“Do you like to cook Jane?” he asked as he set the table.
She turned and smiled, “I find it therapeutic, my mother is herself in the kitchen, and meals between the two of us are diverting.” She grimaced, “Unlike brunch. God, that was a nightmare, I could have killed you that day.”
He grinned, “I’ll make the salad. The problem of brunch, however, was entirely your cousin’s doing.”
Jane began mincing garlic, “Don’t blame James, you could have easily refused to go.”
“Ah, but the problem there Jane, is that I cannot stand the idea of you with another, as we discussed previously. Had I not attended the brunch, you might have found yourself compelled to spend an evening with Mr. Sanders or Mr. Blake.”
She rolled her eyes, added the garlic and some oil to the pan and began heating the garlic. “I’m surprised Mr. Poole, I don’t recall their names and yet you do.”
“I am, in fact, possessive, Ms. Eyre. I believe I have explained that before.”
“You did sir.” She diced the fresh tomatoes, “Gray, why did you take me to the stairwell to talk?”
He looked at her curiously, “Why do you ask?”
Jane turned down the heat on the garlic, started the water for the ravioli and leaned against the stove. “I had assumed you wished to see me privately, and now I discover that was not the case. I am merely curious as to your motives.”
“As was I, at the time. There is no surveillance in my office, and I wished to talk with your privately, but I also realized that if it was too private, you could say I had done something inappropriate and I would have no evidence, other than my word.”
She returned to the pot and said tartly, “So I guess you don’t date much.”
“Other than my regrettable invitation to the symphony, I have not pursued a woman romantically.” He touched her chin and raised her eyes to his, “Jane, since Lizzy’s death, I have been hunted by the most rapacious females your sex has to offer. Forgive me if I was concerned that the predators had found a new method of attack.”
“Do I make you feel like prey, sir?” she grinned sardonically.
“No Jane, you make me feel like the man I want to be.” He held her gaze and grinned when her breath hitched. She returned to cooking, musing over what he had said.
She turned toward him, wooden spoon in hand, “You ask me whether or not I think you’re crazy, and then get all weirdly jealous because Perkins asks me out?”
“I was cautious of your true motives, yes.” He looked at her warmly, “It did not take me long to realize you were more prey than predator.”
She looked at him carefully, “Said the lion to the lamb.” She rolled her head around and looked at the clock. “I think I’m ready for more Tylenol.”
He kissed his forehead and then fetched the medicine. “Do you want red or white wine with dinner?”
“Convention suggests white wine with pasta,” she answered, but preferred a good merlot or an oaky cabernet.
He asked in a mocking tone, “Ms. Eyre, are you conventional? That is an interesting question, is it not? Convention suggests you purchase your evening gowns rather than make them, live in the present day, expose your half-brother, further your own career even at your mother’s expense. Convention? I do not believe you are so fixed. Therefore, I ask again which would you prefer, my dear Jane?”
She grinned, “Red; merlot or cab, please.”
He nodded, “I prefer your directness, Jane. Do not trifle me with what you think I wish to hear.”
“Yes sir. I shall not hold my wicked tongue for fear of chastisement anymore.” She answered drolly.
He laughed and handed her a glass of wine, before pouring himself one. She returned to cooking, draining the ravioli and adding cream to the tomatoes and garlic and heating it before pouring it over the drained ravioli. She tore up the basil and tossed it on top.
“Two plates, please?” she asked.
He handed them to her and watched as she carefully arranged the dinner on each plate and placed two large basil leaves on top. He placed salad in bowls and put them on the table.
“It smells wonderful.” He murmured when she handed him a plate. He brought it over to the table.
“Thank you,” she answered shyly.
“This is a work of art, Jane.” He mused looking at his plate, perfectly dressed.
“Enough praise. Eat.” She ordered.
After dinner, he cleared the table and poured more wine. Leading her upstairs to the sitting room, he started a fire and then pointed a remote at the Seurat painting. The screen changed and Fox News took its place.
She chuckled, “Ok, that’s really cool.” She sat down on the couch and he joined her.
He grinned, “Yeah...” He looked over at her, “Almost as cool as having a jet.”
She raised an eyebrow, “Oh, now you’re just bragging.”
“Are you implying I’m vain, Ms. Eyre?”
She chuckled, “Vain, sir? Do you feel that you are excessively proud?”
He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, “Excessively, I don’t believe so. Do I not have the right to feel some pride in the fruits of my labor?” He produced an iPad from the side of the couch and the TV guide pulled up on the television. He asked innocently, “What would you care to watch, Ms. Eyre?”
She rolled her eyes, “You have an iPad as a remote.”
He grinned, “Maybe.”
She cocked a brow, “And a jet.”
“Yes”
“So it’s safe to say you are, in fact not just wealthy but stinking rich?”
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
She nodded, the wine making her more honest, “Yes. Most definitely.”
“Ms. Eyre, are you prejudiced?” he feigned shock.
She sighed, “Yes sir, I believe I am.”
He stilled and looked at her curiously, “Jane, really?”
She nodded, “I’m sorry but I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit this is very intimidating. Remember I prefer to be the peahen to the peacock.”
He shook his head, “You are most peculiar Ms. Eyre.” He looked at the television and turned down the volume, “But Jane, I’m just a man, and you yourself grew up with money.”
She looked at him, “I grew up in the house you have seen, with parents that were a bit different than my peers.” She pulled her leg up on to the couch to face him and winced at the pain from changing position, “The antiques in the house now, are exactly as they have always been. My father was very careful with money when I was growing up; he made sure that there was enough to care for us when he passed.” She waved to the television and iPad, “And he never introduced technology into our home, he felt it was important that I was trained classically. He felt that television would only take time away from my studies of the arts.”
Gray blinked, “You didn’t have television as a child?”
She nodded, “You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that Disney had rewritten so many classics. Patrick and I spent most of our time together watching TV; he tried to educate me on pop culture.”
“If you didn’t have television, how did you learn about Edith Head? She’s not exactly pop culture.” He asked sardonically.
She shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “Patrick’s always been gay.”
He laughed. Shaking his head he asked, “So am I to understand that you could only love me if I was poor?”
Her eyes widened, “I do not believe it proper to speak of love and money in the same breath, sir.”
He chuckled, “You are quite right, Ms. Eyre. Yet, it bothers you, even though you may not speak of it in the same breath, you are certainly thinking of it.”
“I cannot deny that there is a part of me that is awed and daunted by your character and wealth.”
He reached for her hand and pulled her fingers to his lips, brushing them lightly. She blushed, and he turned his cheek so that the backs of her fingers trailed over his face.
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“Jane, I am in awe of you. You cannot deny your attraction and I certainly do not deny mine. Do you think your mother was concerned about your father’s money?”
Jane said quietly, “No, I see your point.” She yawned, “I am sorry sir. I did not mean to be so rude.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, “Nonsense Jane, you have had a most trying day. Would you care to go to bed?”
She swallowed, not sure how to answer. Bed, that one word had many meanings, it could be a noun or a verb. Sensing her discomfort Gray stood up and held his hands out to her.
“Come Ms. Eyre, I offer you a place to slumber, to dream.” He pulled her up from the couch and after giving her personal time he tucked her into his bed.
“Good night Ms. Eyre, I shall be here for you in case you require anything in the night. You are most safe, I assure you.”
She thanked him and settled into the covers. He left and returned to the sitting room, turning down the volume of the television. She woke when she felt him join her in bed, he whispered quietly, asking if she had a headache, when she murmured no, he laid against her back, gently draping his arm over her waist.
She awoke wrapped around him, her leg thrown over his, her head on his chest. She looked up shyly and discovered he was awake and amused.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
His hand traveled lightly down her back, “How are you feeling this morning?”
She grinned, “Well rested.”
His hand traveled lower, cupping her buttocks as he leaned down and kissed her. He pulled his head back and watched her, “All better?”
She whispered, “Much better,” ignoring the soreness that still plagued her back. She became aware that he had come to bed in boxer briefs, and only boxer briefs. The fact that her head and hand were resting directly on his skin, his warm, soft skin that covered firm muscles was definitely doing much to improve her condition. She bravely moved her hand across his chest; her fingertips trailing over a smattering of chest hair covered his perfect chest. He looked sculpted, hard muscles covered by soft skin.
She felt her heart beating faster as she watched his expression darken and intensify. He leaned his forehead towards hers, watching her, and then he kissed her again. His hands cupped her bottom and pulled her up so that her head was even with his. He deepened their kiss until she pulled back, watching him carefully. His hands slid under her sweater, unhooking her bra.
The phone rang and she blinked, unsure that it could be real, the intrusive peal of the bell. Gray cursed and removed his hand from her back and reached over to answer it.
“Poole.” He barked and waited. “What?” His eyes shifted to hers, “When?” He closed his eyes briefly and then rolled them, “Ok, I’ll let her know,” and hung up.
She propped herself up on one elbow, but left her leg and arm on him, unwilling to break contact. “What’s happened?
He sighed, “We have to get dressed. The police are on their way over. Richard’s dead, looks like murder.”
“Holy cow,” she breathed, “Who called, was it Ben? I mean was it Ben that called?” she asked.
He smirked, “Of course.” He grabbed her hips and pulled her directly on top of him, “I wish to continue this at a future time, Ms. Eyre.”
“Mr. Poole!” Jane chided, and then leaned down and kissed him. Teasing him with her tongue, her hands splayed on his chest, her hips centered over his. He returned the kiss with fervor.
She moaned when his hands grabbed her hips and rocked her close. He stopped, “Jane, the police…”
She relented, sitting up and grinning wickedly. “You’re right.” She slowly rolled off him grimacing as she sat up. Her hands went behind her to fasten her bra and she headed to the bathroom.
She followed the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. Gray was wearing blue jeans and a white linen shirt and leaning against the counter when she came in, his arms folded across him.
“So, you think Ben killed him?” he asked.
Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Um, I don’t know.” He grinned and she continued, “I think he’s capable, but I don’t know why he would.”
Gray nodded, he looked out the window behind her, “If the police ask who would want Richard dead, you should have a name handy. Probably not Ben’s.”
She stepped toward him, “His wife has an excellent motive.”
Gray looked at her surprised, “Why?”
“Oh, she’s going to be mad that he went off his rocker so publicly. It’s one thing to be an asshole in private, but to have it posted on YouTube? Plus with you buying the hotel, I guarantee you they put all their assets into the property across the street…” She looked thoughtful, “He’s worth more dead than alive, and now that he so publicly shamed himself…” Jane looked at him, “It’s not like I haven’t dreamed of killing him myself. This is just a good opportunity.”
Gray pulled her in for a hug, “I wouldn’t share that last bit either.” He sighed, “I never thought that buying the hotel would cause this to happen. I just assumed it would annoy him, ruin him financially. I didn’t think he’d become violent or get killed.”
She nuzzled his chest, loving the smell of him, the warmth of his arms around her. She spoke softly, “This is about greed, not about honor. You’ve done nothing but bring out the worst in Richard who was trying to screw with you because you showed me and my mother kindness.”
“Ms. Eyre, screw?”
“Would you prefer he is a bubbler, a buckeen who took you for a cake?” she asked drily.
He laughed, “I have no idea what that means, translate please.”
“He’s a cheat who thought you’d be an easy mark.” She looked up at Gray fondly, “I would like to believe that Richard is truly clueless that his business deals have made him so many enemies. Truthfully, I don’t think he cares. I mean cared.”
Gray groaned, “I should call Clayton, he should be here, in case.” He released her from the hug and went to the office to place the call.
Jane felt cold, and frightened and suddenly angry at Ben for not calling her directly. She went upstairs to check her phone, but there were no texts, no voicemails. She texted James that the police were coming to Gray’s house to question her about Richard’s death. James replied immediately that they had just left the house.
She replied, “I can’t believe he’s really dead.”
James answered, “I can’t believe it took this long for it to happen.”
She deleted the text and took her phone with her downstairs.
Gray looked at her curiously, “You’re very pale. Do you feel alright?”
She nodded, “I texted James, the police just left the house. I can’t believe this is really happening.”
“Clayton should be here in twenty minutes. He’s begged us to not say a word until he gets here.”
Jane sighed, “This is why Ben wanted me to stay here last night. He knew this was going to happen.” She looked at Gray, “He wanted to make sure that you and I had alibis.”
Gray shrugged, “I doubt it, if he wanted us to have alibis, and he would have suggested we go out to eat in public, be seen by others.”
Jane conceded, “True, I hadn’t thought of that.”
She made herself some tea while Gray made toast and pulled out apple butter from the fridge.
They sat at the table and Gray looked up at her, “I like this Jane. I think we should make a habit of breakfasting together.”
She narrowed her eyes, “You forget I come with excessive baggage.”
“We all have baggage.” He said softly.
She scoffed, “Mine’s in her sixties, healthy as a horse and requires constant supervision. Gray, I’m sorry but I can’t…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.
He was about to push her when the doorbell rang. He had her wait at the table while he answered the door and escorted the detective to the kitchen. He poured him a black coffee and introduced him to Jane. They all sat down at the table, Gray took
the seat beside Jane and the detective sat across from her.
Detective Goold was handsome, looked to be in his late forties, in excellent shape with bright blue intelligent eyes and a warm smile. His hair was graying at the temples and laugh lines were etched around his eyes making Jane relax immediately.
He rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry for your loss,” he began. Jane nodded and said nothing, “I just left your mother’s house.” He looked up at her curiously, “Is she alright?”
Jane pursed her lips together, “She’s suffered a few strokes and it’s changed her personality a bit.”
“Your cousin James said she’s under constant supervision.”
“Yes sir.”
“Have you spoken with your mother this morning?”
Jane’s eyebrows shot up, “Um, mom doesn’t like using the phone.” She could feel herself begin to blush slightly.
Gray reached for her hand, clasping it gently and answered, “Jane’s mother prefers things old-fashioned. She prefers to speak to people directly. It’s quite charming, actually.”
The detective nodded, but Jane realized he didn’t take any notes, just listened. He sipped on his coffee and asked Gray, “How long have you been seeing Ms. Austen.”
Gray looked amused, “I suppose it’s been a few weeks. What do you say Ms. Eyre? How long have you been infatuated with me?”
She rolled her eyes and looked away, refusing to answer.
The detective asked Jane directly, “Did you stay here last night?”
Jane answered, “Yes, after work Gray brought me to his house. I was examined by his doctor and we spent the night here.”
“What time did you get here?”
Jane looked at Gray, “I don’t know.”
Gray spoke up, “She’s been with me since immediately after the attack, about noon yesterday. We came directly here, and probably arrived around 12:30, Dr. Wilcox arrived around 1:00.”
The doorbell rang and Gray stood up, “I’ve invited my lawyer to join us.”
The detective looked at Jane, “Do you think you need a lawyer?”
Jane paled, and she answered quietly “No.”
“Was Mr. Poole with you the entire night?” he asked.
Jane Eyre Austen Page 13
