An Unforgettable Lady

by Jessica Bird

  She offered him a lopsided grin, pleased that he'd come and found her. "Don't worry if it does. It's not like I had any big plans before breakfast."

  "Listen, I'm sorry I lost it down there," he said gruffly.

  "What I said was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. I should've just kept my mouth shut."

  “I don't think that's the best strategy." She tucked a pillow into her arms and looked at her tumbled sheets and blankets. Evidence of her deepening relationship with insomnia, she thought. "I don't know if I can keep living under this pressure."

  She heard him release a long breath, like he was switching topics in his head. “I don't blame you. I promise, the police are going to find whoever killed those women—”

  "No. I'm talking about you. About us." She glanced up. “I don't like what just happened. I don't like turning into such an angry person. But being around you with so much left unsaid and unexplained is tearing me up. Frankly, I think it's tearing us both up."

  He crossed his arms over his chest. The stance, she thought, was so typical of him.

  "John, we can't ignore what's happening between us. And don't you dare tell me that it's nothing. Last night, you looked like you wanted to kill Jack when he came through that door."

  "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." He shifted his weight impatiently and she got the impression he was anxious to leave.

  Exasperation tightened her voice. "John—"

  " Look, in spite of what I said down there, it's none of my business who you sleep—what you do in your personal life."

  "You can say the words, but I don't know if I believe them."

  For once, Smith was the one looking away. Pushing his hands deep into his pockets, he seemed to be debating within himself. When he finally spoke, the words came out rigidly.

  "I watched him kiss you. I was out on the terrace."

  Grace frowned. "I don't know what you think you saw. But Jack has never kissed me anywhere except on the cheek."

  He started shaking his head, as if he was frustrated with himself. "Dammit, we shouldn't even be having this conversation."

  He made a move for the door.

  "John, we need to talk about this. Don't go."

  "I have to."

  "What are you so afraid of?" she whispered fiercely.

  "You."

  It was the last thing she expected him to say.

  "But why? You must know how I feel about you." She squeezed the pillow. "I think I’m falling in love with you."

  "Jesus Christ." He pushed his hand through his hair.

  She winced. "Not exactly the response I was hoping for. When the next woman springs that declaration on you, you might try for something a little less like a reprimand."

  "This is precisely what I wanted to avoid," he said under his breath.

  "Why?” she demanded. "What's so wrong about me loving you?"

  He waved away her words. "First of all, you don't love me."

  Grace frowned. "Don't tell me what I feel."

  "You're in danger. You're in the middle of a divorce. Right now, you're vulnerable. If we had met under different circumstances, you never would have gotten emotionally attached."

  "How dare you!" She tossed the pillow aside and got off the bed.

  "It's the truth," he said darkly. "And when I'm gone, you'll realize it, too."

  "Who the hell made you an expert on my emotions?"

  "The sooner you recognize the reality of the situation, the better off we're both going to be."

  She shook her head vehemently.

  "I refuse to let you reduce my feelings—my heart," she pounded her chest, "to some kind of—of rebound theory."

  "It's not a theory," he said, holding her eyes harshly. "This has happened to me before. You're not the first client to think they were in love with me, Grace."

  That quieted her for a moment.

  As she measured the span of his shoulders, she wondered; how many other women had clung to them.

  "And what happened?" she asked, bracing herself for the answer. "Did you..."

  "Sleep with them? No, I didn't." His mouth lifted in a cold smile. "I was never tempted... until you."

  "Well, at least that's a start," she muttered.

  "No, it sure as hell isn't."

  "Why? As you said, the threat hanging over me isn't going to last forever. You're not going to be working for me for the rest of our natural lives."

  "Christ, Grace, this isn't just about the damn job. I've spent the last twenty years alone. By choice. I don't do relationships and you're not the kind of woman who can handle having sex without one. This isn't going anywhere."

  "How would you know what I can and can't handle, exactly?"

  "Think back to when I took you to bed that night you broke the glass. You put a stop to it, Countess, pulled away pretty damn fast when things got heavy. Not really the kind of thing a woman does when she's comfortable with casual sex, is it?"

  Grace could feel the heat rush to her face.

  He cursed softly. "Look, I'm not thinking straight anymore and you're not paying me to be distracted. We've got a problem and I'm trying to make it better, not worse."

  "We don't have a problem," she countered doggedly.

  "Then you're deluding yourself. And you're the one who's going to get hurt."

  She wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't know that for sure and neither do you."

  He shot her a level stare. "If my brain gets scrambled in the wrong situation, you could end up dead. I'm still leaving at the end of this job. You want to pick between those two finales?"

  "Who says they're the only options."

  "There's no happy ending to this. I told you that before."

  "Well, dammit, maybe there could be!"

  He brushed his hand over his hair again. "Grace, don't fall... for me."

  "Why? Because you're worried my heart's going to inconvenience you in some way?" she snapped.

  "It's for your own good."

  She put her hands on her hips, pegging him with hard eyes.

  "Let's get one thing straight, you arrogant son of a bitch. I'm capable of surviving a lot worse than a love affair with a goddamn ghost. The truth is, when you hit the road, there isn't going to be much to miss because not much of you has been here. And you've got a hell of a nerve telling me what's for my own good. You're a coward under all that muscle. You," she pointed at him, "are so busy protecting yourself it's a miracle you have time to take care of your clients. For my own good," she muttered. "Why don't you work on yourself first. Then you can play Dr. Phil on someone else."

  John let out a curse with such force she stepped back.

  "Just what do you think your life would be like if I hung around?" he demanded. "You think you're going to have a ball staying up nights, wondering where I am and whether I'm coming home—ever? You think you can handle not being able to reach me for weeks, maybe months at a time? Are you tough enough for all that? Or do you expect me to turn into some goddamn party favor, someone you can have on your arm like a purse at all those fancy parties you go to?"

  She shook her head and tried to respond more evenly. "I wouldn't want that. I'd never expect you to be something you're not. All I want is to give us a chance."

  "You want to play out this whole relationship fantasy? Fine." Smith's eyes were sharp, assessing. "You can't tell your own mother you're getting a divorce from a man you don't love. How are you going to break the news to her that the two of us are sleeping together? I'm her worst nightmare."

  Grace lifted her chin. "You don't need to worry about my mother. She's my problem. And as for your job, is the line of work you're in now the only thing you can do? I doubt that."

  He shot her a humorless smile. "People without a valid social security number, people who have three different passports, people like me, don't just walk into an office somewhere and apply for a job."

  "Don't hide behind logistics," she said with dismissal.

  "Logis
tics? What the hell do you think I do for a living?"

  She sent him an annoyed look.

  "Well?" he demanded.

  "You're a bodyguard." When he shook his head in disbelief, she said, "Come on, Smith, I know you're a tough guy but even the most decorated military men manage to get back into civilian life when they leave the service. You can choose another path."

  She was taken off guard when he just stared at her and she got the sense she might be off base.

  "Don't they?" she whispered with doubt,

  "Here are some buzzwords for you," he said. "Hand-to-hand combat specialist. Munitions expert. Sharpshooter. Assassin. Now, you want to tell me what kind of job those qualify me for in your world?"

  "If you gave us a chance, we'd make it work, together."

  "Don't fool yourself, Grace."

  Frustration surged. "I'm not. You're the one who won't see—"

  "I'm sorry."

  "Damn you! Don't be sorry when you could so easily make things different." Tears blurred her vision. He was like talking to a statue. "Oh, hell, maybe you should just leave."

  As she walked over to open the door, he grabbed for her hand. She struggled against his hold with an angry glare but stopped as his eyes went nearly black with emotion.

  "Think about all those scars you were so interested in, Countess. How do you think they got on my body? It sure as hell wasn't from sitting behind a desk."

  She looked away.

  "I have enemies, Grace," he said in a deadly quiet voice. "The kind who don't use lawyers to fight their battles for them. The kind who wouldn't hesitate to kill you just because you're sleeping next to me at night."

  Her eyes widened as he let go of her hand and started to pace.

  "Even if I leave Black Watch, I can't just wipe the slate clean and start over. These people have long memories and the fact that you're such a public figure is a problem. I don't want my face or where I live to be on the front page of the newspapers. I haven't had a home, ever because I don't want to be easily found. With you, any degree of anonymity would be impossible and that would not only put me in danger, it would put you at risk, too."

  She took a deep breath. "Good Lord, John, what did you used to do?"

  There was a long silence.

  "Covert ops."

  "Can you tell me why you got out?"

  He hesitated. She had a sense he was sifting through the truth and cleaning it up for her.

  "I got wounded. After a couple weeks in the hospital, I decided if I was going to get wasted on a job, I wanted to be running the show, not taking orders. In the military, no matter how high up you go, there's always someone over you unless you're the president. As soon as I was back on my feet, I began taking some subcontracting work. When I had more than I could handle, I snagged Tiny and a couple others who were really good. We've been working together for five years now."

  "It must be a hard life." Grace lowered her eyes. "Can you go on like this forever?"

  "I know I can get through today and tomorrow. That's all I think about."

  "But don't you get lonely? Don't you want someone in your life?"

  "No."

  "What about your family?" There had to be someone, somewhere who he relied on. A mother. Sister. Brother.

  "I don't have any."

  "None at all?"

  When he didn't answer, she tried to imagine what it would be like to be so alone.

  "I find it hard to believe you can live without... anyone."

  "I have Black Watch."

  But that was business, she thought.

  "You've never thought of getting married? Starting your own family? Haven't you ever wanted some kind of relationship with a woman? "

  "If I want sex, I have it. And then I leave. Permanent ties are time-consuming, draining, and not something I want to deal with."

  Grace felt her heart sink as she wondered how she would feel, watching him walk out of her door and never look back. "Haven't you ever wanted to stay?"

  He shook his head. "I can't remember the last time I woke up next to a woman."

  "Well, actually, that would have been me. Wouldn't it? "

  Reluctantly, he nodded. "Yes, I guess it was."

  "When I rolled over and looked into your eyes that morning, I knew you wanted me." She spoke softly and looked up.

  "Sure, I wanted you then. I want you right now. But I can't change my whole life for you and that's what it would take for us to be together."

  She went over to him and touched his face. "You can't protect my heart, John, and neither of us can predict the future. I'm already falling in love with you. If you don't want to be with me, fine. But don't make decisions for me because you're afraid I'll get hurt."

  His voice was low, husky. "I never thought I'd meet someone like you."

  He took the palm of her hand, pressed his lips to it, and placed it on his thick chest.

  Then he stepped back.

  "But whether you know it or not, you're looking for love in return, Grace. And I can't give you something I don't have inside of me."

  He was out the door before she could respond.

  chapter

  17

  Going downstairs for breakfast, Grace had to pin a smile onto her face. She would rather have eaten alone, but meals were a command performance at Willings and her absence would have led to another confrontation with her mother. Because she was holding herself together with only loose threads of dignity, she wanted to avoid any further upheaval.

  Only two more days, she thought, walking into the dining room.

  She was surprised to see both Jack and his girlfriend seated at the long table.

  "Blair!" she exclaimed. "When did you get here?"

  The other woman got to her feet and they embraced.

  "Late last night."

  Blair, tall and slender with closely cropped blond hair and dazzling gray eyes, was the perfect complement to Jack's sleekness. With their expensive clothes and their classic looks, they were a matched set.

  As Grace stepped back, she saw Smith come into the room and became instantly aware of him.

  "How's the tooth?"

  "A little sore." Blair laughed, rubbing her jaw. "But I was feeling better than I thought I would and came late last night."

  "She's a real trooper, all right," Jack said.

  The woman looked over at him. "Although I'm going to have to miss today's sailing excursion. I am not strong enough to hit the ocean with you and Alex."

  "Funny, you managed to get out of it the last time he asked us." Jack chuckled. "Are you sure you didn't plan the root canal?"

  "Alex is in town?" Grace asked, sitting down as Jack pushed her chair in.

  Alex Moorehouse was one of the country's best America's Cup sailors and an old friend of Jack's. Grace had met him on a number of occasions and liked the man.

  "He is and I wouldn't miss a chance to get out on the open sea with Moorehouse. That man's pure adrenaline."

  Carolina entered the room and they all stood up. She was dressed in a fine tweed suit, her hair precisely arranged in the chignon she'd worn it in for years. As her mother's eyes passed over her, Grace touched her own hair, which was down and flowing over her shoulders.

  Carolina eyed Smith's blue jeans with disapproval before smiling at her newest guest. "Blair, darling, how are you? Sit, sit, everyone."

  Jack helped her with her chair and then she rang the bell. Marta came in with a breakfast of scrambled eggs and cut fruit on a large silver tray. The woman paused by each guest, holding the load with ease.

  When it was her turn, Grace didn't take much of either.

  "It looks lovely, Marta, thank you," she said. "Mother, today we're going to go to Mr. Blankenbaker's. Would you like to come?"

  "No. I'm having lunch with Harrington Wright. First, however, I must go to see Stella Linnaean, who is not feeling well. And then ..."

  Grace let her mother's recital of the day's activities pass over her like a mist. Sh
e thought instead of John and what he'd said earlier that morning. She was surprised he'd revealed so much of himself, although it was a damn shame that so little of it worked in her favor. She replayed their conversation in her head over and over again, looking for a way to make him see the possibilities instead of the obstacles between them.

  His past was one of the harder things to counter. She didn't doubt him when he said he had dangerous enemies, but she had to believe there was a way around even that impediment.

  "Grace?" her mother said sharply.

  She shook herself out of her reverie and looked down the table. Her mother had folded her napkin into a neat square, placed it next to her plate and was getting to her feet. Evidently, breakfast was over.

  "Sorry. What?"

  "I would like to see you for a moment."

  Grace grabbed a piece of toast and reluctantly followed her mother across the foyer into the lady's parlor that her mother used as a study.

  The room was painted in a cornflower blue and filled with delicate French antiques. Grace had never felt comfortable in it. Everything seemed small, dainty, and breakable. Booby-trapped. It was as if each of the chairs had been calibrated for her mother's birdlike weight and anything heavier would cause a collapse, embarrassment, and censure.

  Carolina shut the double doors behind them and Grace's chest contracted. It was hard to imagine how such a bright, elegant room could feel like a dungeon, but it did.

  "It's good to see Blair looking so well," Carolina said, pausing to inspect a bouquet of flowers on a delicate side table. She picked off two petals from a white rose and threw them into a little decoupage wastepaper basket that was otherwise empty. "Although it was a dreadful story about that tooth."

  "Yes, it was."

  "She's just lovely, don't you think?"

  "Yes, she is."

  Grace knew damn well she hadn't been called inside to discuss Jack's girlfriend and waited for the real conversation to get going.

  Carolina walked smoothly over to her desk, a Louis XIV masterpiece with few things marring its pristine surface. In one corner, there was a silk box of her personal stationery that had her name at the top and Willings's address underneath. Laying on the stack, there was a single gold pen as thin as a flower stem and a tiny leather bound address book.