Amazing Gracie Page 11
He appeared unconvinced. “Talked to him since you left France?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know. A few, I guess. But it was always about business,” she added defensively.
“Such as?”
“Look, why are you interested in this?”
“Because everything about you fascinates me. Come on, tell me. Why does Max call?”
“Last night he called because the asparagus farmer refused to deliver.”
Kevin stared at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I am not kidding. If you knew how much asparagus we served, you wouldn’t think it was such an insignificant little problem.”
“So it was a really important crisis?” Kevin said, his expression skeptical.
“Yes.”
“Did you solve it?”
Now it was Gracie’s turn to squirm. “Not exactly.”
“You didn’t jump in and help him out of this terrible business jam?”
“No, but—”
“Tsk, tsk, Gracie. I’m surprised at you. Where’s your compassion? Your sense of duty?” He grinned. “I’ll bet you told him where he could stick those asparagus, didn’t you?”
“It wasn’t amusing to Max,” she said, smiling despite herself.
“No, I’m sure it wasn’t.” His expression sobered. “Gracie, does Max have a car?”
“Of course.”
“Then he could have driven to the farmer’s and picked up the asparagus, correct?”
The image of Max’s impeccable Mercedes filled with vegetables was so outrageous that Gracie chuckled. “You don’t know Max.”
“No, but my point is, he didn’t need to call you to handle this crisis. It was an excuse, Gracie. How many others has he dreamed up since you took off?”
She refused to answer. She’d been so pleased with the evidence of her indispensability that she’d never questioned whether Max might have ulterior motives for those calls.
“That many, huh? He must really have it bad.”
“Max is not interested in me,” she protested, “except as the manger of his hotel in Cannes.” Now who was bending the truth? she thought guiltily.
“We could make a bet on that, but it would be easy money,” Kevin said. “I’ll let it pass.”
“How noble of you.”
He glanced over at her half-eaten, congealing breakfast. “Are you finished?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
He gave her a lazy once-over that left her head spinning.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he responded. “I feel like taking my boat out, maybe doing a little fishing.”
The prospect of being alone all day with Kevin rattled her. He was far more disconcerting than Max would ever be. She was way too susceptible to this man she’d just met. Maybe all his attention would be on fishing, maybe it wouldn’t. She concluded it wouldn’t be smart to take any chances.
“I don’t think so.”
“We can talk about the house,” he said, dangling the possibility before her.
The tactic was totally unfair. Downright sneaky, in fact. Naturally, she bit at once, throwing caution to the wind. “You have life preservers on board?”
“Of course.”
“An extra fishing pole?”
“Absolutely.”
“Let’s go.”
He kept his boat at the Colonial Beach Yacht Center. He picked up bait on the way. Gracie decided she didn’t want to know exactly what kind.
Within minutes he was guiding the surprisingly modest twenty-foot boat away from the dock, through the calm waters of Monroe Bay and into the Potomac. With the wind mussing his hair and his hands steady on the wheel, there was a quiet confidence about him that Gracie found intriguing. He was usually all bluster and wit, but at the helm of the boat he seemed more at peace with himself and with nature.
“You love it out here, don’t you?” she said eventually, breaking the silence.
“Sure I do. What’s not to love?”
“I mean really love it,” she said, not certain how to explain. “I’ll bet you were a pirate in another life.”
“You don’t actually believe in all that reincarnation stuff, do you?”
“Watching you at the helm of this boat, I do. There’s something different about you.”
“Wait till you see me with a fishing pole in my hand. You’ll think I grew up on the Mississippi with Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.”
“That reminds me, exactly what did you get for bait?”
“Blood worms.”
She choked back bile. “I was afraid of that.”
He grinned. “I’ll bait your hook for you if you’re squeamish.”
She gritted her teeth. “I can do it. I may not like it, but I can do it.”
And she did, too. More than once, as it turned out, since Kevin seemed determined to stay on the water until they had enough fish for twenty meals.
When the subject of the house hadn’t come up by midday, Gracie brought it up herself.
“I can’t concentrate on business out here,” Kevin claimed. “Besides, why spoil all this peace and serenity? Wait till we get in out of the hot sun.”
Gracie frowned at the delay. “When will that be?”
“You tired or just impatient?”
“I’m just trying to avoid feeling as if I’ve been lured here under false pretenses,” she retorted.
“Quite, Gracie. You’ll scare the fish.”
She sighed and tossed her line into the water again. After a few more catches, Kevin concluded they had enough fish for the day.
“I’m starved. How about you? We can eat at Dockside, when we bring the boat in. Okay with you?”
“And we’ll talk about the house?”
“Absolutely.”
The subject still hadn’t come up by dessert, which was an incredibly decadent combination of Oreos and cheesecake that Kevin insisted they deserved after their hard morning on the water.
“Okay,” she said, when she’d licked the last bite off the fork. “About the house…”
“You want some coffee?”
“No. Stop avoiding the subject.”
“I’m not avoiding anything. Talking business right after a meal is bad for the digestion,” he declared. “Let’s go for a walk. A nice lazy stroll will clear out the cobwebs.”
“My head’s clear as a bell now,” Gracie protested.
“Then indulge me. You don’t have anything pressing you need to get home to, do you?”
She thought of the recipes she had yet to master and sighed heavily, but she went for the walk. The only thing pressing on her agenda these days was getting her hands on that blasted house. Learning a dozen recipes wouldn’t matter if she didn’t have a kitchen to cook them in or guests to cook them for. Sooner or later, Kevin was going to have to talk about it. He’d promised, hadn’t he? And wasn’t every southern gentleman supposed to be a man of his word?
On the leisurely walk through Colonial Beach, Kevin pointed out several landmarks, spun a few tales about the oyster wars that had been fought in these waters, then showed her the Victorian house where Alexander Graham Bell had spent his summers. It was almost as lovely as the one Gracie wanted to buy.
But even though the Bell house had been spiffed up and its grounds were impeccable, it wasn’t the house she wanted.
“Kevin—”
“I know. You want to talk about the house.”
“You did promise.”
“Okay, let’s go take a look at it.”
She stared at him in astonishment. “Do you mean it?”
“Why not? Unless, of course, you saw all you wanted to see when you slipped inside the other day.”
“I didn’t see anything, really,” she swore. “I just checked to see if there was any evidence of an intruder.”
“Then I’ll give you the twenty-five-cent tour.”
“Why?” she wondered, unable to keep a suspicious note out of her voice.
“You sound as if you’re afraid I’ll lock you in the attic and leave you there.”
“Not that, but you have been pretty adamant about keeping me away from the place. Why the turnaround?”
“Because you’ve been very patient and you kept me from murdering Bobby Ray today.” He grinned. “Don’t let this little concession go to your head, though. It doesn’t mean I’ll sell the place to you.”
Gracie didn’t care. For the moment, poking around inside and imagining how she could convert the house into a bed-and-breakfast would be enough.
The rooms were dusty and mostly empty. What furniture remained was shrouded in sheets.
“I wonder if there’s a ghost?” she asked in a whisper.
Kevin hesitated, then shook his head. “Not that I’ve ever heard about.”
“Too bad,” she said with genuine regret. “A ghost would be a great selling point.”
Kevin regarded her with tolerant amusement, then led the way upstairs. There were half a dozen bedrooms, including one that opened onto a widow’s walk. Gracie stepped outside and stared out at the wide river, imagining a time when someone had stood in this very spot and watched for a ship to make its way up from the Chesapeake Bay. The scent of lilacs wafted up from the overgrown bushes below.
“This is wonderful,” she said dreamily. “I could stay out here all day long.” She could feel the heat of Kevin’s gaze on her and turned. “Or turn it into a honeymoon suite. Then again maybe I should keep it for myself. Turn it into an office.”
“Don’t let your imagination run away with you. The whole point of this was to show you how impractical it would be to try to turn this place into a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Impractical? Why?”
“The rooms are too small, the floors are a mess, and wait until you see the kitchen. I doubt there’s anything in there less than thirty years old.”
“The rooms are fine, the floors are oak and could be polished and buffed in no time. As for the kitchen, a little renovation work doesn’t scare me. Buying appliances won’t take more than one trip to a discount superstore.”
“Trying to fit them in will provide the challenge.”
“Let me see.”
Kevin sighed. “You’re not discouraged, are you?”
“Not a chance. If that was your plan, it backfired. Now that I’ve seen it, I think this place is more perfect than ever.” She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on. I want to see that kitchen you’re so worried about.”
“If you insist,” he said, and led the way.
The kitchen was a bit of a mess and surprisingly dark. Not that Gracie would ever admit to it. “It’s perfect,” she declared. “It’s huge, or it will be once we knock out that wall to the dining room. Then we could knock out part of that outside wall and put in more windows. It would be a great area for serving breakfast to guests.”
Her imagination took flight, replaced all of the old appliances with shining new ones, painted the walls a bright yellow, and added curtains. Something country French, she thought. She could call some of her old suppliers in France for the perfect fabric.
Of course, if she was going to redesign this room with fabulous French decor, she’d better master that blasted souffle in a hurry. A menu of plain old scrambled eggs wasn’t going to cut it.
She described her idea to Kevin, who regarded her with amused tolerance. “Can’t you just see it?” she demanded, wanting him to be caught up with her enthusiasm.
“No, but I can see that you do,” he said.
He reached out and slowly brushed a tendril of flyaway hair back from her cheek. Then his fingers lingered in a gentle caress that stole her breath.
Before she realized what he intended, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers, softly at first and then with a hunger that stunned her. Gracie had never in her entire life been kissed with such consuming urgency. Her body swayed toward his, toward the heat radiating from him. Her hands came to rest on his chest, then slid slowly up until they encircled his neck.
And all the while his mouth and tongue were working magic, tasting, savoring, devouring. She was weak-kneed and dizzy by the time he finally pulled away. She was certain only his hands at her waist kept her upright. Otherwise she would have sunk to the floor, maybe made a fool of herself by dragging him down with her.
As a distraction, it was a hell of a kiss. For several very long moments, she had completely forgotten the business at hand: buying this damned house.
When she was certain she could manage it without stumbling, Gracie backed out of his embrace and scowled at him. “It won’t work, you know. You’re not going to dissuade me or sidetrack from trying to get my hands on this house.”
He grinned. “I know that,” he conceded. “But wouldn’t you say the stakes just got a whole lot more fascinating?”
10
“He had lipstick on his collar when he came in last night,” Molly reported to Delia, her expression gleeful. “I checked the shirt he tossed into the laundry.”
“Must have been Gracie’s,” Delia concluded happily. “I heard he swooped into the Beachside Cafe yesterday morning and practically carried her right out of there. Downright romantic is what it was.”
“Do you think we’ll finally get to plan a wedding around here?” Molly inquired wistfully.
“I wouldn’t go getting your hopes up,” Kevin said lightly, interrupting all of the merry speculating going on in his own kitchen. “Gracie doesn’t especially want me. She wants that house of Aunt Delia’s.”
“You could make it a package deal,” his aunt suggested.
A little bit insulted that she didn’t think he could win Gracie purely on his own, he shook his head. “That’s downright pitiful. Don’t you two think I can catch a woman without offering a bribe?”
“Haven’t shown any evidence of it so far,” Molly observed.
He scowled at the housekeeper. “You can be replaced.”
“Not likely,” she retorted.
“Leave the woman alone,” his aunt said. “You should be grateful she’s put up with you all these years.”
“What is this?” Kevin demanded irritably. “A blasted conspiracy? Never mind. I’ll eat in my office. Bring my eggs and ham in there, please, Molly.”
“You’ll get bran flakes and be grateful,” she retorted, and dumped some in a bowl. She then proceeded to drown them in milk…skim milk, at that. “You can take them with you.”
Kevin accepted the sodden mess and turned to his aunt. “This is your fault, you know. Molly used to be docile as a lamb. Did everything I asked without a bit of sass. You’re behind this insurrection and don’t think I don’t know it.”
He heard them laughing as he headed for his office and couldn’t hold back a grin of his own. Nothing could spoil his mood this morning, even if his life was being run by a couple of sneaky old women. That kiss he’d shared with Gracie was memorable enough to take the edge off his anger at Bobby Ray, too. Hell, he might even give his cousin that loan he wanted…right after he reminded him that he had a daughter he ought to be thinking about once in a while.
He’d barely settled at his desk and eaten his soggy bran flakes when his cousin strolled in, his expression defiant.
“I heard you were looking for me,” Bobby Ray said, bracing his hands on Kevin’s desk and staring him straight in the eye. “What’s the problem?”
Kevin drew in a deep breath and changed his mind. He might pummel Bobby Ray into a bloody mess, after all.
“Let’s start with Abby,” he said, managing an icy calm.
“I’ve already called and apologized. I talked to Marianne.”
“So I heard.”
“How? Did you go running right over there so she could cry on your shoulder like always?”
There was no mistaking the nasty insinuation behind the accusation. Kevin struggled to ignore it, kept his temper in chec
k. “Never mind that. Your apology was a little late, don’t you think? You should have been there when Abby got home from school, if that was the deal.”
“Dammit, Kevin, how I deal with my daughter is none of your business, unless, of course, you and Marianne kept fooling around after she picked me over you and there’s some question about which one of us is Abby’s daddy?”
This time his temper kicked in with a vengeance. Kevin came out from behind his desk so fast, Bobby Ray didn’t have time to get out of his way. Kevin grabbed his cousin’s fancy silk-blend shirt and lifted him off his feet.
“Don’t you ever make a lowdown, rotten comment like that again. Abby’s yours, more’s the pity. But we’re family and she’s my business when you forget all about her and leave her by herself. She’s also my business when you’re hanging onto the support money you’re supposed to be sending for her every month.” He stared deep into his cousin’s eyes. “Are we clear on that?”
“Yes,” Bobby Ray said, barely managing to choke out the word.
“Fine,” Kevin said, letting him drop.
Bobby Ray sank into a chair, rubbing his neck where his collar had cut into it.
“Damn, Kev. You’ve lost your sense of humor entirely. Maybe you ought to take a vacation.”
“I don’t find anything funny in what you suggested. Marianne wasn’t the unfaithful party in your marriage and you damned well know it.”
Bobby Ray winced guiltily. “Okay, you’re right, but not even you can deny she always had the hots for you.”
“Maybe once upon a time, way back. She chose you to marry, though.” He shook his head. “But it was never enough for you, was it? You never believed she made that choice because she loved you.” His gaze narrowed. “Or did you simply choose her to prove you could take her away from me? Was that it, Bobby Ray?”
His cousin turned red at the accusation. Kevin stared at him and wondered why he’d never guessed that before. He’d always assumed it was nothing more than Bobby Ray’s philandering that had come between him and Marianne. How could he have missed the obvious that way? Marrying Marianne had just been another form of payback aimed at Kevin. He wondered how soon after the ceremony Bobby Ray had let Marianne figure that out.
“You lousy son of a bitch,” he said quietly. “How could you do that to her? Or did you even give her a thought?”