Grace Among Thieves (16 page)

“There was nothing especially remarkable about the man, other than the fact that it looked like he’d only recently shaved his head,” I said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t notice anything about him.”

“So why did you report him to Rodriguez?”

I told him about waiting downstairs and how Flynn had appeared on the television. I mentioned the man—describing his looks and his clothes—and his reaction to the news broadcast and subsequent abrupt departure. “He’d been sitting there quietly until the news came on. After I spoke aloud, he became irate and stormed off.” As the words tumbled out, I could hear how ridiculous this sounded. “All I can tell you is there was something not right about his reaction. I didn’t like him. And even though we’d never met before, I could tell he didn’t like me.”

“How could anyone not like you?” he asked with a smile. “But to get back to the case . . . Rodriguez didn’t mention that the man was wearing workout clothes. Or, at least I don’t remember him mentioning it.”

“What difference does that make?”

“I might have seen the guy you’re talking about. The workout room at the Oak Tree isn’t much. I think the entire area isn’t bigger than fifteen by fifteen. There are two treadmills, a bench, and some free weights. I try to exercise every day, even when I’m out of town. I was limited by the arm, but decided to go on the treadmill for a while that morning. There was a guy in there with me. Bald. Just the two of us for about, oh, twenty minutes. I wouldn’t have even thought of him if you hadn’t mentioned the workout clothes.”

My heart started its trip-hammer beat again, but this time for an entirely different reason. “Did he have a tattoo on his neck? Some kind of birthmark?”

Mark made an uneasy face. “I’m sorry to say I didn’t pay much attention to him.” He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, concentrating. “He could have, but honestly, I can’t say for certain. I do believe his scalp was paler than his face, though. That feels familiar. Your hypothesis about the killer shaving his head in order to disguise himself is a good one. I have to tell you, though, I really believe I would have recognized the guy. Even without hair.”

Disappointed, I agreed. “It looks like Rodriguez and Flynn may be back to square one.”

“Let’s hope not.”

Over dinner, Mark asked me more about Bruce, Scott, and Bootsie. I told him about how the roof had finally gotten repaired, though I left out mention of Bennett’s assistance. I talked about our plans: clean out the garage, fix the back door, redesign the landscaping. At that last one, he winced. “Has your friend Jack offered to help you with that project?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. “He has offered,” I began slowly, trying to decipher Mark’s expression. I was discovering that the man knew how to read people, but I wasn’t certain if I was detecting wariness or challenge in his dark eyes when he waited for me to talk about Jack. “That was a while ago. I don’t think he’s interested anymore.”

Mark spoke in a low voice, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. But . . .”

I waited.

“You and I are here together tonight. Not Jack. I’m sorry for bringing up something painful for you. Don’t deny it. I can see it in your eyes.”

“We’ve never actually . . .”

“No need to explain,” he said, still keeping his voice so low I had to lean forward to hear him. “I only asked because I want to know where you are right now. If you’re open to a new relationship.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to move so quickly. It’s just . . .”

“That you’ll be leaving soon,” I finished.

He made a face. “Makes me sound opportunistic, doesn’t it? Again, my apologies. Let’s enjoy dinner and not worry about what comes next.”

Too late. I was already thinking about what might come next.

Chapter 16

WE DROVE BACK TO MARSHFIELD SHARING stories about our childhoods, laughing a lot, and completely avoiding the topic of the murder. I felt a buoyancy in my heart I hadn’t experienced in a long time, and every so often I stole a glance at Mark, appreciating his easy warmth and those delightful dimples.

Because it was after ten at night, we were required to stop at the visitor’s gate for entry onto Marshfield property. “Hi, Joe,” I said to the guard, who bent down to peer into the passenger seat. “I’m driving up to the hotel to bring our guest back.” There was no real need for me to explain, but I did. Joe gave us a thumbs-up and opened the gate for our passage.

“Did that make you uncomfortable?” Mark asked once we’d cleared the entrance area.

“A little, I suppose.”

My headlights cut a lonely glow along the dark access road. Mark adopted a thoughtful expression for about a half mile. “Would you mind pulling off for a moment?” he asked, pointing just ahead.

My pulse quickened but I complied, making a right off the smooth asphalt onto an unpaved strip that I knew led to one of our maintenance outbuildings. I pulled far enough in so that no cars passing by would even notice we were there.

I shut off the engine, feeling excitement take hold of me. Enjoying every delightful moment.

I cracked the window, allowing cool air to drift in. Mark followed my lead. Although it was still warm outside, the humidity had all but dissipated and a breeze had even kicked up, brushing us with sweet softness. Frogs chirped in the distance, leaves shushed overhead.

As though prearranged, we both unbuckled our seat belts and turned to face one another. I wondered if he could hear my heart beating.

Mark’s mouth curled into a smile. “Right about now I wish I were staying at a different hotel.”

He must have read my mind.

“But all those people . . . people you work with . . .”

“Scandalous.”

He moved a little closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “I can’t bear the thought of watching you drive away tonight without us having the chance to say good night properly.”

He was very close now. I could feel the man’s warmth, smell his aftershave—a scent that touched something deep and needy within me. Behind him, all was dark. We were surrounded by nothingness, alone, whispering as though afraid to shatter the mood.

“You have a reputation to uphold with your subordinates,” he said softly. “I understand that.”

Shivers ran up and down my spine. Heady with anticipation, I could do little more than nod.

“The thing is,” he said, gesturing toward his left arm, “I have this to contend with. And we’re like two teenagers in our parents’ car. Not exactly ideal. Not what I would want for a woman as special as you are.” Staring at me with an exhilarating intensity, he reached to brush a few strands of hair away from my eyes. “You are breathtaking, Grace.”

I could barely speak. “Thank you.”

“More than that, you have a kind spirit. Such compassion.”

I didn’t know what to say.

He ran a finger along my cheek, smiling. “I wish I had a month here,” he said. “Longer.”

His hand had moved along the side of my face in a slow caress. I reached up to lace my fingers with his. “Me too.”

“Do you think . . .”

“What?”

“No, I’m being silly. We’ve only begun to get to know one another.” He looked away and then back to me again, smiling, but much more hesitantly this time.

“What’s silly?”

“I don’t know that I’ll be content to return to life as it was when I get home. Not after meeting you.” The intensity was back as he stared at me and tightened his jaw. “Not after all that’s happened here. I’ve learned the hard way that life is too short. I don’t want any more of it to slip through my fingers.”

“What are you saying?”

“I know long-distance relationships aren’t ideal. I know there are pitfalls. But would you be willing to give it a try? At least until I return home and decide what to do about the store. I told you that my heart isn’t in it anymore. I need to decide what comes next for me. What to do about my future.”

I hadn’t expected this. “I don’t know . . .”

“Don’t promise anything. Just consider it. In a week you may question why you ever bothered going out with me this once.”

I doubted that.

He must have read my mind again because he placed a warm finger across my lips. “Don’t give me an answer. Let’s wait. I need you to want this as much as I do. And I have a sense you’re not there yet. It’s okay,” he added hastily when I tried to speak. He took his hand back. “Fair enough?”

I nodded.

He smiled then, and sat back. “Do you know how much I want to take you in my arms right now?”

I couldn’t help myself. I whispered, “What’s stopping you?”

He took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. The sparkle in his eyes had changed into something fierce, a longing look that sent tingles all over my body. “I’m a healthy, mostly able-bodied man attracted to a gorgeous, amazing woman, who—incredibly—seems to be interested in me.” His voice rumbled. “I want you more than you can imagine.”

His gentle fingers skimmed my face again. “But by acting on my base instincts I risk too much, Grace.” Hearing him say my name sent another flush of pleasure racing through my chest, “I want more than a few enjoyable evenings with you. There can be much more between us. If we do this right.”

He leaned forward and whispered, his breath tickling my ear. “Before we take that next step, I need you to know you can trust me.”

Every nerve ending in my body zinged with tension, begging for release. But when he eased back and I saw the disquiet in his eyes, I knew he was right.

I ran a trembling thumb along his right eyebrow. He closed his eyes, grasped my hand, and brought my palm to his lips. He opened his eyes again and smiled. “So,” he said breaking the wonderful spell, allowing me to breathe freely again, “are you busy tomorrow night?”

Unfortunately, I was. “I promised my roommates I’d help out—”

Mark placed a finger across my lips. “It’s okay. You have a life and commitments,” he said. “You don’t need to explain anything.”

“Hey . . .” A thought occurred to me as we released our connection. “Would you be willing to meet with Bennett tomorrow evening? It would have to be fairly early because he turns in by ten. What do you think?”

“A perfect solution for my lonely night,” he said. “I look forward to it. Where should I go?”

“I’ll check with him and get back to you.” We held each other’s gaze for a long moment, but there seemed little more to say. I twisted forward and prepared to start the car.

“Grace,” he said, stopping me mid-motion.

I turned.

“Tonight has been the best evening I’ve had in a very long time.”

* * *

I’D LEFT A NOTE FOR BRUCE AND SCOTT AND so I wasn’t terribly surprised to find them waiting eagerly to hear all about my date with Mark.

Bruce was reading the newspaper in one of the wing chairs. Scott reclined on the sofa, glasses perched on his nose, mystery novel in hand. Bootsie had curled up on his chest. All three perked up the moment I walked in.

Bootsie stood up and stretched, then leapt off the sofa to rub up against my legs, meowing as though to chastise me for being away. “Hey sweetie,” I said, picking her up. She gave a little grunt as I did so but didn’t squirm away as I took a seat across from Bruce.

“So?” Scott said, sitting up. “How did it go with the mystery man?”

“You two should go to Bailey’s,” I began, purposely coy. “It’s a lovely little restaurant adjacent to a bed-and-breakfast. It’s a perfect location for out-of-town guests.”

“Perfect for other out-of-the-way needs, too, I imagine.” Bruce folded the newspaper and glanced up at the clock. “But I’m betting you didn’t check out its comforts, did you?”

“No, of course not,” I said, pretending I hadn’t been tempted in the least. “For goodness’ sake, this was our first date.”

Scott picked up on that “First? Does this mean there will be a second?”

I grinned. “Saturday.”

“Not tomorrow night?” Bruce asked.

“I’m working with you two at the wine shop, remember?” Before they could absolve me of my duties, I added, “Besides, Mark is meeting with Bennett tomorrow night. Turns out we’re both busy.”

“You should Google him before you get serious,” Scott said.

“Already done. Bootsie suggested it before I left. There wasn’t much, but I found his LinkedIn account up there.”

Hearing her name, Bootsie nuzzled my hand with gusto, reminding me that I was supposed to be rubbing her face. I complied, saying, “There’s a good baby,” in my talk-to-the-kitty voice.

“What about Jack?” Scott asked. “Understand I’m not rooting for the guy, I’m asking because I’m curious. You were really into him for a while there.”

Still playing with Bootsie, I said, “He’s made it clear he’s not ready for a relationship.” I looked up. “I’m beginning to doubt he’ll ever be.”

“He had his chance,” Bruce said.

“Exactly.”

Scott leaned back, ready to dive into his book again, but before he opened it, said, “You’re glowing, you know.”

I raised one hand to my cheek as I stood. “Am I?”

Bruce agreed. “I haven’t seen you this happy in a very long time. I’d wish you sweet dreams, but there’s no doubt you’ll have them.”

* * *

FRIDAY MORNING I CALLED BENNETT AND asked him about his availability. He was delighted to hear that Mark was willing to talk with him and suggested they meet at the mansion that evening after dinner. “My chauffeur, Grant, will pick him up and return him to the hotel when our business is complete.”

“Business?” I asked.

“Gracie,” Bennett said, “there’s a real danger of him suing us, claiming our security was so lax that it nearly got him killed. Frankly, I’m expecting it. Before that happens, however, I want to meet him face to face. I like to know something about my adversaries before we get into court.”

“I don’t believe Mark has any intention of suing. He’s not that kind of person.”

“Oh?” Bennett’s tone changed. “What makes you say that?”

I debated for just one instant. “He and I went out last night,” I said haltingly. “On a date.”

“Oh,” Bennett said again, this time with a knowing cadence. “I see. That changes things. I have even more reason to meet with this young man tonight. What are his intentions?”

I laughed. “At the moment we’ve simply agreed to go out again Saturday night.” Bennett was quiet for a moment. Long enough for me to ask, “Are you still there?”

“You told me he lives in Colorado, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“He has a business out there. His own business.”

“You have a good memory.”

“Will he want you to move out there?”

“Bennett,” I exclaimed, “we’ve only gone out one time. There’s no talk about moving or getting serious.”

“You’re in your thirties. Many young women are married, or at least engaged by now. I think once you find the right fellow you’ll fast-track it to the altar.”

“I have a life here.”

He made a noise and I took it to mean that my answer had pleased him. “You’re sure he’s single?”

“He’s a widower.”

Bennett didn’t respond to that except to say, “I look forward to meeting him.”

“Be nice,” I said.

“Not to worry. I’ll be on my best behavior.”