Countdown to a Kiss

by Mara Jacobs

“I was there. I can confirm that.” Harry Devine joined his wife. “Why? Are you thinking of disowning us and ditching the party? Tired of losing the bet?”

  “You know about the bet?” No one but the three sisters was supposed to know. They’d sworn a secrecy oath, hadn’t they? She frowned. Her memory was fuzzy on that part. She’d talked one of the young wait staff into a couple of glasses of real champagne that night instead of her usual sparkling white grape juice.

  “Gracie-belle, most of Henderson knows about it. Your annual bet is one of the highlights of the Ball.” Her dad patted her arm.

  An acid burn started in her stomach. Losing to her sisters was one thing. Having the whole town watch her dates dump her every year brought her failure to a whole new level. Okay, that settled it. If for some reason Michael didn’t come tonight, she would kiss Lewis and then she would drown herself in the nearest punch bowl. Ramos would attend the funeral and hear what an amazing young woman she’d been, loved by all, except on New Year’s Eve.

  She felt better for having a plan.

  “Are you waiting for someone, sweetheart?” her mother asked, eyeing Grace’s hand against the car. “Your date from Washington?”

  “No, Michael won’t get here for a couple of hours. He got held up in a late meeting.” She cleared her throat. “I was just standing here admiring the…evening sky.” Okay, that was weak. But she really didn’t feel like adding shoe klutz to her title of dating loser. Tess had danced on several Broadway stages in heels and Annabelle…well, Annabelle probably slept and took showers in hers.

  Grace had every intention of mastering these suckers, even if they maimed her. She just needed her parents to go inside so she could have a few moments in private to find her balance.

  “The overcast, starless, moonless sky is very lovely.” Her mother glanced up. “And the nip in the air is certainly refreshing. However, I think we should all go inside.”

  Since the temperature was close to freezing and the wind was painfully cold, not nippy, Grace unfortunately couldn’t argue.

  The parking lot was located to the left of the clubhouse, a gracious old Southern mansion only slightly faded in glory. Warm yellow light, glowing from every window, beckoned a welcome. The pavement that stretched between the parking lot and front doors did not. Grace squared her shoulders and slowly removed her right hand from the roof of her car. She could do this.

  Her father stepped forward and with a courtly bow, offered her his arm. “May I?” he asked. Taking her left hand, he tucked her fingers in the crook of his arm. Her mother smiled and took his other arm.

  “Two beautiful women. I’m a lucky man tonight.” Harry pulled his arm tight against his ribs, allowing Grace to lean slightly against him as they began to walk.

  Squeezing his arm, Grace kissed his cheek. “I’m the lucky one.”

  Her mom leaned over with a mischievous grin. “I bet that’s exactly what Lewis will think when he sees you walk in tonight without a date.”

  ***

  Since Lewis hadn’t arrived yet, one could only guess what his thoughts would have been on her dateless entrance. Grace released her father’s arm once they had navigated the steps into the clubhouse and made her way over to the coat check on her own. She handed her jacket to one of the two teenage girls sitting behind the half door that led to the coatroom. Grace had a vague memory of babysitting for both of them in middle school. How had they grown up so fast? “Hi, Ann. Hi, Jen.” Thank you, nametags.

  “What an absolutely gorgeous dress, Grace,” Ann breathed, eyes wide. “That’s one of the newer Thela designs, isn’t it?”

  “Look closer, Ann.” Jen squinted her eyes. “That’s definitely Vera Wang. And those shoes!”

  “Are those Kate Spade’s Charm shoes?” Ann looked like she might faint.

  Her shoes had a name?

  “Ann, did Annabelle teach you nothing?” Jen threw her a disgusted look. “Those are Jimmy Choos. I’ve wanted a pair of those forever but my mom won’t buy them for me. You are so lucky, Grace.”

  “I have a job,” Grace said sternly. “Get good grades, work hard, earn money and you, too, can have Jimmy Chews.” Or, screw that advice and borrow them from Belly.

  The girls gave her an odd look but nodded. Her duty to the future generation done, Grace turned to walk across the lobby toward the long, wide hallway that led to the back of the building. On the left of the hallway was an open room dominated by a polished wooden bar. Hors d'oeuvres were set up on tables against the walls. On the right, a long row of doors led into the ballroom. Tonight they were wide open and Grace could see the twinkling lights of what looked like a blue and silver fairyland. She glanced down at her full skirts and suddenly felt like Cinderella at the ball.

  Until midnight, she would dance, visit with old friends and forget Leo Ramos. At midnight, she would kiss Michael and break her New Year’s Eve dating curse. This would be the perfect start to a fabulous new year. Really, it would. The fact that Leo was no doubt at some party not even thinking about her didn’t matter a single bit.

  She’d only made it three steps toward the ballroom when her dad called her over to a small group composed of her mom, dad, Belly and a man who must be Duncan James, Belly’s date. As soon as she saw Annabelle eyeing her critically, Grace tugged at her bodice.

  “My God, Grace. If you touch the bodice of that damn dress one more time I’m going to rip it off of you. I swear it!”

  “You and what army?” Grace asked and then shrugged. “I thought the dress was falling off.” She was not quite as blessed as her sister in the breast department.

  Belly started spouting some idiotic nonsense about wearing a dress like a gun holster (as if she had any idea how to wear a gun holster) and her dad began introductions.

  Grace ignored them both and gave Duncan her FBI stare, to which he responded with a barely concealed grin. He wore a tux like Annabelle wore a pair of heels––as if born to it. His brown eyes held a hint of devilry and more than a hint of intelligence. “You’re the hero who gave my sister her first speeding ticket.”

  “I cannot tell a lie. I was the one who gave Annabelle the ticket.”

  “Good for you.” Grace liked the look of him. He might be just the man to shake up her little sister’s well-ordered life, but he should know that if he hurt her, he’d have Grace to deal with. She held his gaze until he gave her a slight nod.

  Annabelle rolled her eyes, fully aware of the unspoken communication, and pulled Duncan off toward the bar. Grace shared a smile with her parents then turned to head to the ballroom.

  Inexplicably, her heartbeat quickened. Anything could happen once she stepped into that magical blue and silver world. Her aching feet and the awkwardness of her strange clothes faded and she felt transformed from a plain and sturdy agent into a princess.

  Anything could happen. She blinked. Including a hallucination of a dark, lean Prince Charming who looked remarkably like Ramos. She closed her eyes and opened them more slowly this time.

  The hallucination didn’t disappear. Leo stood with one shoulder propped against the wall, looking gut-wrenchingly handsome in a tux. Hands in his pant pockets, a half-smile on his face, he watched her approach with lazy intensity, his eyes never leaving her.

  Chapter 7

  “Ramos! What are you doing here? What happened? Is something wrong?” Grace held up her skirts with both hands as she hurried toward him. Then logic returned. He wouldn’t take time to dress in a tux if this was an emergency. She took a deep breath and spoke more slowly. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m on assignment.” He sounded different, distracted.

  “Assignment? Here at our ball?”

  He didn’t respond. His gaze slowly travelled her body. Starting at the softly curled hair that Annabelle had pulled back and secured with small shiny clips, he appeared to take in every detail of her appearance. He lingered on the curve where her neck met her bare shoulders, and paused again on the strapless sweetheart bodice hugging her
breasts. His stance was relaxed, yet she could sense the tension in his body as he studied the snug material that defined her waist and the wide sweep of a skirt that belled to the floor.

  He finally raised his gaze to hers and spoke in a slow, low drawl. “Devine, you’re taller.”

  The look in his eyes made her breath hitch. “No, you’ve just started to shrink.”

  He grinned and the two small dimples creased his cheeks. They were so not necessary. He didn’t need their help. It was like putting chocolate frosting on chocolate brownies. Total overkill.

  He hitched up his slacks and sank into a crouch. Before she could protest, he lifted the hem of her skirt. His dark head bent over her feet for longer than she thought the shoes warranted. She sucked in a breath when one finger traced the bone of her ankle and moved up the back of her calf. Heat shot directly up her thigh and she concentrated on not letting her knee buckle.

  “Hot damn, Devine.” He dropped the skirt and rose slowly.

  She shrugged. “Standard FBI issue. No big deal.” Her voice almost sounded normal.

  “There has never been anything standard FBI about you.” He held her gaze until she glanced away, unsure how to respond.

  “What did you say you’re doing here again?”

  Her repeated question seemed to wipe some fog from his brain and he gave his head a quick shake. “I’m on assignment. I’m here to see your kissing buddy.”

  “Lewis?” A surge of unexpected protectiveness flared. She crossed her arms under her breasts. “Exactly what do you want Lewis for?”

  “Whoa, Mama Tiger.” His tone cooled. “Exactly who is this Kamptooler to you?”

  “Kampmueller. He’s a friend.” She leaned into him just a little, an intimidation tactic learned in training.

  “A friend who kisses you every New Year’s Eve.” He leaned a little towards her, the downside of standardized training.

  “I’m well aware of that fact,” she hissed, tired of the reminders. “Let’s take out an advertisement in the New York Times. Post it on Facebook. Tweet about it. Give ‘The Kiss’ its very own Wikipedia page.”

  “I have my own Wikipedia page,” boomed a too-familiar voice. Grace sighed and backed away from Leo.

  “Aunt Helen?” She turned, hoping she was mistaken.

  “Who’d you think I was? Sophia Loren?” Her great-aunt, who was seventy-five but looked at least a hundred, cackled and stomped her cane twice on the floor. She wore a simple full-length black dress with a cowl neckline. On another person, the dress might have an understated sophistication. Aunt Helen looked like she should be stirring a black cauldron while holding a vial of bat eyes. Her laugh ended abruptly and she turned a hard look on Leo. “I’ll have you know I could have passed for Sophia in my day.”

  “I have no doubt of that. Your eyes remind me of hers.” Leo smiled.

  Leo obviously had no idea who Sophia Loren was. Grace, having been raised with repeated showings of Man of La Mancha and Houseboat while Aunt Helen babysat during her mother’s weekly golf date, knew that Sophia Loren’s big slanted eyes bore no resemblance to Aunt Helen’s beady orbs.

  “El Cid was Tío’s favorite,” Leo continued. “We watched it at least once a month.”

  “El Cid’s not bad, but it’s no Houseboat,” Aunt Helen grumped.

  “So true.” His dimples deepened.

  Even Aunt Helen couldn’t hold out against that smile. The wicked witch seemed to melt into a softer, kinder version of Aunt Helen. She raised a pink-tipped hand (Annabelle had obviously been at work) to her chest and giggled.

  At least Grace thought the rusty, grating sound coming out of her aunt’s throat was a giggle.

  “Who’s your young man?” Her aunt’s cane wacked Grace’s leg, which was thankfully padded by layers of skirt.

  “Aunt Helen, allow me to introduce you to Special Agent Leo Ramos.” Definitely not her young man. “Ramos, this is my great-aunt, Helen Galliday.”

  “Does Lewis know you brought him?” Aunt Helen demanded with a stern look.

  “I didn’t bring him, and even if I did, why would I tell Lewis?” She felt a twinge of guilt even though she knew she shouldn’t. Aunt Helen had that power.

  “You kiss him every New Year’s Eve. Since you finally snagged a date who don’t look like the running-type, seems only polite to inform the boy.”

  Grace needed alcohol, or a wall to bang her head against. She contemplated the sturdy plaster of the clubhouse wall. Definitely alcohol.

  “Grace Elizabeth, you look at me while I’m talking to you. You always go off in some kind of daze. Makes people think you’re a little touched in the head.” Aunt Helen gave Leo a pitying look. “You got your hands full with this one. She don’t have the manners of the younger gel or the talent of the oldest.”

  Grace felt heat rise in her cheeks.

  Ramos stepped over to her side and his fingers curled around hers with a firm grip. He smiled easily. “Grace got the courage. Your niece is one of the best FBI agents I’ve worked with, Ms. Galliday. Our agency motto is Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity. She sets the standard for all three of those qualities. The country is damn lucky to have her enforcing its laws.”

  His hand tightened on hers and she blinked, momentarily bereft of speech.

  “And don’t you forget it, young man.” Aunt Helen thumped her cane in front of Leo with a pleased expression on her face. “I’ve got my eye on you.” She lowered one lash in a flirty wink.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Leo’s wink back was much more successful.

  The weird noise gurgled out of Aunt Helen’s throat again and she turned and took off toward the ballroom, dragging her cane behind her.

  “Your aunt needs to take care of that phlegmy throat.” Her mother paused in front of them, her gaze following Helen. “I’ll make her a doctor’s appointment while she’s here.” She turned to Leo and smiled. “You must be Michael, Grace’s date. Welcome. I’m Jody Devine, Grace’s mother.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Devine. I’m Leo Ramos. I work with your daughter.”

  “Oh, I apologize.” Her mother gave their clasped hands a curious look that meant questions would follow when they were in private. “Of course, you’re welcome as well. I’m glad to have the opportunity to meet one of my daughter’s colleagues. I worry about her.”

  “Mom, I’ve told you that I mostly do field interviews and computer work. Don’t believe everything you see on television and in the movies.”

  Jody turned to Leo. “I remember a few years back there was a female agent who got killed in New York. It was all over the news.”

  “Katherine Dill.” Leo said the name stiffly. He dropped Grace’s hand and the shadows she had seen before flickered across his face.

  “Yes, that was her name.” She shot Grace a triumphant look, as if Leo’s confirmation gave weight to her argument. “Grace had only been in Chicago about year when that happened. I was an absolute wreck.”

  “Mom. The Dill situation was unusual. You don’t need to worry.”

  “Wait until you have children.” One of her mother’s favorite responses. Jody put a light hand on Leo’s arm. “I’m sure your mother worries about you, too.”

  Leo smiled, no trace of the earlier darkness on his face. “If I don’t text her daily that I’m still alive and breathing, she will be on the phone to the Special Agent in Charge wanting to know what happened to me.”

  Jody flashed a look at Grace. “I want that phone number.” Then she opened her clutch purse and pulled out her camera. She waved it at Grace.

  Her mother took a picture of her every year at the ball. She claimed it was the only time Grace ever dressed up. “I want to get a shot of you next to the poinsettia. This will just take a second.” Jody flashed a smile at Leo. “It’s a tradition.”

  “Traditions are important.” Leo stepped behind Jody as her mother positioned Grace next to one of the huge potted plants. A sudden commotion at the club’s entrance caused him to tur
n his head, then he moved out of Grace’s line of sight.

  “What happened?” Grace craned her neck and tried to see past her mother and the plant.

  “Don’t fidget! You’ll ruin the picture.” Jody ordered. “Someone tripped. Your friend is helping out.”

  “Is Aunt Helen anywhere near the scene?” That woman and her cane were dangerous.

  Her mother glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “I think the poor dear forgot her glasses. Probably threw off her depth perception.”

  “Who?” Aunt Helen didn’t wear glasses.

  Her mother, busy channeling Annie Leibovitz, didn’t answer. At her command, Grace dutifully turned, cocked her chin, and smiled, all the while wondering about the look on Leo’s face when he spoke Kathryn Dill’s name.

  By the time her mother finally tucked the camera away, Leo was striding back across the floor toward them. Several sets of female eyes followed his progress.

  Jody beamed a smile at him. “All done. Now, why don’t both of you get some food before the dancing starts?” She put an arm around Grace’s waist and gave her a quick hug. “I’m going to go find your father.”

  Grace waited until her mother was far enough away that she wouldn’t hear. “Are you familiar with the Katherine Dill incident?”

  “I worked with her.” His face gave nothing away. “I was in that apartment when she died.”

  Oh crap. “I’m so sorry, Ramos. That must have been an incredibly difficult time. Another agent died as well, right?”

  “Yes.” He nodded once. When it became apparent that was all he had to say on the subject, Grace reached out and rested her hand on his forearm in silent comfort. Then she changed the subject. “What do you want with Lewis?”

  Leo ignored her question. He covered her hand and brought it between them, his long fingers wrapped around hers. “Who is this Michael your mother mentioned?” His brows drew together in a sudden frown. “Is Wolfram your date tonight?”

  Really? The murder of an FBI agent and her friend’s involvement with the NSA were on the table and this is what the man wanted to talk about? “My date for the evening is none of your business, Ramos.”