Grace shook her head. Could her sister possibly be adopted? She’d have to ask her mother the next time she talked to her on the phone.
The thought of her parents made her sad. Sometimes she wished they hadn’t packed up and moved to Florida, a decision made without so much as a “What do you think, kids?” to either one of their children, three weeks after Grace had married Vincent. The last time she’d seem them was at Vincent’s funeral, and they’d only stayed a few days, still a sore subject with her. She’d really wanted them to stay longer. They had to have known how badly she hurt inside.
She hoped when Emily had the baby, they’d come for an extended visit to spend time with their first grandchild. If not, Emily would be as hurt as Grace had been after Vince died.
“Look at this.” Emily held up a lacy pink thong. “Do you think Charlie would like me in this?”
Grace bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. The image of a nine-months-pregnant woman in a thong was more than she could take. “Sure, why not?” she lied.
“Ha, ha. I can read you like a book, Grace.”
“Sorry, but the thought of a pregnant woman in something like that? It’s funny.”
“Maybe you could wear it for Cord instead?”
Grace rolled her eyes. “What is this sudden fascination with Cord Rawlings?”
Emily dropped the thong and leaned on the counter, placing her chin on her knuckles. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s just so cute, and my hormones are running amuck. I can’t help it.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you could ask your doctor for something. Because, frankly, you’re driving me crazy.”
Emily wrinkled up her nose. “I should ask for something for you instead—a pill for blindness, because only a visually impaired fool could miss Cord Rawlings’s heat.”
Grace didn’t know what to say. Her sister obviously needed to hurry up and have this baby before she lost all semblance of her sanity—or came on to Cord. Whichever happened first.
****
Cord sat in his car in front of apartment two-thirty-five, the key Grace had found clutched tightly in his hand. He didn’t have to try the damned thing. The desk clerk had shown him the keys—they were the same. Instinctively he knew the one he held would open the door in front of him. Vincent had to have known Heather Pratt. But how well was yet to be determined. Cord prayed it wasn’t as well as the rumors around the Ninth implied.
The whole thing made no sense. When would Vince have had time for an affair? When he hadn’t been with Cord, he’d been at home.
Besides, Grace was an amazing woman. Why would Vince need to cheat on her with some exotic dancer, or any other woman?
For some reason, Cord’s gut feeling told him that Vince hadn’t been the man he’d appeared to be—a man who, on the outside, looked like a dedicated cop, a friend to all who’d known him, and a beloved husband. But if he hadn’t been a faithful husband, could the rest of his life have been a lie as well?
The apartment door opened and a tall, auburn-haired woman exited, heading down the street.
Cord watched her, stunned.
Either she had a hearty appetite, or she was several months pregnant.
Dread cut into him. If this woman was Heather Pratt and Vince just happened to have a key to her apartment, could the child she now carried be Vince’s?
Grace Under Fire
Chapter Ten
Grace shifted on the oversized beige sofa. That evening, Cord had seemed distracted. He’d acted like he had the night she’d asked him about the key.
That time he’d admitted to having a lot on his mind. Could it be that simple again? For some reason, she didn’t think so. Something was bothering him, and instinct told her it was something that weighed heavily on his mind. But what was it? Would he tell her if she asked?
Maybe it was personal. Something to do with a woman, perhaps one he was dating.
Could he have a girlfriend? The mere thought of him with a woman gripped her heart painfully.
Heck, the man was gorgeous. Why wouldn’t he have someone in his life? Maybe she worked at Tops and Tails. That could explain why he was there the other day.
An exotic dancer with huge—
Stop it. It isn’t as though he’s your man. He’s probably never even looked at you in that way.
But what about Emily’s assumption? He’s in love with you.
Could her sister be right? Could Cord have feelings for her? Was he afraid to tell her? Maybe he was reluctant because of his friendship with Vincent. That certainly held her back. If Vincent were still alive, how would he react? Would he hate the idea of her with his partner? Feel betrayed by them both? That was the million-dollar question, one she didn’t have an answer to.
Anyway, it was a moot point if Cord was already involved with someone.
“I saw someone prowling around outside.” Cord was on his way to the front door.
Grace stared blankly at him. Her face warmed with embarrassment. She prayed he couldn’t read her mind, couldn’t know she was daydreaming about him—thinking about touching him, feeling his warm body next to hers. Oh, God, maybe she was more like her sister than she thought.
She rose. “Stay here,” he said, then stopped next to the open door.
“But—”
“Stay.” His command left no room for argument.
Grace watched him slip out the front door, his gun grasped tightly in both hands.
Her heart jumped when the central air kicked on.
She plopped down, listening intently as images of Cord being shot and killed played over in her head. She couldn’t lose another person she cared about.
Tears clouded her eyes. She had feelings for Cord, feelings that were hard to admit to. How deep those feeling ran, she didn’t know yet.
Her fear for him brought back the day she’d gotten the news about Vincent, and with it, the despair she’d felt. She’d known right away something bad had happened. Two of Vincent’s closest friends had stood at her front door, their eyes red-rimmed. Their words had ripped her heart apart and sent her to her knees.
Grace could never go through that again.
She dried her tears and fought for control of her emotions. She hated hysterical females, but right now she felt something strange building inside her. An intense terror.
She saw awful images. Cord’s lifeless body—a once strong and vital man who’d stirred her own body back to life.
Grace clutched her chest when Cord sat down beside her, having slipped into the house without her knowledge. He gently rubbed her shoulder. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m all right. I was just scared.”
“I’ll protect you, Grace. You know that, don’t you?”
His words opened the floodgates again, and tears ran in torrents down her cheeks.
“Please don’t cry.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m here,” he said against her ear. The whispered caress stirred something deep inside her.
She inhaled, stunned and intoxicated by his warm, musky scent. Her body responded to his nearness, electricity shooting up her spine, then skyrocketing her pulse.
She wrapped her arms about his neck, holding on as if he were the lifeline keeping her head afloat.
Her heart pounded. Her skin tingled, becoming sensitive to the touch, and she struggled for breath.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes, his own darkening to midnight. At his throat, his pulse throbbed, and Grace instinctively knew her own raced just as quickly.
He wiped tears from her cheek with his thumb, then, without warning, leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
The world splintered. Grace’s head felt as if it might burst. Vincent’s kisses had never muddled her senses. She felt mindless, weightless, as if she floated aimlessly on a rushing current. Cord’s kiss was more powerful than she’d ever dreamed a kiss could be.
When he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing her lips, plying her mouth with pressure, Grace lost all sense of time o
r place. She focused on his warm, demanding lips and his tongue exploring her mouth. Her body tingled, an intense heat washing over her.
If the world were to crumble around them that very moment, Grace wouldn’t want him to stop.
Cord’s body came to life. He’d never dreamed a simple kiss could numb his senses to everything except that moment.
Her lips were sweeter than honey, drawing him closer into the wonder of her. She felt so right in his arms—just as he’d imagined she would. But she didn’t belong there. She was Vince’s wife. Vince. His partner. His best friend. Even if the man was dead, it was wrong to want Grace.
Without further thought, he pulled back and ended the kiss. Being intimate with Grace wasn’t a smart thing to do. It would only confuse things.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” Cord pushed off the couch.
Distance. He needed distance.
He shifted nervously. “Sorry.”
The guilty look on her face only added to his misery. If he could have kicked his own ass right then, he would have. Maybe he could get someone to do it for him. Hell, any cop at the Ninth would oblige.
Damn it! Kissing her was stupid. Now Grace would be scared to be in the same room with him, afraid he’d pounce on her again.
“Did you see anyone?” Her question drew him out of his internal struggle.
“Yes, but just a shadow slipping out the gate. I couldn’t get a good look at him.”
“Do you think it was the Peeping Tom?”
Cord was relieved that they’d moved past their uncomfortable moment. “Most likely. Do you have any idea who it could be?”
She shook her head. “No. I have no idea.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have an interest in you?”
She was about to shake her head again, but instead her eyes grew big.
“What? You thought of someone?”
“Well, Mike Tidwell asked me out the day he came by the shop.”
Grace’s announcement was like a kick in the gut. Mike had been a good friend of Vince’s, too. How could he have asked Grace out? “What did you say?” Cord’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for her answer.
Her finely arched brows drew together. “I told him no, of course.”
“Did he seem upset by that?”
“No. Not really.”
“Are you sure?”
She lowered her gaze. “Well, I might have insinuated that I could change my mind.”
“Really?” Cord couldn’t keep the harshness from his tone. “Why?”
“I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Besides, I don’t have to explain my actions to you.”
Cord’s patience evaporated. “Look, Grace. Someone’s getting high off watching you get naked. Most Peeping Toms are dangerous, and I’m just trying to find out who this creep is before he hurts you.”
Her face paled to a milky white. Right away Cord knew he shouldn’t have said what he had.
He rubbed at the tension in his neck. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is scare you. I need you to understand why I’m asking certain questions.”
Cord hadn’t wanted to terrify her. He was just angry as hell at Tidwell for assuming Grace would have any interest in him, and at her for reinforcing that assumption. Better to be up front and honest from the beginning than to lead him to believe there could be something in the future between them. Tidwell had probably skipped all the way to his car the day he’d seen Grace. Probably could picture his grubby paws all over her.
The thought made Cord sick. No way was Tidwell getting near Grace again. Cord would lay him out before that happened.
****
Cord rolled to his side, frustrated that all he could think about were Grace’s petal-soft lips on his. She always smelled like a warm spring day, all fresh and flowery. She was perfect, just as he knew she’d be.
Why couldn’t his fantasy be just that—a fantasy? Why did she actually have to be the woman of his dreams?
Because the powers-that-be want to see how much willpower you have—or want to watch you suffer.
He needed to think about something else, anything that could lull his over-amorous penis back into submission.
Heather Pratt’s protruding belly came to mind.
Damn it. He needed to find out if the child she carried was Vince’s. Asking her wouldn’t garner an answer. She wouldn’t be truthful, especially when she’d told him on the phone she hadn’t even known Vince. But if she had, why wouldn’t she come forward and reveal her affair with him, a man revered in the community?
You’d think she’d be shouting to anyone who’d listen that the baby she carried was his, unless she had something to hide. But what could that be?
Cord had so many questions. He needed to find a way to get the answers to them all. Maybe Vince had some personal papers somewhere, ones Grace couldn’t access. Maybe down at the precinct, in his locker. Could be, if they hadn’t already cleaned it out.
In the morning, he’d ask Grace if she’d gone through the locker yet. If she hadn’t, he’d offer to do it for her and see what he could find.
If Vince had a secret life, one he’d hidden from his wife, Cord was determined to find out about it first. Grace would be crushed if he’d had a mistress and a child on the way. That would be betrayal at its worst.
Vince had told him once that he and Grace had talked about having children, but his partner had admitted he wasn’t ready to be a father. Something Cord could completely relate to. It was a big responsibility. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready for it.
What kind of father would he be, having had no example to follow in his own life? His mother never had a steady man, only those who’d spent the night, then disappeared, never to darken their apartment door again. Cord hated her for that.
His life was a mess, and it all stemmed from his past, a tarnished childhood he’d just as soon not pass on to a child of his own.
Grace Under Fire
Chapter Eleven
Grace leaned on the shop’s counter, elbowing an earring stand, her mind off in space. She couldn’t concentrate on work. Warm, demanding lips filled her every thought. Cord’s lips. Her body tingled just thinking about them.
“What’s with you?” Emily moved the stand away from Grace. “I thought I was the only one whose mind wandered.”
Grace’s face heated at her sister’s observation.
What was wrong with her? When had she turned into a silly schoolgirl, dreaming about a simple kiss?
Who was she kidding? There was nothing simple about it.
She straightened. What had she become? Oh, right. Pathetic would describe you to a tee.
She remembered Cord’s apology for kissing her, and her throat clogged with emotion. He probably hadn’t felt anything and didn’t want to say so—afraid he’d hurt her feelings.
“Grace?” Emily’s raised voice brought her out of the painful memory. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah, what?”
Her sister frowned. “What’s with you today? It’s not like you to go off into La-La Land.”
Grace shrugged. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
Her sister propped her hip against the counter, studying her. “Such as?”
“Nothing I care to talk about.”
Emily’s eyes sparkled. “It’s Cord, isn’t it? Did something happen between you two?”
Grace’s face was on fire now. How come her sister could read her like an elementary primer?
Emily jumped up and down. The sight was humorous, but the mood Grace was in, she couldn’t laugh. “Oh, you don’t have to say anything. Your face is red. Did you sleep with him?”
“Of course not!” Grace couldn’t believe her sister would assume she’d hop into bed with Cord, just like that.
“Okay, so you didn’t sleep with him. Did he kiss you?”
Grace averted her eyes.
“Oh, God, he did?”
She looked up. “I don’t
want to talk about it.”
“Come on. I want to know all about this kiss. Was it sweet? Passionate? What?”
Grace came out from behind the counter, trying to find something to do. With all she’d been through the last few days, her patience slipped. “Don’t you have a life?”
Emily grimaced, clearly wounded by Grace’s outburst. Grace regretted saying anything.
“I’m sorry I want to know what’s going on in my sister’s life,” Emily snapped. “It’ll never happen again.”
Grace sighed. “I’m sorry, Emily. I don’t know how I feel right now, okay? As soon as Cord kissed me, he looked like he wanted to be a million miles away.”
Emily frowned. “Why? Tell me how the kiss happened.”
Grace shrugged. “He thought he saw someone prowling around outside. I was worried that something might happen to him. It brought back the day I found out about Vincent’s death. I was crying when he got back.”
“And?” Emily urged. “What happened then?”
“He pulled me into his arms to comfort me, and then it just happened.”
“How did it feel?”
“For me, good, but apparently not for Cord. He told me he was sorry he’d done it.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it. Maybe he was afraid of his feelings. You know men.”
Grace shook her head. “No, obviously I don’t. Vincent is the only man I have to go by.”
“Okay, so compare kisses. Whose kiss was better?”
“Emily! I’m not going to do that. We’re not teenagers.”
Emily pierced her with a questioning looked. “Why? Are you afraid Vincent’s might not stack up in comparison?”
Grace didn’t know what to say to that. She had to admit, Cord’s kiss had been so different, but did that make it better?
A resounding Yes! echoed in her brain, making her feel even worse.
“Vincent was my husband, and I loved him very much.”
Emily’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t ask if you loved Vincent. That was never disputed. I just asked if he was a better kisser than Cord.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” A lie, but what was she going to tell her sister? Cord shook the very core of her being with his kiss. Vincent’s had never affected her in that way.
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