Countdown to a Kiss

by Mara Jacobs

  Leo was all about emotion. His dark eyes laughed, sympathized, sparked with intelligence. She’d never seen the blank look that was in them now. “You think you’re responsible for what happened,” she said slowly.

  “Dill was angry and not thinking clearly. Her diary said she wanted me to die.” His finger touched Grace’s lips, silencing the words she wanted to say. “Because of her feelings toward me, Parker died and Stravinsky got injured. Because of me, some kid won’t have the chance to learn from his mistakes. Dr. Hawkins is a good therapist and my co-workers were a hundred percent behind me, so intellectually I know that Dill is responsible for her behavior and none of what happened is my fault.” He grimaced. “It’s hard to put my head in charge on this one.”

  She didn’t even try to argue with that. Guilt was a hard nut to crack. “And so you’re steering away from any romantic involvements at work, because if they go bad, they can go really bad.”

  “That was my logic.”

  “We’ve established your head is not in charge on this issue, so your logic is questionable.”

  “Very good, Devine. If the whole special agent thing doesn’t work out for you, maybe you should try law school.” He looked faintly amused now. He leaned back and took a bite of a chocolate-covered strawberry.

  “Thank you, but I intend to be phenomenally successful as a special agent. And my name is Grace.” She wished she’d paid more attention during the psychology sections of training. She had no idea what to say that would be helpful so she opted for her honest opinion. “If you make rules for your life based on the crazy behavior of an unstable person, your rules will be crazy too.”

  “Tell me what you really think.” His tone was dry but there might have been a hint of humor in it.

  Since he asked she kept talking. “Most people aren’t psychos, Leo, so it doesn’t make sense to live your life as if they are.” She paused and modified that statement. “Okay, maybe most people have something odd about them, but they’re not dangerously damaged like Dill.”

  He took a petite brownie from her plate. He liked chocolate. “In what way are you odd?”

  “I said most people.” She took a mini-cheesecake from his in retaliation. She let him change the subject, not sure what else to say about Dill. “I happen to be one of the select few who have absolutely no little quirks in their personality.”

  “Is that so?” A corner of his lip curved up. “I seem to remember you throwing popcorn at the couple sitting two rows ahead of us during The Seven Samurai.”

  “That wasn’t odd. That was justified. The guy was watching a football game on his phone. And you didn’t have to flash your ID when he hopped the seats and grabbed my popcorn.”

  “He was going to dump the bucket over your head. I just wanted to watch the rest of the movie.”

  His smile made her smile. “So you’re really here to see Lewis?”

  “The Raleigh office called this morning and wanted to speak to you. They requested help to set up a meet between Kampmueller and the code breakers.”

  “Seriously? Lewis and the NSA?” She had a hard time wrapping her head around that one. “He’ll drive them bonkers in five minutes. He’s brilliant, but not government material. He’s not into rules and regulations.”

  Ramos shrugged. “He’s already driving the Raleigh office bonkers. He ignores their messages. I said I’d give it a try tonight.”

  “Why didn’t you just call me or text me? I would have talked to Lewis.”

  “You might still have to. But I didn’t have any plans tonight. Driving down was no big deal.”

  “Really? You expect me to believe you didn’t have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

  He pushed his plate aside and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re right. I’m not being honest. I don’t give a damn about Lewis or the NSA. I do have plans for tonight. Big plans. I intend to dance with you.”

  “You drove four hours to dance with me.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  She swallowed. Crap. This fling wasn’t going to get him out of her system. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want him out of her system.

  Leo lifted his hand and ran his thumb across her cheekbone. He liked to touch.

  “You are so soft and yet so damn tough, Grace.” His finger traced past her ear, along the line of her jaw, then followed her throat to the hollow of her collarbone. “You take my breath away.”

  Music started playing in the other room. He stood, took her hand and led her back into the ballroom.

  Chapter 9

  Leo had made the decision to come to Henderson fully aware that he didn’t give a damn that Grace worked for the FBI. He’d been telling the truth when he said his head––his intellect––hadn’t been taking the lead role in processing the shoot-out in New York. Emotion had been leading him through a crazy guilt dance––two steps forward, one step back, then do-si-do and start again. So in a way, it made perfect sense that it was emotion that pulled him out of that repeating pattern and gave him some perspective. The emotion he felt for Grace had been growing slowly, from attraction to friendship to this, without him noticing. What was between them felt strong and clean. She felt strong and clean.

  Grace led the way through the ballroom and came to a stop as they reached the edge of the dance area. Leo stopped just behind her, her back almost against his chest, close enough to breathe in her fragrance.

  Harry and Jody Devine stood in the middle of the empty dance floor, facing each other. Diamonds of light reflected off a large mirrored ball and swirled across the floor in a slow waltz, as if inviting the couple to join in. Harry leaned down and whispered something in his wife’s ear. She laughed and shook her head at him.

  Grace’s hand tightened in his. “My parents always open the dancing on the last set before midnight. The song is always the same. It’s my dad’s favorite.”

  The band began to play the opening notes of the Etta James classic “At Last.” Harry Devine took his wife in his arms and pulled her close. His eyes never left her face as he danced her around the floor.

  “Your dad is a romantic,” Leo commented as he watched the couple. Physically, Grace was a mix of both her parents. She had her father’s lean athleticism and her mother’s cheekbones and wide mouth.

  “He still buys Mom flowers for no reason and whisks her out to dinner when he knows she’s had a busy day. You know what I remember from when I was little? Every morning before he left for work, he’d kiss her.” Grace turned her head to glance at him, leaning back against his chest. Her body swayed gently to the music. “Not one of those rushed pecks on the lips, but an I-have-all-the-time-in-the-world-to-enjoy-this kind of kiss. Then he’d always say, ‘You are my divine Devine.’” Her voice held a hint of wistfulness. “Of course, all of us girls would groan and make gagging noises.” She paused and her brow wrinkled. “Or maybe that was just me.”

  “I guess it’s too late to take him out back and give him the Man Talk.”

  She gave him a light punch on the arm. “This is the song Dad requested the night he asked Mom to marry him.”

  Leo studied the man who looked with open adoration at his wife. “The Devine women should all come with a ‘Romantic Father’ warning label.”

  “You think he set our expectations too high?”

  “Hell, yes. Normal males can’t compete with that man.” Good thing he liked a challenge. “My parents don’t have a special song. I don’t think they even celebrate their anniversary.”

  “They don’t celebrate their anniversary? My parents plan theirs weeks in advance.”

  “My father says every day is a celebration of their marriage.”

  “Nice line,” Grace allowed, “but a cop-out.”

  His mom said the same thing. He searched his memories for something romantic his overworked father had done. “How about this. Every Mother’s Day, Dad would take all five of us kids out for the day. We’d go to the zoo, fishing, or sometimes over to my abuela’s. Da
d would say this was Mama’s one day to do exactly as she pleased.”

  “Yes, that’s definitely romantic,” Grace said softly. “What would your mother do on that day?”

  Leo grinned. “Boring stuff like taking a bubble bath and reading a book. Once I heard her tell Dad that she sat on the couch for a whole hour and just listened to the silence. I thought we were being mean, leaving her at home all alone.”

  He released her hand and let his arms circle her slim waist. He leaned down to murmur in her ear. “How does someone show you that you’re special, Grace? Do you want wine and roses, or would you prefer a bath and a book?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked at him, then quickly back at the dance floor. “I guess I’d like the wine and the roses set up beside the bath.”

  He was silent a moment, imagining the scene. He pulled her back, fitting her more closely against his body. “Does a book have to be part of the scenario, or will you accept a replacement?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Other couples had begun to join the Devines on the floor. He lowered his face and felt the silk of her hair against his cheek. Without another word, he turned her to face him.

  ***

  Grace stumbled slightly as Leo spun her around, but his firm arms held her upright and against his chest. The heels made her tall enough that her chin was even with his shoulder. She wasn’t conscious of the music. She didn’t even know if they danced. All she felt was the touch of his body against hers, the strong circle of his arms.

  “This is a mistake.” His voice was low. His lips moved against her ear.

  She shivered. Every nerve in her body was exquisitely attuned to this man. She pushed both hands against his chest, gaining a little distance. “What’s a mistake, our thinking we could dance together or our micro-relationship?”

  “The micro-fucking-relationship. It won’t work.”

  Okay. Quick mood change. Luckily she was a woman stuck between two sisters, so that didn’t bother her in the least. “Of course it will work. Just lose the grumpy mood.”

  Of course it wouldn’t work, but she had no intention of losing him early. Besides, given his rules about relationships, it took a lot of nerve to critique hers. “And it’s a micro-non-fucking-relationship,” she reminded him, just to be bitchy back.

  “Did you make your decision about Wolfram’s task force yet?” He didn’t take her advice to lose the grumpy.

  “Yes,” she said, and realized that she had. “I’m going to join the task force.”

  He nodded, face grim. “When will you leave Washington?”

  “I’ll give notice when I go back. It will take at least a month to close down or transfer all my cases and to pack up the apartment.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m going to miss you. Of course, I’ll miss Carter and Roberts and Baxter and all the squad.” She bit her lip and felt a tight knot in her chest. “But I’ll miss you most of all.”

  “Why do I feel like the Scarecrow about to watch Dorothy click her heels together?”

  Luckily, his sarcasm was quite effective at stemming her unwanted emotion. “Maybe because you’re missing part of your brain?” The part that was supposed to want her not to leave, that couldn’t live without her.

  “Joining the task force will be a great career move,” he said instead, both ignoring her response and proving her point.

  The music must have come to an end. People were shuffling on and off the dance floor. Leo still held her in his arms.

  “Yes.” She brushed that aside impatiently. “But it’s more than that. Probably like every other American who watched those newscasts, I want to get the Isaac Cult. But unlike most of those Americans, I have the opportunity and the training.”

  His arms dropped and he stepped back. “You won’t give up.”

  “We’re alike in that way.” It was the first thing, well, maybe the second thing, that had attracted her to him. He was persistent––a bulldog––when on a case.

  “We’re alike in another way. I put in for a transfer. I’m looking to go supervisory.”

  Bodies were moving around them, gyrating to a Lady Gaga song. “It’s about time. You’re more than ready.” Thank God she was leaving as well. The field office would have been hard with him gone.

  “The Board will have to approve any promotion.”

  “Done deal.” There was no way he wouldn’t get a promotion. The only thing holding Leo back had been Leo. “Next year is going to be a great year for us, isn’t it?” She said the words with more determination than belief.

  “It will be hard to top this year.”

  Grace did a quick year-in-review. Maybe he’d had some spectacular cases before she came to Washington in July. She lifted a questioning brow.

  He met her eyes. They were full of emotion and life. “This is the year I met you.”

  He wasn’t handing her a line. She heard the sincerity in the words. Damn him. What did he mean, saying things like that? Did he mean he valued their friendship or did he mean something more?

  Two large hands dropped on her shoulders, barely registering on her Leo-focused nerve-endings.

  “Grace, I made it.” Firm lips brushed her ear. “Your New Year’s date is here with fifteen minutes to spare.”

  Michael Wolfram was in the building.

  Fifteen minutes to midnight

  All things considered, the “break-up” went better than might be expected, given that two alpha males were involved.

  For a moment, Leo’s face wore a dark, savage look that evoked the image of an ancient Mayan warrior or––if you didn’t happen to be influenced by Ancient Mexico, a book you were reading only because Leo had mentioned his mother came from Mexico––a terrifying street thug. The look was gone in an eye blink, however, and Leo’s easy smile replaced it.

  Michael’s hands, which had tightened in response to that look, relaxed. “Ramos, why am I not surprised to see you here?”

  Leo merely nodded at Michael, then he bent over her hand with a murmured, “An adrenalin rush from start to finish,” before he faded away into the ballroom.

  Of course, he didn’t literally fade away. He stayed quite clearly in view, thanks to her suddenly much-loved heels, which raised her enough to see over Michael’s shoulder while they danced.

  Leo currently circled the floor with Aunt Helen. Her cane was stuck at an angle in his cummerbund. The band was covering a Frank Sinatra tune, or maybe it was covering Michael Bublé covering Frank Sinatra. Really, did she care? She couldn’t think about much else but Leo. He said that she left him breathless. Good friends didn’t leave each other breathless.

  “You’re stepping on my toes.” Michael’s voice interrupted her attempts to turn him in the right direction so that she could get a better view of Leo and Aunt Helen. The two had a suspicious amount to say to each other.

  “I’m sorry. What?” Grace pulled her head back and looked into his amused blue eyes.

  “I just said that to get your attention. It’s my ego, not my toes, that are taking the beating.”

  “Michael, I’m so sorry.” Grace shook her head hard, hoping to snap out of the Leo haze. All she succeeded in doing was loosening a curl from its mooring. With impatient fingers, she tucked it behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re here.” And she was. “I’ve missed you and the rest of the Chicago squad.”

  “Same here, but you know I have an ulterior motive for making this drive.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re here to recruit Lewis as well?”

  “Who’s Lewis?” Michael’s head swung to survey the room, as if searching for a likely FBI candidate.

  She scanned the room as well. “Where’s Lewis is a better question. I haven’t seen him all night, which is really unusual.” He never missed this ball. She’d have to find her mother and ask where he was. “So if you’re not here for Lewis, what’s the ulterior motive?”

  “I want to continue recruiting you of course.”

  She gave him her full attention a
t that, and smiled. How nice to be wanted, if only professionally. She really should tell him that he’d had her at the mention of the Isaac Massacres, but she might enjoy the whole recruitment thing for a while. “Just don’t let anyone know that’s your real reason for coming. My reputation has really gotten a boost tonight. It’s not every woman who has a handsome FBI agent drive almost four hours just to be her New Year’s Eve date.”

  “Then it must be even rarer for a woman to have two handsome FBI agents drive almost four hours to be her New Year’s Eve date.”

  “He didn’t come for me.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “He’s going to break my heart.” The words were matter of fact.

  “I don’t think so.” Michael pulled her closer. Grace leaned her head against his shoulder and they swayed to the music. “If he’s going to break anything, it will be one of my body parts. He’s watching us almost as much as you’re watching him.”

  “I apologize again. Watching Leo stops now. You’re my hero tonight. You’ve broken my dating curse.” Leo was watching her?

  A low vibration hummed through her body.

  “My phone.” Michael kept an arm around her as he pulled the phone out of his trouser pocket. He took a look at it and grimaced. “I’m the one who has to apologize now. First I was late to the party and now I have a call that I have to return.”

  “No problem.” Her stomach gave a familiar lurch. “Just make sure you’re back by midnight.”

  He glanced at his phone. “I have ten minutes. This will take five. Where can I find you?”

  “I’ll be waiting right by the stage. My dad does the countdown from there every year.”

  They wove through couples toward one of the short flights of steps that flanked each side of the stage. “Stay right here. I promise I’ll be back with champagne.”