Betting on Grace (25 page)

“Judy!” their mother exclaimed.

Judy looked truly repentant. “I was a brat and he was this adorable little boy that everybody loved. But my plan backfired because one of them—Bettina, I think—said, ‘Hey, if he’s got Gypsy blood then he’s probably really good at seeing into the future.’ So they made me invite you to play the game with us. Is any of this coming back?”

Nick shook his head, but a hazy memory glimmered just beyond reach.

“So what happened?” Sharon asked.

“Well, we each asked the board who we were going to marry and when it was Nick’s turn, the board spelled
G.R.A.C.E.
”

Nick couldn’t hold in his expletive.

Judy reached out. “I remember because that was the name of Bettina’s cat. We teased you for weeks about being a cat lover. Every time we’d cross paths, I’d meow and say, ‘Marry me, Grace, I love you, Grace.’ Don’t you remember?”

“You’re making this up, Judy. I’m outta here. Come on, Rip.”

His dog—the dog that obeyed his every command—just looked at him.

Judy smirked. “Even Rip knows I’m telling the truth.”

“I don’t want to hear any more.”

She looked at him and grinned her most annoying big-sister grin. “Come on. ’Fess up, little brother. Who’s Grace? She exists, doesn’t she? Are you in love? When do we get to meet her?”

Nick felt the air leave his lungs as if he’d been socked in the stomach by the bouncer at the Pit Stop. He shook his head but couldn’t catch his breath to speak. His mother swooped in and put her arms around him. “Oh, honey, is it true? Did you meet her in Las Vegas? Is she Romani?”

For weeks he’d felt torn in two—his past and his real life battling for supremacy. He couldn’t win, so he gave up. “Yes.”

“You love her?”

“Yes.”

Judy slugged him in the shoulder. “Then what the heck are you doing in Detroit?”

“This is where I belong. With you guys. You’re my family.”

His mother shook her head. “Oh, sweetheart, who said you can only have
one
family?”

Nick looked at his father. “My job is here. Grace’s life is there.”

Pete smiled. “There’s such a thing as compromise, son. Look at your mom and me. One day we were all set to move, the next we’re bi-coastal…well, you know what I mean.”

Nick swallowed the lump in his throat and hugged his mother. “I love you guys. Even you, Jude.” She made a face that he remembered from their childhood. “I still don’t know if I believe that story about the Ouija board or if you’re just an incredibly lucky guesser, but you’re right. Her name is Grace. And I think I have some apologizing to do.”

“Why?” Judy asked.

“The last time I saw her, she was in a hospital bed recovering from a bullet wound that was pretty much my fault.”

His mother groaned.

His father grimaced.

Judy laughed. She was his sister. What did he expect?

“Come on, Rip, time to eat crow.”

He looked around for his dog, but the animal was nowhere to be seen. A bark made them all turn. The collie was waiting by the front door, his whole body wagging with excitement.

N
ICK TRIED
Grace’s cell again.

Still no answer. He didn’t have any of her sisters’ numbers programmed in and didn’t want to take the time to use directory assistance.

“You’ve reached…” the prerecorded voice said.

“Grace,” a bright, happy voice inserted.

“At the tone—”

He threw the phone on the passenger seat with such force it bounced sideways and cartwheeled to the floor. He started to go after it, but must have drifted into the adjoining lane because a loud, impatient honk made him overcorrect.

“Good grief, I’m driving like Grace,” he muttered, and put both hands on the wheel.

Rush-hour traffic in Detroit started around three. He used surface streets to miss the worst of it and managed to turn onto his street about half an hour after leaving his parents.

He slowed down. Kids were often around this time of day, even though spring seemed to have been shoved out of the way by the remaining dregs of winter. A gray cloud hung low, like a misty blanket.

Rip, in the back seat of the extended cab pickup
truck, barked excitedly. Nick looked around but saw neither child nor four-legged animal—the only things other than a ball that Rip ever got too animated about.

Half a block from his home, though, Nick took his foot off the gas. There was a strange car in his driveway. A white compact. It appeared empty.

He parked across the street and closed the door before Rip could weasel past. His friend wasn’t happy about being left behind, but Nick’s cop’s instincts were on alert.

He left his gun locked in the glove box since there didn’t appear to be any immediate danger and pressed the alarm on his key bob to lock the doors.

Looking around as he approached the vehicle, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Today was garbage day and the majority of his neighbors’ plastic containers were still sitting in front of their respective houses. The homes on his block were thirty-year-old post-war ranch-style homes. Most had double garages that had been converted to living space…which meant cars in the driveways and on the street.

But not Nick’s house. His garage was as neat and orderly as his home. His lawn was mowed in the summer and his walk shoveled in the winter. Generally, crime didn’t happen on his street since people were aware that a cop lived here. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t.

He memorized the car’s license number and was just reaching for his cell phone when he remembered that he’d dropped it on the floor of his car.

Taking a deep breath of cold air, he stepped close enough to look inside. The first thing he saw was a neon-pink wool scarf. It still had the price tag on it. And
it was wrapped around the neck of the woman who was curled up asleep in the back seat.

His knees went rubbery and he had to grab the hood of the car to keep from going down. His breath came in short, shaky puffs and a roar that sounded like a giant ocean wave filled his ears.

“Grace.”

He tapped the window with his knuckle. “Grace,” he said again, finding his voice.

She stirred. Her eyes opened and she sat up, blinking, obviously confused about where she was. Then she looked at Nick. And smiled. “Finally,” she cried, scrambling to unlock the door.

“You’re here,” she cried, bursting to her feet. “I was afraid I had the wrong address. But then I thought, what’s the worst that could happen? The home owner calls the cops and you arrest me.”

Nick hugged her without speaking. There was so much to say. So much that had been said. “How did you find me?” he finally managed.

She blinked as if the answer to his question was obvious. “George, of course. Mom moved him into Claude’s house yesterday.”

George. Jurek. His father.

“And MapQuest,” she added. “Only took me about an hour longer than it should have. I got lost a couple of times, but notice,” she said, pointing to the car, “not a single bent fender.”

He chuckled softly.
Grace. Oh, God, how he loved her.
“How are you?” he asked trying to keep his emotions under control until he figured out why she was here.

She sobered. Her shoulders straightened. “Do you
mean how’s my side? The bullet wound?” Her eyes danced with humor. “I love saying that. It makes me sound so dangerous and kick-ass.”

He forced himself not to smile. “How is your bullet wound?”

“Healed. Mostly. Wanna see it?” Her eyebrows waggled. “Perhaps we could go inside first. It’s kinda nippy out here. I had to run the heater twice and I was afraid I might get asphyxiated.”

“Not outdoors. You could run out of gas, though.”

“Oh. Then I froze for nothing?”

He studied her. Jeans. Long-sleeved white blouse. A T-shirt of some kind underneath. And the scarf. Not the right clothes for Michigan’s variable spring weather. “Yes. Of course. Inside.” He pointed toward the house, but turned on his heel and dashed the other direction. “Rip. I gotta get my dog. I’ll be right back.”

Nick realized he probably sounded like an idiot. But his mind was struggling to process this amazing event. Grace. Here. Smiling at him with tenderness and something else. Something he recognized, but didn’t dare put a name to until he heard the words from her.

Rip had slobbered all over the driver’s-side window by the time Nick got the door open. He reached for the animal’s collar but the collie shot past him, squeezing through a much-too-small space. “Rip,” he called, but the dog bolted. Across the street and straight into Grace’s path.

Nick slammed the door and charged to the rescue.

Grace wasn’t sure exactly how she ended up on the wet, stiff grass. She tripped, that was a given. And she must have rolled to avoid landing on her sore side. But
the rest was a blur. Probably because a very determined furry animal was covering her face with kisses.

“Help,” she peeped, half laughing, half dismayed that her carefully applied makeup was now shot.

“Rip. Dammit. Sit.”

The licking stopped.

“I can’t believe he did that. I’m sorry, Grace. Did he hurt you?”

She opened her eyes. Her prince was kneeling over her. She folded her hands across her chest and sighed loudly. “Kiss me.”

“W…what?”

“Kiss me.”

“Here? Now?”

She opened one eye. “Come on. Do I not look like Snow White? Rip could be one of the dwarves.” She turned her chin just a bit. “Dopey?”

The dog actually looked offended.

“Happy,” she offered instead.

His ears cocked and his rear end waggled.

Nick rocked back on his haunches and shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

She sat up on her elbows. Her side ached but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “No, I’m completely serious. I just flew two thousand miles to tell you that there’s no way I’m letting you walk out of my life. In some people’s book that might make me a stalker, but it’s my version of tough love.” She returned to her flat position. “If you don’t love me back…tough.”

She closed her eyes again. Not in jest but to keep her tears at bay. She hadn’t really thought about what would happen if he
didn’t
want her.

She started to roll to her good side to sit up, but she felt his presence. Close.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, princess. I just can’t believe it’s this easy. No dragons to kill. No overgrown vegetation to hack through or magical spells to undo. Just one silly dog standing between me and my future.”

She opened her eyes. “What’d you say?”

“That was my less-than-eloquent way of saying I love you.” He kissed her. Right there on the cold, damp grass of his front lawn.

A storybook kiss that might have gotten out of hand if not for Rip, who suddenly decided he deserved a kiss or two of his own.

She petted the exuberant collie and rewarded him with a peck on the nose, then said, “Thank you for that reminder. As your master and I both know, decisions made in the heat of passion aren’t necessarily the best for either party.”

She turned her attention to Nick. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier about tough love. I’m not going to make you do anything, Nick. But I do think you love me, and I know I love you. So that means we have some decisions to make, and I don’t want you to look back at this moment with any regret. Your birth mother gave up her career to marry Jurek and found being a wife and mother wasn’t enough for her. I can’t ask you to leave the job you love, and if I move here, it means giving up my family and my business.”

T
EN MINUTES LATER
, they faced each other across his dining-room table, two mugs of microwaved cocoa be
tween them. The furnace was running and Rip was sitting beside Nick’s chair.

Nick couldn’t believe his future had come down to a matter of geography. His first inclination was to open his heart and tell her he’d follow her anywhere. But the mention of his birth mother had reminded him that nothing was that simple.

“So how do we do this?” he asked. “Two thousand miles is a heck of a commute.”

She gave a half smile. “But think of the frequent flier miles we’d accrue.”

“That might work for a while, but what happens when we have kids?” He looked at her and decided to go for broke. “Marry me and move here. You could still do the books for Romantique via telecommuting. You just won’t be able to do the hostessing.”

“Well, Kate wouldn’t be happy. And Romantique’s in a real bind right now.” Grace told him about Charles’s vendetta and the reason why the restaurant was temporarily closed.

He swore and reached across the table to take her hand. “Sorry, Grace. But there’s probably never going to be a perfect time to move. For either of us. The fact is, I love you. I want to marry you. And if that means moving to Vegas, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “I love you, too, but this is so important and—” Whatever she’d been about to say was cut short by Rip, who suddenly jumped up, knocking her purse, which had been resting on the table, to the floor. The contents spilled out, in
cluding the deck of cards she’d brought on the plane to play solitaire with.

Grace welcomed the distraction. She was tempted to let Nick make this noble sacrifice. He was her prince. This is the kind of thing princes did, right? But her conscience wouldn’t let her. As she reached for the cards, a shiver of awareness raced up her spine. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the ghostly image of her father. Grinning, Ernst said, “Luck or destiny? Life is a gamble, Gracie. Sometimes you have to risk everything to win.”

She stared at the splashy “Play Las Vegas” logo on the deck she’d impulsively purchased at the gift shop in the airport. Suddenly she knew what to do. She quickly shuffled the cards, as her father had taught her, then held the deck out, face down, on her palm. “We’ll let the cards decide. If you pick the high card, we live in Detroit. If I get it, we make Vegas our home.”

“Princesses first,” he said, not hesitating for a second.

She quickly made her cut.

“The queen of hearts,” she said softly.

Nick pushed his cup to one side and scooted closer to the table. After drawing in a deep breath, he reached out, his hand hovering over hers for just a moment. When he flicked his wrist, he revealed his pick.

N
ICK STARED
at the ace of diamonds and was speechless. He’d won. Grace would be his. She’d marry him and move to Detroit. A sense of joy so powerful he couldn’t describe filled him up, making him want to laugh and cry at the same time. “I love you, Grace.”

She was in his arms in a heartbeat, and he couldn’t stop kissing her.

They stumbled into the bedroom, bouncing off the wall in a tangled ball of arms and legs. The bed made a creaking sound. Grace, who was on top, lifted her head and looked around. “A man’s room. Nice, but needs color. Will that be a problem?”

He buried his hand in her hair and kissed her. “Nope.”

She worked her hands under him and pressed her body flat. Jeans and friction. Soft to hard in a way that blocked conscious thought. “Clothes off,” he thought he heard her say.

Nick rolled them to their sides and did his best to oblige as quickly as possible. “Love, honor and obey. I like that,” she said, licking her lip in a sexy way that cost her a nip on the belly button.

Her laughter made him want to slow things down. They had so much to talk about.

“Later,” she whispered in his ear. “Sex now. Talk later.”

He didn’t ask how she knew what he was thinking. She was a Gypsy princess. Her mother was Puri Dye. Besides, although he didn’t plan to mention it, he knew what she was thinking, too. Because he felt exactly the same fire.

They were linked. Somehow. By fate. Through time. He didn’t understand it, but neither did he doubt it.

She reached between their bodies and touched him. “Do we need…?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

Her lips curved in a smile. “Not if you trust me. I’m not pregnant. My period started the day I came home from the hospital. And I’ve been taking the pill faithfully.”

He thrust lightly against her hand. “I was an ass about that. If you want to know the truth, I was hoping you were pregnant, so I didn’t have to worry whether or not you loved me. We would have gotten married because it was the right thing to do.”

“Me, too.”

She guided him into her and he closed the gap. Her body welcomed him home, and he let out a small cry. “Thank you for loving me, Grace.”

She moved her hips, up and against him. “You’re welcome. Now, dazzle me with brilliance. I flew two thousand miles and just lost at cards. It’s the least you can do.”

He scooted downward until his lips brushed against the credit-card size bandage on her side. “Does this hurt? Do we need to be careful of reopening it?”

“A mere scratch,” she said breathlessly, but he was so attuned to her feelings he knew she was lying.

“R…right,” he said, moving lower. He brought her close to the edge then backed away as she writhed with yearning.

“You…do that…again…and…”

Her threat was lost in a gasp of pleasure as he thrust into her, putting his own needs aside until he felt her pulsating waves of pleasure. The signal for his own release.