Miss Fairmont and The Gentleman Investigator Page 11

  “She’s Irish, Grace. Her family moved to Scotland when she was a teenager.”

  She leaned back against the seat. “Everything is a lie,” she said. “Do you think we’ll find any truth in all this?”

  “Yes. It may not be the truth you’re looking for, but it’s there.”

  “I wanted answers so badly, hoping they would make me whole. Yet all I feel right now,” she hesitated, “is ashamed.”

  “Why?”

  “My mother was involved in killing innocent people.”

  “We are not our parents, Grace.” He tried to believe the words as he spoke them, tried to believe he wasn’t a failure to his family like his father: a man who abandoned a wife and five children for the sea.

  “What would make someone do that?” she said.

  He pulled into a parking lot of another car-rental agency to switch cars. “Make someone…”

  “Join a terrorist group.”

  “They don’t consider themselves terrorists. They feel passionate about their cause,” he said.

  Bobby was starting to feel passionate about protecting Grace. This young woman was faced with a complete upheaval in her life, new information that could forever change her future. Yet he sensed she was determined to deal with it and come out a stronger person.

  He’d never known a woman quite like her. Bobby chose to sleep with scatty types who were drawn in by his looks and charm. That was the difference. He wasn’t going to sleep with Grace.

  Bobby wasn’t stupid. He knew the worst pain was caused by love. He’d read that pain in his own mother’s eyes with each year that his father stayed away. He’d broken her heart and she’d become a sad, semi-functional woman.

  Bobby had no plans to tangle with the romantic type of love.

  He could imagine plenty of blokes falling head over heels in love with Grace Fairmont. It was her innocent smile and determination, and maybe even that edgy vulnerability that gave the impression she didn’t mind a strong man in her life as long as he respected her independence.

  “Why are we here?” she said, glancing across the car-rental lot.

  “Need a different car. Don’t want to be followed into the country.”

  Although Bobby knew if MI5 was interested in her, there wasn’t much to keep them from finding Bobby and Grace.

  Outsmarting British Intelligence? How was Bobby going to do that?

  He told her to stay in the car and lock the doors while he rented another car. At least they would reduce their chances of being tracked up north. He got the new car then checked her backpack for a tracking device. Nothing.

  Then again, if British Intelligence had known what train Grace would be on two nights ago, they’d surely know where Grace was headed—to her mother’s hometown.

  Everything Bobby did, he did with Grace in mind. Of course. Because that’s your job, mate. Think of her needs first and put her safety ahead of everything.

  He found A90 and headed north.

  “Did you always know you wanted to do this?” she said.

  “What, chaperone beautiful women around the countryside?” he joked. She looked so sad and lost. He wanted to brighten her cheeks, maybe even make her smile.

  “Beautiful, huh?” she said.

  “You’re fishing for more compliments, are you?”

  She smiled.

  His heart filled his chest. Bugger, she was dangerous in a completely innocent sort of way.

  “By the way, nice shirt,” she said. He heard the humor in her voice.

  “Thought I’d try something different,” he said. This morning, he’d put on the green shirt she’d bought him.

  “Were you always interested in police work?” she asked.

  “Actually, no. I figured I’d be in jail by the time I turned twenty. Instead, Max demanded I make something of myself. He’s like a father figure, but don’t tell him I said that. He’s barely ten years older. I think he’d be offended.”

  “What happened to your father?”

  Bobby could feel his smile fade.

  “He’s gone, isn’t he?” she said.

  “A long time ago,” Bobby answered.

  “How did he die?”

  “He didn’t. He left. Left my mother with five children under the age of eleven. I was the oldest.”

  “That must have been a big responsibility.”

  “It was, until I cocked-up and she sent me away.” Why couldn’t he shut his mouth?

  “Cocked-up? What does that mean?”

  He glanced at her then back to the road. “It means my little sister was hit by a car and it was my fault.”

  Chapter Ten

  She studied Bobby’s expression, his set jaw and dark penetrating eyes focused on the road. She sensed he hadn’t meant to let the information slip about his sister, about his own perceived failure.

  “I’m…I’m sorry,” Grace said.

  Still, how could an eleven-year-old boy be expected to take care of four younger children?

  “It was a long time ago,” he said.

  Yet he wore it like a favorite jacket, slipping into it daily. Kind of like his cross. Did that reminder have something to do with his sister?

  “How were you responsible?” she pushed.

  “I’m her older brother. I should have stopped Wendy from going out into the street.”

  “Accidents happen, Bobby.”

  “Not this one. It could have been prevented.”

  I failed. He might as well have said the words.

  Suddenly she realized why protecting her was so important. He was trying to right the wrongs of his past by keeping her safe.

  “Thanks, by the way,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For finding me today; for putting up with my suspicions about you being the bad guy.”

  “It’s important to be suspicious.” He paused. “Of everyone.”

  He was warning her to keep her distance. Why? Did he think she was going to fall for him, on vacation?

  “I should call Steven,” she said, giving the not-so-subtle hint that her heart belonged to another man, even if she wasn’t entirely convinced of it herself.

  And maybe it would remind her, as well, because in the past few days she’d found herself attracted to Bobby Finn. Of course she had; he was a real charmer. His natural charisma drew women to him, his smiles, his sense of humor.

  Was any of it real? Or was it an act to do his job?

  God, she was so desperate for “real.” Starting with the truth about her mom.

  She called Steven, but again, her call went into voice mail.

  “Hey, Steven,” she said. “I’m okay now, heading up to Pitlochry for the week. We’ve got a lot to talk about when I get home.” She glanced at Bobby, who pretended not to be listening. “I’ve learned some things about my mom that are a bit unsettling. Anyway, not to worry. I’m safe. Well,” she hesitated, unable to the say the three words shared by lovers. “Talk to you soon.”

  She slipped the phone into her pocket and glanced out her window. It’s not like they had said I love you all the time. No, it was more like a casual love-ya type of endearment, like punctuation on the end of a sentence: necessary and expected.

  Of course it was expected. They’d been going out for more than a year, took turns sleeping over on weekends and watered each other’s plants when one of them was out of town.

  If you disregarded the sexual relations, they sounded more like friends than lovers. Not that she’d know what true lovers acted like. Sure, Dad loved Andrea but Grace always sensed his one true love had been Mom. Mom had drawn out his uninhibited passion and filled his heart completely.

  Truth was, Steven didn’t do that for Grace. He was nice and courteous and said all the right things, almost as if he’d read a book on how to please a woman. Yet it didn’t fill her up.

  The thought of living with him for the rest of her life didn’t excite her.

  Not nearly as much as the thought of Bobby Finn touchin
g her.

  Oh, crud, not good.

  Being attracted to her bodyguard was disastrous for so many reasons starting with the fact that he was with her because of his job, not because he wanted to be with her. Secondly, wasn’t there a name for the warped syndrome of a woman being attracted to her bodyguard? It was a natural progression created by a dangerous situation. This relationship wasn’t real any more than the charming ways of the man sitting next to her. His charm was a well-practiced act, she guessed, to get his way with women.

  What was really buried beneath his casual charm?

  Forget it, girl. You’re looking for trouble if you go digging for that answer.

  “I’ve had some karate training,” Bobby said.

  She snapped her gaze to meet his. “What?”

  “You look worried about me protecting you. I don’t need a weapon to defend myself.”

  Yeah, but how was she going to defend herself against the simmering attraction growing between them?

  She’d rely on his honor. He was a gentleman. She could tell by the way he had touched her after she’d seen Harry Franklin. Bobby had knelt in front of her and soothed her nerves by cradling her hands in his.

  When he’d searched in her pocket for the key, he’d been so gentle, his eyes warm with comfort. And at the pub, when he’d caught her running away, he’d put his hand to her shoulder to stop her.

  A gentle hand.

  A comforting hand.

  Even when he’d been upset with her.

  “Look, if you’re that worried we’ll stop before we get to town and I’ll show you a few moves,” he said.

  “Moves?” Like hugging, kissing, touching in the most intimate of places?

  “So you can protect yourself in case we’re separated,” he explained.

  SHE WAS TOO QUIET, Bobby thought an hour into the drive. Something was on her mind. He hoped he hadn’t said anything to upset her. She had enough to deal with, especially the potential danger of being watched and hunted.

  Was it something the phony inspector had said that had upset her?

  He watched her turn a page in the diary, reading intently. “I need to ask you something,” he said.

  “Sure.” She glanced up.

  Those blue eyes, so wide and innocent, made his heart race a bit, like when he’d had a crush on Molly Longergan in grade school.

  You weren’t good enough for her and you’re surely not good enough for Grace Fairmont.

  “Can you remember anything else the Owen bloke said to you?” he asked.

  “Other than Mom being involved with the deaths of innocent people?”

  “He said that?”

  “Yes.”

  Then he had to be British Intelligence.

  “Did he give you any indication what he wanted from you—” Bobby paused.

  “When he practically ripped my hand off?”

  He noticed the rise in the pitch of her voice but it was not from fear. She was angry. Good, anger would keep her sharp.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner,” Bobby said.

  “You should hardly feel sorry. I ditched you, remember?”

  He shot her a pleasant smile, not the one he used when flirting. Grace wasn’t a female to warm his bed. She was an intelligent girl on the run, trying to sort out her past.

  A girl in danger.

  “In case you get the urge to ditch me again, I’ve got an idea.” He pulled off the side of the road into a gravel drive. “It’s time for that self-defense lesson.”

  He parked and got out of the car. She joined him in a grassy area and stood there, impatient.

  “What, you don’t think this is important?” he said.

  She leaned against the hood of the car. “You’re always going to be with me, so what’s the point?”

  Not always, luv.

  “It will be good for you to know, regardless. Pay attention. First, always be aware of your surroundings. If you sense something’s off, change direction and be ready to run or find a policeman to help.”

  She made a face.

  “Okay, maybe not a policeman but get into a large crowd. Generally, you’re safe when you’re surrounded by people.”

  “And if I’m alone in the middle of nowhere?” She motioned to their surroundings.

  “Keep eye contact. Don’t show any weakness. Think of everything as a weapon. Your objective is to survive and get safely away. That’s the only rule. Scream, bite, scratch, kick, do whatever you have to. Think about things you have on you as weapons.”

  “I’ve still got some pepper spray left.”

  “Excellent. Look around you, everything here can be used as a weapon: dirt, stones, bricks. You have to train your mind to think differently about everything you see. You don’t have time to consider if you should or shouldn’t. We know we’re being followed so take action immediately.”

  She nodded. Determination flared in her eyes. Good, she was ready.

  “How about some physical moves?” he suggested.

  “Sure,” she said.

  He could have sworn she blushed. Focus, mate. You’ve got to teach her to protect herself.

  He got behind her and wrapped his arm around her neck. “I’m going to take your money,” he whispered into her ear. “Kick me,” he ordered.

  She did, half-heartedly.

  He released her and turned her around to look at her. “Are you playing with me? Come on now, this isn’t fun and games.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” He turned her around and wrapped his arm around her neck again. “I’m going to take your mum’s diary.”

  She kicked, swung her arms up to hit his head, and he lost his balance. They both went down, Grace on top of him, snickering.

  And it angered him.

  “This is serious business,” he said, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. “This is your safety we’re talking about.”

  She stopped abruptly and cleared her throat. “Sorry, I laugh when I’m embarrassed.”

  She was leaning on him, like a girlfriend leaning across her boyfriend’s body at a picnic. Close, so very close. His breath caught in his throat. How could he be this close and not kiss her? Her tongue licked her bottom lip. Blast, he was going to lose it in a minute. He struggled to hold on to his self-control.

  This was not a one-nighter like the rest. She was his assignment, a woman he had to keep safe. He’d have a heck of a time concentrating on her safety if he was kissing her.

  “If you don’t, I will,” she said.

  He studied her eyes, filled with need. “Will what?”

  She leaned forward and kissed him, the taste so bloody perfect. He’d never paid attention to the taste of a woman’s lips before. It never seemed to matter. Just kiss her, get her into your bed, feel the connection for a brief few minutes, then detach. Don’t think about how soft her lips felt or how delicious their taste.

  Grace’s lips were bloody amazing.

  And he’d gone completely mad.

  She opened her lips to tease him, tasting him, flirting with him. He couldn’t control his arousal, his need for this woman.

  No, it was a natural response. He’d be hard like this with any woman who lay across his chest, kissing and touching. She slipped her fingers into his hair, the touch so utterly sensual, erotic.

  She’s throwing herself at you because you’re her protector and she’s scared.

  It wasn’t like he hadn’t been used before to pump up a woman’s ego by making her feel desired. It had never mattered before. They’d both gotten what they needed: the woman got her ego stroked and Bobby enjoyed physical warmth for a few hours. But this time…

  Holding her by the shoulders, he broke the kiss. “Stop.”

  Her cheeks reddened as she looked at him with confusion mixed with need. He didn’t read either gratitude or fear in her eyes.

  No, he read desire.

  For him.

  “Did I misread you?” she
said. “Oh, my God, I did. I’m an idiot.”

  She got to her feet and ran her hands through her hair. Bobby sat up and watched her go through a range of emotions from panic to embarrassment to hurt.

  He didn’t mean to hurt her. It was a mistake; a misunderstanding.

  She misunderstood the need in your eyes? Not likely.

  “I hate lies, Bobby,” she said, suddenly, facing off at him. “My whole life seems like one big lie right now. Don’t lie to me and tell me I misread the signals.”

  “You didn’t.” He stood and brushed off his jeans. “I’m attracted to you. You’re a beautiful woman.” He hesitated, hoping his next words would make her want to stay away from him—for her own good. “It’s a normal reaction, especially with you throwing yourself at me.”

  “What?” She planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so. You wanted to kiss me first.”

  How ridiculous, Bobby thought, the two of them acting like children arguing about who started a fight. Only there was a lot more at stake than who would stay after school for punishment.

  Her safety was at stake. Her life.

  And Bobby’s heart.

  What are you thinking about, mate? You can’t act on your attraction if you want to keep her safe. It would be too distracting.

  Not to mention complicated. When this case was finished, she’d fly back to her American boyfriend and Bobby would be…where? Alone, again, bedding scatty blondes.

  As opposed to the blonde who stared him down, wanting him to admit his attraction to her.

  “We need to go.” He walked toward the car.

  “You need to apologize,” she said.

  “For what?” He reached for the door and she blocked him.

  “For being a jerk.”

  “I’m not going to apologize for who I am.”

  “And who is that exactly?” she said.

  “I’m a ladies’ man. I draw women like honey draws flies.” He leaned forward, their faces merely touching. Her eyes widened. “I’m not your boyfriend, Grace. I’m the devil when it comes to women. Don’t forget that.”

  He snapped the door open and her shoulders jerked, but she held his gaze. Tough little American girl. Good, she’d need that strength to protect herself.