I can,” she promised.

  “How much research did you do before your interview with Jorguson?”

  “Very little,” she admitted. “I didn’t have the time. A big mistake on my part. I never should have gone to the interview.”

  “Jorguson’s client list is filled with real bad . . .” He started to say “asses” but substituted “people” instead.

  She laughed. “Bad people? You sound like one of my kids.”

  “One of your kids?”

  “The kids I represent. When we had lunch, I thought I mentioned I do some work on the side for Judge Bowen and Judge Thorpe.”

  “Yes, you did mention it. It just jarred me to hear you call them your kids.”

  “When they’re in trouble, they are my kids. In most cases, I’m all they have.” Her voice had turned serious, passionate.

  “I’ve got a feeling it’s enough.”

  “Tell me more about these bad people.”

  “Jorguson Investments is legit as far as Huntsman can tell; however, some of his clients have brought in copious amounts of cash. One in particular, Gretta Keene, was very active. Her base was in Belgium but she operated in the United States for several years. The federal government took action a few months ago to have her deported. She disappeared before that happened.”

  “Where’s all the money coming from? Drugs?”

  “Among other endeavors, we suspect.”

  “So let me go out on a limb here. If and when I talk to Agent Huntsman, he’s going to tell me Jorguson is money laundering for either the mob or perhaps one of the drug cartels.”

  He smiled. “Maybe.”

  She switched gears. “Did you talk to Jorguson about his threat to have me killed? ‘One phone call and you’re a dead woman.’ I believe those were his very words.”

  “He denied threatening you. When I mentioned the number of people who heard him, he said they were all mistaken. While he was spewing his ridiculous lies, his two attorneys’ heads were nodding up and down like they were bobbing for apples. We happened to have a video from one of the waiters’ cell phones and played it for him.” He grinned as he added, “His expression was priceless.”

  “Bet he changed his story then.”

  Grayson nodded. “As a matter of fact, he did. The alleged incident was all a big misunderstanding, and he was bluffing when he pretended to threaten you.”

  “He actually said he pretended to threaten me?”

  “I can’t make this stuff up,” he said, laughing.

  “What else did he say?”

  “He’d love it if you would come work for him.”

  “The thought of seeing that pervert every single day sends shivers down my spine.”

  “Then that’s a ‘no’?”

  They’d stopped at a red light, and Grayson glanced over at her with a warm smile. Olivia was suddenly tongue-tied, and her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know what to make of her physical reaction to him. She was usually so professional and composed, and this was a business evening, wasn’t it?

  “You’re blushing,” Grayson said. “How come?”

  She didn’t answer his question.

  The light turned green, but Grayson didn’t notice. When Olivia had turned in her seat to face him, the slit in her gown exposed part of her thigh. Her skin was golden, and he wondered if the rest of her was as flawless. The driver behind them honked, and Grayson’s gaze was pulled back to his driving.

  “Have you ever been to the Hamilton?” he asked.

  “No, I haven’t. It only just opened a couple of months ago. I’ve stayed at the one in Boston. It’s beautiful and quite elegant. Have you been to this one?”

  “Yes, I have. Aiden Hamilton threw a party a couple of weeks before the grand opening. I’ve known Aiden and his family for some time now. My cousin, Sam, helped on a case for Aiden’s brother-in-law, Alec, and he introduced us. Sam and Alec are both FBI.”

  “How was the party?”

  “Good,” he said. “I ran into a lot of old friends I hadn’t seen in a while. I was ready to take my date home when Alec suggested we play a little poker. I got home at six the next morning.”

  “And your date?”

  “I took her home and came back for the game. She wasn’t happy about that.”

  “Did you win any money?”

  “Aiden decided to join us, so, no. When he plays, he wins. I lost the girlfriend and a lot of money. Had fun, though.”

  “You don’t sound too broken up about the girlfriend.”

  “The relationship wasn’t going anywhere,” he said. “And, hey, it was poker.”

  “And she didn’t understand. I do,” she said. “I love poker.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You really like to play?”

  “I do.”

  “Any good?”

  “I think I am.”

  He grinned. “We’ll have to see about that.”

  They pulled into the circle drive in front of the hotel, ending the conversation. Two attendants rushed forward to open their doors. Grayson’s BMW was whisked away by the valet, and he took hold
of Olivia’s arm and walked by her side up the wide steps to the entrance.

  The Hamilton Hotel faced Pennsylvania, a busy and noisy street, but as soon as they walked through the doors, Olivia felt as though she’d entered another world. There was a perfect blend of old-world charm and sleek contemporary touches. Massive columns stretched to the ceiling of a soaring lobby, and grand curved staircases on either side led to a wide mezzanine overlooking the main reception area. The polished brass balusters on the steps were topped with a carved railing of rich mahogany. Every table and chest was adorned with fresh flowers. Beautiful marble floors were covered in rich Oriental rugs, and the luxuriously upholstered furniture was overstuffed, inviting guests to linger and relax in this elegant and quiet setting, forgetting the turmoil and demands of the outside world.

  All seven Hamilton Hotels were known for unparalleled luxury, absolute discretion, and impeccable service. The hotels catered to discriminating clientele and were dedicated to protecting privacy. Because of the chain’s reputation for pampering guests and taking care of their every whim, dignitaries, politicians, lobbyists, and celebrities had already booked the four ballrooms in this hotel well into the future.

  The Capitol League gala was being held in the largest ballroom, which was located on the first floor at the end of a long, wide corridor. Outside the large double doors leading into the ballroom was an open area with a magnificent fountain. Directly beyond were tall windows overlooking the serenity gardens.

  Two Capitol League attendants stood side by side at the doors. Olivia pulled her invitation from her beaded clutch and handed it to one of them. Grayson noticed the man was so preoccupied staring at her, he barely glanced at the card.

  There was already a crowd gathered inside, but the flow was good, and it was surprisingly easy to get from one side of the ballroom to the other.

  Olivia hadn’t attended many of these events. When she could afford it, she donated to causes that were close to her heart, most having to do with children in need, yet she rarely went to the parties, and for that reason she knew very few people attending the celebration.

  Grayson, on the other hand, was the man of the hour. He seemed to know everyone, or rather, most of the guests seemed to know him. He was immediately surrounded by friends and donors. A senator on the finance committee stopped to talk about his reelection campaign and to ask what Grayson thought about a certain stock. Olivia wasn’t sure what to do. This wasn’t exactly a date, so she didn’t think she should stay and listen to his conversations with friends. Or should she? Feeling a bit awkward, she decided to find her aunt Emma, but when she tried to step away, Grayson took hold of her hand and pulled her into his side. He wasn’t at all subtle. She gave him a disapproving frown. He responded by winking at her.

  Olivia decided to be accommodating and humor him, and as it turned out, she was very happy she did. She soon lost count of the number of powerful men and women he introduced her to. She patiently stayed beside him for a good twenty minutes, smiling until her face felt frozen, and chatting amicably with the CEO of a cereal conglomerate, a Nobel Prize winner for physics, a real estate tycoon, an Internet software whiz, two art gallery owners, a couple of ambassadors, and a congresswoman. She even had a brief, though surreal, conversation with a senior adviser to the president of the United States. The topic was yoga, of all things.

  The second there was a lull, Grayson suggested they go find her aunt. Then James Crowell stopped Grayson to say hello. Olivia recognized him from the cover of Time.

  Crowell was Person of the Year and she believed it was a well-deserved honor. He was a genius and a self-made billionaire and, like Bill Gates and Warren Buffett, had donated most of his fortune to charity. Olivia was starstruck. Crowell was one of her heroes because of all of his humanitarian efforts. How did Grayson know him? It was obvious that Crowell liked Grayson, and from their conversation and their ease with each other, she concluded they had been friends for some time.

  Just who was Agent Grayson Kincaid? The real Bruce Wayne?

  Grayson watched Olivia as Crowell shook her hand and walked away.

  “Your face is flushed,” he remarked.

  “I admire Mr. Crowell. He’s done a lot for the poor in this country.” She turned to Grayson and said, “May I ask you a question?”

  “If it will get you to quit frowning, sure.”

  “I’m not frowning. This is my puzzled expression.”

  “Yeah? Good to know. What’s the question?”

  “You are with the FBI, aren’t you? It isn’t just a hobby, is it?”

  He laughed. “Yes, I’m with the FBI, and no, it isn’t a hobby.”

  “So if I were to look in your garage, I wouldn’t find a Batmobile?”

  He looked at her as though he thought she was crazy. Shaking his head and looking very serious, he said, “Of course not.”

  She felt foolish for making the comparison and for asking such a silly question.

  Grayson put his arm around her waist and pulled her close so that an elderly couple could get past. Then he leaned down and whispered into her ear.

  “I keep it in my cave.”

  EIGHT

  Was there anyone Grayson didn’t know?

  “It’s so good to see you again, Grayson,” Aunt Emma said when they found her.

  He took her hand and bent down so that she could kiss his cheek. “It’s always good to see you, Emma.”

  “How is your father?”

  “Doing well, thank you. He’s sorry he couldn’t be here tonight to celebrate with you, but he had another engagement he couldn’t cancel. He sends you his best wishes.”

  Emma turned to Olivia. “I had no idea you knew Grayson,” she said to her niece, who was standing there with her mouth open in astonishment. Olivia gave Grayson a scolding glare for not telling her he was acquainted with her aunt, but before she could say anything, Emma continued, “You look lovely, dear.” She kissed her on both cheeks. “I’m so pleased you’re here.”

  Olivia thought her aunt looked radiant. She was a petite woman, just five feet three inches, and Olivia, at five feet six inches and in stilettos, towered over her. Emma had never had any face work done, but with her genes and her bone structure had aged beautifully. She had silver hair, cut short with just a hint of curl. She wore a silver floor-length gown, the cut simple and elegant. Her crystal clear eyes never missed anything, and her smile could melt the coldest of hearts.

  Another acquaintance asked for a minute with Grayson, and while he was turned away, Olivia whispered to her aunt, “Are any of the others coming tonight?”

  “The family? No,” Emma answered. “They’re all in New York.”

  “Have you spoken to my mother yet?”

  “No, dear, I haven’t. Now go and find your seats. The ceremony is about to start. I’ve been told that there won’t be any long-winded speeches tonight, thank heavens. Three of us are receiving the Brinkley Humanitarian Award, and none of us feels we deserve it. It’s . . . humbling,” she admitted. “I tried to talk my way out of this, but the committee said this event could raise a lot of money, so here I am.” She stepped closer and whispered, “Tomorrow I expect to hear all about how you met Grayson Kincaid. I always thought you and he would make a good match, but you’re so stubborn about letting anyone interfere—”

  She abruptly stopped when Grayson joined them. A few minutes later the ceremony began.

  Olivia was so proud of her aunt. She was being honored for her contributions to the community, specifically for creating a medical scholarship for cancer research and for funding a new pediatric oncology ward at the children’s hospital. Olivia knew how pleased Emma’s late husband would be. When he died, Uncle Daniel left her with a large fortune, and she had put it to good use. From the response the audience gave after her considerable accomplishments were listed, it was apparent t
hat Emma was well loved and appreciated by everyone.

  As soon as the music started and couples headed to the dance floor, Olivia asked Grayson if he was ready to leave. He draped her wrap around her shoulders and followed her out of the ballroom.

  Aiden Hamilton intercepted them just as they were crossing the lobby. He reminded Olivia of a model in GQ. Was everyone in Grayson’s life perfection? Impeccably dressed, Aiden looked as though the tuxedo had been invented with him in mind. He was tall and terribly fit, and he approached them with a wide smile. The greeting between the two men was a bit humorous. Grayson slapped Aiden on his shoulder, and Aiden retaliated in kind. Then they shook hands like gentlemen.

  Grayson introduced Olivia to his friend, and after pleasantries were exchanged, Grayson asked him, “How long are you in town?”

  “Just overnight,” he answered. “I leave for Sydney first thing in the morning.”

  “Are you building another hotel?”

  Aiden nodded. “Hopefully,” he said. “We built one in Melbourne and didn’t run into any problems, but we’re having trouble with permits in Sydney. It will work out,” he added. “What about you, Grayson? Still working twenty-four/seven?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  “I wish we had time for a poker game,” Aiden said. “I’m sure you still have a few dollars left for me to win.”

  “Your luck is bound to run out someday, Hamilton,” Grayson countered. “I’ll get my revenge.”

  Aiden turned to Olivia. “Sorry to bore you with this chatter,” he apologized. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about our poker games.”

  “Actually, Olivia is quite a poker player, too,” Grayson said.

  Aiden looked at her admiringly. “Is that so?”

  “I learned when I was a little girl,” she explained. “My friends and I loved to play. We haven’t had much opportunity lately.”

  “Then perhaps the next time I’m in town, you can join us,” Aiden offered. He smiled warmly and took her hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”