Finding Grace (29 page)

When the waiter returned with Grace’s scotch, Dagger
watched her take her first sip. “Well?”

She swallowed and took another sip. “Mmm. It’s kind
of a weird contrast of hot and sexy mixed with marshes and icy
winds. Makes me want to make love with you in a big castle on a
soft rug in front of a roaring fire during a storm.” She smiled and
he forgot to breathe. “But that’s just me.”

The image she conjured and the smile she’d delivered
it with turned his brain to mush. He finally managed to rasp,
“…just you and me…” After swallowing a few times, he said, “That
could be arranged. Planes leave for places like that every
day.”

Grace blushed prettily and her silver eyelashes
glistened in the candlelight. It was with a jolt delivered by a
none-too-subtle cough that he remembered Joe even existed, much
less at the table with them.

“So, Joe, what kind of law do you practice?”

Again, Grace’s simple charm rescued the moment and
Joe yammered on about his firm and high-end clients. Dagger took
the opportunity to surreptitiously stroke Grace’s thigh in the
silky leotard and wonder how soon he could get her home and into
his bed.

But he’d promised her music, so after dessert and
the scotch Joe ordered for her, he suggested a club hosting a band
they both liked.

“Really? I’ve always wanted to see them.” She
bounced in her seat before her excited smile turned skeptical. “Not
that I’ve ever been there, of course, but I don’t think suits are
exactly
de rigueur
for that establishment, are they,
Jack?”

“Not the last time I was there.” He shrugged. “But
what the hell. The place is a little rough, yeah, but the stage is
nice and the sound is good. It’ll be fun.”

* * * *

The club was busy for a weeknight. Even though it
was still early, the band was popular so there wasn’t anywhere to
sit. Which meant that Grace was standing, and as such, on display.
God, she looked good and Dagger sure as hell wasn’t the only one
who noticed. Joe brought them their first round of drinks, though
it was the look Dagger drilled the bartender with that made it
happen. He’d seen the way the guy had looked Joe over and how long
he’d been waiting to get served.

It didn’t bother him. He’d rather Grace took a break
from drinking anyway. She didn’t seem to be feeling the effects,
which did bother him. Whiskey was generally an honest drink, not as
likely to sneak up on you as most, but Grace’s brain didn’t work
like other people’s. What if it hit her all at once?

She took a few sips before asking him where she
might find the ladies’ room and excusing herself.

Dagger turned to his brother. Joe wasn’t as
comfortable in the place as he pretended to be. They’d both shed
their jackets and ties. Dagger had rolled up his shirt sleeves
because it was warm, but he knew Joe had done it to try to fit
in.

“Well?” He understood why he wanted Joe to approve
of Grace, why it was important to him. He didn’t like it, but there
it was.

“She’s very pretty, Jack. Sure is turning a lot of
heads. Hot little body too, great muscle tone. But platinum bleach
blondes aren’t really my type. She, ah, sure seems to be holding
her liquor for someone who supposedly doesn’t drink, never mind the
whiskey voice. And, God, that mouth on her. The fact that she can
turn it off only makes me wonder more. Jack, please tell me you’re
not really serious about this girl.”

Dagger shook his head. Was his brother really that
blind? Everyone who knew her could tell how special Grace was. Even
dumber-than-dirt Mills had figured it out.

“Fuck you, Joe. She doesn’t dye her hair. You don’t
know her—any more than you know me.”

Joe snorted. “Hey, you wanted my honest opinion,
right? So I gave it to you. And if I don’t know you any more, it’s
not because
I
haven’t tried. Even with that badass look, you
are still my little brother, and I don’t want to see you fuck up
your life with that cheap, vulgar little skank.”

Only the sound of Grace’s soft shriek stopped
Dagger’s fist. He’d been so intent on the conversation with his
brother that he hadn’t been watching for her. Some big asshole at
the end of the bar had his arm around her waist and was pulling her
toward him. The next moment, his head snapped back and his arm
released her to grab his nose, which was now bleeding
copiously.

Dagger was at her side in an instant. “Are you all
right, Grace? Did he hurt you?”

“No, Jack, he just wouldn’t let me go. You know I
can’t handle that. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Grace was flexing her left hand and shaking it.

“Crazy bitch,” the man mumbled, “I oughta…”

“You. Ought. To. What?” Dagger pronounced the words
slowly and took a step closer.

The man blinked furiously. When his eyes came into
focus, he looked Dagger up and down and said, “I ought to call it a
night and go home.”

“Good. Now anyone else feel the suicidal need to
touch her?” He looked around. No one met his eyes and only mumbles
met his ears.

Dagger put his arm around her and they walked back
to Joe.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I’d blame the clothes, but third
time in a bar and third time trouble. It has to be me, right? Sorry
about that Joe.”

“No big deal. I kind of enjoy watching my kid
brother in action. Not that you needed him. Your buddies weren’t
kidding, you handle yourself like a pro.” Joe clinked his glass to
hers.

The way he said it bugged Dagger, but he was more
worried about Grace. She sipped her drink nonstop until it was
empty.

“I know you’d probably like to leave, but I’ve never
danced to live music before and I was hoping…Well, the band is
warming up. Please? Just this once?” She was practically bouncing
again.

“Dance? Grace…” Her face started to fall and he
couldn’t stand it. “Okay, sure, a couple of songs. But then we’re
going home, to my place.”

“You want me to go to your place? But, Jack—”

Joe handed her another scotch and Dagger snarled,
not caring for the way his brother was pouring scotch down her
throat, or for the interruption—just when he had a feeling Grace
was ready to tell him what was bothering her.

A loud chord sounded and she downed the drink in
three swallows.

When the song started, her body began to move with
the beat of the bass guitar and for the first time in his life,
Dagger actually wanted to dance.

Then he looked in her eyes and saw all that booze
hit her like a sledgehammer.

While he was working out what to do about it, Joe
said, “What’s the matter, bro? Never learned how to dance? Not to
worry, I’ll take her off your hands.” He thumped Dagger on the back
and his eyes traveled slowly over Grace, smiling all the while.
Before Dagger could put a stop to that with a right hook, Joe
grabbed her hand and said, “C’mon, baby, let’s have some fun.”

He lost them to the crowd until they made it to the
dance floor.

Grace was flowing more than dancing, her moves were
so smooth. Joe looked like a frog in a blender, but no one was
watching him anyway. By the time she started doing those slow
cartwheels, they were the only two left on the dance floor and
everyone else was standing around clapping and whistling, including
his brother.

It wasn’t that she looked indecent, really—what with
the full leotard and all. But she was so sexy. Joe naturally
thought she was dancing for him, for all of them. He couldn’t see
that she was dancing for herself.

Dagger parted the crowd and stepped up to catch her
when she went into another backbend. He was standing there holding
her when her eyes flew open and she squealed.

“It’s time to go home, Grace. You’ve had enough fun
tonight.” He had to yell over the music for her to hear it.

The crowd was booing and Joe was laughing, but
Dagger only noticed the way Grace pulled away from him and
struggled. Not quite knowing what to do, he set her back on her
feet.

“Goddamnit, Jack, you don’t have to take care of me.
None of it was your fault. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t want
your fucking pity.” She was shaking, weaving a bit to stay on her
feet, but Dagger doubted she’d let him steady her.

“I know. That’s not what I’m offering.” He said it
quietly, but there was a sudden lull in the music and it
carried.

“Well what the fuck
do
you want from me,
Jack? What!” Everyone in the place heard it because the band had
stopped playing and she was yelling.

There was only one real answer to that question. He
reached in his pocket and held the ring out to her. “I want you to
be my wife, Grace.”

She gasped and reached out for his shoulder, finally
letting him put his arm around her. “Marry you? I thought you were
going to dump me.”

Where the hell had she come up with that? “It’s not
exactly how I intended to ask, but what’ll it be, Grace? Will you
have me?”

There was a tinkling of ice in a glass somewhere,
but that was the only sound in the room. Dagger thought everyone in
the place was holding their breath. Or maybe it was just him.

“Oh God yes, Jack, I’ll have you.”

She let him pick her up again, let him put the ring
on her finger, let him kiss her.

The applause was thunderous.

Chapter Nineteen

“Feeling better, Grace?” Dagger refilled her water
glass. “That was a lot of scotch for someone who doesn’t
drink.”

Joe rolled his eyes. Dagger glared at him.

“How do you know I just don’t enjoy being carried,
Jack?” She flashed him a smile. “But really, it’s just shock.” She
looked down at the ring on her finger.

Dagger didn’t think she’d taken her eyes off it the
entire ride home. “Do you like it? I’ve been carrying it around in
my pocket for almost a week.”

“I’m such an idiot, Jack. I had no idea. It’s
beautiful. I love the shape, I’ve never seen one like it. It is
awfully big, though. I mean, this chunk of ice could have sunk
The Titanic.
Right, Joe?”

He could almost hear Joe’s thoughts on the subject.
If Grace had been offended by any of his looks or snide remarks,
she hadn’t let on. Dagger was going to have a talk with
him—tomorrow. It only took one look at Grace in all that silky hot
pink, black leather, and lace to remind him he had something else
to do right now.

Maybe she’d read his mind, because right then she
said, “Say, fiancé, why don’t you carry me to your bedroom? I want
to see if it sparkles in the dark.” She wiggled the ring and
grinned.

After he scooped her up, she waved to Joe. “Sweet
dreams.”

* * * *

The bed was high and oversized. Thorne felt small
and self-conscious lying alone in it. Light from the parking lot
was coming in through the windows, even at night. Too much
light.

It occurred to her that Jack would probably want to
live here after they were married. The scotch may have relaxed her
some, but it also chased her mind in circles, dragging her stomach
behind it in queasy rolls. One particularly unpleasant thought made
the rounds tenaciously,
unpleasant
and
tenacious
being common companions on the tracks of her anxiety, even without
the scotch. How many other women had lain in this bed, waiting for
Jack to come back from the bathroom?

She was still thinking about it when he slipped into
bed beside her, all warm hands and hard, tempting body. So—and the
scotch probably had something to do with it too—she asked him.

“What? No. You’re the first woman I’ve ever had in
this bed.” His lips started making little nips just below her ear
while his hands wandered with slow purpose.

Unfortunately and stupidly—but predictably—tenacious
and unpleasant hadn’t run out of fuel just yet. “So you just stayed
at their place, like you stay at mine?”

“I never stayed. Period.” His lips stopped nibbling,
his hands stopped moving. “Where is all this coming from,
Grace?”

The close cousin of the former tenacious and
unpleasant thought raced in to fill the vacancy, again leaking past
her lips.

“I was just thinking…Are you sure you want me in
your bed for the rest of your life? I thought men didn’t like that
idea. Won’t you get bored?”

“Bored?”
Was he laughing?
“Not hardly. Jesus,
Grace, I love the idea of having you in my bed every night for the
rest of my life. But what about you? Is all this because you’re
thinking you might want to kiss some more frogs, maybe find a
prince?” He wasn’t laughing anymore. Just waiting.

“No, Jack. I got lucky. The first one I kissed was a
prince.”

She heard the quick intake of his breath and knew he
understood the full truth of what she’d said. After that, there
were no more thoughts, tenacious or otherwise. There was only need
and pleasure, desire and satisfaction.

* * * *

Dagger inhaled slowly, his thoughts tumbling, his
lips finding hers in the dark, his hands caressing that exotically
smooth skin, following all of the curves and hollows of her body.
She’d given him her first kiss. Those sick bastards hadn’t been
able to take that. No, that had to be given. And Grace had chosen
him. He didn’t understand why that thought suddenly made him so
hungry for her, so desperate to please her, to hear her moan his
name, but it did. And pretty soon, she did. She paid him back for
it, though, made him beg, made him swear, made him roar.

* * * *

Like Jack, the sun was still sleeping when Thorne
got out of bed and showered. She found a robe in his closet, folded
the sleeves over several times, slipped it on, and went to the
kitchen to get something cold to drink so she could chase down the
aspirin she’d found in the bathroom medicine cabinet.

She jumped. “Joe. I didn’t see you. I’m sorry, did I
wake you?”