Prince Charming Undercover

by Debra Salonen

  He made the two-block walk with growing trepidation. Kids were an interesting phenomenon that hadn’t played a huge role in his life until his sister gave birth to two beautiful baby girls. He’d held them as infants and watched them grow into intriguing little people, but he’d been a somewhat distant uncle and certainly hadn’t given a lot of thought to what it would be like to have a child of his own.

  Until now.

  A kid. With Grace. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture a toddler with dark curls and a flashing smile.

  The toe of his boot caught on a knob of concrete and he stumbled. A reminder to stop daydreaming—for everyone’s sake.

  He studied Alexa’s house as he approached. The building was situated on the corner lot and sat at an angle so most of its backyard was sheltered from view. From all the horror stories he’d heard about sexual predators, Nick could appreciate the wisdom of that.

  He rang the bell.

  Alexa, holding a small child in her arms, opened the interior door. The heavy metal screen door remained closed. “Hi, Nikolai, what’s up?”

  “Looking for your mother.”

  “She isn’t here. Maya was having a bad day. There’s been a lot of that going around lately.” Her wide smile reminded him of Grace, although the two didn’t look very alike. “Mom and Liz took her to the park.” She opened the door. “Do you need to talk to her? We can try her cell.”

  He walked inside and was immediately engulfed by a mob of kids. All shapes, sizes and colors. Nick found he had to fight for balance because he couldn’t move forward without stepping on tiny toes.

  “Rita,” Alexa called. “Quick. Save him.”

  A young Hispanic-looking woman wearing an apron adorned with dancing pink and purple hippos corralled the youngsters by promising them a treat. “Who wants to make ants on a log?”

  The collective squeal made his ears ring. Alexa set down the cherub she’d been carrying, then picked up the phone. Nick only heard her side of the conversation, but he gathered Yetta was returning within the hour.

  Alexa put her hand over the receiver. “She wants to know if you could stop by the house later this evening?”

  Nick nodded. He had a couple of errands to run.

  She relayed the message then hung up. As he turned to leave, she put her hand on his forearm and said, “Could we talk?”

  A minute later, after Alexa had removed her apron and redirected two quarreling youngsters, she joined him on the front stoop. A steady stream of traffic played stop-and-go at the intersection.

  According to Grace, Alexa was thirty-five. Today, she appeared older. She used her index finger to rub a spot between her brows. “Headache?”

  “A reaction to my new medication, I think. But I’ll live.” She looked at him. “I heard you were at the hospital the other night. I guess that means you know all about my ongoing health drama.”

  “Just the basics. Sounds like something you’ve been dealing with for a while. Your sister was quite upset.”

  She rolled her shoulders. “Grace is the baby of the family. We tended to shelter her from the everyday disappointments most people experience when they’re growing up. That’s why she takes it so personally when a person—or fate—messes with her plans.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  She scratched at a dab of purple paint on the knee of her jeans. “I just wanted to say thanks for helping out. Liz said you were a calming force in the waiting room. Grace is a pacer. We love her, of course, but she has a tendency to drive the rest of us crazy.”

  He understood completely. He waited, sensing there was something else she wanted to ask him.

  “Do you smoke?”

  The question took him by surprise. “No. Why?”

  Her olive-colored skin changed hue slightly. “I used to. Before I got sick. Even a little bit afterward until Grace went ballistic one day and accused me of undermining my body’s ability to defend itself.” She smiled sadly. “Now I like to hang out with people who smoke so I can smell their clothing. God, that sounds really pathetic, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, sort of, but I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “I smoked in my twenties. Then my mom had a scare and she asked my dad and me to quit. It was no big deal for me, but my dad went through all kinds of hell. The gum. The patch. Hypnosis. He still sneaks a puff or two when he gets the chance.”

  She gave him a smile that told him she did, too. Maybe knowing they shared a secret gave him permission to ask, “Do you know where Jurek Sarna lives?”

  “Laughlin. But I don’t know where in Laughlin. Mom knows, though. Are you planning to see him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Cool. Mom didn’t say so, but I believe that was her ulterior motive in asking you to come stay with us.”

  “It was?”

  She nodded. “She feels sorry for him—being sick and an outcast from the family.”

  “An outcast? You mean he’s not welcome here?”

  Alexa shook her head. “I don’t have anything against him. Whatever happened took place a long time ago. When Mom was a baby, I think. I don’t know the whole story. Maybe you should ask her.”

  Nick left shortly after that. He returned to Claude’s and tried his parents’ number one more time, but only the machine picked up. Nick knew it was foolish to worry. They were moving into a new phase of their lives and everything would be fine. He’d be home soon. His dog was waiting for him. All he’d be leaving in Vega was a family he’d come to care about, a woman he most probably loved and a man he thought he hated.

  What if Grace is right? Maybe I did condemn Jurek without ever bothering to hear his side of the story.

  He made up his mind to ask Yetta for the older man’s address, but first, Nick had to finish the job he’d come to Vegas to do. A job that didn’t include falling for Grace.

  Grace was folding menus when a voice said, “You did it, didn’t you?”

  Grace looked up to find Kate staring at her. Her tall white chef’s hat was cocked in a rakish tilt that made Grace smile. “Did what?”

  “You know what. I can tell. You’ve got a dreamy, state-of-grace look. Did you have sex with Nikolai?”

  No. We didn’t just have sex. We made love. At least it sure felt like love to Grace. “Go away.”

  “An admission of guilt if I’ve ever heard one.”

  Grace had arrived late and had been playing catch-up ever since. Which, she told herself, was a good thing. She’d been too busy to think about what she’d done. Or the possible consequences.

  Unfortunately, this had turned out to be family night at Romantique. Every other table she seated had at least one, if not two, adorable youngsters and/or babies.

  She shoved the menus into their compartment beneath the podium and turned to face Kate. “Why aren’t you in the kitchen? You never leave mid-rush. Is the power off?”

  “Very funny. I’m letting Jo finish up. I covered for her at lunch so she could eat with her son after our meeting.”

  “Her son. Your new lawyer, right? Is he a keeper?”

  “He’s a man,” Kate said sharply. “We only talked about Ian and Maya. He seems qualified to handle my case.”

  Grace sensed there was something Kate wasn’t sharing. “Is he handsome?”

  Kate stepped back, as if prepared to flee. “Why would that matter? I hired him for his law degree not for the color of his eyes. What’s wrong with you?”

  Interesting. Defensive. Guilty? Something was up with Kate, but Grace didn’t have the emotional juice to ponder it. Her nap had helped, but it hadn’t erased the memory of Charles’s revelation, nor could sleep mute the passion she and Nikolai had shared. “You’re right. Sorry I asked. My brain is elsewhere.”

  “With Nikolai?” Kate didn’t give her time to answer. She put her hands on her hips and gave Grace a stern look. “If you’ve fallen for him, you’d better hope he plans to stay in Vegas. Your work, your commitments are here. You can’t just
fall in love and leave.”

  Grace’s temper flared, but she swallowed her reply when one of their servers—their cousin Enzo’s daughter, Babette—appeared with a question. Apparently she’d mixed up an order. The guest had eaten the meal but was now refusing to pay.

  Grace heaved a sigh. Had it been one of their regular patrons, she’d have comped the cost in a heartbeat. But the two men that Babette pointed out were strangers, and her gut told her they were only after a free meal.

  “I’ll handle it,” Grace said.

  She took her time walking to the table, greeting regulars to show how warmly her patrons were treated. The two men appeared agitated by the time she reached them.

  “Gentlemen,” she said, employing one of her well-practiced, superficial smiles. “I’m Grace Parlier. My sister and I own Romantique. Babette tells me you have a problem.”

  “No, you have a problem, lady,” said the older of the two. Probably in his mid-forties, his bulging belly displayed by a much-too-snug golf shirt, his florid face was an unhealthy shade of red. “Your girl brought my friend here the wrong food.”

  “Yeah,” his buddy said. “I ordered the veal. She gave me some chicken thing.”

  Grace looked at the computer-generated receipt. “I can see that. Chicken Saltimbocca instead of Veal Picata. You’re right. The mistake is ours, and I will gladly comp your meal.”

  She took her pen and crossed out the chicken. Her personal favorite.

  “Not good enough,” the vociferous speaker said. “I want our whole meal comped, including the wine. Your lousy service, which you just admitted to, ruined our dining experience,” he said in a way that proved to Grace he was well-practiced in this kind of scam. “Besides, the food was only so-so.”

  Grace had been dealing with the public for a long time. She took a deep calming breath. “I’m most sorry that we’ve been unable to serve you to your satisfaction. It’s always Romantique’s aim to provide our patrons with—”

  He rudely interrupted. “Yeah, whatever. I don’t give a shit about that. You screwed up, lady. We’re leaving.”

  He reached for his jacket, which was draped across the adjacent chair, but Grace used her hip to pin it in place as she pulled her cell phone from its clip on the waistband of her slacks. “Feel free,” she said, pushing buttons with slow determination. “This young lady’s father, my cousin, Enzo, will meet you at your car. Did I mention that his World Wrestling Federation name was The Barbarian?”

  The men looked at each other.

  “Enzo doesn’t take insults to his daughter too kindly. Nor does he appreciate it when some low-life scum tries to cheat his cousins out of the price of a meal.”

  “Hey,” the man barked, “if your crummy food—”

  Grace reached past him and picked up his empty plate. “The food you devoured?”

  “I was hungry enough to eat shit—that doesn’t mean I have to pay for it.”

  She glanced around, aware that other customers were following the drama. “Yes, actually, it does. It’s the law.” She put down the plate and pressed the final two numbers. “I just know he’d love to meet you, wouldn’t he, Babette?”

  The girl nodded nervously.

  “Now, listen,” the man started, his voice sounding pinched. “I don’t want no trouble. I just—”

  Grace glared at him. “You just wanted something for nothing. But my sister and I work very hard to make this place a success. We don’t take it lightly when a couple of two-bit bottom feeders show up and try to take advantage of a small, very human mistake.”

  The murmur of crowd approval swelled.

  “Yeah,” said a man from a nearby table. “Especially since I overheard you two talking about how you could screw the place out of a freebie.”

  Grace smiled her gratitude to the customer. She couldn’t remember his name but would be sure to send a bottle of wine to his table the next time he came in.

  The loudmouth jumped to his feet and pulled his wallet from his hip pocket. “Fine. Whatever.” He threw four twenties on the table. Enough to cover the price of dinner and his bar tab. “We’re outta here. And, believe me, we’re gonna tell people about how we were treated.”

  Before he could turn away a hand grabbed his shoulder, freezing him in place. “You forgot the tip.”

  Grace nearly dropped her phone, which she’d turned off to cancel the call to Liz. Nikolai? She hadn’t noticed him come in.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding,” the man complained.

  “Do I look like the type who kids?” Nikolai asked. “Y’see, me and Enzo used to wrestle together. He taught me everything I know about getting the most hurt for the least amount of effort.”

  The man’s mouth flapped soundlessly. His friend hastily tossed down another twenty. “There. That’s enough, isn’t it? She really did mix up my order.”

  Grace handed the money to Babette, who was staring at Nikolai as though he were her knight in shining armor. “And had you brought that to our attention at the time, we would have fixed it,” she said. “Now, please leave and don’t come back.”

  The men grabbed their jackets and left. The room erupted in applause. Grace made a what-can-you-do sign. “I think this calls for champagne. On the house.”

  Nikolai caught up with her at the bar. “We have to talk.”

  After she directed her servers to offer a glass of either champagne or sparkling apple juice to every guest, she pointed Nikolai to the staircase that led to her office. “I’ll meet you upstairs in a minute. I need to sign off on the drink order.” She turned away, then stopped. “Oh, and thanks for your help.”

  “It was nothing. You had it under control, but since Claude told me Enzo is in Mexico at the moment, I thought I’d try Plan B,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  Grace couldn’t bear to touch him. Not yet. She still felt too fragile, too off balance. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Grace, I’m sorry for the way we left things this afternoon. What happened probably shouldn’t have, but—”

  “Not here,” she said, stepping away. She wasn’t ready to dissect what had gone on between them. She knew she couldn’t avoid the conversation for long, but was one night to sleep on it too much to ask? “Can we save this for later? At home. Or—”

  Before she could complete the sentence, Kate appeared with a big smile on her face. “Nice save, Grace. I loved the clean-plate bit. Brilliant. And I really enjoyed the way Nikolai went after the tip. Maybe we should hire him as our bouncer. We could even come up with a diabolical name. Like Brutus.”

  Nikolai gave her a get-real look, then said, “Do you mind, Kate? I need to talk to your sister.”

  “Me, too, but I can see you’ve got dibs. When you’re done, come to the kitchen. There’s a cannoli with your name on it.”

  Grace gave in. “Fine. We’ll talk. Kate, will you sign off on my bar tab? I just bought the house a round.”

  “So I noticed. Smart way to put a positive spin on what happened. I think I’ll go have a glass myself. It’s been one of those days, hasn’t it?” She gave Grace a wink and left.

  “How ’bout you?” Grace asked, stalling. “Do you need a glass of champagne before we get into this?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Ooh, nice manners. One might think you were housebroken.”

  She marched up the flight of stairs, thankful that she’d dressed in a simple black pantsuit, instead of her usual skirt and heels. Once in her office, she put her desk between them and sat down.

  She kicked off her shoes without thinking and dug her toes into the thick pile of the carpet.

  “Nice office,” Nikolai said, looking around. “I think it’s bigger than your trailer.”

  “I share it with Kate,” she said, indicating a portioned-off workspace just beyond the filing cabinets. Adjacent to that was a large, square red-blue-and-yellow alphabet rug where Maya had spent her days as a toddler.

  A small bookcase and beanbag chair had replaced the toy b
ox and safety gate.

  “That’s Maya’s space,” she explained as Nikolai headed toward the play area. “It’s in transition until she’s ready to take over for me.”

  He laughed softly. Grace liked his laugh. Too bad she heard it so rarely.

  “So? Are we discussing what happened in my trailer or my flakiness when it comes to birth control?”

  “Neither. Like I said, I came to apologize.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He meandered back to her desk, pausing briefly to look at the family photos on the wall.

  “I acted like an ass,” he said, placing his palms flat on her desk.

  She didn’t know what to say. In all the time she and Shawn had been together, he’d never apologized—sincerely.

  “I have a bad temper,” he added.

  “You had a right to be upset.”

  “I’m as much to blame for what happened as you are.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I called my doctor. She said there’s something I can take if I’m worried about a potential pregnancy. I have seventy-two hours.”

  He sat down and put his right foot on his left knee. He was still in jeans and boots, but he’d changed into a long-sleeved shirt. One she hadn’t seen before. It looked new.

  “I really was a jerk,” he said softly. “I suppose partly because I know what it’s like to be an unwanted child.”

  Grace’s self-pity turned to contrition. Why hadn’t she guessed that was what was bothering him? So much for her highly tuned intuition. “But, Nikolai, from what Mom told us, your parents were very much in love when you were born. What if your assumption that your father didn’t want you is wrong? He was grieving. People do crazy things when they’re in pain. I know, because Mom did something stupid, too, after Dad died.”

  “Did she give away one of her kids?”

  “We were too old for that,” she said, trying to smile. “But she gave nearly every dime of Dad’s life-insurance money to Kate’s husband to invest. Unfortunately, Ian’s elaborate pyramid scheme collapsed. Then, rather than face up to what he’d done, he pocketed what was left of the money and headed for the border. Mom never would have made it so easy for him to steal the money if she’d been thinking straight.”