An Unforgettable Lady

Smith was staring out of the window, his face a study in calm concentration in spite of all the jerking and surging. She got the sense he was comfortable around Eddie and she wondered what had brought the two men together. Maybe they were related in some way.

She glanced at one and then the other. Or maybe not.

"We have to think of a reason ... for you," Grace said abruptly. "I don't want people to think I need a bodyguard."

Smith looked over at her, one eyebrow rising. "Understandable."

"A consultant. You'ie a consultant of some kind." She started smiling. "On organizational development."

He frowned. "What's that?"

"OD experts help companies overcome organizational stress by bringing staff together and helping them get along. Think Wall Street meets the Age of Aquarius."

He shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"And it'll even explain the wardrobe."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" He drawled, obviously not prepared to change even if they were downright offensive.

She eyed his leather jacket with a smile. "You're not exactly pulling off the corporate pinstripe and wing tip routine."

Eddie laughed. "Well, the man's got basic black down cold. He's got more dark clothes than an undertaker."

"There's nothing wrong with black," Smith countered.

"Maybe if you're in the embalming arts, sure."

"You know that's just a side job."

The two shared a look and Grace's smile dropped from her face. She couldn't help wondering if Smith had had to kill anyone.

"Tell me more about your number two," he said.

"Lou Lamont is head of our Development Department. As I mentioned, he's been fighting with me, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, from the moment I took over."

"Well, maybe I can help him get used to you." There was a tightening of Smith's jaw and a furrow appeared between his brows.

"I thought you didn't know anything about OD."

Eddie laughed. "You're looking at a man who marshaled a team of Army Rangers through the desert. He can handle one guy in a suit. Trust me."

Grace flushed and looked at Smith. He must have been an officer, she thought. And fought in Desert Storm.

She stared at him, as if she could find answers in his face or his hands or the way he was sitting. He had one arm against the window and the other across the back of the seat. Spread out as he was, his jacket was gaping open and his black shirt stretched across his chest. The glimmer of his gun was barely visible. His confidence in himself was obvious.

But there were no hints, no clues for her.

She looked back out of the window, trying to distract herself by watching the people on the sidewalk. Anything to keep her from getting absorbed in him.

Although on that logic she'd need something big. The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. A presidential motorcade.

Elvis, back from the dead.

When Eddie pulled up in front of the Hall Building, Smith leaned forward. "I've got stuff I need back at the hotel."

"No problem. Anything else?”

"Food. And lots of it."

"I know what you like."

"That's it."

Grace reached for the door handle but Smith stopped her. "Allow me."

He got out, looked around, and then opened her door.

Grace paused by Eddie's open window. "It was nice to meet you."

"You, too. Now will you feed him something real for lunch? A good sandwich. Some salad. Maybe a piece of fruit. It's good to keep the potassium up and protein is really important."

Smith rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're back at the extension school."

"Sure am. Just finished a class on nutrition. Now, I’m taking creative writing."

"Oh, boy." Smith lifted a hand as Eddie lurched back into traffic. "Here we go again."

Grace shot him a quizzical look as they walked past George Washington. She was surprised when he indulged her.

"Eddie never graduated from high school. When he turned fifty, he decided it was time to get educated. We've been through medieval history, French, and how to bake bread in the last year."

"That's wonderful."

"Yeah, except he made me eat his homework. He failed light and fluffy. Makes an excellent brick, though."

Grace glanced up at him and her quick laugh caught in her throat. His voice had been so casual, she'd assumed he was merely strolling through the plaza as she was. He wasn't. His eyes, calculating and impassive, were scanning the pedestrians around them, noting the revolving doors they were walking to, measuring the street behind them. His stride was even but she knew he could spring into action in the space of a breath.

As they stepped into the lobby, she thought about her attraction to him.