His smile was sultry, and she knew he was remembering the night before, too. “Naked ones at that. Mermaids definitely win, little one. Do you have a spare key? I’ll get my stuff from the hotel and then stock up your pantry. I promise to be a perfect house guest. I’ll even do the cooking. I should warn you, I’m not that good at cleaning, though.”
“I think I can handle it.” If his dinner was as good as his breakfast, she would clean all night long.
Twenty minutes later, she hummed as she parked her hybrid and began the walk toward her building. The night before with Sean was playing through her mind. She had a lover, and he was magnificent.
The wind whipped through the streets of downtown Fort Worth forcing Grace to hold onto her black skirt for dear life. The wind was dry and hot like the blast from a furnace. It raced through the tall buildings playing some natural version of pinball. Up ahead, Grace saw the doors to her building open, and Evan Parnell stalked out. His face was bunched up against the bright light of day. He scowled at anyone who dared to look upon him in a friendly way.
What was going on? He had been in the office every day for the past month, bugging Matt and making a general nuisance of himself. His very presence in the office was enough to set people on edge. He couldn’t have come back for another check. He was paid monthly, and she’d written his check for the month. Parnell looked up and down the street, but seemingly took no note of her. He was carrying a stack of papers. Parnell hadn’t joined the digital age. She’d heard him saying one time that computers and PDAs could only get a man in trouble.
Another blast of wind whipped up just as an old van pulled up to the curb. It was dingy and dirty with tinted windows. The driver’s side window was open, and Grace could see a dark-haired woman in the seat. She was frowning, her mouth turned down and her brows in a V, as she stopped the van. She was somewhat pretty, her beauty marred by the disdainful expression on her face. Parnell slid open the back door and hopped in. Grace was slightly shocked. She’d never seen Parnell with a woman before. This one was slender and much younger than him.
Grace watched as a single slip of paper got hoisted by the wind, up and out of the stack Parnell held onto. The van drove off. Grace chased after that piece of paper, finally catching it with the toe of her d’Orsay pumps. She recognized the paper. She’d ordered it herself. It was Matt’s stationary.
It was a series of numbers and a single address. 2201 Mount Dale Ave. No city, or post code, just the address written in a masculine hand. She thought about putting it away to give to Parnell the next time he came in and quickly shelved the idea. Maybe it was the fact that she’d been brave enough to reach out and take what she had wanted last night that made her more curious, but she knew something was wrong with Parnell. She also knew that Matt wouldn’t admit if he was in trouble. It was becoming clear to her that if she was going to find out what was going on between her boss and that jerk, she would have to investigate.
Grace slipped the piece of paper into her laptop case and walked up the steps to the office. She wouldn’t mention it to Sean. He was only here for a week, and she didn’t want to ruin her time with him explaining her paranoid theories. No, she would keep silent about her little mission. She would work to save her boss during the day, but the nights were for Sean.
Up ahead she saw Jacob and Adam waiting on the elevator. They looked so cute together. It was a sin to women everywhere that those men liked other men. Jacob waved at her. By the time they reached the ninth floor, they had plans for lunch that included a little shopping excursion. It was time to get rid of some of this black. Grace thought she might look good in blue, something that matched Sean’s eyes.
By the time she got to her desk, she was far more interested in shopping than that little note she’d shoved in her briefcase. The situation with Parnell could wait a week, she decided as she got to work.
Chapter Seven
Sean knew the instant he entered the house that he wasn’t alone. He silently set down his bag and cursed the fact that this particular assignment didn’t allow him to carry. He could have used his SIG SAUER. Of course, he could imagine the questions Grace might have if she hugged him and felt the outline of a gun pressed into a holster against his flesh. She might inquire as to why her IT boyfriend needed a loaded gun. Still, he felt a little naked without it.
He left the door slightly ajar. He couldn’t be sure he could close it without a sound. He listened, standing in the hall patiently. Whoever was moving was doing it quietly, but he was in the bedroom. As Grace’s car was still gone and there was no other car in the drive, Sean had to suspect that this person didn’t want anyone to know he was here. Sean moved across Grace’s hardwood floors silently. He stuck close to the wall. Even on the first floor of a house, hardwood could creek. It was less likely to do that closer to the wall. He crept forward, his breath steady, placing his toe down, and then his heel. He would make his way into the kitchen. He might not have his trusty gun, but he was damn lethal with a knife as well. He played the scene out in his head. He would grab one of the smaller knives. It would be easier to wield and throw if he needed to. He would work his way back to the bedroom and have it at the bastard’s throat before the intruder knew he was no longer alone. Sean would then politely question the intruder. Interrogations had been one of his specialties as a chief warrant officer with the Green Berets.
Sean would have to make sure to bring the asshole on the tile if he decided to kill him. It would be a much simpler cleanup. He glanced at the clock. It was slightly past noon. He needed to get the damn chicken on or it wouldn’t be ready for dinner. Maybe he wouldn’t be so polite with the asshole. He was ruining Sean’s meal plan.
“Hello, little brother.”
Sean turned, and his breath stopped in his throat. “Fuck you, Tag!”
Damn it. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin. His brother moved like a wraith. Ian had always, always been able to get the jump on him.
Ian’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. He sat in the den adjoining the kitchen with a book in his hand. His enormous body occupied Grace’s leather armchair like he owned it. But then Ian always reminded Sean of a king on his throne, no matter where he was sitting. Ian could be on the cheapest folding chair, and he seemed to turn it into something powerful merely by occupying it.
“I was about to slit whoever is back in the bedroom’s throat,” Sean declared.