Falling Grace

by Melissa Shirley

  I stomped back to the grocery store, picked up the pile of stuff he’d set on the shelf and strode to the checkout counter. When the cashier picked up the box of condoms, I stared hard at the swirling silver font. “Never mind. I don’t need those.”

  “Round here, we usually let the man take care of this kind of thing.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How very nineteen eighties of you.”

  She shoved the box to the side, took my money, and bagged my purchases without another word.

  Chapter 4

  The ringing of my phone, along with the sunrise, woke me from a sound, dreamless sleep. I’d barely unpacked my pajamas before falling into bed. Why was the phone ringing at six a.m.? I glared with one open eye at the name on the screen. Rory. Perfect.

  I slid the answer bar across and said, “Hello,” waiting for the ding of round two’s bell announcement.

  “Grace, don’t hang up on me. I’m sorry. I had no right to act that way.”

  No, she didn’t, but my dad always said a little graciousness never hurt. I didn’t always agree, but this time, in the interest of our working relationship and the renewal of our friendship, his words rang true. “It’s okay, Rory. I should have consulted you before I took the case.”

  “That’s not how this works, Grace. Five years ago, I would have hiked up my britches and jumped right on it myself.” Her accent lacked the sexy slur in Blane’s, but still softened every consonant. “I know this case isn’t about me or my past.”

  If her past belonged to me, I would have been shredded. She’d come home to find her son dead. Maybe because she’d already lost too much, or maybe, because, in her grief, she believed every foul lie out of her ex-husband’s mouth, successfully defended, then divorced the murderer when the truth came out.

  A few years later, thinking she’d finally out-lived the pain of her past, she took a job with a big Dallas firm and was on her way to partnership. Her boss, whose judgment had been clouded by the promise of a judicial seat in exchange for her help with the case, set Rory up to relive her personal tragedy in defense of a guilty client. Risking her career, Rory exposed the truth to the prosecutor. Legal tabloid shows put her life on the screen every night for weeks. They dissected her behavior for a long time even after the case ended. Somehow, she survived, but I didn’t have a clue how.

  “I never thought about how this would affect you.”

  “And you shouldn’t have to. You were right.”

  She had courage I could only dream of. “So you’re okay with it? Me taking her case and defending her?”

  Her sigh ghosted from satellite to satellite. After a few more seconds, she spoke. “Yes. I can deal with you working the case, if you can deal with me being bossy, overbearing, and not looking at one piece of paper attached to it.”

  “I can. If you can deal with me being insensitive and needy while I shove those papers under your nose every chance I get.”

  “Deal.” She chuckled, though the sound hardly reflected mirth or good humor. After another pause--I could practically see her switching gears--she spoke again. “Now that it’s all settled, did you bring a dress for tonight?”

  I sat up in bed, marveling at her expectation that, without a drop of caffeine in my body, I should keep up. “A dress?”

  “For the fundraiser at the country club. Mom sent you the invitation a month or so ago. Did you forget?”

  Oh, shit. “Fundraiser for your mom’s hospital charity thing. Nope.” I sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. “Okay. I forgot.”

  She laughed. “That’s not a problem. I’ll pick you up at nine. I have to run into town and pick up Jack’s tux anyway, and there’s a great store over on Main Street by the office.”

  “Sounds good.” Sleep and a nice, long cuddle with my pillow sounded better.

  “I can call Margie and see if she’ll open early. If we leave now, we’ll have more time to find the perfect dress for your Texas debut.”

  Apparently, being a child prodigy genius meant Rory didn’t require as much sleep as those of us with normal functioning brain cells. “No. Nine is perfect.”

  “Great. You can get ready at my place, and we can all ride together.”

  Rory always had a plan.

  We hung up and at nine a.m. on the dot, she rang my doorbell, and let herself in. I’d fallen back to sleep after her call and barely made it to the shower before she arrived. The movers had been indiscriminant about how they tossed my belongings into the apartment, and I rooted through eight boxes before I finally got my hands on a towel. Her hair glistened in an up-do that highlighted my lack of style as well as my inability to locate my hairbrush in the packing boxes still stacked in my living room.

  Once we finally made it to the store, she handed me several dresses to try on before she discovered the one. The long burgundy dress draped down my body in a single wave of perfection. Before I completed one spin, she shoved a pair of shoes at me and I fell in love. Red rhinestone accents wrapped around silver stiletto heels. The shoes were dyed the exact color of the dress.

  “Oh my God. I think I’m having a shoe-gasm.” I clutched them against my body, ready to attack anyone who threatened our new relationship.

  “I can see that.” Her dry smile belied her own love for stilettos and sling-backs.

  The entire in-store excursion took about fifteen minutes, and she’d spent most of that time pulling dresses from the rack. “So, we’re done here?”

  She took the dresses from the room and returned them to their hangers.

  I slipped back into my own clothes, smoothed a hand down the fabric, and walked to the counter with her. Margie, who I immediately liked better than most people I’d ever met, ran my credit card and handed me a pen. I paused, the tip inches from the signature line as I ogled the low price.

  Margie laid a hand on my arm. “It’s on sale,” she gushed.

  “Wow. That must be some sale.”

  She gave Rory a wink. “Well, little missy over there took care of a tax problem for me. Any friend of Rory’s is a friend of mine. And in my store, she gets the friend and family discount.”

  “I guess we’ll see you tonight at the club?” Rory pulled the dress bag and shoebox off the counter, then shoved them against my chest. I was thankful she didn’t give Margie time to change her mind about the price.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. It’s not often I can get Hank into a tuxedo. ” She leaned closer to Rory. “Hank and I’ve been married so long I think he forgot a woman needs a night on the town every once in a while. I’m tired of seeing that man in the recliner in his underwear. You are a lucky girl to have a man like Jack. I would pay big money to have him sitting in my living room in nothing but his boxers.” Rory chuckled and Margie jumped to a new subject. “Did you get that Marshall girl to sit for you tonight?”

  All this marriage and family talk made my ovaries shrink back in shame, and I tuned them out as they discussed babysitters, then Rory’s brother and his wife’s pregnancy glow. I hadn’t been in a serious relationship in years and didn’t feel like I’d missed a thing. As I stood there half ignoring their conversation, it became clear to me the only thing that would ever make my skin glow was a good facial scrub.

  * * * *

  Rory whipped my hair into shape while her brother, Tyler, paced and complained in her living room and his wife, Krista, applied my makeup. As the clock chimed seven, we walked into a ballroom big enough to house the town square.

  A beaded chandelier the size of my bed hung overhead and refracted shards of muted light around the room. Candles provided dancing shadows on the walls and red and white rose petals lined the centers of the round tables circling the room’s perimeter. Arched windows emphasized by columns stretched up the walls and a domed glass ceiling let the moonlight shine through.

  “Wow. This is beautiful.”

  “Jack and I got married here.” She beamed a smile up at her husband. “Best night of my
life.”

  He kissed her lightly, and Tyler elbowed her as a woman dressed in gold with Rory’s hair and Tyler’s eyes made her way across the room. “Straighten up. Mom’s coming.”

  He adjusted his tie as I watched her glide her way across the floor. When she finally stood on the outer fringe of our little circle, she reached out to pat Tyler’s lapel, smoothing it before he leaned in to lay a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t you look handsome.”

  She hugged Krista, put a hand on her belly, welcomed me with an air kiss, then moved to speak with Rory. “Something’s wrong. No one’s dancing. I knew the orchestra was a bad idea. I should have gone with a band.”

  Rory stepped from under Jack’s arm and took her mother by the shoulders. “Just breathe, Mom. It’s early. People are mingling. They’ll dance in a little while.”

  “Right.” Her mother lifted her head, pushed out her chest, and shook her mass of sunny blond curls. “It’s early.” She looked out at the crowd, some seated, some standing, not a frown in the bunch. “Should I have gotten a band? I should have.”

  “Mom.” At Rory’s sharp tone, Mrs. Jordyn jerked her gaze back to meet her daughter’s glare. “It’s early.”

  I took the time during their exchange to study the room. Pricey gowns, designer shoes, and tuxedos fitted by the gods themselves, decorated every single body in viewing distance. It took me a few minutes, but when I found him, the breath sucked from my body--Blane in a tuxedo. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks to God for creating the man who had the sheer and utter brilliance, and foresight, to design and market male formalwear. “Mrs. Jordyn, I have a sudden urge to dance. I think I can help you out.”

  “Grace, I wouldn’t be able to thank you enough.” She squinted at Rory as she spoke to me.

  I strutted across the floor to the man whose gaze locked on to mine with my first step toward him. “I guess you’re over being mad at me?” He stepped away from his friends. With the smallest whiff of his cologne, the slightest touch of his hand, he enchanted me, and I would have followed him anywhere he wanted.

  I pulled a crystal flute off a passing waiter’s tray and took a big gulp. Much better. “I decided you’re allowed to have your opinion.” I tilted my head and smiled. “Even if it’s short-sighted and wrong.”

  He chuckled and the melody of it sent the first flutters of a thrill racing along my flesh. “I think I like you, Grace Wade.”

  “Enough to dance with me?” I set the glass down and held out a hand, palm up.

  “No one else is dancing.”

  “In a minute, you won’t care.”

  With a grin capable of melting cold steel, he clasped our fingers together and walked beside me to the center of the polished dance floor. He lifted his hand, sending me on a stroll around him, then wrapped one arm around my waist. We moved as one in an inappropriate waltz as he nudged my body a bit too close to his. Soon other couples floated out around us, and Blane drew me closer. The spicy scent of his cologne tickled my nose and the hand I’d previously rested on his shoulder crept up to trace a line down his neck. I smiled as his eyes closed at the touch. “Your accent is very different from your brother’s.”

  He nodded, and for a moment, I believed it a mystery I’d have to solve on my own.

  “Our parents split when we were born. Dad was from London and he wanted to go home. Momma couldn’t leave her family behind. Jamie grew up with Dad in England and Mom kept me.”

  “They separated you guys?” Growing up without anyone of my sisters in my life would have changed me in ways I didn’t want to contemplate. I pushed those thoughts away and smiled as I smoothed a silky curl at the back of his neck. “And nothing short of a chick flick, you all ended up back here?”

  He nodded.

  “Your dad gave up London for her.” Some fairy tales had happy endings. I had hope.

  “I spent a whole summer with Jamie and Dad in London. When it was time for me to leave, I didn’t want to come home and be cheated out of all the things fifteen-year-old boys did with their dad and brother. I wanted to hang out and do more guy stuff, but I wanted to be with my mom too. Then, the good Lord stepped in and gave me appendicitis the day before my flight. She rushed over there. They fell in love over my hospital bed, and here we are.”

  His hand pressed more firmly into the small of my back, caressed the skin bared by the drop waist of the dress, and my heart fluttered. “Their own happily ever after?”

  “It took a little while to work out the logistics of Jamie leaving all his friends and Dad getting a job over here, but they figured it out. By Christmas, Jamie and I were sharing a room, and Dad had a job at the auto plant.” He brought our clasped hands up to his chest, fingers stroking soft and sure against mine. His heart thumped under the crisp white of his tuxedo shirt. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  I nodded. “Seven sisters.” As I spoke, an unfamiliar pang of homesickness shot through my stomach. Homesick? Me? The little stab had to be something else.

  “Seven?” His eyes widened, probably imagining seven females jostling for bathroom mirror space. Or maybe that was my own memory slipping in before I could stop it.

  “It was a PMS nightmare.”

  He shook his head. “Your poor dad.”

  “He’s a big tough guy. He handled it like a trouper.” I’d just turned seventeen, and my youngest sister was three when Mom packed her bags and jumped on the next Harley rider out of town. It took Dad about six seconds to settle the waves left in her wake.

  “Sounds brave.”

  “Well, I never found a monster under my bed.”

  “I guess that’s all a girl can ask for.”

  We danced a few more minutes, his arms cradling me, his fingertips tracing the bones of my back in little circles. As the music ended, we stepped apart, him to return to his assigned seat and me to mine. Instead of letting me go, he held on to my hand. “Wanna get some air?”

  I tossed a look over my shoulder to where Rory and Jack sat. Sit with people who would want to chat about auction items and dinner selections or take a stroll with tall, dark, and Texan? I nodded. “Sure.”

  The patio overlooked a golf course and stretched around the building on one side, ending on the other at a decorative pool lit by floating candles on plastic lily pads. Bistro tables with cast-iron chairs sat on the etched concrete. As soon as we stepped outside, Blane turned and leaned his forehead against mine, drawing me tighter, closer. The night air cooled my heated skin, and goose bumps rose on my flesh. Yeah. Night air. That’s it. My heart pumped anticipation through my veins.

  “I want to kiss you.” The purr in his voice washed over me, and I almost sighed out loud.

  “Are you asking my permission or telling me a plan?”

  He grinned and lowered his head to brush his lips across mine. That simple touch morphed into a tangle of fingers and hair, bodies crushed together, skyrockets exploding in my mind. For however long it lasted, time meant nothing, exhilaration raced through me, and passion heated every square inch of my skin. His tongue danced with mine, heightening every sensation. He brushed his hands along my hips, up my ribs, and back down again.

  I ignored the first soft “ahem,” tuned out the slightly louder second, but the tap on my shoulder accompanying the third demanded attention. Sighing, I broke the kiss, eased back a hair’s width, and glanced over my shoulder at the offender attached to the poking index finger. “What?”

  Rory looked up at Blane. “I need a minute with Grace.”

  He smiled down at me, brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and tickled my flesh with a whisper. “It was fun while it lasted.”

  With a wink to Rory, he strode back inside the ballroom, every step punctuated by a cool swagger absent of a single falter. I watched the shift of his back, the fit of his pants, and sway of his hips until he disappeared in the sea of dancers.

  After snatching Rory’s flute of champagne, I downed it in one long,
smooth swallow. Handing her the crystal back, I smiled. “Thanks.” She cocked one eyebrow, and I faked a glare. “You owe me. I was really getting into that.” My heart pounded in my ears, the effect of the alcohol taking more time than usual to calm me.

  “He’s the state’s attorney, Grace. He’s prosecuting your client.”

  Of course he was. I turned without a word and walked away.

  Chapter 5

  After circling the building, kicking at imaginary stones, and muttering a few curse words, I came to a where Rory stood waiting with a fresh glass of champagne.

  “Prosecuting my client?” I turned back toward the lush green grass off the patio. “I should have known.”

  Rory stood with her back against the railing. “I didn’t know you knew Blane.”

  “I met him at the grocery store.” And he liked me, dammit. “What would you do?”

  She shook her head and held up a hand. “Oh, no. No. No. No. My Dear Abby days are over. I don’t give love life advice.”

  The scent of his cologne arrived before he did, seeping into my senses, heating my body before he pressed close. His arm wrapped around my waist, offered a glass of some amber colored liquid. I took the drink and emptied the glass as he whispered, “I do, and I advise you to dance with me.”

  “I can’t dance with you Blane. My client…”

  He trailed his fingertip down my throat, and I forgot every single reason I shouldn’t be in his arms, looking into his eyes, and pressing as close as I could get.

  Rory shot me a one-eyebrow-cocked look, then left me to fend for myself. Where was the BFF support? The strength in numbers? “You’re the prosecutor, Blane.”

  “Not tonight. Tonight, I’m a guy who wants to dance with the prettiest girl in the room. No clients, no office. Me and you. That’s it.” His voice, the cadence and come-get-me sexiness, could have heated hell.

  The chatter of conversations and clinking of tableware said dinner started without us. “They stopped the music.”