The Name of the Game (6 page)

“All I'm saying is it wouldn't kill you to play a little basketball,” Peter insisted.

James's jaw hardened.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Gracie said from behind Peter, the distinct purr in her voice that meant she was about to manipulate someone. “But earlier Declan promised to show me how to play
Halo
.” She beamed at Peter, her smile so dazzling it was blinding. “You don't mind, do you?”

If he didn't know she'd scratch his eyes out, James would have kissed her on the spot.

Peter's attention dropped to Gracie's chest, stretching the confines of her fitted top, and coughed. “Um . . . no, of course not.”

Gracie grinned at Declan. “Basketball bores me to tears, too. I mean, I'd much rather kill things with a sniper rifle, wouldn't you?”

Declan grinned back, the worship written across his face.

Bottom lip puffed out in a pout, Gracie fluttered her lashes at Uncle Peter, who looked a little stunned. “I hope you don't mind, but I've been stuck on level thirty, for like, forever. Declan promised he'd help me beat it.”

Unable to contain his wide smile, James shook his head. Right at this second he would have done anything for Gracie. She'd made a kid who desperately needed a boost of confidence feel like a god.

“Sure, go ahead, son.” Peter gave Gracie a long, perplexed look, then walked away.

Declan jumped up and waved her over. “Come on, Gracie.”

James pointed toward the back door. “Go set it up; she'll be there in a minute.”

Declan ran into the house with surprising speed, probably expending more energy in that brief minute than he had all day. When the door shut, James turned back to Gracie and stood, then walked down the couple steps to stand at her level. “Thank you.”

She blinked, and a faint pink stained her cheeks. “You seemed on the verge of losing your temper.”

“I was.” James was surprised she'd noticed, until he remembered Declan's assertion that she watched him.

The question was, why? Was she plotting his murder?

She flashed a smile, a real one this time instead of the sex kitten one she'd used to distract Peter. “I thought maybe I'd come to the rescue. You were already mad last night; we can't have you go two days in a row with outbursts.”

He narrowed his eyes, trying to read her. What was going on in that head of hers? “Last night was only a minor slip.”

Her head tilted to the side and she swallowed. “I seem to bring out the worst in you.”

The conversation was filled with tension. Something had changed between them, but he didn't know if it was for the better. On the surface, they were being nicer today than in their whole acquaintance, but there was a subtle awareness that hadn't been there before. Or maybe they were too accustomed to spitting nails at each other and this awkwardness was all they could hope for.

Blue eyes wide, she bit her bottom lip, sucking it between her white teeth. Illicit images of her down on her knees, looking up at him, filled his mind. He gritted his teeth, willing the wayward thoughts away. He said carefully, “I don't know about that.”

She sucked in a harsh little breath, then pointed toward the back door. “I should go in.”

He studied her face but could read nothing. He nodded. “Sure. Thanks again.”

“My pleasure.”

Neither moved.

Their gazes held.

Tension thickened the air.

She cleared her throat. “Um . . . see ya.”

He wanted to press. To ask her what she was thinking, but didn't. Maybe later, after he had more time to think. “You will. See me later, that is.”

“Right,” she said, turning to go into the house.

When she hit the second step he called after her. “Gracie?”

She froze and looked back over her shoulder.

The sunlight hit her hair, casting her in its golden glow, making her absolutely breathtaking. “Would you do me a favor?”

“What's that?” She turned to face him.

He smiled, hoping to put her at ease, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Don't make Declan fall in love with you. He's young and I'm not sure he can take it.”

Slowly, she nodded. “Sure.”

Not quite the sassy retort he'd expected. He followed her up the steps.

Her gaze roamed over his chest, and her breath hitched just the tiniest bit. “I've got to go play some
Halo
.”

This was definitely awareness. “Gracie.”

“What?”

He smiled. “It's
Call of Duty
.”

She squared her shoulders. “Huh?”

“The game you're ready to play, it's called
Call of Duty
.”

“Oh, okay.” Then she turned and practically ran into the house.

He could only stare after her as the door slammed shut, wondering what to do about this strange turn of events.

Chapter Five

The engagement party was in full swing and Shane and Cecilia glowed with happiness. The rooftop restaurant they'd rented out had floor-to-ceiling windows with spectacular views of the lake and Navy Pier. As this was a party for Chicago's power couple, the weather cooperated so guests could enjoy the expansive balcony and watch the weekend fireworks over the water. The venue and view was spectacular, and Gracie supposed it came with the territory when a corporate mogul marries the daughter of a senator.

Everything was perfect. Gracie couldn't be happier for them, but she also couldn't wait for the night to be over. While the guests filed in at a seemingly endless pace, she stood at the table that held the cake she'd made, fussing with the flowers and placement of the candles, even though they were already flawless. Normally she was a social butterfly, but she couldn't work up the energy tonight, and adjusting the decorations gave her something to do with her restless hands.

All day she'd been off-balance. Cecilia had asked her what was wrong. So had Maddie. Mitch. Shane. Evan. Even Maddie's childhood friends, Penelope and Sophie, had asked. The only person who hadn't asked was Sam, but that was only because he already knew. She tried to talk herself into acting normal, but now that she'd discovered the truth, she had no idea how. She'd avoided James like the plague because every time he'd gotten within two feet she'd started blushing like an awkward teenager. She could barely even talk to him. Ironically, she couldn't stop watching him, her changed perspective casting him in a new light. He'd caught her more times than she cared to count and the tension grew with every long-held, questioning stare.

“You've outdone yourself,” a deep, smooth voice she recognized said from behind her.

Thank God, she finally had a distraction. She looked over one bare shoulder at Charlie Radcliffe: Revival sheriff, best buddy, and former friend-with-benefits. Per usual, with his black hair and midnight eyes he looked gorgeous. Charlie was the very definition of tall, dark, and dangerous, but as beautiful as he was to look at, he no longer made her stomach jump. She smiled, then turned back to admire her handiwork. “Thanks, I'm happy with it.”

An understatement. She was thrilled with how the cake had come out. A gorgeous three-tiered, Tiffany blue and black creation with an elaborate flower design that was both sophisticated and modern. The hours she'd spent perfecting the cake were worth it, because it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever made.

Charlie slid an arm around her waist and she leaned into his strong frame, relaxing a little just being in his company. He kissed her temple. “I always said you were an artist.”

She pulled away and looked up at him. “Thanks. And how are you? I feel like I haven't seen you in a year.”

It had only been a couple of days, but home seemed a million miles away.

He grinned and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I saw you last week when we played cards. You kicked my ass and stole all my money. I remember it vividly.”

She laughed and smoothed down the fabric of her red dress. A strapless number that hugged her curves in all the right places and ended at her knees. “That's right. My winnings bought me this dress.”

“Then it was worth it,” he said, his gaze traveling down her body. It was a familiar, flirty look, the kind they shared frequently. Once upon a time it would have meant something sexual, but these days it was pure comfort.

She sighed, a bit wistful it hadn't been enough. Unlike the professor, Charlie was exactly her type. They had amazing sex, and they'd always had fun, which suited her perfectly. Everything between them had been pure ease, but toward the end it had stopped being enough. At the time, she'd believed it was because she wanted what Mitch and Maddie, and now Shane and Cecilia had, but after she'd rejected enough guys she'd come to the conclusion that maybe she wasn't cut out for long-term commitment. Once her relationships started heading in that direction, she lost interest.

Unbidden, her attention drifted to James to find him watching her. Standing in a group that included his brothers, she saw only him in his white fitted dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and slate-colored flat-front pants.

Their eyes locked.

Held.

A flush spread over her chest, infuriating her.

His gaze drifted over her body, traveling down, then up, before lingering at her mouth.

Stomach jumping, she sucked in a breath.

Attention on her, he took a drink of his wine, looking at her from over the glass the whole time.

It had been like this all day. Thick silences. Held glances.

They hadn't fought. Other than that moment on the steps, they'd barely spoken. But these looks had set her on fire.

She bit her bottom lip.

She needed to stop.

She released the air pent up in her lungs and put a hand over her fluttering stomach. With a force of will, she turned away to find Charlie studying her with that cop's expression he wore.

Busted
.

“What?” She knew right away she'd come off as defensive and far too obvious.

He smiled. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you'd never figure it out.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” She straightened her spine.

“Come on, let's go.” Charlie took her hand and pulled her toward the outdoor veranda already crowded with people. “We'll get you some fresh air.”

Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder at the man who plagued her thoughts, she let Charlie drag her outside. The cool air washed over her hot cheeks, but instead of calming her, it made her more aware that her skin burned for the professor.

Without a word, they worked their way through the people until they stood next to the balcony railing. She blew out a long breath as they looked out over the lake in silence.

Finally Charlie said, “You'd don't get this view in Revival.”

“No, you don't.” She pointed up at the night sky. “But you don't get the same stars here.”

He followed her gaze. “True.”

On the pier, the Ferris wheel spun in slow rotation, the lights glittering. Not wanting to think anymore about James, she focused on the man next to her. Better to probe his secrets than hers. “Do you miss Chicago?”

His shoulders stiffened as they always did whenever she asked him about his past. “Sometimes, although I traveled so much I'm not sure it ever seemed like home.”

Once upon a time Charlie had been with the FBI. When he quit he'd followed Mitch, his childhood friend, to Revival and joined the small police department. A year later when the old sheriff had retired, he'd been elected to the position he'd held ever since. In all the years they'd slept together, Charlie had never spoken of his reasons for leaving the bureau, no matter how much Gracie pried.

She put her hands on the rail, the cold metal against her fingers, steadying her. “Are you ever going to tell me why you left?”

“It doesn't matter,” he said, stubborn as ever. “So when did you figure it out?”

She'd asked one question too many and now the topic was back on her. She evaded. “Figure what out?”

“That all that snarling you do at the professor is really fear?”

Her brows slammed together and she swung on him. “I am not afraid! He's the most harmless man I ever met.”

Charlie snorted. “Hardly.”

She bit her bottom lip to keep the rash words from flying out of her mouth. She needed to play this cool. She waved a hand and put on her most breezy smile. “Please, you're delusional. Can you even imagine?”

Charlie's eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I can, quite easily.”

“That's ridiculous. We're totally incompatible.” Okay, so she realized she harbored some sort of feelings for the guy, but that didn't change the fundamental truth. He was the exact opposite of the kind of man she wanted. He wasn't wild or spontaneous. He cared about propriety. He was overly controlled. Intellectual. Analytical. Logical. A fitness addict, a health-food freak. And a hundred other things she didn't want.

She couldn't sleep with him. Besides Sam, her friends were the closest she had to family. She couldn't risk ruining her relationship with them when she knew perfectly well things would never work out with James.

Charlie shook his head and the wind blew through his dark hair. “Still doesn't change the fact that our days were numbered after he showed up.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “He has nothing to do with us.”

He smiled at her, trailing a finger down her cheek. “I know your reasons and you were right. We had great chemistry, but we've always been more friends than anything else.” He smoothed her hair away from her face again. “You deserve what they have, Gracie. I want you to have it.”

Something deflated inside her and she leaned into his strong chest. A moment later he wrapped his arms around her. She sighed, taking comfort in his warmth. “You know I'm not like that. Did I ever pressure you for commitment?”

Charlie rubbed her back. “Not even once, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't get what you deserve.”

She didn't know what to say to that, so she rose to her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. “You're a good friend.”

“You too, honey.” He winked at her. “I'm not going to lie though, I still miss the sex.”

She laughed and swatted his arm. “I'm not going to tell Felicia Hayes you said that.”

He had the good grace to look chagrined. “You know about that, huh?”

“Duh, we live in Revival.”

“Were you jealous?” He gave her a wicked grin.

“Did you want me to be?”

He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Maybe a little bit.”

“I was, a little.” It was the truth. While he'd never brought the other woman around, when Mary Beth Crowley, head of the junior league and local gossipmonger, had told Gracie, she'd experienced a twinge of remorse. She tilted her head. “I didn't know you thought that about the professor.”

“Honey, I knew the second you started arguing with him that we were over.”

“That's the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You're so clueless.”

“I most certainly am not!”

He put his hand on her chin, and gave her a gentle smile. “Gracie, in the time I've known you there hasn't been a member of the male population you haven't flirted with. Old and young alike. As far as I can tell, James Donovan is the one exception to the rule. I don't need to be an ace detective to connect the dots.”

She lowered her gaze and sighed. “I didn't connect the dots.”

“That's because you're stubborn and never ran across a guy who threatened you.”

“He doesn't threaten me,” she shot back, said stubbornness rearing its ugly head.

He grabbed her hand. “Come on, let's go back in.”

“Hey, are
you
jealous?”

He grinned. “Hell, yes.”

Laughing, she bumped her hip into his as they started walking toward the door. As soon as she entered the crowded room, her gaze skipped around, searching until she landed on James.

He talked to two women. A pretty, long, lean brunette and a cute strawberry blonde. The redhead said something and he threw back his head and laughed.

An image of reaching for him and licking his throat filled her mind. What would all those muscles feel like under her tongue? She breathed out an exasperated sigh. She had to get this under control. She needed to remember nothing had changed.

He was still the wrong man for her.

 

 

All the noise, combined with the sudden shift in his relationship with Gracie, had made James's head ache. Things had gotten increasingly strange between them as the day wore on. She hadn't snapped at him. Or rolled her eyes. Instead, she kept looking at him. They'd exchanged long, lingering looks, heavy with portent and ripe with sex.

As the day wore on he'd grown increasingly bold, letting his gaze roam over her body, pause on her mouth. He'd watched as her fingers played over her throat, as her tongue flicked over her lips.

And when she'd gone out on that balcony with Charlie, an irrational, possessive urge to stop her about burned a hole in his gut.

The illogical emotion irritated him. She wasn't his. And never would be. Now, if he could figure out a way to stop obsessing over her, he'd be all set.

Needing a break from the party, he weaved his way through the restaurant and out into the quieter hallway. He breathed a sigh of relief as the noise buzzing in his head quieted.

“James,” his great aunt Belinda, on his father's side, called from down the hall. She raised a hand and walked toward him as fast as her eighty-five-year-old legs would carry her.

Unfortunately for James, she was surprisingly quick. He waved at her, and being a bad nephew, veered down a long corridor leading to the elevators.

She called after him, “James. Oh, James, dear.”

The old woman had a slight case of dementia that was acting up this evening. No matter how many times he told her he was a PhD, not an MD, she kept getting confused. Thirty minutes ago she'd cornered him to discuss her bunions. God only knew what she'd bring up next, and James didn't intend to wait around to find out.

“Be right back, Auntie.” He disappeared around the corner, jogged to the exit sign, and slipped through the door before she rounded the corner.

He stepped into the stairwell and froze in surprise.