Big Riggs (Trilogy Bundle) (BBW Erotic Romance)

by Hart, Melissa F.

  “You’re welcome,” he told her. “We’re still working on your case. Feel free to call me if you think of anything else, and I’ll keep you posted on our progress.”

  She thanked him again and sat back down across from Mark.

  “Bad news?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. She told him the gist of the call.

  “I’ve been in a similar situation…recently,” he told her. “Wow, that’s embarrassing. You’re the first person I’ve told that to.”

  “You shouldn’t be embarrassed by it,” she said, knowing that she should heed her own words. “No one asks to be stalked. Did you get a restraining order?”

  “No, I guess I hadn’t thought it had gone that far. But she was in my apartment when I got home last night, waiting for me.” He didn’t tell her that they had shared a round of mind-blowing sex before he had kicked her out.

  “That’s creepy. Didn’t that scare you?”

  “No,” Mark said, remembering for an instant what it did do to him. “She hasn’t done anything threatening. She’s just an annoyance so far.”

  Fannie raised an eyebrow. “Well, keep a close eye on it. Paul’s situation got really out of hand very quickly. He kept trying to break up with her, and she wouldn’t go away. She started out as just an annoyance and within a few months she was cutting the heads off photos and slashing his tires. It got scary.”

  “How did he get rid of her?”

  “You know, I’m not really sure. Paul and I just figured that she had found someone new to harass. It’s been almost a year since he’s heard from her. The detective says she’s in Missouri.”

  After they ate, Fannie called the rental agency about getting a car until hers was ready. She told them she would be by sometime in the late afternoon to pick it up.

  She was about to call Paul when Mark said, “I can drop you there if you like.”

  Fannie thought about it. It would be a lot easier and Paul wouldn’t have to come back downtown, so she said, “That would be great, thank you.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The judge wrapped up jury selection around three that afternoon. They had only picked eight jurors by that time, so he continued selection for nine a.m. the following day. Mark took Fannie to the rental agency, and she rented an ugly brown Ford Taurus. He told her to go ahead and take the rest of the day off because they wouldn’t be doing any more on the case today and he had some errands to run.

  Fannie ran a few errands of her own before going home. When she got to her front door, there was a small, brown package sitting on her welcome mat. She bent and was about to pick it up when she heard, “Don’t,” from behind her. The voice startled her and she turned and saw Grant standing a few feet away.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because the person who vandalized your car may have left it,” he said. “For a lawyer who lives alone, you’re not very savvy.”

  That statement annoyed her. “What makes you think I live alone?”

  “Just an assumption,” he said.

  “Why? Because I look like a woman no one would want to live with?” she asked him, becoming even more irritated.

  “No, because I dropped you off here last night and no one was here to greet you. You didn’t call anyone after the incident. So, I just assumed.”

  “I called my friend Paul,” she said, smugly like an insolent child.

  “Does he live here?” Grant asked her.

  “No…but…” For some reason she really didn’t want him to know he’d been right.

  “Can we drop the who lives here and who doesn’t routine long enough to check out the box?” he asked.

  “Okay,” she said with a shrug. She put the key into the door and opened it up. Stepping carefully over the box, she went inside. Grant was still standing in the hallway.

  “Should we call the bomb squad or something?” she asked.

  “I think that’s overkill at this point,” he said, still looking at the box.

  “So are you just going to stare it down?” She was trying hard not to smile, but he was giving her a lot of material here.

  He gave her his own version of the annoyed look. “Step inside and close the door.”

  She was going to tell him that it was all unnecessary, but she suddenly decided that it would be more fun not to. She did as he asked and while she waited for the explosion, she put on a pot of coffee, and changed out of her work clothes and into a velour lounging suit. The coffee pot was finished dripping when she got back to the kitchen and Grant was apparently still out in the hall.

  She doubted that she had missed the explosion just because she had been in the back room but just in case she knocked on the door and said, “Are you still in one piece out there?”

  “Yeah, you can open the door.”

  She did, and found him standing there holding a now unwrapped box of chocolates. “You opened my mail?”

  “I was trying to save your life,” he told her.

  “Hmm, yes I guess death by chocolate would be a terrible way to go. I made some coffee,” she told him. “Would you like a cup? I’ll share my chocolate with you.”

  “You’re not the least bit concerned that there’s a box of candy on your doorstep wrapped in plain brown paper without a card or even a note. No postmark, either?”

  She stepped back inside and he followed her, closing the door behind him. “Nope,” she said. “My uncle comes to the city twice a month for business. Every time he does, he leaves them on my doorstep. Do you take your coffee black?”

  “Wait a second,” he said, coming across the living room and into the small kitchen area. “You knew what they were and who they were from this entire time?”

  “I had a good idea, yes,” she said. “Black or with cream and sugar?”

  “Black,” he said.

  “I thought so,” she told him, handing him a cup. “Have a seat.”

  He looked at her like she had two heads. “Are you a little bit crazy?”

  “A little, yeah,” she told him with a grin. “Look, you seemed so passionate about it. I figured you were one of those guys who liked to do that sort of thing so I let you. I knew, okay I didn’t know for sure, but I figured that they were my chocolates and you would be fine.” She held the little box up to him. “Chocolate?”

  “No, thank you,” he told her; still looking at her like she had two heads.

  She sat down at the kitchen table so he finally sat too. “Did you come by for anything special before the box distracted you?” she asked him.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after last night. Now I see that you’re not.”

  Fannie laughed at that. “I said I was sorry. Are you going to continue to pout about it?”

  “I don’t pout,” he told her.

  “Okay,” she said in a disbelieving voice. “Thank you for coming by. I’m doing well. No incidents since last night.”

  “Well, good then,” he said, standing up. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “You’re welcome,” she told him. “I’m truly sorry for messing with you.”

  “It’s okay.” He gave her the semblance of a smile.

  She walked him to the door. “How was your trip?”

  “Unproductive.” He was an honest-to-goodness man of few words. He pulled the door open, and they were both shocked by what they saw.

  Painted in red across the door it said, Fat whore.

  “That wasn’t there just a few minutes ago,” she said.

  “Wait here,” he told her, taking off for the stairwell. Before he got there, he looked back at her. “Close the door and lock it.”

  She did as he said, and then she sat on the couch with her legs curled under her, no longer feeling safe in her own home and waited.

  Grant was back after about fifteen minutes. He tapped on the top of the door. “Fannie, it’s me.”

  She went over and let him in. He was a bit out of breath but told her, “I didn’t see anybody. There was some paint sp
illed on the steps, but that was it. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she told him. “If you hadn’t been here, I would have been scared out of my wits. Sit down, and I’ll get you some water.”

  She went to the kitchen and when she came back, he was sitting on her couch. She handed him the glass of water and sat down next to him.

  He gulped it down and then looked at her. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just a little reminiscent of my childhood, just on a grander scale.”

  “Whoever is doing this is not playing some kind of childish game,” Grant told her. “This is serious, scary stuff. I’m going to call CPD, okay?”

  She nodded again.

  Grant asked for Detective Edwards and then Fannie listened as he told him what had happened. He told Grant he’d be over within the hour.

  After Grant disconnected the call, he looked at Fannie. “I’m really hungry.” She started to get up and he said, “Where are you going?”

  “I was going to make you something to eat,” she said.

  He smiled. “Thank you, but I was thinking we could just order a pizza?”

  She sat back down. “Sounds good. Make sure it has olives.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The detective showed up quickly and brought two uniformed officers with him. They dusted the door for fingerprints and took photographs of the painted message. Before Detective Edwards left, he told her to make sure she kept her doors locked up tight and to try not to spend too much time out alone. He had made Fannie nervous, and by the time the pizza got there, her appetite had gone away. Grant ate enough for the two of them, however.

  He finished his pizza and cleaned up his mess. Fannie expected him to go then. Instead, he came back in and sat down by her on the couch. He bounced up and down on it.

  It was her turn to ask, “Are you a little bit crazy too?”

  He smiled. “Yes, but I was just checking to see how comfortable your couch might be to sleep on.”

  Fannie shook her head. “I don’t need you to sleep on my couch, Grant. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sure you will be,” he said. “But let me stay here tonight. Starting tomorrow, I’ll have one of the firm’s security guys assigned to you around the clock. They can stand watch from outside the door.”

  “Around the clock? No, now who’s going into overkill mode?” she asked. “I just started my job. This is embarrassing enough without getting the firm involved.”

  “Embarrassing?” he asked. “What are you embarrassed about? You’re the victim here.”

  “It’s just…”

  “What?” he said.

  “I don’t know, the things this person is writing about me are about how I look, and it’s embarrassing to draw attention to that fact.”

  Grant looked at her like he was confused. “Do you own a mirror?”

  “Yes,” she said, wondering where he was going.

  “Then use it,” he told her harshly. “What this person is writing is only a reflection of themselves. Fannie, you are a beautiful woman. You really must be crazy if you can’t see that.”

  It was the rudest compliment that Fannie had ever gotten. “Thanks, I think.”

  Grant made a noise like she exasperated him. “Where’s your television?”

  Fannie laughed. He really was a little crazy. “In my bedroom,” she said. “Is that a deal breaker for you?”

  “No, not as long as I can watch the Cubs preseason game in your room at seven.”

  She laughed again. “That’s the sneakiest way a guy has ever tried to get invited into my bedroom.”

  * * *

  Fannie left Grant on her bed, watching Cubs baseball at exactly seven while she went in to take a shower. When she finished her nighttime routine and dressed for bed, an hour had gone by. She came out and found Grant sound asleep, snoring on her bed.

  Fannie sighed. “Some big bad protector you are,” she whispered. She picked up an afghan off the rocking chair and laid it over him. Turning off the television and grabbing a pillow, she went out to sleep on the couch.

  It was too early to fall asleep, so she read for a while and texted Paul for a bit. She told him about her day in court, but didn’t mention the door, or the hunky guy asleep on her bed. That would have to be a face-to-face conversation. It was probably close to ten o’clock and she was just about to fall asleep, when she heard a noise outside her door. It was subtle, but it sounded like a shoe scuffing on the floor.

  She got up off the couch and went over to the door. Pressing her eye to the peephole, she was met with another eye, looking in at her. She screamed and jumped backwards, landing hard up against Grant.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, helping her right herself.

  She told him what had happened and again he told her to stay inside and he would be back. She locked the door behind him and waited again. This game was already getting old.

  Grant knocked and announced himself when he came back just like he had last time. She opened the door and he told her that there was no one in the stairwell, again. It was like Deja vu.

  “I’m getting really sick of this,” she said.

  “I know,” he told her, pulling her back up against his chest. She didn’t try to stop him, and she laid her head against him. It felt good to just rest it there. He was warm, and she could feel his heart pounding from his run down and back up the stairs. She was about to cry, and she was trying hard not to. She suddenly realized that this was the second time that she had laid her head on the chest of this man who she barely knew. It was a very nice chest, but still…it was out of definitely out of character for her.

  She lifted her head up and said, “I’m sorry,”

  Grant smiled. “For what? Please stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault. I’m sorry for falling asleep on your bed.”

  Fannie grinned. “Jet lag?”

  “Must’ve been,” he said. “You can go use the bed now. I’ll stay out here.”

  Fannie wasn’t really tired, but something about Grant was bringing out the helpless heroine in her, and she really didn’t like that. She decided that going to bed and leaving him on the couch would be safer. “Okay,” she told him. “I’ll get a blanket for you.”

  When she came back with his blanket, he had lain down on the couch. His long legs hung over the end by about three feet. He looked ridiculous, and her urge to cry turned into laughter.

  He just gave her a look, took the blanket and said, “Thanks.”

  Fannie had a restless night filled with nightmares of a violent stalker alternating with erotic dreams about making love in the bush with Crocodile Dundee. She woke up sweaty and exhausted. She brushed her hair and teeth before emerging, unused to having company on her couch when she went out to make her morning coffee. As she passed the living room, she saw that her couch was empty and the afghan was folded nicely. There was a note on the kitchen counter that said, Call if you need me, and just so you know, the guy following you is my guy. His name is Russell and he is about five nine and kind of funny looking. Have a good day. Grant

  Fannie smiled. This guy was unlike anyone she had met before. It was a little after eight when she finished getting ready for work and left the apartment. She had been kind of dragging her feet, not looking forward to looking at the vulgar display on her front door. She needn’t have worried. Her entire door had been painted—pink. The only thing on it now was a sign that said: Wet Paint. It made her laugh.

  Fannie parked her car in the garage near the courthouse and as she was making her way to the elevator, she caught sight of her tail. At least she hoped he was her tail. He wasn’t making any effort to hide from her, he was about five nine, and as much as she hated to admit it, Grant had been right, he was funny looking. She stepped into the elevator, and he stepped in behind her.

  He pushed the ground button and then said, “Hi, I’m Russell.”

  “Hi, Russell,” she said with a smile. “I’m Fannie, but you
obviously already know that.”

  He nodded and then she asked, “Did you paint my door?”

  “No,” he said. “Grant was doing that when I got there this morning. He was using white paint. I told him the red would turn it pink.”

  Fannie grinned. “That’s okay. I like it.”

  She met Mark in front of the courthouse doors. Russell waited outside. The defendant and Zane were already at the defense table when they got there.

  The bailiff and the judge went through the same process as the day before and then they began. By the noon break, all twelve jury members had been picked. Mark and Fannie had lunch again before returning to the office. She told him about what had happened the night before. She didn’t mention that Grant had spent the night, however.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry, Fannie.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “But thank you.”

  During lunch, Mark talked to her about his family, and things he had done growing up when he wasn’t being a bully. Fannie told him a little about her family and by the time they’d finished lunch, Fannie thought the impossible might become possible and they could actually become friends.

  She met him back at the office after lunch, and they worked on briefs and motions and transcripts of depositions until well after six o’clock. Mark finally realized the time and told her to go home. When Fannie got to the stairwell, she was hesitant to go in. She took a deep breath and told herself to stop being an idiot. Her tail, Russell, was probably close by somewhere, watching her.

  She opened the door and ran down the steps quickly, and when she opened the door at the bottom, Grant was there.

  “Hey,” he said. “Going home now?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Where’s Russell?”

  “He went home too. I’m his relief.”

  “So I should make up the couch?” she said with a grin.

  “It’s okay, I can sit in the hallway and stare at your pink door…”