Home by the Sea

by JoAnn Ross

  Since there was no possible safe answer to that, Lucas opted not to say anything.

  “Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed running into you again, Grace, dear, and, of course, meeting you, Lucas, I’m afraid I must dash. I promised Kevin I’d meet with him to discuss my thoughts for my new cover. I just know he’s going to make the most delicious Viking.”

  Grace followed her gaze across the room to where Kevin was leaning against a marble pillar, arms folded against his chest. He was wearing a black silk shirt and tight black leather pants. When she inadvertently caught his eye, he scowled at her.

  “A naked Viking,” Grace guessed.

  “Of course. Some of us are traditionalists,” Anne informed Grace haughtily. “We rather like having naked hunks on the covers of our books.” That said, she turned and walked away, her hips, accentuated by the pink peplum, swaying seductively.

  “And in our beds,” Grace muttered as she watched the couple embrace.

  “Jealous?” Lucas asked mildly.

  “Not at all.” Truer words had never been spoken. What woman would want a pretend hero when she had a real one standing right beside her? “Anne just gets on my nerves.”

  “I’d say she was aiming at your most sensitive one when she brought up your ex.”

  “True. That does bother me. But not because she might be sleeping with him—”

  “I don’t recall her saying that.”

  “Not even Anne’s that blatant” She watched as the embrace grew increasingly intimate. If the writer were any closer, she’d be inside those leather pants. And the way Kevin’s hand was cupping her silk-clad bottom, well, there wasn’t any doubt as to what their meeting was really going to be about “But she’s notorious for sleeping around. And although Robert’s married, that’s never stopped him before.”

  “The Queen of Romance and the Rat” Lucas studied Grace’s face as he took hold of her hand and linked their fingers together. “Sounds kinda like a fairy tale.”

  “Penned by the Brothers Grimm.” She laughed, expelling the tension that had been writhing inside her like a ball of poisonous snakes since Anne had dropped her bombshell about one more possible adversary in the pseudonym war. “Thank you. For making me laugh when I wanted to scream.”

  “Any time.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “But believe me, sugar, the idea of making you scream is proving damn appealing, too.”

  A different sort of nerves, the kind Grace was beginning to associate with Lucas, started humming from deep inside her, echoing outward, as if she’d suddenly turned into a human tuning fork.

  They were standing there as if they were the only two people in the lobby, him looking down at her, Grace looking up at him, when Marianne Tyler came rushing up to them.

  “Thank goodness I’ve found you. We’re running a little late—the police insisted on searching the room for a bomb, if you can believe that—but you’re on in five minutes.”

  The silver thread of desire that had been strung so tightly between them snapped. Grace didn’t know whether to feel frustration or relief.

  “A bomb?” Lucas asked sharply. “Was a threat called in?”

  “Oh, no, the detective assured me they wanted to do a sweep as a preventive measure.” Marianne shook her head. “I cannot believe this latest complication. The worst thing that has ever happened before at an RNN convention was that hotel fire several years ago. I’ll just die if I go down as the only coordinator who suffered a murder on her watch….”

  Her strained voice drifted off as she seemed to realize where that particular thought was headed. “Not that what I’m going through is anything like what you’re experiencing, of course, Grace,” she said quickly. “Thank goodness you’re fortunate to have Mr. Kincaid to watch over you.”

  Grace had grown tired of lying about Lucas. Especially when it was obvious that no one was going to believe her. “Yes.” She exchanged a look with him, which while brief, still made her blood sizzle. “I am lucky.”

  As they walked toward the ballroom where she was scheduled to give her speech, Grace could literally feel Lucas concentrating on everything and everyone around them. She knew he wasn’t happy about her sticking to her schedule, but she’d insisted that her would-be assailant wouldn’t dare try to strike in such a public forum. Last night had been different. People had been milling around the room, the music was loud, the mood festive. No one had been paying attention to either her or the gunman.

  But this morning was an entirely different situation, she’d argued as they’d ridden down in the elevator. Conference attendees would all be seated during her speech; there was no way anyone could make another attempt on her life and escape.

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him yet again.

  “That’s the plan,” he agreed gruffly, his eyes roving over the crowd streaming into the room.

  After Grace was introduced in glowing terms, Lucas stood off to the side, not far from the podium. She was, he noticed, neither a practiced nor polished orator. Her nerves were more than obvious as she started out, a little rough, her hands and her voice shaky, her face pale, but tinged with a faint underlying tint of green. She’d written the speech down on neat little five-by-seven note cards, which she discarded less than three minutes into her keynote address.

  “I had all these wonderful, intelligent thoughts about our business I wanted to share with you,” she said. “But instead, if you don’t mind, I believe I’d feel more comfortable speaking from the heart.”

  Nearly two thousand heads nodded in unison, as if controlled by the giant hand of a master puppeteer. There was a sprinkling of applause. Then a hush of palpable anticipation.

  For the next forty-five minutes Lucas watched as Grace held her audience spellbound, sharing her own love of writing, her belief in romance, the pride and pleasure she felt writing in the popular genre that stressed relationship and family over violence and horror. She waxed eloquent when she moved on to describe the special bond between writer and reader.

  Then she thanked her editors for making her books better, never suggesting she alter her personal writer’s voice, and always encouraging her to take risks. She expressed appreciation for all her friends in the business who’d proven so supportive during these past difficult months, which was, everyone realized, a discreet reference to her divorce and subsequent legal problems. And then she thanked her readers, for their letters, and for buying her books, allowing her to tell her story to a wider audience. To “leave my name on the cave wall,” she said.

  By the time she was finished, a hush had come over the room. Then, after she’d thanked the committee again for the honor of addressing the peers she respected so, the place exploded in a hot rush of applause.

  Although it was obvious that more than a few fans wanted an opportunity to speak to her, she’d promised Lucas that she wouldn’t linger at the podium, where she provided such a good target, any longer than necessary.

  “I’m impressed,” Lucas said as they walked down the hall, back toward the lobby elevators.

  “And surprised?”

  “Not at all. But it’s got to take a lot of guts to stand up and talk in front of a crowd like that. Even without someone gunning for you.”

  “Do you know, I forgot all about that while I was speaking. I guess I can only be terrified of one thing at a time.”

  “Makes sense to me,” he said agreeably.

  His hand was on her back, in a part protective, part possessive manner. Once again Grace thought how safe she felt with him. “Oh damn,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  She sensed his increased tension. “Geraldine’s headed this way. I have this feeling she’s going to ask about the cruise tonight.”

  Lucas had been of two minds about the scheduled cruise ever since he’d learned of it. He didn’t like the idea of being out in the bay, isolated from police or possible backup if anything did happen. Then again, if this letter writer was a crazy fan or writer, at least Grace would be safe a
mong her peers. Or reasonably safe, he considered, thinking about her former husband and the barracuda Queen of Romance.

  “That was a marvelous speech, Grace!” The publisher touched cheeks, greeting Grace with an enthusiasm that gave the impression they were long-lost friends, instead of two business acquaintances who’d been together in Grace’s suite only this morning. “George and I were so proud of you, weren’t we, Georgie?” she asked the editorial director.

  “Of course we were,” he answered distractedly, as he shifted the Lhasa apso, which was squirming in his arms like the nightcrawlers Grace used to bait a hook with when she’d go fishing with her father.

  “I only wish you could have seen fit to name the company,” Geraldine added. “Or at the very least the title of your upcoming book.”

  “I thanked my editors by name. But the speech was about the appeal of our genre,” Grace answered quietly. “It wasn’t meant to be a publicity device.”

  “Darling, if you’re going to take over Robert’s job promoting the Roberta Grace name, you are going to have to understand that all appearances are about publicity. Or there’s just no point in wasting your time.”

  “But I didn’t find it a waste of time.”

  “Then it’s obvious you need to learn to prioritize,” the publisher snapped back. Then she exhaled. “Oh dear, let’s not get into this now. I just wanted to make certain that you’d be on the Penbrook cruise tonight.”

  Penbrook Press’s annual author bash was always the hottest ticket at the conference. This year’s formal dinner cruise, complete with a Fourth of July fireworks display over the bay, promised to live up to previous events.

  “I’m not certain—”

  “Oh, you must. I’d planned for you to sit at our table.”

  “With Robert?”

  “No. It’s one thing to want the two of you to provide a united front for the awards banquet. However, this dinner isn’t staged for public consumption. We’re family, after all.”

  As Geraldine patted her arm in an almost maternal manner, Grace knew she was sunk. “I’ll be there.”

  “That’s my girl.” The publisher’s smile suggested she’d never expected any other outcome. “Well, I must run. I promised Anne Kilgallen we’d do brunch.”

  “Speaking of Anne,” Grace said, “she tells me you’ve asked her to work with Robert.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t an actual offer,” Geraldine said quickly. Too quickly, Grace thought “We were merely discussing possibilities. In the event that Robert does end up with the Roberta Grace name.”

  “He won’t.” Grace lifted her chin. “So that’s one possibility you needn’t concern yourself with.” That stated, she turned toward Lucas. “Didn’t you say something about my checking out of my room?”

  “You’re leaving the hotel?”

  “I thought it would be easier to guard Grace if she wasn’t staying in the conference hotel,” Lucas explained. “As it is, she already has more public appearances than I’d like.”

  “Well, I suppose that makes sense.” Geraldine’s brow furrowed as she considered the implications of this unforeseen event. “What hotel will you be moving to?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “What?” The furrows deepened.

  “It’s nothing personal,” Lucas assured her. “But in order for me to do my job right, I have to be allowed to handle things my way. Which means keeping some information on a need-to-know basis.”

  “And you don’t think Grace’s publisher is one of those who needs to know?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t.” When the older woman looked as if she were on the verge of an explosion, he flashed her a slow smile that, despite the serious topic being discussed, Grace found distractingly sexy. “Think of it as insurance,” he suggested. “If the bad guys take you hostage in an attempt to get to Gracie, you won’t have to worry about spilling the beans when they torture you.”

  Geraldine paled at that, but only fleetingly. Then her gaze turned speculative. “You are a very strange man, Mr. Kincaid.”

  “So people have told me, Ms. Manning. But I also know my business. As you know yours.”

  The implication was crystal clear: since he wasn’t about to tell Geraldine Manning how to publish books, she shouldn’t try to tell him how to protect Grace.

  “Well, that’s reassuring. After all, we all want to keep Grace safe so she can keep writing those wonderful bestselling novels for Penbrook.” She flashed another smile Grace’s way. “As I said, darling, you’re a tremendously important asset to our little publishing family.” That said, she swept off, George trailing behind her, still struggling with Dalai, who snarled at a passing agent.

  “You’re a tremendously important asset to our little publishing family, darling,” Grace muttered, impressing Lucas with her impersonation skills as she hit the publisher’s tony British accent right on.

  “The Addams Family, perhaps,” he drawled. “Quite a snake pit you’re working in, darlin’. It’s coming as a revelation that there are so many vipers lurking behind the hearts-and-flowers facade.”

  “Even the Garden of Eden had its serpent,” Grace noted. “And actually, considering the high stakes involved in publishing, most everyone in the romance field is amazingly supportive of one another.

  “The business might get a little bit crazy, and there are times I feel as if I’m on a roller coaster, but it’s still the best E-ticket ride going. I love it.” Her gaze drifted across the lobby to where Geraldine and the self-proclaimed Queen of Romance were disappearing into the Windjammer Restaurant for their brunch. “Most of the time, anyway.”

  Grace sighed and decided she could only tackle one problem at a time. There wasn’t any point in worrying about Anne writing under her name unless she lost her court case. Which, she vowed yet again, she had no intention of allowing to happen.

  Thirty minutes later, she’d finished packing and was waiting for the valet to bring Lucas’s car around from the hotel parking garage.

  “Nice,” she murmured as the black Porsche pulled up in front of the bronze revolving door. “The bodyguard business must pay very well.”

  “I do okay. Actually, the car was an indulgence from a business deal that turned out well.” He opened the passenger door for her.

  Grace settled into the glove-soft bucket seat and inhaled the leathery new-car smell. “You haven’t had it long,” she said when he joined her in the cockpitlike interior.

  “Bought it six months ago.” He ran his palm over the walnut steering wheel. “It’s one of the few things I’m going to miss.”

  “That’s quite an indulgence,” she murmured. “Spending all that money for just six months.”

  “True.” He put the car in gear and pulled out of the circular driveway. “I’ve always wanted one, but never stayed anywhere long enough to make it worthwhile. Besides,” he added, “one of the other guys in the office is buying it from me when I leave, so it’s not entirely a loss.”

  Grace was curious what sort of business deal Lucas had been involved in, but since the day had dawned surprisingly bright and sunny for a city with a reputation for cloudy skies, she decided just to enjoy the drive in this sleek black sports car.

  It was one of those days that made Lucas understand how Tony Bennett could have left his heart in San Francisco. Sunbathers had taken up nearly every inch of the bottle green grass of Union Square, soaking up the rays while eating their lunch beneath the benevolent blue sky. A breeze from the bay kept temperatures cool enough to be comfortable.

  It truly was a lovely city, he thought as he drove past a towheaded toddler tossing pieces torn off a hot dog bun to a clutch of speckled gray-and-white pigeons. If Lucas were the type of man to settle down, he could certainly think of worse places to put down roots. Which he’d have to do sometime.

  Having followed his jet-fighter-pilot father from navy base to navy base, Lucas couldn’t count the number of schools he’d attended. He could remember the
day he’d decided never to inflict the same fate on his kids. He’d been a junior in high school when he’d been forced to leave his championship baseball team right before the state all-star game, where he’d been voted first baseman.

  The four years he’d spent at the academy at Annapolis had been the longest he’d lived anywhere. Having selected the Special Warfare billet, he’d been dispatched to the navy’s Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL school in Coronado, California. From there he’d been shipped out to hot spots all over the world.

  After his near fatal misadventure, Lucas had convinced himself that it only made sense to settle down. Unfortunately, after eighteen months working for S. J. Slade, he’d felt as if he’d begun to grow barnacles. There was still too much of the world he needed to see, too many inlets and too much blue water left to explore. He’d tried, unsuccessfully, to explain that to his employer. And to Fancy, who was impatient to become a great-grandmother.

  “Where are we going?”

  Grace’s voice shattered his rare introspection. Lucas glanced into the rearview mirror again, determining that they weren’t being followed. “Sausalito. I figured we’d stash you on my boat.”

  “Your boat?”

  “The one I’m sailing to Alaska on,” he reminded her.

  “And don’t worry, it’s a sixty-foot ketch, so you’ll have your own quarters. And I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  “In the movies, the detectives always sleep with their clients.”

  The minute she heard the words escape her mouth, Grace couldn’t believe she’d actually said them. She was going to have to be more discreet, she warned herself. Although Lucas was the sexiest man she’d ever met, she was not interested in a brief affair. And with him headed off to Alaska right after the conference, it was obvious that’s all he was interested in.

  “That’s in the movies,” he said. “And for the record, technically, I’m not a detective. I’m a bodyguard. And if you think I’m taking you away from prying eyes to sleep with you, darlin’, you’re wrong about my motives.”