Kitabı oku: «The By Request Collection», sayfa 18
“Okay,” she said, but still felt lousy for bringing it up in the first place. It was against her nature to hurt people, and when she did, she always felt awful. She was sure that right now she felt far worse for saying what she’d said than he had hearing it. Or maybe not.
They pulled up to the restaurant, a seafood and steak house that was receiving rave reviews, and the valet opened her door. Roman handed over his keys and they walked inside.
It would have made her night if he had taken her hand as they walked in, but friends didn’t do that sort of thing. She couldn’t be seen with him in public, looking so close and intimate. She could just imagine the chatter and gossip that would surely follow. Honestly it would be better if they weren’t seen in public together at all. The last thing she wanted was for this to get complicated.
The hostess greeted Roman by name and took their coats, then led them immediately to a table in a dimly lit enclosed patio away from the chatter, with a stunning view of Lake Michigan. The night sky was clear and the surface of the choppy water shimmered in the moonlight.
A candle illuminated the cloth-covered table, and rose petals lay scattered across the surface. Champagne sat chilling in a silver bucket beside it, and a single long-stem rose lay across her napkin.
Simple and elegant, and it stole her breath. This kind of gesture was the last thing she had expected from a “friend.”
Just getting the reservation must have been a feat. She knew for a fact that they were booked months in advance, and anyone getting in on a few days’ notice had to have some pull. And they were sitting in the absolute prime seats of the establishment.
Roman had pulled out all of the stops and she had nearly ruined the night with her big mouth, by making him feel bad for something he already clearly regretted. Though she hated to admit it, there were times when bits of her father came out in her own personality. She loved him, and respected him as a businessman. But as a person, he’d done nothing but let her down, and served as a terrible example of how a man should be. Which was probably why she’d been so attracted to Roman. He couldn’t have been more different than Sutton in practically every way.
Their waiter, a youngish and very attractive guy—probably a college student—appeared immediately. He greeted Roman by name, offered them each a leather-bound menu and poured the champagne. Without even looking at the menu Roman ordered what had always been her favorite appetizer. Though she considered herself a modern and independent woman, knowing that Roman still knew her so well, she didn’t mind that he’d ordered without asking what she wanted.
“To new beginnings,” he said, toasting the night with a gentle clink of the delicate crystal flutes.
She took a sip then set her glass down. “I’m curious. How did you get a reservation here?”
“You’re not the only one who knows people,” he said with a grin, opening his menu. “What are you in the mood for?”
A slow smile curled her lips and he didn’t even have to ask what she was thinking.
His eyes growing dark with desire, he said, “Sweetheart, that’s dessert.”
“Grace!”
Hearing her name being called, she turned to see Dax approaching their table. Roman frowned. Though she was sure he hadn’t meant to, Dax had just killed what had been a very special, and very sensual, moment. Dax had called her a dozen times that week, on both her work and private lines. She’d had her assistant take a message, or let it go to voice mail, as her week had been too busy to get caught up in another one of the “projects” he always seemed to have on the back burner. Usually she didn’t mind his enthusiasm. She’d enjoyed working on his campaign. But it seemed that the more time she devoted to his causes, the more he expected from her.
“I was beginning to worry when you didn’t get back to me,” he said, all but ignoring Roman, who she could see was not at all happy with the rude interruption. And neither was she. Normally she would have risen and greeted Dax with a platonic hug, or air-kissed him on each cheek, but this time she stayed put.
But he was being a typical self-centered, pushy politician, she supposed.
“I’ve been very busy,” she told Dax, her irritation growing as he placed a heavy hand on her bare shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“I have some ideas I need to run past you for an event I’d like to sponsor.”
“This is a very busy time for me,” she said, hoping to brush him off. “Call my assistant. Maybe she can squeeze you in after the holidays.”
His smile never faltered. “I have a better idea. We’ll meet for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Was he asking her or telling her? Either way, the answer was no. “I’m busy tomorrow.”
He wasn’t swayed. “All right, Sunday, then.”
What the hell was wrong with Dax? He was almost acting as if they were an item. Or as if he was deliberately trying to piss off Roman, and sabotage their evening. And Roman was seriously pissed off. His jaw was tense, and she could see that he wanted to interject. He glanced at her questioningly and she shot him a look that she hoped said, let me handle it.
Turning to Dax, she was firm, but polite. “Dax, I don’t mean to be rude, but I just want to have a quiet evening with a friend. Call my assistant and I’ll see what I can do.”
He gave her shoulder another firm squeeze and she fought the urge to shrug his hand off, or bat it away. It wasn’t like him to be so forward. Not with her anyway. Maybe Roman was right and Dax had set his sights on her. But she wasn’t interested. Not even the least little bit. Sure, they had seen each other socially a few times, and had worked together, but she had never led him to believe she had any romantic intentions. If that’s what he thought, he couldn’t have been more mistaken.
“We’ll talk next week,” he said. He didn’t ask, he all but demanded. And she didn’t justify it with a response. She just wanted him to leave.
When he finally removed his hand, the ghost of his touch made her feel so...icky. And he walked off having never even acknowledged that Roman was there.
So much for his respect for a true war hero.
“I’m so sorry, Roman. I’m not sure why Dax just did that. If I didn’t know better I would say that he was jealous. Or trying to make you jealous.”
“You know what I think,” he said, sounding irritated.
She did, and she was beginning to believe he was right. “If he’s looking for something beyond a professional relationship, I’m not interested. And if he thinks that kind of behavior is appropriate in any way, he had better start looking for a new volunteer.”
“Good,” Roman said, sounding relieved. “I don’t trust him.”
Right now, neither did she. “I could see that you wanted to say something to him.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Roman said. “Let’s just say that he’s lucky he left when he did.”
“Well, thank you for letting me handle it.”
“I didn’t feel like it was my place,” he said. “As your friend.”
She could swear he almost sounded hurt. Or disappointed. They had agreed to this arrangement. Did this mean he wanted more? Or was she just imagining things?
And if he did want more, how did she feel about that? Maybe she wanted more, too, if she could shake off her apprehension? He had been nothing but honest and up front with her, and had never made any excuses for his betrayal seven years ago. And she now truly believed that he had nothing to do with the recent slurs against her family. He was a good man, and a good friend. So why was she clinging so firmly to that last shred of resentment?
Just let it go and enjoy the night, and what you do have together, she told herself. Don’t overthink it. Keep it simple.
“I don’t want this to ruin our evening,” she said.
“Neither do I.”
She lowered her voice and added, “Just so we’re clear, the only one getting into my panties is you.” She paused, then said, “Though that could be a problem tonight.”
“And why is that?”
She leaned forward, flashing him a sexy grin. “Because I’m not wearing any.”
Nine
Roman was pretty sure Grace was kidding when she made the crack about not wearing panties. She was using it as a way to dispel the tension of the senator’s rude interruption. Whether it was true or not, it worked.
Dax could have potentially ruined their evening, but Gracie didn’t let that happen. She seemed just as disgusted by the senator’s unnecessary intrusion as Roman was. And she finally seemed to be seeing the man for who he really was: a narcissistic, manipulative creep who had more on his mind than campaigns and fund-raising. After his stunt last Friday at the fund-raiser, Roman didn’t want him within a hundred yards of Gracie.
He hoped she meant what she said and this would be the push she needed to stop working with Dax altogether. Roman had done a little digging, and asked around, and though he hadn’t found anything outwardly corrupt in the senator’s dealings, the general consensus seemed to be that the man was as crooked as they come—just very good at hiding it.
And though Roman tried not to let it show, he was jealous. When the senator put his hand on Gracie’s shoulder Roman had caught himself clenching his fists. He didn’t condone violence, but if they hadn’t been in a crowded restaurant, his natural instinct to protect her would have left the senator with a broken hand.
But he’d let it go and they were able to eat and talk and enjoy each other’s company the way they used to. He wanted to reach across the table and hold her hand, but he had to settle for a discreet game of footsie. But she took it a step further when she nudged out of her shoe and slid her foot up his leg. He nearly choked on his lobster when she slid her foot up his thigh and used her toes to play around in his crotch. He shot her a look, and she’d replied with a wicked grin. She was playing with fire and loving the hell out of it. Which only turned him on more. He slipped his hand under the table and stroked the arch of her foot and a fire lit in her eyes.
By the time they finished dinner, and the waiter asked if they wanted dessert, the only thing he had a taste for was her. He paid the bill and they waited impatiently as the valet brought the car around. Her back was to the valet stand, and there was no one around, so he reached up under her coat and copped a quick feel for a panty line, but couldn’t find one. She smiled up at him and said, “Told ya.”
When they were in the car, she took his hand and guided it under her dress.
Nope, definitely no panties that he could feel. Just soft, smooth skin, and she was already moist with arousal.
He cursed under his breath, his crotch tight.
“Are you as turned on as I am?” she asked.
“You tell me,” he said taking her hand and guiding it to his zipper, hissing out a breath as she stroked him through his slacks.
“Drive,” she said. “Fast.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had to shift gears, he would have kept his hand between her legs, but he tried to behave. Her, not so much. She leaned over and kissed him and he got so carried away the car behind him had to honk to get his attention when the light turned green.
Her place was closer by a good twenty minutes so he drove there. And rather than wait for the elevator, they took the stairs up to her fourth-floor loft. With her spiked heels slowing her down he got impatient at the second-floor landing. So he lifted her up, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her the rest of the way. It must have been a huge turn-on because they barely made it through the door before she shoved his coat down his arms and tugged at his belt. She unfastened his pants, shoved him against the door and dropped to her knees right there in the foyer. He groaned as she took him deep into her mouth, but he was so fired up he couldn’t stand it for more than a minute or two before he had to stop her. Taking his own pleasure before hers was not, and never had been, an option.
When they made it to the bedroom she pulled her dress off and he discovered that not only was she not wearing panties, she didn’t have a bra on, either. Just a pair of silky thigh-high stockings. Black, his personal favorite. With her tousled hair and flushed skin she looked like something out of a sexual fantasy. He had planned to make love to her, slow and sweet, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. Not this time.
So instead he shed the rest of his clothes, picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. She tried to pull him down on top of her, but he pinned her arms at her sides and buried his face between her thighs. She gasped and arched upward, curling her fingers into the covers. She was sweeter and more delicious than anything on the menu at the restaurant. And she was so turned on it couldn’t have been thirty seconds before she moaned and shuddered and thrust her hips up as she shattered. She barely had time to catch her breath before she was up on her knees, pushing him onto his back.
He was hoping to take things a little bit slower but she was a woman on a mission. There was no stopping Gracie as she climbed on top of him, taking him deep inside of her. And it felt so damned good he didn’t want to stop her. She was so hot and wet he had to dig extra deep to find the will and the control not to lose it instantly.
Head back, eyes closed, lost in her own world, she rode him hard and fast, bracing her hands on his chest, digging her nails into his skin. He gripped her hips, tried to slow her down, but it was already too late. He could feel the coil of pleasure pull tight in his groin, until it was almost too much to take, then let go in a hot rush.
He rode out the storm, and when he opened his eyes Gracie was smiling down at him. And all he could say was “Wow.”
She laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Did you make it in time?”
She smiled and nodded.
“I tried to hold back.”
“I know you did, and seeing you lose control made me lose control.” She settled down on his chest, her skin hot against his. “That was incredible.”
Yes, it was. But every time with her, no matter how they did it, was incredible. Fast, slow, he didn’t care. As long as he was close to her. “I didn’t really do much.”
“Sometimes it’s okay to just lie there and enjoy it,” she said. “Let me do all the work.”
He could live with that. “Well, it was the perfect end to a perfect evening.”
Her laugh was a wry one. “Oh, but we’re not done. Not even close. In fact...”
She got that devilish gleam in her eye, the one that said she was up to something. “I’ll be right back,” she told him, jumping off the bed and bolting from the room, then called over her shoulder, “Don’t go anywhere.”
Yeah, right. Like he had the energy to move. He could barely breathe.
He closed his eyes, trying not to fall asleep. He hadn’t done any of the work, so why was he so wiped out?
“I’m back,” she said several seconds later.
He opened his eyes and lifted his head.
She stood in the doorway, naked and flushed and sexy as hell, those damned thigh highs hugging her perfect legs just right. Holding a bottle of chocolate syrup in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other, she grinned as she said, “How about a little dessert?”
* * *
The following Monday, Gracie sat at her drawing table in her studio, trying to sketch out a few pieces for next year’s fall line, but she couldn’t concentrate. Typically the view of the Chicago skyline out the long stretch of floor-to-ceiling windows was all she needed to inspire her, but it wasn’t working today.
Today, she couldn’t keep her mind off Roman.
He was all she seemed to think about lately. And not the way a friend should be thinking about another friend. Her feelings for him seemed to be spiraling out of control, and as much as it scared her, she’d never felt so alive and happy in her life. Or more conflicted. Why is it the two always seemed to go hand in hand?
Hard as she tried to stick to the friends-with-benefits arrangement, her heart would have no part of it. And she’d gone and done exactly what she promised herself she wouldn’t do. She’d started to fall in love with him again. And she was pretty sure, knowing Roman the way she did, that he was falling for her, too.
It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t even sane. And to call it complicated didn’t adequately describe what they would be getting themselves into if they took the next step.
A knock on her studio door had her looking up from her half-finished sketch. When the door opened and her sister Eve popped her head in, Gracie smiled.
“You busy?” Eve asked.
“Actually your timing is perfect,” Gracie said, tossing her pencil onto her drawing table. “I could use a break.”
Eve crossed the room to look over Gracie’s shoulder at the sketch she’d been trying to complete. “Nice.”
“Thanks.”
“It still blows me away at times how talented you are. You definitely got all the artistic talent in the family. I still draw like a third grader.”
“What brings you to my side of town?” Gracie asked.
“Oh, I just thought I would stop in and say hi.”
Gracie frowned. Eve was a very busy woman. She never just stopped in. If she went out of her way to drop by, she had a good reason to be there.
“Is everything okay with Sutton?”
“I talked to his nurse earlier and she said he’s having a rough day, but he’s stable.”
“So what is it?”
“What is what?” Eve asked, going for a nonchalant look and failing miserably. “Can’t I pay a visit to my baby sister?”
“Nope. You pretty much always have a reason. You might as well just tell me what it is.” Though she was pretty sure she already knew what was bothering her sister.
“I’m worried about you, Grace.”
“Worried about what?”
“You and Roman.”
“Roman and I are friends.”
“He almost ruined us.”
“It was a long time ago, and he had nothing to do with the recent accusations. That was all Brooks.”
“So what you’re saying is, you trust him?”
“I do,” she said.
Her sister eyed her cautiously. “Completely.”
“Yes,” Grace said, with not even a hint of reservation, and realized it was true. She really did trust him.
“Are you in love with him?”
Again there was no hesitation in her reply. “Yes, I’m in love with him.”
Eve’s troubled look didn’t bode well, so Grace tried to explain.
“I know it probably doesn’t make much sense to you. Hell, it doesn’t make much sense to me, either. All I know is that everything inside me is screaming that he and I are supposed to be together. And though he’s never come right out and said it, I think he feels the same way. We’re just so...good together. I don’t know how else to explain it. Even knowing that it could cause discord in the family, I still want him. And need him.”
“I want you to be happy, Grace. We all do. And though I do have my reservations about Roman, I trust you, and I think that over time, after he proves himself, we’ll learn to trust Roman, too. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
Eve took a deep breath and nodded, looking relieved. “Good. I guess I needed to hear that from you. I needed to see how sure you are. Because if you were still having reservations I had every intention of talking you out of seeing him, before you got in over your head.”
Honestly she was already in over her head that first day in Sutton’s office.
“There is something else I wanted to talk about,” Eve said. “Daddy and I spoke last night and he’s made the decision to change his will to include Carson.”
Carson may have been a Newport, but he was just as much a Winchester. He was their brother, which gave him just as much right to the Winchester fortune as her and her sisters. The actions of his parents were in no way his fault, and as such it would be wrong to hold that against him.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Grace said.
Eve smiled and nodded. “I figured you would say that. I had my reservations at first, but I think you’re right.”
“How does Nora feel?” she asked, though Gracie was sure she already knew. Nora cared deeply about people, and had never taken any interest in money or power.
“She feels the way you do. I guess I was the only holdout. But he is our brother. Our blood. My only concern was that Brooks would use him to get what he wants, but now that I’ve gotten to know Carson I don’t think that will happen. Graham said that Sutton’s willingness to help them find their father, and the kindness he showed Cynthia in her time of need, has Brooks rethinking his priorities, and letting go of the bitterness.”
“I know it’s our legacy, and we should honor that, but in the end, it’s only money.”
“Guess we’ll just have to hang in there and see what the future brings,” Eve said.
Though her future was still hazy, one thing Gracie knew for sure was that hers would be a happy one.
* * *
In the world of private investigation, after months of dead ends there was nothing more satisfying than solving a case. And thanks to Sutton and his burst of conscience, less than a week after their meeting with the Newport boys, Roman now knew the identity of Graham and Brooks’s father.
And the only thing more satisfying than solving the case was delivering the good news to the client.
Roman arranged a meeting for Wednesday morning, telling the brothers that he had information, and nothing more. This was news he wanted to deliver in person.
As he’d expected, the men showed up right on time. Roman’s secretary showed them into the conference room at exactly 10:00 a.m. They walked in together looking anxious, and not at all as though they wanted to kill each other this time. Roman suspected that learning the truth about their mother had reminded them of the common ground they shared, and they had begun to repair their relationship. According to Gracie, who had talked to her sister Eve, Brooks had been very humbled by the truth and had begun to reevaluate his priorities, and his opinion of the man who’d essentially saved his mother’s life.
Roman rose from his chair at the head of the table and shook both men’s hands before he said, “Have a seat, gentlemen. Can I interest either of you in a beverage? Coffee? Water?”
The brothers declined with a shake of their heads, and rather than sitting on opposite sides of the table, sat side by side.
“So, you said you have information,” Brooks said. “What do you know?”
Roman slid the file across his desk. “Your father’s name is Beau Preston. He owns a horse ranch in Texas called the Lookaway.”
“That was fast,” Brooks said, looking as if he thought it was too good to be true. He opened the file so he and his brother could both read it.
“Cool Springs, Texas, is not a big place,” Roman told them. “Once we knew where to look, and what to look for, the information was right there. It took some time, though, because the town doesn’t even have a website.”
“There isn’t much here,” Graham said.
“Unfortunately the town hasn’t yet progressed into the digital age, so details are hard to come by. I wasn’t sure how deep you wanted me to dig. I can get you more, but I’ll have to send someone there, and in a town that small it won’t be a covert operation. If there’s a stranger there asking questions, word will probably spread fast. I wasn’t sure if that’s the way you want this to go down. Do you want your father to learn about you from the grapevine, or from his sons?”
Graham turned to his brother. “It’s up to you, Brooks. This is your obsession.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to know?”
“No, I’m saying that this means more to you than it does to me. Do I want to know more? Absolutely. But I think that he should hear the truth from you or me, and not as gossip. And knowing how much this means to you, I think you should be the one to go.”
The cocky real estate mogul looked more like a confused little boy. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I want to do. I’ve waited so long for this, and now it all seems to be moving so fast.”
“Maybe you’re just afraid of the truth,” Graham said. “If this man knows nothing about us, he might not be thrilled to know that he has two illegitimate sons. We honestly have no idea how he’ll react. Personally I need a little time to prepare myself for whatever happens. Good or bad.”
Brooks’s confusion couldn’t be more obvious. “I’ve been so focused on finding him, I guess I haven’t given much thought to the next step. Or considered that he might not want to see us.”
“Take some time to think about it,” Roman told him. “Beau Preston has lived in Cool Springs his entire life, and he owns a lucrative business. As a horse breeder he’s well-known for his champion bloodlines. I doubt he’s going anywhere.”
“I think this is something that my brother and I should discuss in private,” Graham said, rising from his seat to shake Roman’s hand. “Thank you for not giving up on this and solving the case. It means so much to us.”
“Don’t thank me. If it hadn’t been for Sutton, I would still be spinning my wheels.”
Looking shell-shocked, Brooks rose and shook Roman’s hand. Maybe this would bring him some peace, and he would finally be able to let go of the irrational anger and hatred he’d held for the Winchester family. With Brooks it was hard to say.
Now that he and Gracie were exploring a relationship, Roman was happy to put the whole matter to rest, before he found himself sucked into the middle of another scandal. Because he knew that Brooks, despite his humbled state, could turn on a dime with a renewed thirst for revenge. Roman supposed that all they could do was wait, and time would tell.
“Will I see you at the wedding next Thursday?” Graham asked him.
“Wedding?” Roman said, unsure of what he was referring to. Next Thursday was Thanksgiving, but he and Gracie hadn’t yet discussed spending it together.
“Nora and Reid’s,” Graham said. “I just assumed, since you and Gracie...” He paused and said, “I’m sorry, did I speak out of turn?”
If Gracie wanted him there, she hadn’t said so. She still needed time, and he understood that. It was a slow process gaining back her trust. But it would happen. Because as far as he was concerned, they were meant to be together.
“Don’t apologize. What Gracie and I have is very...complicated.”
After the men left, Roman sat there for several minutes thinking about his relationship with Gracie, and that maybe they needed to have a talk. He was in no hurry. He was fine with letting their relationship progress naturally. Maybe he just needed to know that they did have a future together.
They had spent the entire weekend together, and even carved out time for lunch together yesterday. He’d met her at her office and she had introduced him around to the junior designers on her staff. He didn’t know a whole lot about the fashion industry, but he was impressed with what he saw, and her employees seemed to have the utmost respect for her. And from the looks of it, she was wildly successful. But he always knew that she would be.
He considered calling her just to say hi, then changed his mind. She was probably busy, and he had meetings to prepare for. They would talk later that evening. They did every night. Usually for an hour or more. And they were usually both still at work wrapping things up for the night. Like him, she was a workaholic, and typically hung around the office long after her employees went home for the night. Though he was sure that he would work less and delegate more if he had something, or better yet someone, to come home to.
As Roman was leaving the conference room, his secretary, Lisa, stopped him in the hallway.
“You got a call while you were in the meeting,” she said.
“From who?”
“A Special Agent Crosswell, from the FBI.”
Roman frowned. The FBI? What could they possibly want from him? “Did he say what he was calling for?”
“No, but he asked that you get back to him right away. He said it was an urgent matter. I left his contact information on his desk.”
“Thanks, Lisa.”
She eyed him quizzically. “Anything I should know about, boss?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
She smiled. “Fair enough. I’m leaving to run some errands and pick up lunch. Would you like me to bring you back something?”
He was too distracted now to eat. “No, thanks.”
He went to his corner office. He’d bought the company from a college friend who after a decade in the business decided the life of a PI wasn’t for him. What had started as a three-office, four-employee operation was now a thriving business in a swanky downtown location. The agency took up an entire floor of the building and he now employed over three dozen people. And he still couldn’t keep up with all the business coming his way. Unless things slowed down, he would have to look into expanding again. It was as if everything that he’d ever wanted in life was being dropped at his feet.
Well, almost everything. With Gracie it was a little more complicated.
He called the number Lisa left him and got the agent’s voice mail. Annoyed and curious as to what he wanted, he left a message, then sat back to wait for a return call, going over a list of potential new clients.
Not five minutes later, the agent called back, and as he answered Roman felt an unusual sense of apprehension. “Roman Slater.”
“Mr. Slater, my name is Rudy Crosswell. I’m a special agent with the FBI’s fraud division. I was hoping you would be willing to meet with me this afternoon.”
Well, you didn’t get much more direct than that. “In regard to...?”
“I’d rather speak to you in person. Could we set something up?”
