Dying for Love

Lisette’s impossibly big brown eyes widened. “Surely you heard something?”

This had happened while she’d slept. Grace paused in the middle of the living room, light-headed at the realization that an intruder had ransacked her kitchen while she slept just a room away. Her knees trembled. She snapped her spine straight and sucked in a deep breath.

Joining her friend, she shook her head. “I wear noise-cancelling earbuds at night.”

“Maybe it was done while you were at work yesterday?”

“No …”

Grace stared at the pantry door. She hadn’t checked inside yet. Hefting the rolling pin she hadn’t even thought to put down—latent terror, no doubt—she carefully maneuvered through the maze of kitchen gadgets. Her pulse skipped a beat.

“What’re you doing, cher?”

With a shaky exhale and shakier smile, she glanced at Lisette. “I was just getting ready to check the pantry when you arrived.”

“Check for…Oh!” Lisette’s eyes narrowed. She quickly selected a copper-bottomed skillet, then nodded. “Ready.”

Grace considered asking her to leave for half a beat. She’d feel awful if anything happened to the first real friend she’d made since high school. No way Lisette would go without a fight, though. Stomach clenched tighter than her hand around the marble rolling pin, Grace faced the pantry, yanked open the door and flipped on the light, ready to brain anything that moved.

Empty.

She sagged against the door frame. The floor was piled high with foodstuffs, miscellaneous kitchen tools and dishes, leaving the shelves bare. Her pantry hadn’t escaped her uninvited visitor, but at least the culprit was gone.

Thumbnail caught between her teeth, she turned. “Why would someone break into my place only to mess up my kitchen?”

Lisette tapped the saucepan against her thigh, arched brows drawn together in a frown. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

The buzzer on the coffeepot went off. Grace jumped and slapped her hand over her mouth to smother a shriek. Just the coffeepot, Grace. Get it together. She glanced at her watch.

“Oh, crap. I’m gonna be late for work.” Leaping over a saucepot, spatula and potato masher, she ran to the bedroom. “Crap, crap, crap.”

At least her makeup and hair were done. Throwing on the outfit she laid out last night would take two minutes, racing down the three flights of stairs and along the sidewalk to her car two and a half, and the drive to the office ten—fifteen if traffic was snarled.

“You can’t go to work. You have to call the police and report this.”

Grace tugged her skirt over her hips and zipped it, frowning. “Why?”

Lisette blinked. “Because your home was broken into, cher. The police are here to protect you. Let them do their job.”

She snorted and pulled her blouse over her head, muttering, “They wouldn’t know how to do their job with a flashlight, map and CliffsNotes.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t see the point.”

Lips tightening, Lisette planted her hands on the generous curves of her hips. “What’s wrong with you? You act like it don’ madda’! I’m a fixin’ to do it myself.”

Grace winced. Whenever Lisette’s Louisiana drawl thickened, the poo was about to hit the fan. If she started spewing French, it was time to hit the deck. Grace slipped on her shoes and jewelry, stalling. The amount of faith she had in the police could be measured in a thimble, thanks to her childhood experiences.

“Lisie, you know how my boss is. I have a presentation this morning and I absolutely cannot be late. I’ll call the police,” she tried not to gag on the lie, “the moment I get home.”

“Promise me.”

“Cross my heart.”

Lisette stepped out of the doorway and Grace flew past her. Flipped off the coffeepot, snatched up her purse and briefcase, and yanked the door open.

Lisette zapped her with a gimlet-eyed stare as she walked out. “I’m gonna be checking on you tonight.”

Grace smiled. “Thank you.”

Her friend disappeared into her own condo. Grace quickly locked her door, turned and froze. Back pressed to the door, she flicked her gaze up and down the open-air hallway. A stranger had likely stood in the very same spot before stealing inside her condo while she slept. Oblivious.

Tears stung her eyes. Her nails dug into her palm. She took a deep breath and blinked the moisture away. Life wouldn’t wait while she had a meltdown.

Forcefully shoving away from the door, she jogged down the hall. She almost tripped on the stairs in her low heels and forced herself to slow down. A goose egg on her forehead would not be a good look in the board meeting scheduled for…a quick glance at her watch nearly made her trip again. Holy rosebuds. Twenty minutes to get her butt in her office and go over the monthly report on construction progress and actual cost versus estimates before her presentation to Matthew Duncan.

Having her boss’s steely-eyed gaze focused solely on her for the space of ten minutes tried her nerves every time.

She refused to think about what it did to other parts of her body.

“Oh, Gracie. There you are.”

Oh, no. Not now. She didn’t have time. Not to mention her hands were still shaking.

Grace squeezed her eyes closed, reminded herself that she adored her neighbor, plastered on a smile and swung around. Mrs. Freeman’s massive Great Dane strolled beside her, matching his regal walk to the old lady’s shuffling gait.

“Mrs. Freeman.” Grace scanned the area for strangers. No one else was in sight. Grace relaxed a little. “How are you?”

“Just fine, dear. Off to work?”

Apollo pranced, his tongue lolling and eager black eyes focused on Grace. He never once tugged on the leash anchoring him to Mrs. Freeman.

“Yes.”

Grace sighed softly and surrendered, scratching Apollo’s head. He heaved a big doggie sigh of pleasure and leaned into her.

“What are you up to today? Breakfast with your boyfriend?”

Mrs. Freeman glowed with pleasure. “Gracie, you know Roger isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Mr. Gray adores you, and you know it. He takes you out to breakfast as often as you let him, and he’d probably take you to lunch and dinner too. Last week he even took Apollo to his vet appointment when you weren’t feeling well. If that isn’t a sure sign of devotion, I don’t know what is.”

“Roger and I are just friends. He loved his wife, and he still grieves her passing. We fill a space in one another’s life, that’s all.”

“If you say so.” She rubbed Apollo’s back. “We know better, don’t we, Apollo?”

Mrs. Freeman chuckled. “You’d better skedaddle on to work, dear. You don’t want that ferocious boss of yours getting on your case first thing.”