by Pat White
Yet she was stuck with the handsome Bobby Finn.
She opened the door and there in the corner of the hallway sat her bodyguard.
“You can’t sleep out here,” she whispered.
“Sure I can. Unless they call the police back.”
He sniffed and rubbed his eyes.
Guilt snagged her conscience.
She went back into her room and grabbed a spare pillow and blanket.
“I spoke with Dad.” She tossed the pillow and blanket at him. “You’ve still got a job.”
“Lovely,” he said with a forced smile.
“Look, I’m sorry about the pepper spray.”
“I’m not. It means you’re on the ball this time.”
This time, right, not like when she’d been attacked on the train. The stairs creaked, and Grace took a step toward her room. Bobby stood as if ready for a confrontation.
Mrs. McCarthy stepped into the hallway and glanced at Bobby and then Grace. “What’s this?”
“He’s…we’re…” What should she say? If she admitted Bobby was her bodyguard it would surely alarm the woman. “We’re having an argument,” Grace blurted out.
“Well, I’m sorry, but your friend is going to have to leave. He can’t sleep on the floor and we don’t have any rooms available tonight.”
Bobby looked so completely disheartened.
“Come on now,” the innkeeper said. “You’d best be off. I think the Greystone Inn down the block has a few single rooms open.” She motioned with her hand.
Bobby didn’t move. He was going to get them both kicked out of the inn.
“No, it’s okay,” Grace said. “He can stay in my room.” She glanced at Mrs. McCarthy. “Can’t he?”
“I’ll have to charge you an extra ten pounds.”
“Of course.” Grace glanced at Bobby, who clutched the pillow and blanket, but hadn’t moved.
“Well?” Mrs. McCarthy prompted.
Bobby grudgingly walked toward Grace and hesitated as he passed her. His eyes were dark and intense as if he was furious, and for a split second she thought better of inviting him in to spend the night.
He disappeared into her room.
“Thank you so much,” she said to Mrs. McCarthy.
“I’m not used to so much excitement.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ll keep it quiet up here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
What, did she think they were lovers?
With pursed lips the woman nodded and turned to go downstairs. She wasn’t happy. Well, neither was Grace. She’d wanted solitude and peace on this trip. Instead, she was stuck with a sexy stranger as her shadow.
She went into her room and shut the door. Bobby stood by the window, peeking through the sheers. “I’ll wait a few hours and go back in the hallway.”
“Oh, okay.” She climbed into bed and turned off the bedside light. “Good night.”
He didn’t respond.
She lay there, eyes partially closed, watching his silhouette as he stood guard at the window. Strangely enough, she felt safer with him here.
Resentment took hold. She wanted to stand on her own, without her father or a bodyguard or Steven holding her hand.
“What happened?” Bobby said.
She opened her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“What made you ask me into your room?”
“My dad explained why he’s worried about me. I agreed to keep you around.”
“Keep me around? Like a stray puppy?” He laughed.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
A few more minutes passed. She suddenly wished she knew more about this man’s personal life. No, it was better not to know. There was something about Bobby that excited and intrigued her.
“I have to admit this is a first,” he said.
“What?”
“Spending the night with a woman, but not in her bed.”
Grace clutched the down comforter tighter to her chest. She’d sensed he was one of those guys, the kind that enjoyed sexual affairs but never engaged in love. She’d dated a few men like that. Thank goodness she’d found Steven.
She sighed. Solid, predictable Steven. Dad had been so relieved when she’d found him, especially after her wild teenage years.
She was lucky that Steven had come into her life, moved into her apartment complex and soon afterward, introduced himself. That had been two years ago. She wondered why she’d put him off for so long, discouraged him from making his official proposal.
“Are you married?” she asked Bobby.
“You’ve had a rough day,” he said. “Get some sleep.”
Obviously she’d hit a sore spot. Well, if she was going to spend the next two weeks in his company, she didn’t want it to be awkward.
“Sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
She propped herself up and studied his silhouette as he continued to stare out the window. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Don’t let it happen again.”
She heard humor in his voice and struggled to read his expression in the dark.
“It’s fine. Go to sleep,” he said.
She lay back down and pulled the comforter up to her shoulders. “Good night.”
“Sweet dreams.”
Her last conscious thought was how odd those words sounded coming from Bobby Finn’s mouth.
THE NEXT DAY, Bobby followed Grace to the American Express office where she got a replacement card. Apparently she’d need it.
She spent the morning buying gifts for family and friends back home. Bobby had never intentionally gone shopping with a woman. He considered it torture.
Yet with Grace it wasn’t so bad. She was gen uinely enthusiastic about every purchase as if she’d struck gold. It was hard to stay cross with that kind of enthusiasm smiling back at you.
“Look at this wool scarf,” she said. “It’ll be perfect for Dad, and the girls, they’ll love the Scotland flag patches. They’ll put them on their denim jackets and they’ll feel so cool.”
She shoved them back into her bag and shrugged, grinning from ear to ear.
She wore her hair straight today, framing her round face and full lips. She looked enticing, like a female he’d proposition.
“What? You think I should have gotten Dad a different plaid?”
“It’s fine.” He recovered, snapping his gaze from hers. Bugger, she’d noticed he’d drifted into lust. Not good, mate. “You know whose pattern that is?” he said.
“Who?” She started walking and he kept pace beside her.
“The Black Watch.”
“Sounds sinister.”
“On the contrary, it’s an infantry battalion of the Royal Regiment of Scotland. This country has had quite the history, always fighting for independence, always fighting to establish its own identity.”
“I can relate.”
“Can you?” he teased. “Well, at least no blood’s been shed over your independence.”
“Not yet, anyway.” She smiled at him and he wondered if the threat was aimed at Bobby or at her father.
“Hey, what about you? You haven’t bought anything today,” she said.
“Shopping isn’t my favorite pastime, although now that you mention it, I could use a few pairs of trousers and shirts. I didn’t have time to pack before I got on the train.”
“Okay, great. I used to love helping Dad shop for clothes, especially when he started dating.”
“You didn’t feel threatened by that? The other women?”
“He didn’t date all that many and besides, I wanted a mother so badly. For a long time I thought it was my fault I didn’t have one.”
He hesitated and touched her jacket. “Your fault?”
“Yeah, y’know, if he didn’t have me around he would have found a wife faster, stuff like that. You think weird stuff when you’re a kid.”
Or not so weir
d. Bobby had cried so hard when his mum left him with Uncle Thomas. She’d said he needed a male role model, but Bobby knew it was something else. He’d failed. Miserably, and she couldn’t stand having him around.
“Hey, I’m over it,” she said. She studied him with worry in her eyes. “You know, before this trip is over you’re going to have to tell me what puts that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“You go like this.” She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes.
“I do not look like that.”
“Uh, yeah, you really do.”
Blast, he was that transparent?
“Help me pick out some clothes,” he said, picking up the pace.
“My pleasure.”
Bloody marvelous, now he was her pet project. She’d probably dress him in fancy trousers, a tailored shirt and stuffy tie.
“Why is it so important to you?” she said.
“What, clothes?”
“Your job?”
“It’s my life’s work.”
“Following American girls around?”
“Catching bad guys, putting them away where they can’t hurt anyone. This—” he motioned to the space between them “—is a temporary diversion.”
A pleasant diversion.
She glanced away and he thought he might have hurt her feelings. How could that be? He didn’t say anything out of order.
Yet Bobby, the master of flirtation, put his foot in it on more than one occasion with this girl.
“I’ll bet you can get something in here.” She steered him into a shop selling wool sweaters, tartan trousers and colorful souvenirs. “Look at all this stuff,” she said, her eyes wide as they scanned the wares.
“What’s your plaid?” she said.
“I don’t have one.”
He didn’t have a plaid; didn’t have a homeland, although he was born in Ireland, he’d been shipped off to England for the better part of his life.
“Everyone’s got a plaid, right?” she said.
He shook his head. “Americans.”
“I’ll pick one out for you. Something that complements your eyes.”
“I wear black,” he said, sounding like a child. “Black trousers, black jacket.”
“Okay, then we’ll find you a shirt. Black plaid, perhaps?” She winked.
He stood behind her as she sifted through the rack of clothes. Instincts always on alert, he scanned the tourists filling the shop, paying attention to any oddities or anyone unusually interested in Grace.
Could the attack on the train and the power outage at the inn be simple coincidences? Possibly. He hoped so. He didn’t like the thought that this girl on holiday was at risk.
“This one,” she said, pulling a plaid shirt from the rack. “Large, right?”
“It’s bloody purple,” he said.
“It’s maroon and it will look great. Hold it for me.” She handed it to him and glanced behind him. Her brows furrowed.
He turned to see what she was looking at.
People milled about picking through the scarves and hats on sale. He looked back at her.
“I’m seeing things,” she said.
“What things?”
“My boyfriend. I swear I just saw him walk out the front door. They say everyone’s got a double. That must have been him.” She turned back to the rack of shirts.
Bobby glanced out the front window of the store. He wished he knew what the bloke looked like. He made a mental note to have Eddie send him a photograph of the boyfriend.
She turned and handed him another shirt.
“No, absolutely not,” Bobby said. “I may be color blind, but I know pink when I see it.”
“Just kidding.” She shot him that silly smile of hers and put it back.
When she smiled he wanted to touch her cheek, trace his thumb across her soft skin.
He took a slight step back. He really didn’t need to fall into lust with this girl. She was classy, had a boyfriend, led an uncomplicated life.
Unlike Bobby.
Bobby was broken in more ways than he could count, and he’d never be capable of giving true love to a woman. That was just fine with him.
“Okay, try these on and I’ll be waiting outside the dressing room,” she said.
“Right outside?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to miss the fashion show.”
With her hand to his back she pushed him to a dressing room. He peeked through the slit between the drape and the wall to make sure she hadn’t strayed too far. She was right outside the dressing room.
In record time he changed into the wild plaid trousers and a clashing shirt. Colors to complement his eyes? Rubbish. He looked in the mirror and nearly burst out laughing. He only hoped it had the same effect on Grace.
He flung open the drape. “I may be color blind but—”
She was gone.
“Grace?”
Maybe she was looking for more clashing patterns.
“If you’re looking for the blond woman, she ran out the front door,” a teenage girl said.
Bobby glanced through the storefront window and spotted Grace outside.
“Grace!” he called after her. He raced through the store, the clerk calling after him.
What on earth was she doing running away? Was it all a ruse? A game to get free of him?
Bobby pushed through tourists and raced into the street, only now aware that he wasn’t wearing shoes and had left his wallet in the dressing room in his pants.
Bollocks, where had she gone?
“Grace!” he called down the street.
He thought he saw her blond head through the crowd of tourists and pushed through to get to her.
“Stop! Thief!” someone cried behind him.
“Grace!” he shouted again.
Sirens echoed down the street. God, no, she wasn’t hit by a car or injured or—
“I don’t think so,” a man said, grabbing Bobby’s arm. He wrenched free, racing after her, desperate to keep her safe.
Maybe if he had kept Wendy safe Mum wouldn’t have sent him away.
For crying out loud, where had that come from?
Something tripped him and suddenly there were three men pinning him to the sidewalk. He heard a woman’s cries. His heart clenched with panic.
The sirens wailed. She couldn’t be hurt. He’d never forgive himself.
“Get off me.” He struggled against his aggressors. He couldn’t budge.
The dozen faces standing over him parted and two police officers looked down at him.
One of the officers shook his head in disgust. “All this for a pair of purple trousers?”
Chapter Six
“Hold on a bloody minute, it’s a misunderstanding,” Bobby protested as the police pulled him to his feet and walked him to the squad car.
He still couldn’t believe they’d cuffed him for running off with a pair of ridiculous purple trousers. He hadn’t given much thought to dashing into the crowded street wearing the store’s gear. He’d been too worried about Grace.
As they shoved him into the back of the police car he fought back his shame. He’d failed at so many things in his life. Why should this be any different?
Bugger, where had she disappeared to and why? Was this shopping lark her clever way of giving him the slip?
“Hey, wait!” a woman cried.
Grace. He turned and looked into her concerned blue eyes.
“Why are you arresting him?” she demanded.
“He stole these trousers right off the rack.”
“No, it’s a mistake. It’s my fault.”
“Sorry, miss, we’re taking him in.”
“My clothes are still in the fitting room,” Bobby shouted as the officer shut the door.
Grace said something to the copper, probably asking where they were taking Bobby, then she ran off.
Alone.
And Bobby was stuck in the back of a squad car, helpless and unable to p
rotect her. When he was released he should call Max to have someone else assigned to this case. Eddie maybe. He’d be a lot of fun for Grace and good American company.
“So, you do this often, Finn? Run off in other peoples’ trousers?”
Bobby’s blood ran cold. “You know my name?”
The cop didn’t answer. Bobby glanced out the car window. They headed away from the Royal Mile, away from town.
“Where are we going?” Bobby asked.
“Some place where we can talk.”
Not good. Were these blokes truly the police?
“Talk about what?”
“About how we don’t appreciate known criminals showing up and mingling with our tourists.”
“I wasn’t mingling with anyone.”
“No, you were just caught stealing. We know all about you, Bobby. Officer Markham at Transport Police pulled your criminal history. We know about the breaking and entering and drug-peddling.”
“That’s not true.” His temper flared.
“Records never lie, mate. We’re going to give you a re-education before you decide to hook up with your old friends.”
“A thorough background check would also reveal I’d been with Scotland Yard.”
“He’s got a sense of humour, that one,” the driver said to his partner.
“Either that or he’s off his trolley.”
“I was with the Special Crimes Initiative,” Bobby said.
“Definitely off his trolley.”
It didn’t matter what they did to him, but someone had to watch out for Grace.
“I’ve been hired to look after the girl,” he said. “At least call in and have someone check on her.”
“Why, she looked pretty independent to me,” the driver said.
“You should have heard her read me the riot act because I was taking her boyfriend into custody. She’s got a mouth on her.”
“Her father hired me to accompany her on this trip,” Bobby explained.
“Now why would he do that?” the driving cop said.
“He didn’t tell me why. He just said he was worried about her.”
“Ah, she’ll be fine. She’s meeting us at the station,” the other one said.
“She’ll be waiting a long time,” his partner said.
They chuckled.
“Listen to me!” Bobby pounded on the seat between them. “I need to get back to her.”
