The Explorer shot back into traffic. Smith did his best to get the license plate but taxis and other cars kept getting in the way. As they approached an intersection, he thought they were going to get lucky. The light was turning orange and only one car separated them from their prey.
But with an abrupt burst of speed, the sedan raced through the light and dodged down an alley. Eddie gunned the engine to shoot around the vehicle in front of them but a taxi blocked their way at the last moment. Smith watched the taillights of the sedan get smaller and then disappear.
"You get anything, Eddie?"
"Nah, I was too busying trying to get close to the damn thing."
Smith glanced over at Grace. "Take us home."
"Sure, Boss."
After they drew up in front of her building, Smith got out and helped Grace from the car. When she was standing close beside him, he reached into the back and pulled out the duffel bag and metal briefcases that Eddie had picked up from his hotel.
"Thanks for getting my stuff," he said to his friend. j
"No problem. And the doorman accepted the grocery delivery twenty minutes ago. Told me he'd leave it in the hall. What time do you need me tomorrow?”
"Seven-thirty."
"Right-oh."
And then, despite the fact that she looked like she was ready to fall over, Grace leaned into the car and smiled at Eddie. "When you heat up the pasta, do it over a stove if you can. High heat and move it around a lot. That way, the vegetables will stay crisper. I think you'll like the flavor. The head chef comes from Tuscany. Goodnight, Eddie."
Smith glanced at his friend. The man was wearing a bemused expression, having been thoroughly charmed.
" 'Night, Eddie," he said wryly.
"Yeah, Boss," the man said distractedly as he pulled away.
On the way up the building, Smith asked, "How'd you know what I had for dinner? "
"You aren't the only observant one."
When they reached her apartment, Grace's hands were shaking as she tried to unlock the door. It took her several attempts before she let them in. As she reached down for one of the grocery bags he told her to not worry about it.
"Then I'm going to go to bed," she said as he deactivated the alarm and shuttled the food inside.
He followed her down the hall, dropped his bag and the briefcases next to the bed he'd slept in the night before, and kept going into her bedroom. When she looked at him curiously, He told her he was just checking the rooms.
After doing a quick pass through the master suite, he checked the rest of the penthouse, unpacked the groceries, and went to his own room. He was taking off his leather jacket when he heard the sound of water rushing from down the hall.
As he tossed his coat over a chair, Smith imagined her stripped free of that black dress with her hair down around her shoulders. The locks would end just over the tips of her breasts and he'd have to gently push them aside to kiss her skin. He pictured the blond waves covering his chest and falling onto his face as they made love.
He heard the water fall silent.
All he had to do was go down that hall, he thought. Walk into her room and take her into his arms. Because he had a feeling, even though she'd agreed with his strict hands-off policy, she'd get carried away by the passion again.
One kiss and he would have her.
As blood pounded through his body, Smith stopped moving.
What the hell was he doing?
He shook his head.
What the hell was he doing?
Moving with deliberate motions, he took off his holster and slid his gun out. He stared at the black metal as the grip welcomed his palm and his fingers. The weapon had been handmade for him, to his precise specifications, and there were two more identical to it in the Kevlar briefcases.
The familiar weight of his gun was comforting.
His preoccupation with Grace was not.
He remembered that man at the Congress Club, the one in the suit who had kissed her on the cheek and made her smile. Smith hadn't thought much of it at me time but now his aggressive reaction to the guy struck him as way out of line. He was behaving like a jealous lover of hers.
As opposed to the woman's professional bodyguard.
Maybe he just needed a vacation. A little time off somewhere warm, where the drinks flowed like water and the women were easy.
Yeah, that's what he needed.
A goddamn vacation.
Smith frowned. And realized that in all his life, he'd never taken one.
* * *
Days later, Smith found his fixation on Grace was only getting worse. The result wasn't pretty. Sexual frustration was cutting into his sleep and shortening his temper.
And it wasn't as if he was known for his good humor to begin with.
From his seat at the conference table, he looked across the office. Grace had her head buried in some documents and he tried not to notice that her silk blouse had opened up and was showing more of her skin than usual.