Home by the Sea

by JoAnn Ross

  “Thank you.”

  “And then you can come out and work on the deck in the sun.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “And then I’ll fix us lunch.”

  “You don’t have to go to that much trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. Besides, I stocked the larder for the trip, so I might as well use up some of the food.”

  The trip to Alaska. The trip he would have already been on if she’d called that 1-800 number a mere hour later. Having become accustomed to charting her own course, and having been burned by the mistaken youthful idea of Robert as her soul mate, Grace no longer believed in destiny. Still, as she went to work, unpacking her suitcases for the second time in two days, she was forced to wonder.

  Since he’d rattled her from the beginning, Grace was surprised at how relaxed she felt with Lucas. She was also grateful she’d planned to spend a few days in wine country after the conference and had packed some casual clothes that were perfect for wearing on the boat

  They were both out on the deck, each working away on their laptop computers, aware of the other, but not so much that they couldn’t concentrate on their individual work. Grace was working on her new book, the one coincidentally with a pirate hero.

  A few feet away, trying to ignore how good she smelled and how darn cute and intense she looked in those oversize glasses, Lucas was on-line, skimming through Penbrook Press’s accounting system. There were times, and this was definitely one of them, that he was grateful for the covert computer skills the navy had taught him.

  From what he could tell, the publishing company had gone into the red to pay high advances on a series of celebrity biographies, several written by participants in the type of crime stories that were usually consigned to the covers of tabloid newspapers. Since their previous publishing lists hadn’t included any such books, Lucas could only conclude that Geraldine Manning was the force behind the editorial change.

  A few more keystrokes took him into the publisher’s mainframe mailboxes, where he located internal memos from Manning to the top management at the parent company, Dwyer’s Drier Diapers, confirming Lucas’s guess. Since Dwyer had gone public, they were no longer a family business, but were answerable to stockholders.

  Which was why she’d been appointed publisher. After a stunning success selling the disposable diapers to the lucrative Asian markets, she’d recklessly promised the board of directors a twenty-five percent profit on their investment within the first eighteen months. Although Lucas wasn’t that familiar with the logistics of the publishing business, he suspected that she was going to have to pull some very clever rabbits out of her hat to live up to her pledge.

  Which, of course, should have taken her off his list of suspects, since a check of the Rainbow Romances’ profit-and-loss statement revealed that Grace was the company’s most profitable author. Geraldine might be a pain in the ass, and she might be a gambler, but he couldn’t think of any reason a publisher would want to kill the goose who laid the golden books.

  He was about to explore further when the system suddenly shut down, disconnecting his modern.

  When three additional attempts wouldn’t even let him into the system, he gave up and went back into the cabin.

  Because he’d promised Grace lunch, and because he always thought better on a full stomach, Lucas went to work peeling the shrimp he planned to grill.

  “This is heaven.”

  As she sat down at the table Lucas had set up on the deck, Grace tried to remember when she’d ever felt more relaxed and came up blank.

  “If you think this is nice, wait until we get to Alaska.”

  “I haven’t said I was going yet,” she reminded him as she put her napkin on her lap.

  “You haven’t said you won’t, either.” He opened the green bottle of Pouilly-Fumé, poured a stemmed glass and set it in front of her, where the white wine simmered like liquid gold in the afternoon sunshine. Lucas popped the cap on a bottle of non-alcoholic beer for himself.

  “True.” She took a sip of the smooth wine. “But that’s just because it’s too lovely a day to argue.” She leaned back in the chair and watched as he took the shrimp kabobs off the barbecue. “If I’d known that catering was part of a bodyguard’s duties, I think I would have hired one years ago.”

  He laughed at that as he slid the shrimp and grilled vegetables onto the plate atop rice pilaf. “I like good food, but I’m not much for getting dressed up and going out, so I finally figured out that if I didn’t want to keep settling for cold cuts and Chinese take-out, it might be a good idea to teach myself the way around a galley.”

  The shrimp was gingered. And delicious. “For a self-taught man, you’ve definitely risen to the head of the class.”

  “Thank you, darlin’.” His grin was quick and easy. When it made her want to throw herself at him, Grace resisted the impulse and took another bite of shrimp instead. “Come sail the seven seas with me, and I’ll cook you lunch every day, dinner every night, and serve you breakfast in bed every morning.”

  “I don’t eat breakfast.”

  “Ah, but you’ll need to. To keep your strength up.” When he waggled his brows in a rakish way, Grace couldn’t help but laugh.

  Despite the threat on her life that had been the reason for them meeting in the first place, the mood remained light. Over a lunch of shrimp, rice, salad and crunchy sourdough rolls that could rival any five-star restaurant in the city, Grace found herself telling Lucas all about her family, while he shared stories about his own admiral father, who’d recently retired from the Pentagon to spend his days playing golf, and his mother, an antique dealer who’d recently had her first professional showing of watercolor paintings.

  “I think that’s lovely, that she could start a new career at this stage of her life,” Grace said. “What does your father think of it?”

  “He’s pleased as punch. Although I did hear they had a few tense days when he first retired and decided that he’d rearrange her studio to make it more efficient. But he dropped that idea when Mom threatened him with a divorce, then bought him a new set of Ping golf clubs and sent him out to get some daily exercise.”

  Grace laughed again. “So, how do you think he’d feel if she became rich and famous?”

  “Terrific. Why wouldn’t he?”

  “Well, although he was obviously successful in his own work, some men might have trouble sharing the spotlight.”

  “We Kincaid men have never needed spotlights shining on us to remind us who—and what—we are.” He reached across the table to toy with the ring on her finger. “And if this is a roundabout way of asking me if I’d have any problems with being married to the rich and famous Roberta Grace, you don’t have to worry your gorgeous head about that.”

  “I shouldn’t think so. Since you’re obviously richer than I am.”

  “I just might be.” He knew he was because he’d just read her royalty statement. But not richer by much. “But I’d feel the same if I were just an unemployed bodyguard. In fact,” he mused, rubbing his jaw with his free hand, “now that I think about it, the idea of bein’ your boy toy definitely has its appeal, sugar.”

  He wasn’t the only one who found the idea appealing. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Grace murmured.

  And keep it in mind she did during the rest of the afternoon, while her fictional hero kept taking on more and more of Lucas’s attributes. Thoughts of Lucas occupied her during her shower, and while dressing for the Penbrook Press cruise, which she’d just as soon skip, but didn’t dare. Especially now that she knew Robert was angling to have Geraldine decide the Roberta Grace name belonged to the publisher, who might then hand it over to him.

  As Grace leaned close to the mirror to put on her lipstick, Lucas’s statement about being her boy toy flashed through her mind yet again. Although she knew he’d been joking, she also knew that Robert wouldn’t be above sleeping with Geraldine, if that’s what it took to clinch the deal. The only problem, she thought
wickedly, was that in his case it would undoubtedly blow his chances of ever publishing with Penbrook again.

  Wishing the boat had a full-length mirror, she backed up as far as possible, and decided that what she could see looked pretty darn good. The dress was far more romantic than she was accustomed to wearing, but when she’d first seen it in the window at Saks, she’d fallen in love with it. It had reminded her of the type of gown Cinderella might wear to the ball.

  She left the stateroom and entered the salon, where Lucas was waiting. From the way his eyes darkened as they swept over her, she decided that perhaps she’d just garnered a personal best

  “Thank you.” His voice was husky, echoing the hunger in his eyes.

  “For what?”

  “For wearing that dress.” He allowed another longer look. Above the beaded, strapless top that showed off her spectacular cleavage, her shoulders were bare, inviting a man’s touch. His lips. The long skirt was a swirl of chiffon and white lace that hinted at the wraparound legs beneath. “If I hadn’t already fallen in love with you, this would definitely clinch it.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re so shallow as to judge a woman by her looks.”

  “Of course not.” He picked up a flute of champagne he’d just poured, crossed the room and handed it to her. “I’m a sucker for brains and wit and spunk, all of which you have in spades. But the fact that you look as tasty as the whipped cream on top of a hot fudge sundae is definitely the icing on the cake, to strain a metaphor.”

  Although she considered herself reasonably attractive, Grace had never really thought of herself as a beautiful woman. Until yesterday, when she’d begun looking at herself through Lucas’s eyes. And while deep down inside she believed that he was prejudiced, Grace decided to enjoy the illusion.

  “Speaking of looking good…” It was her turn to skim a glance over him. “You’re certainly very handsome tonight.”

  That was the understatement of the century. As she took a sip of the champagne, Grace decided that taking Lucas to the dinner cruise would be like tossing him into a tank of man-eating barracudas. “Although I suppose it must come in handy in the bodyguard business, I wouldn’t have guessed that you’d have much use for a custom-tailored tux in Alaska.”

  “That’s what I was thinking when I was about to put it in the bag with the stuff for the Salvation Army. Then, at the last minute, for some reason I decided to hang on to it for a while longer. Just goes to show you can’t duck your destiny.”

  “I’ve never believed in destiny.”

  “Neither have I. Until you.”

  When she felt herself drowning in his dark eyes again, Grace wondered what would happen if they just let the cruise boat sail without them.

  “Lucas…”

  “I know. You want to take things slow.”

  “No.” She ran her fingernail around the rim of the flute as she met his now frustrated gaze with a reasonably level one of her own. “What I want is for you to drag me into your stateroom, rip this outrageously expensive dress off my body and spend the rest of the night ravishing me. And letting me do the same to you.”

  “Now there’s a plan.”

  “But I’m not an impulsive woman. I make lists of things I’m going to do every day. Then I color code the lists. My outlines for my books have been known to run nearly a hundred pages. I never buy anything without first checking with Consumer Reports and—”

  “And you never sleep with a man you’ve just met.”

  “Exactly.” She was relieved he understood.

  “Let me ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “How long did you know the Rat before you slept with him?”

  “Six months.”

  “And how long after that did you get married?”

  “Eighteen months.”

  “So, we’re talking about a total of two years, right?”

  Grace saw where he was going and tried to head him off. “That’s right, but—”

  “There’s no buts about it, Gracie. You spent two years with the Rat and you were trying so darn hard to make it work, you refused to accept what was right in front of your eyes. That the guy will never be anything but a selfi-ndulgent loser.

  “Do you have any idea how much I wish I’d known you for these past two years? Hell, I wish we’d been teenage sweethearts, because I would have loved spending hot, lazy summer nights necking with you at the Raintree Drive-in Theater and slow dancing beneath the crepe paper streamers at the senior prom.”

  “That sounds nice,” she admitted. Grace hadn’t been asked to her senior prom. Nor had she ever necked at a drive-in, although Steven Blake had once French kissed her in the back row of the theater during Star Trek IV, The Voyage Home.

  “Yeah. Real nice. Better than nice, it sounds terrific…. But the thing is, Grade, just because we missed out on all that is even more reason not to waste time now.”

  He skimmed a hand along her bare shoulder, pleased by her slight shiver. “Sometimes all the stars and planets are in the right place, the gods are generous and two people meet and click right off the bat. Like us.” He smiled down at her, with his mouth and his eyes. “And everyone knows that the gods do not take kindly to people who reject their gifts.”

  “With a line like that, I’m surprised you’ve never considered writing a book.”

  “Oh, I have.”

  “Oh?”

  She told herself she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, everyone she knew—from her hairdresser, to her grocer, to the boy who delivered the pizza during her all-night writing marathons, to the limo driver who’d picked her up at the airport yesterday—all planned to someday write the Great American Novel.

  And although she knew Lucas would never use her like Robert had, she would have preferred to discover he was the one individual in the world who wasn’t interested in becoming a rich and famous author.

  “Yeah.” He watched the range of emotions move across her expressive face and decided that although Tina Parker might not be his favorite type of female, the agent was a good match for Grace. Because left on her own, the way her gorgeous face revealed her every thought, the romance writer would undoubtedly prove a lousy negotiator.

  “I’m figuring it’ll be a small print run. One copy, just for us. And I’m going to title it Fifty Ways to Love Gracie.”

  Because she looked like an angel and smelled like heaven, but most of all because it had been too long since he’d kissed her, he lowered his mouth to a breath away from hers. Then waited.

  They stood there, his thighs pressing against the lacy white skirt, his palms smoothing her shoulders, his thumbs brushing the crest of her breasts. Lucas looking down at her, Grace looking back up at him….

  She moved first, lifting a hand to his neck, her lips to his. Her mouth was hot and hungry as she kissed him in a way that was part promise, part challenge. When her teeth nipped at his bottom lip, lust razored through him. His head swam, his legs felt as if they’d gone numb from the knees down, both physical effects undoubtedly caused by all the blood rushing to more vital places.

  “Only fifty ways?” she asked with a shaky laugh as the hard, impatient kiss ended.

  “That’s just for starters. I plan a sequel.” He took hold of her waist and went back for seconds, but she was quicker, moving out of his grasp and out of range.

  “I’ll take your proposal under editorial consideration.” Her voice was part honey, part smoke and all siren. “After the cruise.”

  It wasn’t his first choice, which was to skip the cruise and spend the night driving each other crazy. But, Lucas reminded himself, some people considered anticipation to be part of the enjoyment. Of course, some people had never kissed Grace Fairfield.

  “After the cruise,” he agreed. Because all that pale flesh was too tempting, he picked up the stole she’d dropped onto the floor and wrapped it around her fragrant shoulders.

  As they left the boat and walked along the dock to the parking lot where he�
��d left the Porsche, Lucas was whistling. Grace smiled when she recognized the tune as “Amazing Grace.”

  CHAPTER 9

  THE GLEAMING WHITE Belle of the Bay was berthed at the end of a dock at Fisherman’s Wharf. Although it was still daylight, the parking lot was beginning to fill with women dressed to the nines in beaded satins and silks, full nighttime makeup and a pirate’s ransom in jewels.

  “I feel as if I’ve just stumbled into a harem,” Lucas murmured as they walked across the asphalt lot to the three-story-tall ship.

  “You’re obviously not the only one who feels that way,” Grace said as she watched the covetous glances directed their way. Although her gown had cost a small fortune, she suspected it was not the subject of such open envy.

  “Grace! Lucas!”

  They paused at the familiar voice. Geraldine was pushing her way through the crowd. Struggling behind her was George, carrying, as usual, Dalai. The dog was clad for the formal occasion in a billowy cloud of peach chiffon and a rhinestone collar. The publisher had opted for a more classic look, choosing a stunning white silk tuxedo that set off her silver hair. She looked rich, sleek and extremely powerful, which she was.

  “Evenin’, Ms. Manning,” Lucas greeted her. “Don’t you look as pretty as a Georgia peach tonight?”

  To Grace’s amazement, Geraldine actually blushed at the compliment “Why, thank you, Mr. Kincaid. And you look incredibly dashing yourself in black tie. I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered freelancing as a cover model?”

  “No, ma’am, I haven’t.”

  “But you’d be so wonderful. With those chiseled cheekbones and your weathered, lived-in face, and that hair, not to mention your body, of course,” she murmured as she leaned back and took a long judicious tour of the body in question, as if Lucas were a prime rib roast she was considering serving up for tonight’s buffet dinner. “You’d probably do wonders for our bottom line.”