The Name of the Game

by Jennifer Dawson

  Her lashes fluttered open and she tensed. “What do you mean?”

  He slid his hand around her throat, his thumb caressing the line of her jaw. “I need to see you for more than a weekend.”

  She took a deep breath before blowing it out. “How?”

  “I’m on break through New Year’s. I can stay in Revival. If you’ll have me.”

  She gazed up at him, but he couldn’t read her expression. She licked her swollen lips. “What will we say?”

  He understood why she wanted to keep it hidden. He wasn’t any better. He hadn’t told anyone except Jane. His family had no idea. It bothered him, and he knew he should question the secrecy, but he’d analyze it later. Not while he still had her pinned against the door. “I’ll offer to help Shane with the summerhouse. I know he’s driving Maddie crazy.”

  It was the perfect excuse. Shane was tied up in Chicago most of the time on business, and looked to Maddie to receive the construction on the second home Cecilia and him had designed. A task she didn’t want and would be thrilled to pass off to him. Not something James relished, but Gracie was worth the hassle.

  She searched his face, then put a hand on his jaw. “I just don’t know what to say. To them. But I want you to stay, more than anything.”

  That was all he needed to hear. “We’ll work it out.”

  “Okay.” She curled into him like a cat. There was something distinctly feline about a content Gracie. She practically purred in his arms.

  He kissed the top of her head, not wanting to let her go. “You need to leave, before I find away to distract you again.”

  She sighed and pulled away, and they spent the next several minutes straightening their clothes in between long bouts of slow, deep kisses.

  “We have to stop,” he said, as his hands traveled down her body.

  “I know.” She molded against him as though she was a part of him.

  Their lips met and he was lost all over again.

  He’d never had this problem before, being unable to let go. But damned if he didn’t have it with her. She needed to get home; she had a long drive, and she had to get up early.

  And he didn’t have the discipline or the willpower to make her go.

  In the dark recesses of his mind, it worried him, the way his control slipped when he was around her. But he was too preoccupied by her to care at the moment.

  They finally stopped, and she turned to the door, her hand on the handle.

  His heart slammed against his chest and he pulled her back, and nipped her ear. Some primal part of him needed to brand her in some way. “You’re mine, Gracie. And all that comes with it. You belong to me. Understood?”

  He’d never made such a possessive, caveman-like claim before, but deep down he meant every single word.

  He waited, not even breathing, until she whispered back, “Understood.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Gracie’s day had been far too crazy to spend much time obsessing over her relationship with James. Thank God, because she’d spent the entire ride home mooning over him and replaying every second of their weekend together. She was starting to embarrass herself.

  Like a broken record she remembered his voice in her ear, the possessive claims he’d made, and her heart had thrilled.

  She had no idea what she was doing. Or what they were doing.

  But she refused to let the niggling fear take over. For now, she wanted to have fun and not worry about the rest.

  She dragged her attention back to the pad of paper in front of her and the long, long list of what needed to be done. It was endless. She checked the clock. Her next interviewee would be here any minute. She’d had two already and hadn’t liked either of the women. There was nothing wrong with them, but she couldn’t imagine working with them side by side. Couldn’t imagine them in her home, invading her life.

  Sam walked in and went over to the coffeepot, grabbing a banana muffin on the way.

  She pointed toward the door. “My next interview will be here soon.”

  “You want me to leave?” Sam asked, sliding into the chair at their big farmhouse kitchen table.

  It was her favorite piece of furniture and she loved the old distressed wood. She could picture big family dinners there, with a hoard of crazy kids. Laughter, music, and cupcakes. She sighed, not wanting to think too much about the man she saw in her mind’s eye, sitting at the table across from her.

  She only saw him because of their current involvement. Yes, she’d never seen Charlie or anyone else sitting across from her, but that didn’t mean anything. James was just a surprise. That was all.

  She glanced up to find Sam watching her, a wide smile curving his mouth. She straightened. “No, it’s fine. But skedaddle after she shows up. I don’t want you making her nervous.”

  “I don’t make people nervous,” Sam said, taking a big bite. He studied the muffin for several long moments as he chewed. “These taste different than normal. What’d you do?”

  She fiddled with the edge of her notepad. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. “I was, um, experimenting with a new, healthier recipe. What do you think?”

  “I think”—he chewed thoughtfully as though memorizing the texture and taste—“you have it bad.”

  She shot him what she hoped was a menacing glare. “Shut up! Don’t use your powers on me.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t need powers to see that you’ve fallen hard.”

  She thought about continuing the guise of denying, but this was Sam. “Please don’t say anything.”

  “Who am I going to tell?”

  The list seemed endless. “Mitch, Maddie, Shane, Cecilia, and Charlie, to name a few.”

  Sam scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Do you really think I’d gossip?”

  “Duh. Of course.”

  Sam sighed. “Your secrets are safe with me, but I have to say I don’t understand. What’s the big deal?”

  Maybe she was being silly, but she had this ominous premonition that once the world knew, everything would collapse. That once they were public they wouldn’t be able to ignore all the things wrong with them. That how different they were, how incompatible, how far apart their lives were, would be impossible to ignore.

  Her throat tightened. She shrugged, waving a hand like it was no big deal. “It’s a temporary blip. When it ends I don’t want anyone to have to worry about picking sides.”

  The word end tasted like dirt. She wasn’t ready for that.

  “You’ve always been a crap liar. You’re scared shitless.”

  Gracie sighed. That was her brother for her, getting through to the truth in one cutting swipe. “I’m being practical. I mean, seriously, can you even see us together?”

  Sam studied her, his blue eyes intent. “Yeah, with no trouble at all.”

  The conversation agitated her, and she got up from the table and went to the sink, flipping on the water to run over the dishes. “We’re nothing alike.”

  “So?”

  “Basic compatibility is the key to a lasting relationship,” she said, her tone flat. She didn’t want to talk about this. She just wanted to go about her daydreams and ignore reality.

  “If all your staring into space with a big dreamy smile on your face is any indication, you’re plenty compatible.”

  She shrugged, rinsing the pan under scalding water. “You know I’m not good at sticking around. I’m great at all the fun stuff, but when it comes to all the emotional stuff, I’m lost.” She couldn’t even make it work with someone she had a lot in common with. What chance did she have with James?

  She looked out the window to the backyard she’d been looking at her whole life. The leaves had turned again to the dark rusty reds and burnished orange and gold of late fall. They were starting to drop from the trees, signaling the changing of the seasons. The passage of time the only sure thing in life.

  From behind her Sam spoke. “As momma used to say, don’t borrow trouble.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not.”

  “I think that’s bullshit. You stick when it matters to you—you always have and you always will. That’s the way you’re made.”

  “I’m not though,” she said, her throat tight. “Not when it matters.”

  “Grace, you gave up your dreams to take care of Momma when she was sick. You spent all the money you’d saved on her treatment. And when she died, you still stayed.”

  “That’s not the same thing. She was my family. You’re my family. We’ve got to stick together, we’re all we have.”

  Sam sighed. “I can tell you’re determined to be stubborn.”

  The doorbell rang and she’d never been so thankful for an interruption in her life. Her emotions seemed to be barreling forward, unwilling to be stopped, and she wasn’t ready for them. She flipped off the sink and dried her hands. “That’s her.”

  When she passed the kitchen table, Sam reached out and grabbed her wrist. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Grace.”

  She pulled her arm free. “How would you know? You’re not any better than I am.”

  His expression darkened and he turned away.

  It had been a mean, impulsive thing to say and she was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  The bell rang again.

  He jutted his chin toward the door. “She’s waiting.”

  Gracie sighed; she’d need to make amends later. She walked down the hallway and opened the door to a petite woman with shoulder-length raven-black hair, pale skin, and heart stopping ice-blue eyes. She blinked at Gracie through thick, long lashes. “Hello, I’m Harmony Jones.”

  “Gracie Roberts. It’s nice to meet you.” She stood back and allowed the woman to enter.

  Even in dark skinny jeans and a black, long-sleeved T-shirt, Harmony had an ethereal quality about her and was so fine boned she appeared to almost float. A good stiff wind would probably knock the woman over, and Gracie had no idea how she’d be able to lift big batches of batter off the large mixers.

  “You too,” Harmony said in a light, almost musical voice. “Thank you for granting me an interview. You have a lovely home.”

  Everything about the woman was delicate and fine, and while she couldn’t see her doing the heavy lifting of baking, there was something about her that drew Gracie. “Thanks. The kitchen is down the hall. We can talk there.”

  They entered the large, lemon-yellow kitchen and Harmony gasped. “Wow, this is a dream. It’s so bright and airy, it must be a joy to work in.”

  Anyone who commented on Gracie’s kitchen with true appreciation was gold in her book.

  Sam rose from the table and turned toward them, an easy grin on his lips. His expression flickered as he met the woman’s gaze and the smile faded away.

  Gracie waved a hand in his direction. “This is my brother, Sam. He lives here too, so you’d be running into him if this works out. Sam, this is Harmony.”

  The woman fingered her necklace, a thin silver chain that held a moonstone charm on it. Her hand fluttered then she reached out to Sam. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “You too.” Sam’s palm slid into Harmony’s. He frowned.

  Oh no. Was he getting something off her? Something bad?

  Harmony worried her bottom lip. Sam didn’t let go and she had to shake her hand free.

  Sam studied her with an intensity that bordered on rude, and Harmony shifted under his scrutiny.

  “Sam,” Gracie said in a sharp voice. “Don’t you have someplace to go?”

  Sam nodded, still watching the woman. “Yes. Nice to meet you. Good luck.”

  Harmony touched the gem on her necklace again. “Thank you.”

  “Leave.” Gracie jerked a thumb down the hall and when Sam left, she smiled at Harmony. “Sorry, I guess he still needs more coffee this morning.”

  “It’s fine,” Harmony said.

  Gracie waved her toward the table and got her a cup of coffee before settling in across from her. “So, tell me about yourself. Where are you from? Because I know you don’t live in Revival.”

  A smile trembled on Harmony’s surprisingly full lips. They seemed to be the one lush thing about her, and were almost too big for her delicate features. The feature made her look like an exotic pixie. “I moved here this weekend. I rented a small house over on Second Street.”

  “What made you pick Revival? We’re hardly even on the map,” Gracie asked.

  Harmony wrapped her hands around the mug and laughed, the sound so musical Gracie couldn’t help wondering about her singing voice. “I’m embarrassed to say I liked the name. It seemed like a good place to start a new life.”

  Gracie wondered why the woman needed a new life, but didn’t think it was appropriate to ask on an interview. She’d find out soon enough anyway; this was a small town, after all. “Well, welcome to Revival. If you need someone to show you around, let me know. I’ll be happy to help. I can tell you who to stay away from, and where to eat.”

  “Thank you, that’s a lovely offer.”

  “Do you have any baking experience?”

  Harmony nodded and her expression relaxed, turning a bit wistful. “My grandpa was a baker. I grew up in a bakery and worked there all through high school.”

  By the curve of her lips, Gracie could tell they were good memories.

  Harmony met her gaze. “I still love to bake, but it’s been awhile since I’ve worked in a professional environment. I hope that’s okay.”

  Okay? Gracie was thrilled. Out here in the middle of nowhere she had to take what she could get, and had already determined she’d have to train someone. Experience was a bonus she hadn’t expected. “It’s better than I hoped. What kind of work have you been doing?”

  “I was an office manager for a small accounting firm in Missouri, in a town about thirty miles from St. Louis. I can provide references.”

  “Why not look for work in that profession? I’m sure you’d get paid more than I can afford.”

  “New life. New town. New job. I miss working with my hands.” Harmony shrugged one small shoulder. “And not to sound silly, but when I saw your ad, it seemed like serendipity.”

  Gracie smiled. She liked this woman. Had a good feeling about her. “That doesn’t sound silly at all.”

  They talked for another thirty minutes, laughing and getting to know each other. Harmony entertained her with stories of working in her grandpa’s bakery. Stories only someone who’d actually had experience would understand, assuring Gracie of her authenticity.

  In turn, Gracie told the younger woman about the influx of business in Chicago and her worries about the rapid growth, and Harmony offered suggestions that highlighted her business acumen.

  Harmony was the blessing Gracie had been looking for. She could see working beside her. And while she proceeded through the interview like any good businesswoman would, barring any unforeseen disaster, Harmony had the job.

  Sam walked downstairs and came into the kitchen. “I’m off.”

  Gracie said to Harmony, “Would you excuse me for a minute?”

  The other woman nodded and Gracie got up and walked outside with Sam. The air had a distinct fall chill and she wrapped her arms around herself. “I love her, so if there’s something wrong with her tell me now.”

  Sam looked past her, peering through the window with a scowl. “She seems fine to me.”

  “Did you get a good feel about her?”

  “I didn’t get any feel from her at all.” Sam’s eyes narrowed as he peered at Harmony again.

  “I really like her, and she has experience.” Gracie couldn’t imagine finding anyone better.

  Sam shrugged. “Then follow your instincts.”

  “You don’t have any other problem with her?” Because he seemed like he had a problem.

  “Why would I?” Sam’s jaw tensed.

  Gracie rubbed her arms. “I’m going to hire her then.”

  Sam’s gaze slid once again toward Harmony. “Sure.”r />
  He didn’t sound sure, but Gracie couldn’t figure out what his problem could be. Harmony was lovely, and Sam said himself he didn’t get anything ominous from her.

  Gracie went back into the house and shut the door behind her. “Sorry about that.”

  “Is everything okay?” Harmony asked, her expression clouding.

  “Everything’s great,” Gracie said, putting her hand on the counter. “Here’s what I’m thinking. I’ve got a bunch of stuff I need to get done and I think this would be a good test. Do you have time?”

  Harmony held out her hands. “Nothing but.”

  “Perfect. Why don’t you make one of your recipes and one of mine. I figure it will give us a good idea how we’d work side by side and I can get an idea of your skills. Sound good?”

  Harmony jumped up, her light blue eyes dancing. “I’m ready.”

  “Then let me show you the pantry.”

  Late that afternoon, James sat in his office at the university reading research papers when Jane knocked on the door and plopped down on the chair without waiting for an invitation. “We’ve got to file our report on the Jane Doe. The precinct called.”

  “It’s on the list.” James put down his pen and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “What did you tell them?”

  “That they’d have it by Monday,” Jane said, offering a crooked smile.

  “We’ll have to work over the weekend.”

  “Is that okay? Or is the blond bombshell going to be here?”

  Unfortunately, no. And talking over the phone wasn’t the same as being able to touch her. He shook his head. “I won’t see her until Thanksgiving.”

  “Too bad. Anne and I love her and can’t wait to see her again.”

  The three women had practically ignored him all afternoon as they became fast friends. He noticed Gracie had that effect on people. Outside of her gorgeousness, there was something vibrant and warm about her that people gravitated to. He’d never run across a person who hadn’t liked her on sight.

  “So . . . ,” Jane said, her voice turning sly. “What’s going on with her?”