An Unforgettable Lady

by Jessica Bird

  "I don't know how to thank you."

  "I do. Tell me you and Ranulf are coming tonight."

  Grace hesitated, overcome with the need to see her friend. "Ranulf is... busy. I think I'll bring someone else."

  "Great. Who is she?"

  "He. Actually. Ah... He's a friend."

  "Really? Is he single?"

  "Er—yes. I guess so."

  "Think he'd be interested in a thirty-four-year-old, overworked, single mother?" Bo chuckled. "Now there's a personal ad guaranteed to get results."

  Grace wasn't sure how to respond to her friend's innocent suggestion. The idea of John with another woman made her sick to her stomach.

  When she hung up, she looked over at him and wondered whether there was a woman in his life. She couldn't imagine him being married but that didn't mean he was alone.

  Might be something to explore before she made her final decision, she thought grimly.

  "So I'm putting on the tux?" he asked. His keen eyes told her he had missed none of the emotions she was feeling.

  She nodded slowly. "Bo is a hard lady to turn down."

  "Obviously."

  * * *

  It was almost six-thirty when Grace came out of her room. Smith was standing in the living room dressed in his tuxedo, the jacket hanging loosely over his arm. Grace slowed down as she approached him, thinking that the white of his shirt made his hair look darker.

  Everything faded as she saw that he was looking at her lips.

  "That's a beautiful dress," he said in a low, very male voice.

  She glanced down at the lemon yellow chiffon. The gown was shoulder-less, long, and simple.

  "Thank you."

  He walked over to her. "The necklace, too."

  He reached out and touched one of the canary diamonds. There were six of them, linked by clusters of white diamonds.

  "It was my grandmother's." Her voice was breathless as his fingertips hovered above her skin and she gripped her wrap and purse tightly.

  His hand slowly went down to his side and she watched as the simmering emotions in his face were shut off.

  "Are we ready?" he asked sharply.

  She nodded and thought, as they went down in the elevator, there was a very real possibility she was going to get her heart broken by him.

  Eddie took them down to the Plaza. As he pulled up in front of the hotel, he said, "I hope you have a splendiferous evening."

  Smith shot him a look as a doorman stepped forward and let the cold air in. "That's a fancy word."

  "Yeah, isn't it great? I'm liking adjectives. You need to work your vocabulary, it's like a muscle. Ummm—happy birthday, Grace, by the way." Eddie passed a small, carefully wrapped present back. "I know this isn't the best time or anything but I figure, what the hell, give it to her now."

  "Why thank you, Eddie."

  "You don't have to open it."

  "Of course, I do! This was very thoughtful of you." She ripped off the paper. "Why, it's... Mace."

  She smiled at him.

  "I know it's illegal in New York but you should really keep some with you all the time. Do you know how to use it? Just slide your finger in here and point it toward the face." He showed her the discharge mechanism and was satisfied only when she practiced twice. "Put it in your purse. You take it everywhere, okay?"

  "Okay, Eddie. I'll do that.” She slipped it inside her little silk bag and then leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you again."

  Eddie was smiling as he pulled away from the curb.

  "That was really kind of him," she said as she waved.

  "Yeah, it was. He likes you. But then so do most people."

  She looked up at Smith but he was scanning the park, the street, the pedestrians in front of the hotel.

  "You sound surprised," she said softly.

  His eyes came to rest on her face. "There's a lot about you I find surprising. Let's go."

  She wanted to pump him for specifics, but she lifted the hem of her dress and walked up the red-carpeted stairs. As they passed the Palm Court, Grace stopped to talk to a couple and then they headed for the elevators.

  When they got to the suite, Grace knocked on the door and her friend opened it wide, sweeping her into an embrace.

  "Here she is!" Bo exclaimed.

  Grace wrapped her arms around her old friend. "I'm so glad to see you north of the Mason-Dixon line."

  "The air's a little thin up here but other than that it's okay."

  Grace turned to introduce Smith. "And this is John ... Smith. My friend."

  The Senator offered a welcoming smile and, as they shook hands, Grace had to wonder what he thought of Bo. She was a tall, handsome woman, with auburn hair, hazel eyes, and a high voltage smile. The deep red suit she was wearing enhanced her dramatic looks and was tailored to fit her curves. Standing next to her Grace felt washed out, a paler version of the feminine air Bo exuded like an exotic scent.

  When they stepped forward into an elegantly appointed room, a crowd of twenty let out a chorus of greetings. A glass of wine was pressed into her hand and Grace tried to relax and enjoy herself as Carter and Nick came over. She was so happy to see them.

  Throughout the cocktail hour, she always knew where Smith was. He lingered on the fringes of the crowd, looking comfortable in the group.

  She was staring at him, thinking that he fit in well in the elegant atmosphere, when he shifted his eyes to hers. He lifted his eyebrow and sent her a nod.

  And that's when she realized it was too late.

  Staring at him across the room, seeing the light falling on his hard face, she knew that she was falling in love with him.

  That, more than even the passion, was the reason she'd decided to go to bed with him.

  Grace looked away quickly, in case he could read her thoughts. Flustered, she escaped the small group she was talking to on the pretext of putting on more lipstick.

  As her mind churned over the whys and whens, she knew the jumbled searching was just mental gymnastics. It didn't matter when it started and knowing why wasn't an answer she needed. The truth was in her heart, not her mind.

  She was in one of the bedrooms, bending toward the mirror with her lip liner when Mimi Lauer appeared in the doorway.

  "I'm so sorry I'm late," the woman said with a smile.

  Grace froze as their eyes met in the mirror. She thought of Cuppie and Suzanna before turning and opening her arms. Mimi was in that article, too.

  "Mimi, I’m so glad you came! I figured we wouldn't see you because tomorrow is your big night."

  Grace hadn't known the Lauers for very long but she'd liked both of them immediately. They'd moved from the West Coast four years ago because their son suffered from a bad case of juvenile arthritis and the treatment options for him were better in New York. Mimi's warm personality and flair for entertaining had served her well in her new environment and she'd risen quickly up the social ladder. For the past two years, she'd been chair of the ballet's annual event.

  As they pulled back, Mimi said, "The performance tomorrow night is going to be splendid. They're doing a series of Balanchine favorites, just quick sketches of some of his best."

  Grace frowned. "I'm sorry that I won't be going this year."

  She and Smith had discussed her going to the big party. He didn't think it was a good idea for her to be in large crowds if she could avoid it and she'd taken his advice.

  "Please, don't worry. You'll be missed, of course, but I can understand the kind of pressure you're under,"

  Mimi's eyes narrowed, as if she was tempted to bring up the very thing that was on Grace's mind. The killer. Their lost friends.

  There was an awkward pause.

  "So how are you holding up?" Grace said. "I imagine you have every detail taken care of."

  Mimi shook her head. “On the contrary, things are a mess."

  "Good God, why?"

  "Fredrique has become a bit of a problem." Distaste flickered across the wo
man's face. "It's gotten so bad, I’m thinking of firing him even though the event is less than twenty-four hours away. He wanted to feature a shark in a tank at the party. A shark. "What does Jaws have to do with ballet?"

  Grace smiled and put her lipstick back in her clutch. "He wants to make a big splash, evidently."

  "Well, he can do it somewhere else. Maybe Long John Silver's is looking for a party planner," Mimi replied dryly. “On another topic, what's going on between you and Lamont?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "He called me today and said he was looking to make a change."

  Grace pursed her lips. "Doesn't surprise me. He and I have never gotten along and I know he's approached a couple of other people."

  "Well, I told him that I didn't think we had anything to offer him but I think he knew the real reason. You've been very supportive of me. Neither the ballet nor I would ever take one of your key people away."

  “To be honest, I wouldn't mind if he went."

  Mimi smiled." In that case, we really wouldn't want him. If he can't get along with you, he must be impossible."

  "That's a kind vote of confidence," Grace said with a laugh.

  There was a pause as Mimi glanced downward.

  "Grace ... may I ask you something?" The woman's voice dropped to a whisper.

  "Of course."

  "What are you doing to... be safe?"

  Grace felt her heart sink as Mimi looked up. There was naked fear in her eyes, the same thing Grace felt whenever she thought about what had happened to their friends.

  "I've hired a bodyguard." Grace reached out for the other woman's hand. "Are you protecting yourself?"

  "I've got a plain clothes man following me around and Marks has been really supportive, but I don't know. Ted and I were thinking about heading back to San Francisco for a while until this whole thing passes, except we really can't. Our son needs to stay with his physical therapists." Mimi paused. "Do you know if Suzanna had any help?”

  "Marks has been pretty vague with details. I've been wondering whether whoever's doing this is following that article's sequence."

  "You're lucky then. Because you were the last one mentioned."

  "So Isadora is next."

  Bo appeared in the doorway- "Am I interrupting something?"

  Grace forced a smile. "Not at all."

  Mimi gave an awkward laugh. "I don't mean to be hogging the guest of honor. I better go say my hellos to everyone."

  "I'll call you," Grace said. "We'll have lunch and you can tell me all about tomorrow night's success."

  "I'd like that. I'd really like that."

  They shared a meaningful look as Mimi left. Grace had tacked on the party bit for Bo's benefit and they both knew it.

  "So I have to ask," Bo said with a grin- "What does Ranulf think about you being squired around on the arm of that handsome man out there?"

  "John's just a professional acquaintance."

  "Business? Really? He Looks more like a military man to me. He has the same quick eyes and broad shoulders my father did. And Daddy, as you know, was a general."

  Grace tried to muster a casual smile and say something that wasn't a lie. Before she could reply, however, they were interrupted by one of the waiters who said dinner was ready to be served.

  Bo grinned. “Well, I hope you don't mind, I've seated him next to me. Seemed only fair since I haven't been around a man like that for a long time. Those politicians I'm with daily, I don't know. They tend to be soft around the middle and in the head."

  Grace smiled weakly and Bo frowned. "What's wrong?"

  "I’ll tell you all about it later."

  Her friend's face took on an obstinate cast and Grace had the distinct impression that dinner or no dinner, Bo was prepared to lock them in the bathroom until the story came out.

  "Don't go hitting me with Mother-vision," Grace retorted. "You save that maternal concern for your little boy. You've got twenty people out there ready for dinner and I'm rather hungry myself."

  Bo shot her a look. "We'll finish this later, you hear?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  They rejoined the party and Grace accepted another glass of wine, drinking it quickly as they went into the dining room. She was seated down the way from Bo and Smith and, as dinner arrived, she watched them. Bo was a consummate conversationalist and, even though Smith didn't say much, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

  Or at least that's what Grace assumed and seeing his eyes flash toward her friend was hard to witness.

  The man who had been a stranger only weeks ago was capturing her heart.

  But he only wanted her body.

  When Bo dropped her napkin and Smith bent over and picked it up for her, Grace asked for another refill of her wineglass.

  chapter

  13

  Smith frowned as he saw the waiter pour more wine into Grace's goblet. He'd never seen her drink much of anything and yet she'd already had three glasses of the stuff. As she turned to her right and smiled at Nick Farrell, he thought that the stress was getting to her. She was pushing food around her plate and her laughter, as it drifted over to him, sounded strained.

  His little proposition that they go to bed together had sure as hell added to the confusion in her life, he thought. So much for all his professional standards.

  In a remarkable exercise in delusion, he'd somehow managed to throw out every lick of training and common sense he had in order to come to the conclusion that having sex with her was acceptable. He had to wonder why it had made sense to him twelve hours ago. Now, seeing the exhaustion that pulled Grace's skin tightly across her face, watching her drink, he was feeling...

  Regret.

  Which for a knee-jerk risk taker was about as common as a signpost in the desert.

  "So Grace never did tell me how you two met," Senator Bradford said to him. She casually lifted her napkin and blotted her lips. Her eyes were very direct.

  He shrugged. "At a party."

  Going by the dry look he was given, the evasive answer didn't satisfy the senator and she was prepared to follow up. He had the sense that the woman's good manners hid an iron will and it reminded him of Grace.

  "Do you know her husband?"

  The mention of the man made him want to curse because it reminded him once again that not only was she a client, she was also legally married. Usually, he didn't have any qualms about adultery, figuring that if a woman wanted to cheat, it was none of his business. But the fact that Grace was someone's wife rankled and not because he was worried about hurting the count's precious little feelings.

  He wanted her all to himself.

  When he was surprised by his reaction, he told himself he should have known better. Nothing about Grace was typical and neither were his reactions to her.

  "I asked, do you know Ranulf ?" The senator prompted gently.

  "No, I don't," he said, putting down his fork and knife and leaning back in his chair. "And I don't have any interest in him."

  A perfectly arched eyebrow rose. "Most people want to know him. He's considered quite an international figure."

  "Based on what? Winning the heredity lottery? That's luck, not an accomplishment."

  Bo studied him and then said softly, "There are some who do wonder what the allure is. Still, he cuts a dashing figure and for many good style and a royal title is enough to earn their affection. Frankly, I-was surprised that Grace married him, although I understand that her parents were very pleased."

  "No offense, Senator, but her marriage is none of my business. We're only professional associates."

  "Really? She can't keep her eyes off you and you've spent most of this meal looking down the table, returning the favor. Unless the two of you are merely pursuing ocular endeavors, I might presume something deeper is going on."

  He glanced over at Bo who was smiling at him warmly. He couldn't help liking her even though she was irritating the hell out of him with her talk about Grace. "I think you're jumping to conclusio
ns, Senator."

  "I come from a family of bourbon makers, Mr. Smith. Trust me, I know a lot about love." She looked pointedly at Grace who was taking another long drink from her wineglass. "Affairs of the heart have kept my family in business for generations. Love has a way of making people need solace and the liquid variety seems to work particularly well. I believe that is why our Grace has been imbibing this evening."

  "You might want to rethink that pronoun."

  "Fine. Your Grace," she said, with a wink.

  Bo rang the silver bell that was next to her place setting and uniformed waiters came into the room. As the dinner plates were being cleared, the senator leaned over to him and whispered, "I'll tell you what, I think you're her lover."

  Smith cocked an eyebrow. "Well, I'm not."

  He just wanted to be. Goddamn desperately. And evidently at the expense of doing the job he'd been hired for.

  Bo sent him a knowing glance as she refolded her napkin and laid it neatly in her lap. "Well, I'll let you keep your secrets, but only because my momma raised me right."

  He shook his head wryly. "And somehow that proper upbringing included drills on interrogation technique?"

  "Oh no. Those I got from Daddy." The smile she gave him was full of delight.

  Bo nodded over her shoulder to a waiter who began putting tall, thin shot glasses in front of each guest. They were about three inches in height, an inch in diameter and were filled with amber liquid.

  She reached over and put an elegant hand on his arm.

  "Just don't hurt her, okay? She's had quite enough of that already. Even though she tries to keep up a good front, I happen to know the count isn't all he's cracked up to be. He tried to throw a pass at me the night of their rehearsal dinner. I disabused him of the notion he was irresistible with a swift knee to the crotch, but he's a shit and always will be. She deserves better."

  “Why are you telling me all this?"

  "Because I like the way she looks at you."

  Smith smiled slowly. "You're a good friend, aren't you?"