Dying for Love

Matt steepled his fingers beneath his chin. Why would someone call under false pretenses? Was Grace involved in something dangerous? Gambling? No. She’d bought a new car a few months ago. The dealership had called after hours to verify her employment and he’d personally taken the call. Drugs? No way. His protective instincts were warring against his usual level-headed approach, making him want to punch William Whiles in the face and ask questions later.

A soft knock, then the door pushed open and Grace peeked in.

“Please, come in and have a seat.”

The gentle sway of her hips as she approached was mesmerizing. He swallowed with difficulty, thankful for the cover of the desk. She glided into one of the chairs facing his desk and crossed one well-shaped bare leg over the other. Lusting after an employee was making office life horny…thorny. Pants tight, Matt shifted.

“Mr. Duncan?”

Right. Get a grip. “I have…” He glanced at his phone lines. The blinking light had stopped blinking. “…had a William Whiles on hold. Do you know him?”

Grace frowned and he tried not to think how adorable she looked. “No, I don’t. Why?”

“He claimed to be a bail bondsman and wanted to verify your employment.”

The frown intensified. Her gaze snapped to his, fair skin flushing then washing free of color. Emerald eyes darkening, Grace’s chin notched up. “I’ve never been arrested in my life.”

Husky with anger, her voice lit his libido on fire. The way she walked and talked combined with the fire in her eyes…Maybe he should call his secretary to monitor the meeting before he lost control, went into caveman mode and alienated Grace. Not to mention got sued for everything he owned.

The simplicity of her response and obvious anger evaporated any doubt and confirmed his initial suspicion. Too bad he’d inadvertently given the guy the info he wanted. “He claimed you were out on bail. I think he was just looking for information. Unfortunately, he knows you work here now. I’m really sorry.”

The tightness bracketing Grace’s mouth relaxed, but worry lines puckered her brow instead. His skin prickled with guilt. Her hair was pulled back in some sort of complicated twist, emphasizing her frail beauty. Granted, he knew she was far from frail after countless board meetings and watching her butt heads with misogynistic contractors. Her inner strength drew him as much, if not more, than her looks.

Matt cleared his throat, annoyed with himself for mooning over her like a pubescent high-school freshman, frustrated with his inability to fix this, and concerned because she still looked too pale. “Miss Debry, is there something going on I can help with? Is someone bothering you?”

She glanced at him, then her gaze fell to her fingers, twisted together in her lap. Her lips parted and closed several times. Chest rising and falling on a silent exhalation, she smiled. “I’m fine, but thank you for your concern. I’d better get back to work.”

She didn’t look fine. Not knowing what else to say or how to convince her to confide in him, he let her go.

Halfway across the room, she turned back. “I’m sorry you were…” she waved a slender hand vaguely, “disturbed on my behalf.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Grace nodded, hesitated for another second then spun on her heel and left.

As soon as she closed the door, Matt picked up the phone and buzzed his secretary. “Nancy, was there a number for the last caller?”

“Just a second, I’ll check.”

Impatiently tapping his fingers on the desk, he stared out the window. What was going on with Grace? He wanted to help. Needed to in a way he couldn’t describe. Cursing his helplessness, he flung the pen he’d been fiddling with onto the desk.

The line clicked open. “The number was blocked, Mr. Duncan.”

“Damn.”

“Can I help with something, sir?”

“I’d really like that last number.”

“Shall I call security to see whether they can find anything?”

Matt hesitated and the line beeped.

“I need to pick up that call.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

The situation didn’t sit well. He felt like he’d harmed Grace, and that was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

*****

Grace drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She couldn’t decide if she was happy to be going home or not. Discovering her kitchen trashed had left her more than a little freaked out. The weird phone call Mr. Duncan had received didn’t help. She needed a dog. One with really big teeth.

She couldn’t call the police. What would she say? “Hi. Someone rearranged all of my kitchen stuff then moved my car to a different spot in the parking lot.”

Right. They’d think she was an escaped mental patient. Besides, her time as a foster child had painted an unfavorable picture of the police. They were sometimes called upon to deliver her from home to home. They could have been carting a cardboard box for all the interest they’d shown. Sitting in the backseat of a patrol car, throat tight, leg bouncing and separated from the uniformed officers by a cage, hadn’t left the best impression.

Like a magnet, the paper lying on the passenger seat drew her gaze. So simple and unassuming. A stray scrap of paper. Could have been anything. Yet it felt like an oversized tarantula crouched on the seat, unmoving, creepy eyes following her every move.

“Just a prank. Some kids getting off on freaking me out.”

Even spoken aloud, the words did little to reassure her. She pulled into her apartment complex and parked in her assigned space. Her car had better be in the same spot in the morning.

Trudging up the sixty-two steps to her condo—she’d counted—she hesitated outside her door. Please, please, please. No more surprises.

Grace unlocked the door and pushed. It swung inward, banging softly into the wall. Nothing stirred. She stepped inside and set down her purse, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Miss Debry?”

With a startled squeak of surprise, Grace swung around. “Mr. Duncan?”

“Are you okay?” He glanced inside, brow drawn tight.

“What are you doing here?” Leaving the door open behind her. Way to be vigilant, Grace.

His frown deepened, but when his gaze again met hers, his eyes were shuttered. “After today’s call, I was worried about you.”

“You were?”

“Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Well, yeah.”

He didn’t respond, just watched her with his unfathomable brown eyes. Heat climbed up her neck and settled in her cheeks. Okay, the polite thing would be to invite him in. She glanced through her lashes. His gaze was fastened on her breasts. Her nipples went pebble-hard in a heartbeat. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she gestured him in—not the most gracious invite ever.

“So.” She shut the door and faced him. “You came here just to check on me?”

The setting sun speared through the glass balcony doors and outlined him, making him appear bigger. Harder. Grimmer. Which oddly made her feel safe.