“You’ll manage,” she said softly against his shoulder. He always did, didn’t he? Nothing ruffled his feathers for very long.
She lifted her head and looked up at Ray. The way he gazed down at her she thought that maybe, just maybe, this had become simply a dance for the two of them. Just this one dance, just this one precious and private moment before they began their investigation. She realized too soon that he was leading her toward Reed and his mother.
But for the moment she allowed herself to enjoy the way Ray held her, the feel of his hand at her back and his fingers over hers, the brush of his body against hers. And she wished, for the thousandth time, that things were different for them.
“I’ll bet they don’t play one Lyle Lovett song all night,” Ray grumbled, blatantly trying to change the subject.
“You’re probably right. Of course, we could always get closer to the stage and yell out, ‘Don’t Touch My Hat,’ ‘Her First Mistake!’”
Ray didn’t laugh, he didn’t smile at all. His hands tightened and he pulled her closer.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered as they neared Reed.
No, she wasn’t sure about anything. But she nodded once.
The music ended and they joined the crowd in clapping politely as the big band began another number.
“Mrs. Reed.” Ray said, turning on the charm as he addressed Elliott Reed’s mother. She had the look of the grande dame, elegant and polished, cold and perfect, from the gray hair piled on her head to the champagne-colored gown to the pointy tips of her toes. “I was so hoping for the opportunity to dance with you.”
The older woman smiled, properly flattered, and Reed backed away. Ray threw a glance at the assistant DA. “I’ll even let you dance with my wife if I can have your mother for a few minutes. Elliott Reed, right?” he asked as if trying to remember. “This is Grace Madigan.”
Reed seemed annoyed, until he turned to Grace. He looked her up and down like a coyote surveying fresh kill. She should have known this dress she’d chosen for Ray’s benefit would bring unwanted attention. Had she thought no one would look at her tonight but Ray?
“It would he my pleasure,” Reed said with a grin.
Elliott Reed was a fine dancer, though he held her too close for comfort. When Ray had held her close it felt warm and right. This was just creepy.
“Good band,” she said, trying to start a casual conversation that might make Reed take his eyes from her cleavage.
“Yeah,” he said, lifting his head to look her in the eye. “If you like this old crap.”
She raised her eyebrows and drew back slightly. He continued to try to hold her too close. “If you don’t like the music, why are you here?” she asked.
He grimaced. “My mother commands it.”
“And you always listen to Mother?”
His eyes darkened and he sighed tiredly. “I find it easier to get by if I keep her happy.”
Beatrice Reed probably kept a tight rein on the purse strings, Grace decided. “That’s very sweet,” she said with a smile. “Going to so much trouble to keep your mother happy. You’re a good son.”
He hummed noncommittally. “Well, now that I’ve met you, I’m glad I came. Maybe your husband will dance with Mother all night and I can have you.”
For once, Grace didn’t quickly correct the mistake by muttering ex-husband. She’d just as soon Reed believed her to be taken. If Elliott Reed behaved this way when he thought she was a married woman, what would he do if he knew she was single? She’d rather not find out.
They drifted steadily away from Ray and the elderly Mrs. Reed, and as soon as they were at a decent distance Elliott laid his hand on her rear end. Casually, lightly, but definitely inappropriately.
“Mr. Reed,” she said in a lightly admonishing tone. “Behave yourself.”
He smiled, moved his hand to a proper position, and spun her around to the squeal of a trumpet. “Can’t blame a man for trying, Mrs. Madigan.”
Grace found herself facing Louise Lanford, who sat at a small table with the mayor and a tall drink. Louise didn’t look like a woman whose husband had been dead a week, in her diamonds and bright blue gown that was cut nearly to her navel.
Reed’s eyes traveled that way, too, just for a moment.
“Isn’t it a shame?” she asked softly.
“What’s that?”
“What happened to Carter Lanford. That’s his widow, isn’t it?”
He stiffened, just slightly. “I don’t think it’s a shame. The man was a world-class jackass.”
Her eyes widened. “You knew him?”
“I’m afraid so,” Reed muttered, leading her toward the center of the dance floor once again.
“Everything I read about him made him sound like a really good man,” she said innocently.
Reed’s gaze went distant, detached. “There was nothing good about Carter Lanford but his bank account.”
Grace smiled warmly. The man was going to open up right here on the dance floor. He was going to spill his guts.
He didn’t get the chance.
“Excuse me,” a familiar voice interrupted, with a sigh and a tap on Reed’s shoulder. “I believe this dance is mine.”
Grace sighed herself as Luther, in a traditional dark tuxedo, stepped into Reed’s place. He held himself stiffly, distant, and so did she.
“Luther,” she said softly.
“Grace,” he grumbled her name. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Same thing you are, I imagine.”
He was a lousy dancer. She almost told him so.
“Dammit, Grace, this is not The Thin Man Meets the Hit Man.” Luther snapped as he stepped on her toe and quickly stepped back. “You and Ray can’t run around trying to solve the mystery yourselves like it’s some kind of game. This is a seriously dangerous character you’re messing with.”
Luther had been her friend once, but he’d been nothing but nasty to her since her return to Huntsville. She’d tried to understand, but right now she was simply annoyed. As if she didn’t have enough trouble!
“If we thought there was the slimmest chance you might find Potts, we wouldn’t be here,” she said coolly.
“I could have you arrested,” he threatened.
“You won’t,” she said with confidence.
Her new dance partner swung her around clumsily. His eyes scanned the room as he steered her toward the edge of the crowd. They left the dance floor, and Luther grabbed her wrist and half led, half dragged her toward an exit. He pulled her through a door and she found herself in a brightly lit and deserted hallway, her back against the wall, Luther scowling at her with his face just inches away.
“I’m only going to say this once,” he hissed. “Ray doesn’t need you flitting in and out of his life, turning him upside down and inside out and then disappearing when the mood strikes you. You screw with his head again and I will throw you in jail. Don’t ask me what for, I’m sure I can find something. If I can’t I’ll manufacture something,” he warned lowly. His face was rigid, his eyes dark. “Why the hell did you come back?”
His eyes didn’t dance like Ray’s, they smoldered. Dark and condemning. No matter what he said or did, she couldn’t be mad at Luther any longer. He obviously had Ray’s best interest at heart. Tough as nails, seemingly cantankerous, he would go to the ends of the earth for a friend. And Ray was his best friend.
“Just between us?” she whispered.
“If that’s the way it has to be,” he snapped.
She didn’t talk to anyone about Ray and what had happened between them. Not her parents or her friends. She didn’t trust anyone with her heart.
But something had to give. “I came back because I never got Ray out of my blood, because I could never make myself fall out of love with him. For six years I tried, and I just … couldn’t.”
Luther’s face softened. “You never should’ve left.”
“I know that.”
�
�It damn near killed him.”
She closed her eyes. God, she didn’t want to know how hard her leaving had been for Ray. She wanted to believe it had been easier for Ray. It made her guilt less, somehow.
“Me, too,” she whispered.
“Dammit, if you leave him again…”
“I won’t,” she said, opening her eyes, trying to look at Luther so openly and honestly he would know without doubt she was telling the truth. “This time, Ray’s going to leave me.”
It was for the best, she’d decided. She wasn’t going to run; she wasn’t going to let Ray push her away. She was his completely for as long as he wanted and needed her. Until he left for Mobile.
Luther cursed, low and profanely, as he backed away.
“So,” Grace said, relaxing and even taking Luther’s arm as they headed for the ballroom. “How have you been?”
He cut a sharp glance her way and grimaced. “I’m fine.”
His answer for everything.
“Did you ever get married?” Luther was a handsome man, sweet when it suited him, a good guy like Ray. She couldn’t believe he’d never found the right woman.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
He stopped with his hand on the door that would open into a crowded ballroom. The music was muffled, still, but would blast them when the door was opened. Muted laughter met her ears.
“If you and Ray can’t make it,” Luther said softly. “I don’t have a chance in hell.”
Before she could respond he threw open the door and dragged her through the doorway.
*
Ben McCann was an attractive man with meticulously styled dark hair and soulful brown eyes that made him look more like an artist than a businessman. In spite of his athletic build, Grace half expected him to start spouting poetry at any moment.
“Are you a big supporter of the charity?” Grace asked. Heather Farmer had introduced them, and had then suggested that her new boss dance with her “friend.” He had grudgingly obliged.
“The company has connections with the Children’s Hospital,” he said. “I had no choice but to be here tonight.” His eyes wandered about the room until they found Louise Lanford. “To be honest, I’d rather be at the hockey game. They’re in the playoffs, you know.”
“Huntsville has a hockey team?” she asked, genuinely confused.
“Yeah. Not on the NHL level, of course. It’s a minor league team.” He almost broke into a smile. Almost. “You didn’t know? Where have you been?”
She smiled. “In Chattanooga for the past six years.”
“Ah,” he said. “Well, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Again his eyes found and lingered on Louise. Those eyes went dark and deep and sad, while Louise laughed with a supporter who leaned too close and blatantly peered down her dress.
“Hockey,” she said. “I have never been to a hockey game.”
“You should give it a try. One game, and I promise you’ll be hooked.”
“Do you go to all the games?”
“Most of them.” He looked her in the eye, fearless, nothing to hide. “To be honest, with my new position at work I don’t know if I’ll ever make it to another game. There’s so much involved. Traveling, working late. The responsibility for everything falls in my lap, now.”
“I thought men liked that sort of thing,” she said with a small, comforting smile. “Power. Money. Everything that comes with it.”
“I’d rather be back where I started, designing games.” He grinned. “I had to grow up to discover that games are a lot more fun than business. The kids have it right. We should play every chance we get.”
“I don’t play much anymore, I must admit.”
“You should,” he said, looking again for Louise. “We all should.”
*
Ray cut in while Grace was dancing with an old fart who kept stepping on her toes. She’d been working diligently all night. Rescuing her was the least he could do.
“Having fun?” he asked as he swung her around.
“A blast,” she said sarcastically. “I didn’t know there were so many bad dancers in Huntsville, or that they’d all be here.”
He’d been watching Grace most of the night, keeping an eye on her, never losing sight of her for more than a few minutes at a time.
“What do you think?” he asked softly. She’d danced with Reed twice and McCann three times, and from a distance she’d looked gorgeous and charming and he’d wanted, too much, to cross the room and cut in.
She sighed thoughtfully. “I don’t see McCann involved. The change at work has been a tremendous pressure. I don’t think he really wants that position. Besides, he seems like a nice guy.”
Ray lifted his eyebrows, and Grace smiled widely.
“You know what I mean.” Her expression went soft. “I think he really does love Louise, though. The way he looks at her…”
“Does he love her enough to kill for her?” Ray asked softly.
She hesitated. “Maybe. But I think if he’d wanted Lanford dead he would’ve done it himself. He seems like a hands-on kinda guy.”
“And Reed?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Definitely not a nice guy. I can see him hiring a hit man to do away with someone he doesn’t like, and Mommy’s got the money. Poor little rich boy never had to do without anything he wanted, and if he wanted Louise and couldn’t have her, I think he’d kill to clear the field.”
“I don’t know,” Ray said, glancing around the room and spotting all three suspects and, a good distance away, a nervous Heather Farmer. While he watched, Christopher Hatcher, Lanford’s bespectacled assistant, approached Heather with a glass of champagne. She took it and gave the man a small smile. “Maybe you think McCann is innocent because he’s nice, and you think Reed is guilty because he keeps grabbing your ass.”
“Well what do you think?” she asked.
“I think it’s Reed.”
“Why?”
“Because he keeps grabbing your ass.”
He spun Grace around and smiled down at her, and let his own hand drop to rest low on her hip. His fingers gently caressed silky red fabric and the firm, bare hip beneath. He expected a reprimand, but got a smile.
“People are watching,” she said softly.
“I don’t care.” He spun her around again.
Her body skimmed his, close and yet not close enough, so near he could smell the hint of perfume she wore and the fragrance in her shampoo. More than that, he smelled her. The scent of her skin. The warmth of her passion.
He bent his head and nuzzled her ear. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Am I?” she asked, innocence and seduction, the forbidden and the inevitable rolled into one irresistible package. She didn’t just dance with him, they moved together in a way that was undeniably sexual. He didn’t want to let her go, not now, not ever. Difference be damned. How could he go on without her?
For a while, for a few precious minutes, he forgot the murder and the hit man and Mobile. He closed his eyes and held onto Grace as they moved to a slow and easy melody that crept under his skin. The perfection didn’t last long, but while it did he let himself get lost.
The music stopped. Over Grace’s shoulder, Ray could see that the old fart who’d been stepping on her toes was headed their way. Now was not the time to take her face in his hands and kiss her, now was not the time to ask her why she was trying to kill him.
There would be time for that later.
“Have you talked to the widow yet?”
Grace shook her head. “Every time I get close she moves away. I don’t want to chase after her. That would be too obvious.”
“She’s headed to the ladies’ room.”
Grace gave him a dazzling smile. “I think I’ll go powder my nose.”
She turned and walked away, and while he watched and admired the view the old fart sidled up to him.
“I don’t appreciate being homed in on, young man,”
the old guy said, almost primly. “I was making some progress with the lady, I tell you.”
Ray looked down at the white-haired man. “You were making progress with my wife?”
The man blushed, from the roots of his thin white hair to his jowls. “I apologize. There was no ring, so I naturally assumed she was unattached.”
Ray kept his eyes on Grace as she disappeared into the hallway that led to the rest rooms. Watching her walk away was painful, and it had nothing to do with the snug cut of her gown or the bare back or the knowledge that beneath she wore nothing. Nothing at all.
Okay, maybe that caused part of the pain.
“No,” he said confidently and with just a touch of despair. “My Gracie is definitely not unattached.”
*
Chapter 13
«^»
Grace looked at her reflection in the mirror and reapplied her lipstick, her eyes flitting occasionally to the woman beside her. Louise Lanford was checking the straps on her gown and leaning toward the mirror, scrutinizing her own face as she turned it this way and that.
Would Louise recognize her out of the setting where she normally saw her? Would she look this way at all? The woman was totally self-absorbed.
Louise pulled a lipstick out of her own black purse and quickly and expertly swiped her pouting lips with a daring shade of red.
“What a lovely dress,” Grace said absently as she lifted a hand to her hair and turned her head slowly, as if checking for strands that might have gone astray.
“Thanks,” Louise said, and then she turned her head. “Oh, hi.” She flashed a small smile. “I didn’t recognize you.” She returned her attention to her own reflection. “It’s Grace, right?”
Grace nodded and smiled. “And you’re Louise?”
“That’s me.” She squinted, checking out a small imperfection. “I didn’t see you at exercise class this week.”
Grace poked at a nonexistent flaw in her swept-up hairdo. “I only made it once,” she answered. “Tuesday. I didn’t see you there.”
“My husband’s funeral was Tuesday,” Louise said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “I couldn’t get away in time for class.”
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