Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) (14 page)

“
You want some lemonade?” Quentin asked, as she approached him in the kitchen, somewhat drier after her quick pat-down. “There’s still some left from our lunch yesterday.”

“
Yes,” she said. “I want to stay inside, though. It’s obviously not that hot to you, but I’ve managed to sweat all my makeup off.” She sat at the table in the breakfast nook, going over what happened at the bank, and what Limye had said. As vexation built up more in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t sit still.

Quentin sat across from her. She watched as he continued rubbing at his shirtsleeve. “Hey, I said I could take the heat. I didn’t say I liked it.”

While he took a drink, Grace eyed him. Everything about today unnerved her. Quentin knew what was going on, and that irritated her. “True, but you’re a man. You’re the one that’s supposed to be all sweaty and gross, not me.”

“
We could go for a swim,” he suggested.

“
Why? So you can ‘not’ stare at my legs some more?”

“
I wasn’t staring at your legs!”

She raised an eyebrow.

“
What? I wasn’t,” he tried again.

“
Uh-huh.”

“
Even if I was—but I wasn’t—you won’t have to worry, because your legs will be in the water.” His face split in an I’m-proud-of-myself-for-coming-up-with-that-logic smile.

“
You’re right. I won’t have to worry about you staring at my legs at least
.
”

“
Come on, give me some credit. I’ll be a perfect non-staring gentleman, scout’s honor.” Giving her an innocent look, he held two fingers up in the Boy Scout salute.

Trying not to smile, she failed. “Were you really a scout?”

Quentin waggled his eyebrows. “No, but it sounded good, didn’t it?”

“
No. It sounded sneaky. I’ll be right back.” Exasperated, she finished the last drink of her lemonade. “I’m going to change.” She set her glass in the sink, then headed for her room. Before hitting the stairs, she grabbed the backpack with Pandora in it from the table in the foyer.

Grace’s bedroom was on the second floor. She kept several swimsuits at her grandfather’s, none of which she particularly cared for. That’s why they were left at her grandfather’s. She never expected anyone of importance to see her in them. Not that she should care what Quentin thought.

Grumbling, she stared apprehensively at the suits spread across her bed. The yellow one-piece was definitely out. She picked that one up and tossed it on the floor. The teeny-weenie hot pink two-piece was absolutely out. She threw that little piece of fabric somewhere in the vicinity of the yellow one. That left the black tankini and the red monokini. She held them both up and decided the red one was best, then tossed the black one on the floor with the other two.

Quickly changing and double-checking the knots she tied at her hips and around her neck, she covered her suit with the sheer cover-up she always wore poolside. Carefully, she placed the backpack under her bed before leaving her room.

The pool house was off the back of the manor and to the left. Grace knew Quentin would have no problem finding it, since they had eaten lunch out back just the day before, but she was surprised to see that he already had the music going and was crouched poolside, tossing the round floating speakers into the pool as she stepped off the deck. “I see you know your way around the pool too,” she said as she walked to the edge, curling her toes toward the water.

He tilted his head to look at her and held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “I hope you don’t mind the music.”

“
No, I don’t mind. I would have never pegged you for a Jack Johnson fan, though.”

He didn’t reply as he stood up next to her. He did start undressing, though, and Grace suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with her eyes. She swung her gaze up, then tore it away from him and looked back at the house instead. Curiosity got the best of her within seconds, forcing her to give up the pretense. Grace brought her gaze back to Quentin, trying crazily to give off the cool look of not caring. Yeah, right.

Oh my friggin’
…
were the only words her brain could formulate before it scrambled to mush. Grace knew Quentin had some muscle, she could tell by the way his clothing draped. But she didn’t know he had
that
kind. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a Calvin Klein underwear ad. Hell, even a Jockey ad. They were all the same to her.

You have got to be joking, she thought. He’s a lawyer? Maybe I should go to law school, she mused, trying to focus more on not drooling than not gawking.

Quentin yelled “Cannonball!” as he ran and jumped into a tight ball before hitting the water.

His warning barely registered enough to bring her back to her senses. Not only was him shouting “cannonball” surprising since it was so out of character for him, she was also dazed by the image of his body. The torrential downpour that came next quickly tore her out of her fog. Grace heard his laughter and saw him shaking with it through the parted curtain of her hair.

The adrenaline from the shock gave her pure liquid courage. In a quick, fluid motion, she pulled her cover-up over her head and tossed it aside. His surprised gulp didn’t go unnoticed through her determination. “You’re in for it now,” she warned as she took off in a dead run and launched into a perfect swan dive in the pool. Expertly gliding under the surface, she slowly rose out of the water with a smile. Quentin’s shock turned into a knowing male grin. It appeared he was still stupefied by her lack of attire, which Grace merely saw as opportunity. With as much force as she could muster, she splashed at him with all her might. Quentin playfully fought back through his gasping, coughing, and laughing.

Without thinking, she lurched forward and onto his back, trying to stop the onslaught by pushing him under instead. Touching him was a mistake; she realized it the instant before their skin connected. A surge of his struggling emotions shot through her fingertips, all of which Grace had absolutely no business knowing. As quickly as she could, she slid off his back to let him up for air and moved away. Quentin wasn’t having any of it. Evidently, he wasn’t done playing and grabbed her wrist.

Grace gawked at his hand, her eyes round and mouth gaping, and then back to his face. His mouth spread in a mischievous grin. “Where do you think you’re going? Payback’s a mother, isn’t it?”

Grace tried begging. “Quentin, don’t! Please.”

“
That’s not gonna work, cupcake. You made your bed.” He effortlessly dragged her slowly through the water toward him, while she struggled feebly to pull away. It was torturous.

Still pulling, his smile widened. “Come here
,
Grace.”

Maybe talking him down would work like it did in the movies? She shoved her wet hair away from her eyes and put on an innocent, pleading face. “Quentin, you don’t want to do this.”

He spoke through his smirk. “Oh, but I do. You have no idea how badly I do.” Clearly, he was enjoying himself way too much.

Before she had time to react, she was being pulled through a wake and cradled in his arms. The same rush she’d felt at the coffee shop surged through every part of her body that touched his, causing her to suck in a sharp breath. Heat pricked her skin. Every synapse in her brain fired off, urging her to get out of his arms. Shamefully, she grappled with wanting more of the rush. Without much effort, she convinced herself struggling was futile, and ignored feeling contrite about wanting more.

He smirked down at her before saying, “If you don’t want water up your nose, you’d best plug it.” The thought “Oh, what a gentleman” rushed through her brain just as they plunged completely underwater and came up for air a breath later.

Quentin hugged her tighter to his chest as he hunched over and laughed uncontrollably. Grace gasped and swiped water out of her eyes, definitely not convinced that it was that funny.

“
You can put me down now,” she said flatly.

“
Ah, don’t be mad,” he teased.

“
I’m not mad.” Grace’s mouth pinched together as she shifted it to the side to chew on the inside of her cheek. She didn’t know what to make of what had just happened.

He didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by their bare skin contact when he let her down. Grace forced her gaze from the chiseled arms, which had just been wrapped around her, to the ripples they made in the water as he moved them about. Quentin started making his way to the edge of the pool, leaving a wave of rippling water in his wake. Grace still watched. “Where are you going?”

As he pulled himself up, water rained down from his shorts and trickled down his bronzed skin. “I could use a drink. I thought you could too.”

“
Now that you mention it…” she said absently, still mesmerized by the trail of water trickling down the length of his back.

Quentin jerked his eyes in her direction, looking at her like she’d grown horns. “Not that kind of drink. Water.”

“
Oh, come on,” she joked. He obviously didn’t find it funny; all traces of a smile were absent from his face.

“
I’m not contributing to the delinquency of a minor,” he said flatly.

“
Did I mention that I found out today that I own this house?”

“
Congratulations.” His scowl turned up in a brief smile, then fell away again. “But you’re still a minor,” he said in all seriousness. He stood with his hands on his hips staring down at her, and seemed to puff with male authority, ready to lay down the law.

Grace chuckled. “Relax, I-Man-You-Woman. I’m only kidding.”

She pulled herself out of the pool and grabbed a towel off one of the lounge chairs, then sat down on the edge of another to dry off. Grace focused her attention back on the questions she wanted answered and away from the muscles within her line of sight.

“
Thank you.” As he handed her some water, she saw that he even had muscles in his fingers. She didn’t know a man’s hands could be attractive. Oh boy. Grace fanned herself, and hoped he thought she was reacting to the heat from the sun.

Quentin dropped into the lounge chair next to her. “Ready to talk now?”

Grace put the glass to her lips and nodded.

“
I definitely want to ask you about what happened at the bank, but I have a couple other questions first.” She paused, waiting to see if he had anything to interject. “I’ve received two letters from my grandfather. Both told me to trust you and to listen to you. Why?”

There was no pause in Quentin’s response. “Because you need protection and he knew I’d give my life to keep you safe.”

Well, she wasn’t expecting that. Too absorbed on his mouth as he spoke, she absentmindedly leaned into her stare.

Out of the corner of her eye, Grace thought she saw the tattoo band wrapped around his bicep move a little, and realized what she was doing. Instead of shaking it off and moving on, she sat back up and expectantly waited for it to do it again. Nothing happened, though. Maybe it was a muscle twitch? Or a heat wave from the concrete? Either way, she reluctantly tore her gaze away. “I thought you were a lawyer.”

Thoughtfulness moved across his face. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. This time he wasn’t so quick to reply. “I am
a lawyer. But I’m not practicing. I was under Christophe’s employ as his advisor and personal bodyguard, so to speak. Now I’m yours.”

His reply ran a shocked wave through her body, lifting her back straighter. “Bodyguard? Why would my grandfather need a bodyguard?” Except for protection from my family, she thought. But then again, she didn’t feel danger from them.
“You can’t be serious. Someone wanted to actually hurt him? Why would anyone want to do that? He was the kindest man alive. And how come I never saw you around before if you were his bodyguard?”

A million and one questions were running laps in her head. The not knowing was just as bad as the whys. She’d never seen or felt fear from her grandfather. That was the kicker though, wasn’t it? She never felt he was ever in any kind of danger. But he had been and she’d had no clue.

“
Do you want to talk about what happened at the bank?” Quentin asked, ignoring her rapid-fire questions that had nothing to do with the bank.