Saving Grace

by RaeAnne Thayne

  Her fingers played in the folds of her robe again. She did that when she was nervous about something, he’d discovered. “I’ve had some time to reconsider what we talked about today. Your job offer. If it’s still open, I’d like to take it.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. Where did this sudden change of heart come from? And did it have anything to do with her phone call?

  When he left her in her room earlier, he was under the impression she wouldn’t work for him under any circumstances, and all afternoon he’d been trying to figure out how he might be able to convince her to stay. Now it looked like he wouldn’t have to.

  Still, with her fingers nervously kneading the folds of her dress and her shoulders set in tight, stiff lines, she didn’t exactly look thrilled at the prospect of being employed by him.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” he asked.

  “Of course I’m sure,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t.”

  “Don’t let me twist your arm or anything.”

  Her chin lifted. “Look, you want me to take the job or don’t you?”

  He nearly laughed at her in-your-face belligerence. Not what most people would be dishing out to a prospective employer. Then again, Grace Solarez wasn’t like most people.

  “I want you to take it. But I’ve got to tell you, I’ve seen people work up more enthusiasm for a wart removal.”

  Her mouth tightened again. “Excuse me if I’m not quite up to cartwheels and baton twirling yet. Give me a few more days.”

  He grinned and decided he could really grow to like this woman. And not just because he had developed this sudden hankering to touch that soft skin and taste that prim mouth. “The job is yours. You can start whenever you feel up to it.”

  “What exactly do you want from me?”

  Now there was a loaded question if he’d ever heard one. He reined in his unruly thoughts and focused on a job description. “Anything you think it would take to keep Emma safe.”

  “That’s pretty vague, don’t you think?”

  “I really don’t know what to tell you, since I have no idea what needs to be fixed.”

  “I suppose the logical place to start would be your security system. From there, we can examine your day-today practices to see if there are areas that might need improvement.”

  “Sounds good.” He paused, wondering again about the mystery of Grace Solarez. If not for the dim intimacy, he might have held his tongue, but he was still puzzled by so many things about her. “You mind if I ask you a question?” he finally asked.

  That familiar wariness crept into her dark eyes again. “Depends. What’s your question?”

  “What were you doing there that night? At the accident?”

  She instantly tensed. He could see it in the sudden clenching of her jaw and the way her body seemed to freeze in place. “Just driving. What else would I be doing?”

  “It was pretty isolated for a pleasure trip. Not much to see out there but orchards and fields.”

  “Maybe I like orchards and fields.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  “I was just driving, Dugan. Last time I checked, there was no law against that. Unless one has been put on the books since I was a cop, it’s nobody’s business but my own. If you’ve got a problem with it, maybe we ought to just forget this whole job thing.”

  She was obviously hiding something. The signs couldn’t be more clear if they were painted on her forehead in fluorescent colors. But he had the sudden conviction that whatever she was doing out there that night had more to do with her daughter than with his.

  It was the first anniversary of her daughter’s death and she had the right to grieve in her own way. If that included driving along an isolated stretch of freeway in the middle of the night, she was absolutely right, it was none of his business.

  He thought of the raw pain in her eyes whenever she looked at the photograph of that bright, laughing little girl and decided to let the matter rest.

  For now, anyway.

  “You ought to be in bed. Why don’t you head in that direction and I’ll swing by the kitchen and heat up that milk for you? Or I could make you some herbal tea, if you’d prefer.”

  “You don’t need to wait on me. I can take care of myself.”

  He smiled softly, amused by her stubborn independence. “I don’t doubt that for a moment. But for once, why don’t you let somebody else help you? It won’t kill you.”

  She looked as if she wanted to argue but clamped her mouth shut and shrugged. “Fine. It’s your house. I’ll have tea, then, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  He waited to see that she made it to her room, then stopped on his way to the kitchen long enough to change out of his wet surfer trunks and throw on jeans and a T-shirt.

  When he returned to her room with the tea on the same tray he’d brought her at lunchtime, he found her in the rocking chair again, staring out at the night. The curtains were open and the lights of the city glistened on the water, despite the clouds.

  He gestured to the tray. “Haven’t we done this before?”

  She nodded. “I’m going to forget how to tie my own shoes, the way you and Lily have been spoiling me.”

  “I doubt that.” He set the tray on the bed again. “You strike me as a woman who treasures her independence. I doubt you’d surrender it that easily.”

  She looked surprised at the observation but didn’t comment. “Well, thank you for the tea,” she said after a pause. Her voice sounded on the far edge of exhaustion. “You make a passable waiter.”

  He grinned. “Whoa. All these compliments are going to turn my head. Now drink your tea like a good girl and hop into bed, where you should have been hours ago.”

  “Yes sir.” She stopped just short of saluting him, and he stopped just short of giving in to the overwhelming urge to kiss that lush smart mouth of hers.

  “I’m very glad you changed your mind about the job,” he said instead.

  “When did you want me to start?”

  “Not until you can walk to the kitchen and back without having to stop to rest along the way.”

  She summoned the energy to glare at him over the lip of her teacup. “I was doing fine. You were the one who ordered me to sit down.”

  He smiled again. “Seriously, there’s no hurry. We can work out the details when you’re feeling better. And when you’re not so tired.”

  “I’m not tired,” she grumbled, then ruined her protest with a huge, ear-popping yawn.

  “Okay. Whatever you say.” And I’m not attracted to you in the slightest. “Now get some rest and we’ll talk about the whole job thing later.”

  Layer after layer of mystery surrounded Grace Solarez, he thought as he left her to her tea. But with each layer he uncovered, the woman he found was beginning to intrigue him more and more.

  CHAPTER 5

  She had to get out of here.

  Staying at this beautiful house on the water, she felt as if she were slowly suffocating, as if someone had locked her in a trunk with just enough air to keep her gasping for more.

  In the four days since she had stumbled on a half-naked Jack Dugan swimming in his indoor pool, she had been poked at and fussed over and scolded by her unrelenting Hawaiian nursemaid.

  Lily had stuffed so much food into her, she thought she must have gained at least five pounds. Not that any of it showed, since she was still trapped in these voluminous clothes, but she still found herself resenting being coddled this way.

  She wanted to return to the way things were before she came here, when the world was a bleak, colorless place, where she could feel and taste and see nothing but her own emptiness.

  It sounded crazy, but she felt guilty every time she caught herself savoring something new Lily produced. As if somehow, the slow, subtle reawakening of her taste buds demonstrated a lessening of her grief.

  Not only that, but the woman never stopped talking. Every time she saw her, Gr
ace was subjected to a continuous stream of conversation, about cooking and current events and the latest romance novel Lily had just finished.

  For a year, she had lived in silence and isolation. She had wanted it that way, had needed it that way. But now Jack Dugan and his gabby housekeeper were forcing her out of that desolate place and into a world overflowing with life and laughter.

  And she hated it.

  This, though. This was the worst. Fifteen minutes earlier, Emma had invaded the guest room. Cute, bubbly little Emma with the green eyes and the curls and the sweet giggle, who didn’t seem to understand that Grace couldn’t stand the sight of her.

  “…and this is my dog, Betty.” From the armful of stuffed animals she’d piled onto Grace’s bed, the little girl plucked out a raggedy-looking stuffed white poodle with a wilted purple bow and a matted ruff of fur circling its neck and the tip of its tail.

  She held it up proudly. “I got her from Santa Claus last year. I wanted a real puppy but Santa wrote me a note and said maybe I could practice taking care of Betty for a while so he could see if I would be ’sponsible for a real dog. I been real ’sponsible,” she said solemnly. “I feed her and give her water and even a bath, ’cept Daddy said I was gonna ruin her if I took her in the tub again.”

  Grace wanted to shove Emma and her stuffed dog Betty and the rest of her toys out the door and lock it against them all.

  This is why she had hidden in solitude, why she had tried to avoid everyone for the last year, especially children. Listening to this little girl’s cheerful chatter, she felt as if her skin had been flayed open and her insides exposed.

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about her daughter at this age, with missing teeth and that same infectious giggle and a tattered stuffed dog of her own named Petey.

  Emma cocked her head and frowned at her, forehead furrowed and her mouth pursed as if she were pondering some deep, existential mystery. “Do you think Santa Claus might bring me a real dog this year if I don’t take Betty into the bathtub again?”

  She hated this.

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said, instead of what she wanted to say. Go away. Please go away and leave me alone.

  “I think he will. He promised. And if he does, know what I’m gonna name it?”

  She shook her head, afraid to trust her voice.

  “Grace.” Emma beamed. “Even if it’s a boy. ’Cause you’re my bestest friend in the whole wide world, that’s why.”

  She drew in a ragged breath, but Emma didn’t seem to notice she was dying.

  “If Santa Claus brings me a dog, you could help me take care of him and teach him tricks, like how to shake and how to roll over and how to bring my daddy his slippers.”

  She frowned again. “Only Daddy doesn’t wear slippers. But maybe we could teach Grace-my-dog how to bring my daddy’s tennis shoes or his flip-flops.”

  She couldn’t do this. She thought she was strong enough to stay here, that she could somehow bury her feelings if she focused only on doing the job, on bringing Jack Dugan to justice. But looking at his daughter with her pink corduroy overalls and her sweet-as-an-angel face, Grace had serious doubts about whether she had the guts to go through this.

  She had only seen Emma a few times in the four days since Beau had told her about the investigation. But with each encounter, the child seemed to slip through her meager defenses, to poke and prod at the raw, seeping wound around her heart.

  “…and this is George.” Emma dropped Betty on the bed and turned her attention to a tie-dyed plush reptile of some sort that looked about two feet long. “Know what he is?”

  Grace thought about just ignoring her. If she did, maybe the little girl would eventually give up and wander away again. But she knew she couldn’t. None of this was Emma’s fault—she was an innocent child who couldn’t be blamed for random schoolyard violence or for the fact that her father was an amoral jerk who put profit above all else.

  Grace couldn’t vent either her grief or her anger by being cruel to a little girl.

  She cleared her throat and studied the toy. “Uh, is it a lizard?”

  “Kind of.” Emma giggled. “It’s a gecko. We have geckos at our house in Hawaii. Little tiny ones that climb on the screens. I try to catch them whenever we go there but I never can. They’re way too fast!”

  A house in Hawaii in addition to this sleek estate with its indoor swimming pool and incredible view of the city across the Sound. Crime apparently was paying for Jack Dugan, and paying very, very well.

  “Did you ever catch a gecko?” Emma asked her.

  “No. I don’t believe I’ve ever even seen a gecko,” she answered. “Except for George, here.”

  “Maybe you could come to Hawaii with us next time and help me catch one. I want to bring it home and put it in my room.”

  “Maybe,” she said, in what she hoped was a noncommittal tone.

  “I have a book about a gecko. I’ll go get it and you can read it to me.” With all the confidence of a princess making a royal decree, Emma hopped from the bed and skipped out of the room, leaving an overpowering silence behind her.

  Grace again fought the urge to lock the door against the little girl. Or even better, to find some way to completely disappear, to go somewhere safe and warm where nothing could touch her, nothing could hurt her.

  That place didn’t exist. If she had learned anything in the last year, it was that she had nowhere to hide.

  She crossed to the window. Although it was still early afternoon, the Sound was choppy and dark through the rain streaking down the window. Only a few boats were out on such a bleak day, under gunmetal gray clouds that scudded across the sky.

  The sight of the water only made her feel more like a prisoner here, even though she knew that was ridiculous. The ferry left every hour to the city and she could leave any time she wanted.

  She stretched a hand out to trace a raindrop’s crooked journey down the glass just as Emma returned, a book tucked under her arm.

  “Here,” she said and held it out proudly.

  With a deep, fortifying breath, Grace took it and sat on the rocking chair. Before she could protest, Emma climbed onto her lap, wiggling around for a few moments until she was comfortable.

  If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend this small, warm weight was Marisa as she’d been at this age, snuggling onto her lap at bedtime smelling of baby shampoo and talcum powder, with her hair damp from the tub and her favorite Dr. Seuss book in her hands….

  “Aren’t you going to read it?” Emma asked impatiently.

  “Sorry.” Grace forced her attention back to the present and began stiffly reading the colorful legend of a gecko who saved his family’s honor through his cleverness and bravery.

  She read the words automatically while her mind pondered her conundrum. The only way she could do this, could stay in this house, was to stay as far as possible from Emma. She would just have to make it clear to Jack and Lily that she would prefer not to have anything to do with the girl.

  Either that or she would have to completely lock her memories away so she wouldn’t have to suffer any more of these comparisons.

  If she couldn’t do that, she would have to leave. Illegal weapons be damned.

  “And the geckos all laughed,” she mumbled. “The end.”

  Emma wore that puzzled, solemn face of hers again. “I think the gecko’s family shouldn’t have been so mean to him at first. He was only trying to help. Don’t you think they should have been nicer to him?”

  Before Grace had a chance to ponder this literary critique, she saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her gaze. She turned to find Jack leaning against the doorjamb watching them, his golden hair slightly messed and those green, green eyes gleaming with tenderness as they lit on his daughter.

  How long had he been standing there? Long enough to see the emotions she knew she couldn’t conceal?

  “Daddy!” Emma shrieked. Her “bestest friend
in the whole wide world” forgotten like yesterday’s soup du jour, she jumped from Grace’s lap and leaped into her father’s arms.

  Jack picked her up effortlessly and she threw her arms around his neck and planted a huge, sloppy kiss on the afternoon shadow stubbling his cheek. He nuzzled her neck, earning squeals of glee as he tickled her with his whiskers in what was obviously a ritual between the two.

  No matter what his crimes might be, it was obvious Jack Dugan loved his daughter.

  At the thought, she stiffened in the rocking chair. She couldn’t afford to let any soft emotion interfere with this investigation. It was too important to all the innocents who had suffered because of the deadly weapons he was suspected of dealing.

  “What have you been up to, Little Em?”

  “Grace and me were just reading my story about the gecko.”

  “Grace and I.”

  “Right. Grace and I. Daddy, can she come with us next time we go to our other house so she can help me catch a real gecko?”

  He glanced at her over the girl’s blond head and Grace felt her face heat up, as if she’d been angling for an invitation to his vacation home. The reaction annoyed her and she returned his inquisitive look with a cool one of her own.

  “We’ll have to see.” He set Emma back to her feet. “Lily’s making some of her macadamia nut brownies. Why don’t you go see if she’ll let you lick the spoon while I talk to Grace for a few minutes?”

  “Okay. I’ll take Betty with me. She loves brownies, too.” She grabbed the stuffed poodle from the bed and scampered out.

  Immediately, the room seemed to shrink. She didn’t quite know how he did it, especially given the sheer size of the room and the wide wall of windows that made it appear even larger, but somehow he seemed to fill up every available inch with his presence.

  With his slow, easy gait, he ambled inside and sat on the edge of the bed, stretching his long legs out in front of him as if he planned to stay awhile, whether she wanted him to or not.

  “Sorry I’ve been a little scarce the last few days. I haven’t been a very good host, I’m afraid, but things have been a little crazy.”