An Unforgettable Lady

The day before, at Smith's request, Eddie had scouted out the back entrance to the building. There was a walkway that wound through the basement and came up into the lobby. It looked as if they were going to have to start using it.

As they were speeding through traffic, he felt Grace looking at him.

"That photographer .. .Did you hurt him?" she asked in a small voice.

"No."

There was a pause. "Are you sure?"

So that was the reason she was eyeing him like he was a stranger. She'd never seen someone haul another person into a back alley and come out alone.

"Yeah, he's going to be fine."

While she wrapped her arms around herself, Smith was glad she didn't know what he'd wanted to do to the guy.

Ten minutes later, Eddie pulled up behind the building and Smith squired Grace in the back door and through the musty smelling corridor to the lobby. The doorman was asleep at his station and Smith rapped the guy sharply on the shoulder.

"Get up. They're not paying you to sleep," he said roughly.

The guy shook his head, although whether it was from shame or just as a way to wake up, Smith wasn't sure.

He pushed the elevator button and cut off the doorman's apologies. "If you can't stay up, find another shift or another job."

Grace's voice was much more gentle as she offered the man a soothing smile. "That's okay, I know your new baby's probably running you ragged."

The two talked about the man's family until the elevator came.

As Smith and Grace rode up to the penthouse, he watched her eyes dim again and he didn't blame her for being shaken. Getting jumped by a rabid photographer and watching her bodyguard manhandle a guy was no fun for anyone.

Smith thought back to what had happened in that alley. He'd been ready to let loose on the photographer, really hurt him. Making sure the picture never saw the light of day didn't seem to go far enough, considering the man had scared Grace and then insulted her.

In retrospect, his reaction was disturbing. Defending a client was one thing, avenging Grace's honor was altogether different. He reminded himself that she was paying him to protect her, not be a hired thug.

As they stepped into her home and he shut off the alarm, Smith knew they were heading for trouble. All kinds of lines were getting blurred with Grace and his clarity of mind was a casualty neither of them could afford.

She deserved to have him at his very best. He owed her that.

And wouldn't have settled for anything less himself.

* * *

Grace heard the door shut as she walked into the living room.

"You need anything? " Smith asked her.

She turned around. He was waiting for her to speak, a tall, dark shape lit from behind by the hall light.

She couldn't get the confrontation with the photographer out of her mind and kept seeing the scenario end in a different, violent way. When Smith had lunged forward to shield her with his body, only God knew whether it was a camera or a gun pointed at her. Still he'd been prepared to take whatever was coming, whether it was a bullet or a knife or a fist or a flashbulb.

She thought of how easily the outcome could have been fatal. And how, in that moment as he surged ahead of her, John had been willing to give his life for her. She was grateful and angry at the same time because, if he was willing to do that for her, surely he put his life on the line for his other clients. Didn't he care that he could get himself killed?

Suddenly, looking into the future seemed a pointless exercise in optimism. He was with her now. Tonight they were together.

And she wanted him.

To hell with happy endings, she thought.

Taking courage from the lingering effects of the wine, Grace approached him slowly and let her wrap fall from her shoulders. In the dim light, she saw him follow the silk as it slid down her arms, past her waist and onto the floor. When his eyes came back to hers, they gleamed.

She reached out and touched the satin lapel of his tuxedo, letting her fingers float down the material. Easing herself against his body, so that her breasts pressed into his chest, she stretched up to his ear.

"Make love to me," she whispered against the skin of his throat.

She felt a shudder go through him.

The hesitation that followed was not encouraging.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"This isn't right," he said, removing her hands. "I'm sorry, Grace."

She frowned in confusion, struggling to touch him again. " You told me I could choose. And I have."

"I never should have put you in that position." He stepped away from her.

Grace stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying.

As he met her eyes unrelentingly, she got angry.

"Goddamn you." When he remained silent, she demanded,

"Why did you do this to me? Did you just want to see me beg?"