Saving Grace

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “You didn’t want to knock me to the floor?”

  Incredibly, unbelievably, she felt a small laugh bubble up in her chest. “I never said that.”

  He laughed, too, a low, raspy sound in the hush of her cramped bedroom, and she tilted her head to take in the full impact of his smile. Too late, she realized their bodies were in intimate contact, chest to chest, knee to knee. Only a shadow of a breath hovered between them.

  She should back away. Now.

  Before her body could translate the thought into action, though, he sighed out a breath, then bent his head and brushed his lips over hers with aching gentleness.

  For a few seconds, she was too stunned to withdraw from his soft assault. Then, before she could marshal her defenses, a slow, insidious heat uncurled in her stomach, poured through her limbs like smoke.

  Inch by agonizing inch, her body began a long, painful thaw.

  How long had it been since she’d felt the sizzle of a man’s kiss? Since she’d been made to feel so…wanted?

  She couldn’t even begin to remember. After the illicit liaison that had ended in pregnancy when she was sixteen—after she had finally given in to weeks of persuasion and surrendered her innocence to Alex Rosales—her serious relationships had been few and far between.

  She’d had more important things to worry about, juggling career and home and Marisa as a young single mother, with little time for romantic entanglements.

  Even if she had wanted them, she’d also never had that many opportunities. Cops generally associated with three classes of people: perpetrators, victims and other cops. She’d had no desire to become involved with someone from any of those demographics.

  That inexperience must be why Dugan’s touch affected her so powerfully. Why the hardness of his muscles against her, around her, muddled her thoughts and tangled up her breath.

  She fought it for a moment, then realized she was losing ground. He had such warmth, such life, and she wanted nothing more than to stay right here and steal some of it for herself.

  She closed her eyes and decided to give in to his kiss. Just for a moment, she promised herself. Just long enough to get it out of her system so she could concentrate on the case against him.

  His mouth was warm and fluid on hers and tasted like cinnamon candy. He feathered soft kisses at the corners of her mouth and she couldn’t prevent her lips from parting just enough to let him in.

  The heat of his breath, the slick feel of his mouth on hers, took away the remaining fragments of reason. Everything faded away, leaving only this: his taste, his scent, his touch.

  He pulled her even closer and she felt surrounded by him, engulfed by him. Without even being aware of it, she sagged against him with a soft, aroused moan.

  The sound was just enough to sink through her subconscious. Her eyes flew open as she realized what she was doing, that their mouths were deeply entangled, that her body was wrapped around him and crying out for more.

  Horrified, she scrambled away, backing up until her legs hit the bed, and sucked in a ragged breath.

  What was she thinking? She was kissing Jack Dugan! And not just kissing him, but enjoying it. Savoring it. She had been oblivious to the world, lost in the hot mystery of his mouth, of his touch.

  She seriously needed to have her head examined.

  She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, as if she could rub away the feel and taste of him that still lingered there, while fury and, worse, sick humiliation burned in her chest.

  What kind of woman was she to burn in the arms of a man who might be a heartless criminal?

  “What the hell was that all about?” She wanted to snap at him, but it came out sounding more like a croak.

  He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, looking as relaxed as if he’d just stepped out of a sauna. “About two people who share a powerful attraction to each other seizing the moment when it comes along.”

  “I’m not attracted to you,” she lied. “Not in the slightest. Not one teeny tiny iota. In fact, I couldn’t be any less attracted to you.”

  Grace, shut up! She snapped her teeth together when she realized she was protesting much too vehemently.

  He raised an eyebrow. “My mistake, then.”

  “It was. A mistake, I mean.” She drew in another ragged breath. “A mistake we can’t allow to happen again.”

  “Can’t we?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” She rubbed her hands on the thick cotton of her borrowed jeans. “Look, I’m serious about this, Dugan. I’m not interested in any kind of…of fling with you. I mean it. If you can’t keep yourself from ‘seizing the moment,’ as you called it, I won’t be able to work for you.”

  He studied her out of those mesmerizing green eyes for a moment, then to her surprise, he nodded. “You’re right. I was out of line. I hope this won’t affect our working relationship.”

  She almost laughed. How could it not affect their working relationship? She had tasted his mouth, tangled her fingers in his hair, absorbed the strength of his body against her.

  She had a feeling things would never be the same again.

  * * *

  She hid from him successfully for three days.

  No. Not hid from him. She frowned, disliking the implications of the word. That somehow she was afraid to face him and what had happened back at her apartment. It wasn’t like that. She avoided him, that’s all.

  When he wasn’t in the city at his office, she stayed in her room, taking her meals there and spending the evenings reading or watching inane television shows.

  She even managed to keep her mind from dwelling on the hard strength of his mouth on hers back at her apartment, on that wild rush of feeling that had threatened to overwhelm her.

  Most of the time, anyway.

  So she spent every night alternating between tossing and turning in that big oak and wrought-iron bed or standing at the window with her arms wrapped around herself, looking out at the city lights reflected across the water of the Sound. So what?

  It had nothing to do with Jack Dugan or his seductive touch. Or the life and heat that had flowed back through her for the first time in a year when she had been in his arms.

  She pushed the memory away along with the elaborate breakfast Lily delivered a few minutes earlier. She wasn’t going to dwell on it anymore. She had spent enough time obsessing, trying to figure out what would compel her to let him kiss her.

  And, she admitted to herself, to return his kiss with an eagerness that still stunned her.

  There were a million reasons why their kiss had been a colossal mistake. She was staying at his house to spy on him, for heaven’s sake. That was certainly reason enough.

  But even if he wasn’t the key suspect in an arms dealing ring, she could never consider becoming involved with him. Yes, she was attracted to him, with a ferocity that alarmed her. But not enough to forget the little five-year-old reason she could never let herself care about Jack Dugan, even if the situation had been different.

  Emma, his sweet little girl, whose very presence stabbed a knife into her heart again and again and again.

  To her relief, after two days his daughter seemed to finally tire of Grace’s repeated refusals to play with her. The morning before, she had given her one last mournful look when Grace told her she would be too busy all day, and then the little girl left her in blessed, Emma-free peace.

  She knew she would have to face both of them, and soon. She wasn’t helping Beau’s investigation at all while she was holed up here in her room, and Jack was probably beginning to wonder exactly what she was doing to earn her paycheck.

  Besides, it wasn’t in her nature to hide out. Well, okay, it might have been once, she conceded, but she had buried that meek, dutiful girl a long time ago. Since the moment she had found herself pregnant and alone at sixteen, with no home and no family left after Aunt Tia kicked her out of the house, she had determined that she would never again be that docile, submissive girl.


  Where had it gotten her, after all? She had tried hard to do everything right for eight years, had been just the kind of pious little saint her aunt had demanded as the price for taking in a frightened orphan. An orphan who had no memory of the mother who had died when she was an infant and who had lost her father suddenly and violently.

  She had sat through hour after hour of prayers with Tia, had gone to confession every single day because her aunt required it, had buried every impulsive, emotional impulse in a vain effort to earn the woman’s approval.

  It had all been for nothing. Because of one slip in judgment—she refused to call Marisa a mistake—she realized all of it had been for nothing.

  No, she wouldn’t hide out here simply because Jack Dugan had kissed her with such devastating thoroughness.

  She would start now, she decided. She would march out there and act as if nothing had happened three days ago. She would concentrate only on the case, on doing what she could to bring him to justice.

  She needed to see GSI, she decided, to get a feel for the layout of the place and the people who worked there. He had asked her to examine security at the company as well as his home, so she knew he wouldn’t find it unusual when she asked to go with him.

  She would tell him about what she’d been doing the last three days with his security system, then tell him she was ready to turn her attentions to GSI to help her see the whole picture.

  But before she could do anything, she would have to find him. And when she did, she was going to purge from her mind any lingering, haunting memory of their heated embrace.

  Completely.

  With firm resolve, she opened the door and plowed headfirst into a hard, muscled chest.

  CHAPTER 8

  Jack’s hands automatically went to her arms to help her maintain her balance when she came barreling out of her bedroom. Her skin was warm and soft under his fingers and he nearly forgot his vow to give her the space she so obviously needed.

  For once she wasn’t in borrowed clothes but wore tailored gabardine slacks and a silk short-sleeved sweater in pale yellow. She’d pulled that thick sable hair into a style she probably thought looked professional and competent. Instead, he briefly entertained several racy fantasies of pulling it loose to watch those dark curls pool around her naked shoulders.

  She looked ice-cream cool and good enough to swallow whole.

  He dropped his hands and curled them into fists to keep from reaching for her again. “Where are you off to in such a hurry this morning?”

  She stepped back a pace. “Actually, I was on my way to find you.”

  “Me?”

  She wiped her hands down her tailored slacks, making him wonder if she could possibly be as edgy around him as he was around her. The thought gave him an optimism he knew was probably totally unwarranted.

  “I…yes. I’ve finished going through your security system here at the house. I have a few changes I’d like to see you implement.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, a lot of changes, actually.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  She twisted that delectable mouth into a frown and he found himself watching in fascination as the tiny little beauty mark at the corner of her lips moved.

  “Worse,” she said briskly, and he snapped his attention back to her words. “I’m surprised you don’t have every crook in Seattle knocking down your door. You need much more than just that one paltry little intrusion alarm you have now.”

  “Do I?”

  “At the very least you should set up video surveillance, both inside and outside. The security company you’re already using probably can provide you with an updated system. I would also advise motion sensors around the perimeter of your property, especially on the waterfront. Anybody with an outboard motor can access the house that way.”

  What about armed guards and slavering Doberman pinschers? He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, hating the idea of living in a damn prison but knowing it was necessary, at least until Emma’s kidnappers were caught. “Feel free to change whatever you think is best. That’s why I hired you.”

  “Of course, before I make any major changes, I’ll run them past you.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I trust you to do what you think is best.”

  She lifted those big dark eyes to his. “There’s your first mistake, Dugan. You shouldn’t trust anyone.”

  The cynicism in her eyes bothered him, for reasons he couldn’t explain. Why should it, after all? For the most part, he shared that same attitude—that in general, he couldn’t count on anyone but himself. He gave his trust to very few people. Lily and Tiny and Piper would just about fill the list.

  But when he did decide to trust someone, he did it with absolute faith.

  He couldn’t imagine having no one at all.

  “You’re being a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

  “You’re a very wealthy man. Surely people have tried to take advantage of you before this kidnapping.”

  He thought of Camille and her selfishness. “Yeah,” he murmured. “A few times. But that doesn’t mean everyone has some hidden agenda.”

  She met his gaze coolly. “Take it from a cop, Dugan. Everyone has something to hide.”

  “Even you?”

  Her brown eyes shifted away and focused on the bleached pine planks under their feet. “Especially me.”

  She didn’t elaborate. He would have asked her what she meant but she interrupted him before he had a chance.

  “Actually,” she said, “I was thinking today would be a good chance to go into the city with you and have you show me around GSI. If you’re not too busy, anyway.”

  He paged through his mental schedule. He had several appointments scheduled with a group of Korean computer manufacturers who wanted to give GSI exclusive rights to import their product to the U.S.

  But he thought he could spare her a few hours first thing in the morning. After he showed her around, he could give her free rein to talk to Piper or Sydney and they could fill her in on anything she needed to know.

  “That could work,” he said after a pause. “I’ll be leaving in about fifteen minutes. Can you be ready by then?”

  She nodded.

  “Great. I’ll meet you out front.”

  He wasn’t sure spending even a few hours with Grace Solarez was the smartest of ideas, especially with this cool distance she seemed to want between them. But what could he say about it?

  He had hired her to improve security here and at GSI and he couldn’t very well prevent her from doing her job just because he was having one hell of a struggle keeping his hands to himself.

  * * *

  A little more than an hour later, Grace climbed out of the luxurious expanse of his sports car onto hard tarmac. She suddenly could relate to the way she imagined convicts must feel when they experienced freedom after years on the inside.

  The morning had barely started but she was already exhausted after spending an hour alone with Jack Dugan in the close confines of his car, trying to keep this cool, professional attitude in place when all she could remember was the way his mouth had tasted of cinnamon and the life that had flowed through her while she was in his arms.

  She forced her mind away from such dangerous territory and concentrated instead on the cluster of hangars, each bearing the distinctive company logo—an elegant line drawing of the world with “GSI” intertwined through the continents. The buildings gleamed in the sun, fresh-scrubbed and shiny and not at all the way she would have pictured the command center of a multi-national smuggling ring.

  It might not be, she reminded herself. Innocent until proven guilty.

  And that’s exactly what she intended to do. Prove him guilty.

  “Very impressive,” she murmured when Dugan came around the length of the car and joined her.

  “Thanks. I’m pretty proud of it. Come on and I’ll introduce you around and then let you get to work on the security system.” />
  She followed him into the hangar, which seemed much larger inside than out. It was a huge, cavernous warehouse-like area with metal walls and concrete floors, and she was immediately assaulted with the thick, not unpleasant smell of oiled machinery.

  A row of glass and chrome offices marched down the length of one wall but the only people around seemed to consist of a crew of three men and one woman who climbed like monkeys over a huge black jet. A maintenance crew, she assumed.

  As soon as they walked into the building, a well-dressed man in his late-fifties broke off his conversation with one of the crew members and hurried toward them.

  Something about him reminded her of several of the detectives she’d worked with on the job who tried to look much younger than their age and clung desperately to a long-ago youth.

  “Man, are you in trouble!” the man shook his head and his hair that had to owe its dark sheen to some artificial agent gleamed in the fluorescent overhead lights. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago. Syd’s having a major cow looking for you.”

  Jack frowned and checked his watch. “I don’t have anything scheduled until noon. That should give me at least another hour.”

  “All I know is she came in here hotter than you-know-what. Says the Koreans came early and they’re all waiting in her office.”

  Jack winced and muttered an oath. After a moment, he turned to Grace, his expression apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I really can’t get out of this. I’m afraid I’m going to have to abandon you for a while, but I’ll do my best to hold the meeting to an hour or so.”

  “Don’t cut things short on my account.”

  “If you don’t want to wait around for me you’re welcome to drive the car back across the ferry.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and tossed them to her.

  She caught them in midair. “I don’t mind. I can take care of myself, Dugan. I’ve been doing it for a long time. This will give me a chance to look around on my own.”

  And do a little snooping while I’m at it.

  “Great.” With a distracted smile, he started walking away, then added over his shoulder, “Just ask Piper here for anything you need. Oh, Piper, this is Grace Solarez. Grace, Piper McCall, my partner. He knows as much about the company as I do.”