by Debbie Mason
She held up her hands. “I’ll take it out. But I’m not changing the book just so it’s easier for your wife to read.”
“Grace won’t be reading the book.”
“Wow, really? I knew she was insecure, but color me shocked.”
He dragged his hand down his face. If she weren’t paying him a shitload of money and he didn’t need the cash to buy the house, he’d be done. From his son’s bedroom came a muffled cry. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Take your time. I’ll read over the next chapter.” If the uneasy look in her eyes was anything to go by, she’d been putting her imagination to good use again.
Little Jack took a while to get settled. He wasn’t impressed that it was his father, and not his mother, who’d come in to check on him. “Sorry, I…” His jaw dropped when he walked into the living room. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled at a topless Maria bent over scrubbing the couch.
“I spilled my coffee, okay? What’s your problem? It’s not like you haven’t seen me in less than this.”
“Not once I knew I was married and not when my wife could come home at any minute. Get your top on.” He snagged her T-shirt from the area rug and went to give it to her.
She straightened, dropped the coffee-stained cloth on the table, and moved into him, putting a hand on his arm. “Are you sure your reaction isn’t because you remember what we had? I know how much you loved touching and kissing me, how much you loved my body.” He removed her hand from his arm and stepped back. She ran a finger down his chest. “Funny how you professed to love my curves and you’re married to a woman without any, how much you loved my passion, how uninhibited I was, yet you’re married to…”
He clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his temper under control and shoved the T-shirt into her hands. “Get dressed and get out. We’re done.”
She shot him a frantic look. “No, you can’t send me away, not because of this. I… I just thought if you remembered what we had…” Her voice trailed off as she took in his unyielding stance. “You never loved me, did you?”
The anger that had been building inside him deflated. He’d forgotten how vulnerable she was. Bowing his head, he dragged in a harsh breath before raising his gaze to hers and giving her the answer she didn’t want to hear. “No.” Her face crumpled, and he drew her into his arms, holding her for a minute before saying, “I’m sorry, Maria. You’re a beautiful woman, and I was attracted to you, but no, I never loved you.”
She took a step back. “I loved you,” she said in a broken whisper.
“I’m sorry.”
She swiped at her eyes, then jerkily pulled on her top. “I’ll pay to have the couch cleaned. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
The apartment door opened. “Jack… what the hell is going on here?” his sister snapped upon entering the living room.
He moved in front of Maria. “I spilled coffee on Maria and the couch. We were cleaning it up.”
“That’s not how it looks to me,” Jill retorted, leaning back to look down the hall. “Where’s Grace?”
“She’s not home from the meeting yet.” Thank Christ.
Frowning, Jill said, “She left over forty-five minutes ago with Skye.”
“I’ll, um, just get going,” Maria said, sidestepping Jack as she bent to gather the papers.
“They probably went out for coffee,” he said, at the same time digging his cell from his jeans pocket. He found it hard to believe, ring or no ring, that Grace hadn’t come home as soon as the meeting let out. “Did she—”
Jill held up a finger when her cell rang. “Hey, Ray.” She listened to the deputy on the other end. Her eyes widened. Nodding, she bit her bottom lip. “Yeah, we’re on our way.”
Jack’s fingers tightened on his phone. “What’s going on?”
“Calm down, Grace is all right.” Jill’s nervous gaze darted from him to Maria. “I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. We’ll straighten it out at the station.”
“Are you telling me my wife’s in jail?”
“Um, yeah, kind of. They’re charging her with breaking and entering. But like I said, I’m sure there’s been a mistake.”
* * *
Grace wasn’t all right. She’d lost her fucking mind.
Jack dragged his hand down his face, splaying his fingers over his mouth as he stared at the five women in the cell. Nell, Mrs. Tate, and Mrs. Wright, dressed in black pants and tops, camouflage stripes painted on their cheeks and black knit hats on their heads, sat together on the cot, talking on their cell phones. Skye sat cross-legged on the floor. She looked like she was meditating or something. And Grace, head bowed, fiddled with the buttons on her blouse.
“They broke into my room, Jill. My room,” Maria ranted at Jack’s sister, who tried to calm her down.
“Om,” Skye chanted.
Gage came into the holding area with a what-the-hell look in his eyes. “Get off your damn phones,” he barked at the older women.
“Hold on, there, sonny. Don’t forget who you’re talking to,” Nell said. Then, to whomever she was on the phone with, “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you when I get out of the slammer.”
“It’ll be a good long while before that happens, lady. You broke into my room!”
Jack could hear Gage, who stood beside him, grind his teeth. “Ms. DeMarco, not another word or I’ll have to ask you to leave. Now, before we go any further, do any of you require medical attention?”
Skye opened one eye, her “Om” rising a couple of decibels as Nell leaned forward to check out Mrs. Wright, who remained on the phone. “Skye there hit Stella over the head with a wine bottle, but Stella’s got a hard noggin. She’s not slurring. So she’s good.” Mrs. Wright nodded, then proceeded to tell whomever she spoke to a colorful version of the event.
“Don’t think Grace needs a doctor, but she’s got a shiner. Sorry about that, Grace,” Nell said with a wince.
“It’s okay, Nell,” she mumbled.
Jack had hung back, afraid he’d lay into his wife if he didn’t. But upon hearing she’d been hurt, he strode to the cell. “Grace, come here.”
Her shoulders rose and fell on a sigh, then she did as he asked. He put his hand through the bars and nudged her chin with his knuckle. “Look at me.” She did. He grimaced as he took in her bloodshot right eye and the angry red and vibrant purple surrounding it. “That’s gotta hurt, princess. Can you see okay?”
She nodded. Jill elbowed him out of the way and handed Grace a bag of ice, talking quietly to her as she did. Before Jack could ask his wife what the hell she’d been thinking, Gage said, “All right, which one of you wants to tell me what you were doing in Ms. DeMarco’s room?”
“I’ll tell you what they were doing. They’re trying to frame me for arson,” Maria said, arms crossed, white high-heeled sandal tapping on the floor.
Skye stopped Om-ing and said, “No, we weren’t. Grace and I dropped by to say hi. The patio door was open, so we went in to wait for you. We thought Nell, Mrs. Wright, and Mrs. Tate were burglars.”
Grace’s mouth dropped open. As though sensing Jack’s attention, she quickly closed it.
Maria snorted. “Seriously? Grace knew I was with Jack.”
“And maybe that’s why she wanted to talk to you,” Skye said, giving Maria a take-that look.
Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, Nell, what’s your story?”
“Me and the girls are offering our services to local businesses. We’re showing them how easy it is to break into their establishments. We didn’t know it was Maria’s room. And we didn’t break in.” She held up a hotel passkey. “The lodge has some serious security issues. We’re going to write up our report as soon as you let us out of here.” Her cell rang, and she answered, despite her nephew telling her not to. “Hey, Ethan, thanks for getting back to me. Yep. Sure thing.” She got up from the cot, gave her nephew a smug smile, and handed him the phone through the bars. “My lawyer would like a word.”
/>
Gage scowled at his aunt and took the phone. Maria came to stand beside Jack. “I won’t press charges. But if I don’t, I want something in return,” she said for his ears alone.
He raised a brow. “Looks like they’re going to get off anyway.”
“I have a lot of connections, Jack. And I have no problem pulling in a few favors. All I want is for you to continue working on the book with me.”
He knew better than to underestimate Maria, but he didn’t take kindly to blackmail. He’d tell her to go to hell if it weren’t for Grace. His wife didn’t need to take another hit in the press. Besides, he needed the pay from the book now more than ever. The insurance company wouldn’t settle their claim until Grace and Jack were eliminated as suspects. “All right, but the deal’s off if there’s a repeat performance of tonight.”
“It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Maria talked to Gage after he got off the phone with Ethan, and the women were released. But not before Gage laid down the law. While Grace said good-bye to her partners in crime, Jill came to his side. “Don’t be too hard on her. She did it to protect you,” she said, confiding his wife’s fears to him.
“Of all the…” he began, and his sister elbowed him none too gently in the gut. “All right already, I’ll go easy on her.”
“You’d better,” his sister said in a warning tone. Grace approached with an apprehensive look in her eyes. “Come on, princess. It’s past old man Murray’s bedtime,” he said, taking her by the hand. He’d called Murray to come stay with little Jack.
“I know you’re upset with me, Jack. I’m kind of upset with me, too. But I had to do something,” Grace said, holding the ice pack to her eye. She glanced over her shoulder when Maria gave a flirty laugh while speaking to Gage. Grace’s good eye narrowed. “What is she up to now? Did you hear her, Jack? Did you hear Maria accuse us of trying to frame her?” Grace made a frustrated sound in her throat. “Now when we, um, they, find evidence against her, she’ll say we planted it. Oh, she thinks she’s pretty smart lying for us like she did, but I’ve got her number. When they find out she’s behind the arson, she’s going to blackmail us. But it won’t work. I—”
“Grace, seriously, baby. Be quiet before I turn you over my knee and spank you.”
“Jack!”
“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it, Grace,” Nell said as she headed for the door. “I just read a scene in my book where Christian Grey paddles that Anastasia gal’s behind. She seemed to like it just fine, let me tell you.”
Jack stared after her. “What the hell kind of book is she reading?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Two weeks later, all was well in the Flaherty household. And Jack couldn’t be happier. Surprisingly, it was thanks to the bakery that his wife no longer had time to run around with the geriatric crime solvers. But Jack had done some investigating of his own.
Whoever had set the bakery on fire had put his family in danger, and he wouldn’t rest until they were behind bars. As soon as the official report came in, Jack went to Gage with his suspicions about Stu. The kid had gone to ground, but last night they caught a break.
They knew Stu’s motivation; opportunity had been tougher to nail down. Whoever had set the fire had a key. And now they knew where he’d gotten it… Desiree. The two it seemed were more than friends. Gage had Desiree’s home under surveillance. It was only a matter of time before they had Stu in custody. But for today, Jack was going to kick back and enjoy his first Father’s Day with his son.
“You wanna watch The Smurfs?” he asked little Jack, who lay beside him in bed eating toast.
His son nodded, stuffed the rest of the bread in his mouth, and reached for the channel changer. “Me do,” he said, crumbs spraying over Jack and the breakfast tray.
Jack brushed the soggy bits of bread from his bare chest, eyeing his wife as she came into the bedroom loaded down with presents. “You didn’t have to do that, princess. The show you put on last night covered you for a couple years’ worth.” He grinned when her cheeks pinked. That was just one of the things he loved about Grace. No one other than him knew that his classy, demure wife was a wildly passionate, uninhibited woman in the bedroom.
“Come here.” He patted the bed. “We’re going to watch The Smurfs.”
Grace set the wrapped boxes on the end of the bed. “You’ve already watched it twice. Why don’t we watch The Little Mermaid instead?”
“We’re guys. That’s a chick flick,” he said, holding back the covers for her.
She gave an amused shake of her head. His son glanced from his father to his mother, then patted his side of the bed. “No sleep Da. Sleep me.”
“Oh, Jack,” Grace said as she crawled in beside their son. “He called you Da.”
He’d almost given up hope his son would call him anything other than Jack. “Yeah, best present ever,” he said, his voice gruff as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He ruffled his son’s hair. “Thanks, buddy.”
Her golden eyes misty, Grace leaned across their son to kiss him. “Happy Father’s Day.”
“Thanks.” He went to meet her halfway, but little Jack shoved his head between them and wrapped a small arm around each of their necks. “Kiss me.”
Laughing, they did as he asked. Then Grace said to their son, “Do you want to give Daddy his presents?”
For the next ten minutes, Jack opened his presents with his son’s enthusiastic help. By the time they were finished, the bed was littered with wrapping paper, Jack wore his “#1 Dad” T-shirt, and his son had on Jack’s “#1 Dad” ball cap. Jack ducked when his “#1 Dad” coffee mug whizzed past him, knocking the clock off the bedside table.
Jack chuckled. “Gotta admit he has a good arm.”
Grace sighed. “Good thing it’s plastic. Here, we’ll put on your movie,” she said, deftly removing the controller from little Jack’s hand before it went the way of the mug.
Jack leaned over and picked the digital clock off the floor. “I didn’t realize it was that late. We better get going or Gage and the girls will leave without us.” Jack caught the apprehensive look in Grace’s eyes. “He’ll be fine. I won’t let him out of my sight.”
“But… Okay, just promise you’ll use his harness and put him in a life jacket.”
“Gonna be tough to fit his harness over the life jacket, don’t you think?” And a little overkill, if you asked him. They wouldn’t be on the water. They were fishing from the shore.
“Maybe he should stay home. He’s going to miss his nap, and he’ll be cranky when we go to Gage and Madison’s—”
“I’m taking him fishing,” Jack said, unable to keep the frustration from his voice as he climbed out of bed. He’d thought they’d moved past this. “Come on, buddy.” He held his arms out to his son. Jack’s frustration faded when he saw the look of fear in his wife’s eyes. This had nothing to do with her need for control. She was terrified.
“Hey.” He crouched in front of her with little Jack in his arms. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She took their son’s hand in hers and kissed it. “I know I’m being overprotective. It’s just…” She shook her head and gave him a weak smile. “Sorry.”
“Come with us.”
“No, this is your special day with him. Besides, I promised to bring a sugar plum cake to Madison’s. Which reminds me, I have to get it out of the oven.” She got off the bed and headed for the door.
“Princess, I’ll put him in a life jacket, harness, and water wings.”
She turned at the door and smiled. “Thank you.”
Well, shit, he’d been joking about the water wings.
* * *
Finger poised over the Send button, Grace chided herself for being ridiculous and put the phone in her pocket instead of texting Jack. Like the last couple of weeks, this morning had been perfect, and she’d nearly let her irrational fears ruin it.
She picked up the cake and walked to the door, awkwardly balancing
the board against the wall as she locked the apartment. Her decorating supplies had arrived last week, and she’d restocked the bakery’s kitchen. All that was left was for the new stove to arrive and the painting to be done before she reopened for business. And hire staff, she reminded herself.
Unlike Jack, Grace had a hard time believing Desiree had quit because she felt guilty. Although, she had to admit, Desiree’s remorse about the fire had seemed over-the-top. Maybe Grace didn’t want to believe Stu had set the fire because it meant she’d been wrong about Maria. She still got embarrassed thinking of the night they’d broken into the woman’s room. Grace had been so worried about Jack ending up in an orange jumpsuit, she’d nearly ended up in one herself.
Well, that was the last time she was going to let her bad girl out to play, Grace thought as she unlocked the bakery door. She looked around the room. It would be nice to see the tables filled with happy customers again. And if the number of people popping by to ask when she’d reopen were any indication, they would be.
Smiling at the thought, Grace pushed through the swinging doors and swallowed a panicked yelp. A man stood with his back to her, cell phone in hand. It was Stu, and he had a gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Grace took a careful step back, attempting to ease her way out of the kitchen without alerting him to her presence. He whipped around.
She smoothed the fear from her face and forced herself to walk to the prep table. “Hi, Stu,” she said, setting the cake down.
“Grace, what are you doing here?” He slammed the cell phone on the counter, jerking his fingers through his unkempt hair.
“Decorating a cake. What are you doing here, Stu?” she asked, holding his gaze as she edged her fingers to her pocket. His eyes were bloodshot behind his wire-framed glasses, his movements jerky. She had to get him to calm down. Distract him so she could let Jack know he was here.
“It’s your husband’s first Father’s Day with his boy, isn’t it? You made him a cake. That’s nice, real nice.” He nodded, kept nodding.
