Home by the Sea

by JoAnn Ross

  “It was sure a surprise to pick up my morning paper and read that my old college sweetheart was going to be visiting our fair city.” He skimmed a fingertip down the back of her hand, rewarded when he felt the trail of warmth bloom beneath his touch.

  “College sweetheart?” the agent asked with obvious suspicion. She turned back to Grace. “I thought Robert the Rat was your college sweetheart.”

  “He was my college mistake,” Grace corrected.

  “Grace and I had a fight,” Lucas improvised. “One of those little foolish spats young lovers have.” He gave Grace a warm look rife with what appeared to be honest regret. “The funny thing is that I can’t even remember what it was about. Can you, darlin’?”

  “No,” Grace managed to answer, her voice weaker than she would have wished. His baritone voice had deepened, the rich Dixie drawl reminding Grace of a steamy summer research trip she’d taken two years ago to Savannah. It brought back warm memories of gracious pillared antebellum homes, frosty glasses of mint-sprigged iced tea and deep-fried food that had added inches to her hips even as it pleasured her taste buds. Unfortunately, a foolish, romantic part of her was finding Lucas Kincaid every bit as tempting. “I can’t.”

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” He sighed and looked up at the still-skeptical agent. “The short sad story is that she slept with the rat to make me jealous, and the next thing I knew they were working on her book together—the one I always knew was going to be a blockbuster hit.”

  “Ransomed Hearts,” Tina Parker murmured.

  “That’s it. Dynamite story. And based on our own romance, of course.”

  “Oh?”

  “She never told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  Lucas shook his head with mock regret, stood up and pulled up a chair for her. “You may as well sit down. This could take awhile.”

  She actually looked tempted. Then, as if remembering her mission, she gazed pointedly down at her watch. “You’re scheduled to judge the costume pageant in less than two hours,” she reminded Grace. “And Alice doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Grace had never been comfortable with interviews. Which was why Robert, who loved the spotlight, had always volunteered to handle them. Unfortunately, he’d also used the opportunity to let people believe that he was actually the creative force behind the bestselling Roberta Grace books.

  Deciding that the reviewer was obviously the best person to set the record straight, Grace rose. “Where is she?”

  “In the concierge lounge. I suggested we meet in your suite, but the officious little man at the front desk informed me that there’d been a mixup.”

  “Robert somehow ended up in the presidential suite. The substitute room they assigned me isn’t ready yet.”

  “I can’t believe this!” An exasperated breath puffed from between Tina’s pursed crimson lips. “Did you explain who you were?”

  “Of course. But when I agreed to give the keynote address, the conference committee naturally reserved the room in the name of Roberta Grace.”

  “And the Rat got it first.” A hatred Lucas didn’t think was feigned glittered in the agent’s eyes. She looked up at him the same way the harried woman in the lobby had—as if casting him for a part in her own personal movie. “You never said what you did for a living. I don’t suppose you’d happen to be a hit man?”

  “No, ma’am.” At least, not any longer. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. It was such a lovely idea.” She gave him another considering look. “What do you do, by the way?”

  “I design computer software.” That much, at least, was the truth.

  “Ah.” Lucas could practically see the wheels clicking away in her head. “Computer books can be big sellers. Do you have an agent?”

  “No, but—”

  “Here.” She took a gray pasteboard card from her alligator bag and handed it to him. “I have my own agency in New York and represent some of the top names in publishing. Will you be available for a little private chat sometime during the next few days?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Although it wasn’t technically his job to find the person writing the threatening letters, in order to protect Grace, Lucas had to know the players. Which meant he intended to speak with all the suspects. And although he couldn’t think of any reason why an agent would want to kill a client who undoubtedly represented a hefty percentage of her yearly income, he wasn’t about to disregard anyone.

  “I’m not about to run off now that I’ve found my girl again after all these years.” The smile he flashed at Tina was as rakish as any high seas buccaneer. “I’ll be staying at the hotel for the entire conference. With Gracie.”

  “Well.” Once again he admired the mental gymnastics as he watched the agent consider the various publicity aspects of this announcement. “Isn’t that nice? And how timely that Grace’s current book, This Time Forever, is about reunited lovers.” Obviously, she’d decided this happy coincidence was beneficial to her client’s career. “Make certain you tell Alice all about your second chance at love, Grace.”

  Grace could tell that Tina was already writing the headlines for the press releases. “You know I’m uncomfortable discussing my personal life.”

  “I know your personal life has been thrown all over the tabloids lately,” Tina countered. “You should be grateful for an opportunity to get some good press for a change.” She shot a mock glare a long, long way up at Lucas. “You’d better treat her well, Lucas Kincaid. Or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  “Yes, madam.” Ignoring the way Grace stiffened, he brushed his lips against the top of her head. Across the bar at least one camera flashed. “Let’s go, darlin’. You don’t want to keep your fans waiting.”

  “You’ve nothing to worry about, Grace.” Tina’s smile offered reassurance. “Alice has always loved your books. And you’re so much more likable than Robert. You’re going to be dynamite at promotion.”

  Personally, Grace didn’t believe that last part. But since she wasn’t about to argue in public, she murmured what could have been an agreement and left the bar, Lucas close beside her, his hand on her back.

  “And for the record, Alice Vail is not a fan,” Grace muttered as they made their way across the lobby. She moved away, breaking the light contact that was warming her skin beneath her suit. “She’s a reviewer. There’s a difference.”

  Irritation was radiating off her in shimmering waves as she made a beeline for the bank of elevators. Having a pretty good idea what she was upset about, Lucas didn’t push for conversation.

  Surprisingly, given the number of women already congregated in the lobby, the elevator was empty. They stood side by side, each watching the numbers flash above the door.

  “You’re angry,” Lucas said after they’d passed the fourth floor.

  “You had no right to tell Tina that lie about us having been lovers.”

  “You didn’t seem to want her to know I was a bodyguard.”

  “Well, that’s true, but—”

  “And she probably wouldn’t have believed I was trying to sell you life insurance.”

  “No. Especially since I already have a very hefty policy.”

  They’d now passed the fifth floor. “Let me guess. The divorce settlement requires you to keep making payments on your life insurance policy.”

  “If I die, as beneficiary, Robert gets everything,” she revealed glumly. It was not a pretty thought. Especially after she’d foolishly given Robert the Rat so many years of her life. Not to mention royalties.

  “Well, then, I guess we’ll just have to keep you alive.” A man comfortable with touching, he idly tucked an escaped strand of caramel hair behind her ear.

  “The ad in the paper said your agency has an admirable success rate.”

  “We do.”

  They exchanged a long look that had that pretty color tingeing her cheeks again and made Lucas want to press the Stop button so he could kiss her for a very l
ong time.

  “I wish we’d had time to talk about how we’re going to explain you being here at the conference,” she murmured. “While I certainly don’t want you hovering over me like some kind of overprotective guard dog, I’m not certain that letting people think you’re an old lover is such a good idea, either.”

  One thing Lucas had always hated about this bodyguard gig was when clients made things difficult by insisting that he pretend to be something he wasn’t. However, this time the idea of playing lover to Grace Fairfield suited him just fine.

  The elevator had glass walls, allowing a view of the bay, where blue waters lured Lucas to freedom. But Grace’s siren song was proving even more enticing.

  She smelled of spring—of green leaves, soft rains and jonquils. The slanting rays of afternoon sun streaming through the tinted windows streaked her caramel hair with honey, and her voluptuous body was definitely a pleasing change from all the stick-thin city women he was accustomed to seeing in San Francisco.

  If he’d been in the market for a figurehead for his boat, Lucas would have wanted this woman to pose for it. If he’d been looking for a woman to have his children, he would have ended his search right here and now.

  His gaze drifted to her magnificent breasts, making him wonder what, exactly, she was wearing under that wheat-hued suit and primly buttoned silk blouse. Having already caught a glimpse of hidden passions flowing beneath her smooth, controlled surface, he suspected satin and lace.

  “Everyone loves reunion stories,” he reminded her. “If nothing else, it should drive your ex a little nuts to know that you’re moving on. Instead of sitting around bemoaning your failed marriage.”

  She didn’t answer immediately, just gave him a long, slow perusal in a way that made him wonder if she was comparing him to her fictionalized romantic heroes. And if so, how he fared in the competition.

  “Robert’s ego will implode if he thinks we’re sleeping together,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “And as petty as that undoubtedly makes me, I rather like the idea.”

  She wasn’t the only one.

  Oh yes, Lucas thought with masculine anticipation, watching over this woman’s body wouldn’t prove any hardship. He could spare a few days. After all, Alaska wasn’t going anywhere.

  The private lounge assigned to guests staying on the concierge level of the hotel boasted dazzling vistas of the city. But Lucas guessed none of the individuals in the room had even bothered to glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the world-famous view. A blond pianist in a long black dress was playing a pretty fair Gershwin on a jet black Steinway, but no one seemed to be listening, either. Romance might be the means by which these women earned their living, but there was nothing romantic about the aura of business mingling in the air with the expensive perfumes. During his past eighteen months working as a bodyguard for S. J. Slade, he’d been in Fortune 500 boardrooms that hadn’t exuded such energy.

  Lucas had always possessed a strong intuitive sense; during his days as a SEAL his life had often depended on it. And right now, every instinct he possessed told him that although Grace was doing an admirable job of hiding it, she was more than a little nervous as they waded across the carpeting to where a seventy-something woman dressed in a white lace blouse and flowing multihued gypsy skirt was holding court. Her hair, a bright flame color that did not appear in nature, was piled high on her head, the beehive resembling a bobbin on an industrial sewing machine.

  “You remind me of a woman on the way to the guillotine,” he murmured.

  “At least beheading’s over quickly,” Grace murmured back. “They put a black bag over your head, you kneel down and swoosh, it’s over before you can make it through a Hail Mary.”

  She paused and turned toward him. “How do I look?”

  Since she’d asked, Lucas allowed himself a masculine study. Her blue-green hazel eyes, which in this light appeared almost turquoise, were both intelligent and expressive. Her face was too pale, almost translucent, like the fine bone china his mother brought out only for Thanksgiving, Christmas and other special occasions.

  As for her body… “Absolutely stunning.”

  He watched the color drift into her face again, like wild strawberries on a field of snow, and surprised himself by being drawn to a woman capable of blushing in this modem age.

  His voice was too deep. Too husky. Too male. Although Grace was used to being at eye level with most men, this man topped her with several inches to spare. And the way he was looking down at her, as if he were a chocoholic and she was a Hershey bar, caused a fluttering in her stomach.

  “That wasn’t what I was talking about.” Because she had a sudden urge to reach up and touch his dark cheek, to skim her fingertips along that intriguing white crescent, she folded her hands tightly together. “My hair,” she asked, remembering the casual, confident way he’d tucked the loose strand behind her ear, “is it—”

  “Perfect.”

  “My lipstick—”

  “Perfect.” Deciding that since he’d technically resigned, it wouldn’t be unprofessional to touch, just a bit, he took his hands from the security of his pockets and ran his palms over her shoulders in a gesture meant to soothe her and please himself.

  “Everything about you is absolutely perfect.” The conversational buzz in the room dwindled away, replaced by a rapt silence as every female eye in the lounge focused on them. “If you’d like me to go into detail—”

  “No.” Grace was unnerved by the strange little kick in her heart. His hands were wide and strong. But gentle. They were also too appealing for comfort. She’d sworn, after the debacle with Robert, that the only males in her life would be the ones in her books. Wanting to back away, but all too aware that they were the center of unwanted attention, she held her ground. And stiffened her spine. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Maybe later.”

  His rakish smile was both charming and dangerous. She stared, momentarily entranced by the dimple that flashed right below the thin white scar, then took a brief moment to level her nerves and her voice.

  “Maybe not.”

  That said, she managed, just barely, to keep her head high while she walked away on legs that felt like limp spaghetti.

  Enjoying her flare of independent spirit, Lucas chuckled as he followed her across the lounge to where Alice Vail was seated in a high-backed gilt chair vaguely reminiscent of a throne.

  “Hello, Alice,” Grace greeted the reviewer with a warm smile designed to conceal her nerves. She bent, bestowing a kiss to the powdered cheek. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

  “Good to see you, too, dear.” The clever eyes took a quick judicious perusal. “You’re looking very well. All things considered.”

  “I’m feeling well,” Grace said, not quite truthfully. “All things considered.”

  “It’s lovely that you’ve decided to come out of seclusion You’ve been missed.” She lifted a pair of rhinestone-framed butterfly glasses on a pearl chain from her bosom and zeroed in on Lucas. “Are you, by any chance, the pirate Marianne’s been searching the hotel for?”

  “No, ma’am,” he answered politely, thinking there was definitely something to be said for getting his hair chopped off into a military buzz cut before this conference was over.

  “You could be. Which means, I suppose, you’re another entrant for tonight’s cover-model contest?” She gave him a longer look. “While you admittedly possess a certain natural machismo that’s head and shoulders above most of the ones I’ve seen, I’m afraid looks alone aren’t going to be enough to win the grand prize.”

  She chewed thoughtfully on a fingernail painted the deep violet of pansies. “Although you’re a natural for the pirate, they’ve been horribly overdone lately.” She skimmed her gaze down him. “How are your legs?”

  Lucas exchanged a quick glance with Grace and noticed that for someone who’d been so damn nervous only a minute earlier, she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself at his exp
ense. “My legs?”

  “If they’re halfway decent and not too hairy, you’d look stunning in a kilt. And, of course, with Scotland so popular right now, you’d be a shoo-in to win.” Dangling gold earrings shaped like old-fashioned plumed pens bounced as she nodded, satisfied. “Yes, definitely a kilt.”

  “Lucas isn’t a cover model.” Grace knew it was a bit petty of her, but she was actually enjoying his obvious discomfort at being taken for a male model. It had been a very long time since she’d found humor in anything.

  “Then what, and who, is he?” A penciled, bright brow arched above the rhinestone-studded frames. “Obviously you’re a brave man, whoever you are. Daring to breach this coven of females.”

  “I was thinking exactly the same thing when I first arrived.” This one would have been a firecracker in her day, Lucas thought “I’m Lucas Kincaid, Miz Vail. And Grace and I are old friends. From college.”

  “Really?” She took a delicate, gold-rim cup bearing the world-famous crown logo of the hotel from the spindly-legged table beside her chair and sipped thoughtfully as she considered that idea. “Isn’t that interesting?” She turned back to Grace. “I’d thought Robert was your college beau.”

  “I was the guy she dumped for the Rat,” Lucas explained.

  Alice Vail gave him a longer, more in-depth perusal from head to toe. “Gracious. And here I’d always considered Grace to be an intelligent young woman.”

  “It’s a long story.” Grace broke in, shooting Lucas another dark, warning look. “And I know how pressed for time you are, Alice.”

  “Oh, I’m never to busy to talk with one of my favorite writers. And her friends. Especially the drop-dead-gorgeous male ones.” She looked up at Lucas through a set of thick, double false lashes. “You’ve certainly chosen a dashing escort for your return to public life, Grace, dear.

  “If I were thirty years younger, Mr. Kincaid, I do believe I’d give our dear Grace a little competition.”