Betting on Grace (17 page)

N
ICK LEFT
Grace’s snug, sensual little haven feeling more conflicted than ever. Her scent lingered on his body and made him crave her. Despite the low note that he’d left on, Nick had never felt more complete after making love.

He wanted to be with her. Which made him mad.

He didn’t form strong attachments to people this fast. He wasn’t a love-at-first-sex kind of guy. Not that he used women then abandoned them. In the past, he’d made sure his affairs were easygoing, mutually beneficial. He went out of his way to pick women he wouldn’t fall in love with. And who wouldn’t fall in love with him.

Never in a million years would he have chosen someone like Grace. Someone who put family first. Who led with her heart. Who couldn’t fathom a father willingly giving up his child. At least she got that right. If Grace
was pregnant, Nick would be on the first plane back. Leaving your kid for someone else to raise was the kind of thing Jurek Sarna did, not Nick Lightner.

Suddenly, Nick needed to talk to his dad. His
real
dad, Pete. He jumped the fence and let himself into Claude’s house to use the phone.

When no one answered at home and Pete failed to pick up his cell phone, Nick tried the office. “Is Pete Lightner around by any chance? This is Nick Lightner calling.”

“Hey, Nick, it’s me, Roxy,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “How’s Vegas?”

After exchanging small talk for a few minutes, Roxy told him, “Pete isn’t here. Hasn’t been back since you left. I think your mom’s keeping him busy. I heard their house sold in like six hours.”

Nick thanked her and hung up.
Six hours?
That meant they’d be leaving sooner, rather than later. And he’d be alone. Just him and his dog.

Before today, he probably could have handled that. He wasn’t looking forward to his parents leaving, but he was an adult. He’d be okay. But, now, after making love to Grace, Detroit felt a world away and the word home had taken on new meaning.

A
FTER HE SHOWERED
and changed clothes, Nick tried Yetta’s house, but there was no answer, although her car was parked under the carport beside Grace’s. She could be out with one of her daughters or she might be at The Dancing Hippo, he decided.

He made the two-block walk with growing trepidation. Kids were an interesting phenomenon that hadn’t played a huge role in his life until his sister gave birth to two beautiful baby girls. He’d held them as infants and watched them grow into intriguing little people, but he’d been a somewhat distant uncle and certainly hadn’t given a lot of thought to what it would be like to have a child of his own.

Until now.

A kid. With Grace. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture a toddler with dark curls and a flashing smile.

The toe of his boot caught on a knob of concrete and he stumbled. A reminder to stop daydreaming—for everyone’s sake.

He studied Alex’s house as he approached. The building was situated on the corner lot and sat at an angle so most of its backyard was sheltered from view. From all
the horror stories he’d heard about sexual predators, Nick could appreciate the wisdom of that.

He rang the bell.

Alex, holding a small child in her arms, opened the interior door. The heavy metal screen door remained closed. “Hi, Nikolai, what’s up?”

“Looking for your mother.”

“She isn’t here. Maya was having a bad day. There’s been a lot of that going around lately.” Her wide smile reminded him of Grace, although the two didn’t look very alike. “Mom and Liz took her to the park.” She opened the door. “Do you need to talk to her? We can try her cell.”

He walked inside and was immediately engulfed by a mob of kids. All shapes, sizes and colors. Nick found he had to fight for balance because he couldn’t move forward without stepping on tiny toes.

“Rita,” Alex called. “Quick. Save him.”

A young Hispanic-looking woman wearing an apron adorned with dancing pink and purple hippos corralled the youngsters by promising them a treat. “Who wants to make ants on a log?”

The collective squeal hurt his ears. Alex set down the cherub she’d been carrying, then picked up the phone. Nick only heard her side of the conversation, but he gathered Yetta was returning within the hour.

Alex put her hand over the receiver. “She wants to know if you could stop by the house later this evening?”

Nick nodded. He had a couple of errands to run.

She relayed the message then hung up. As he turned to leave, she put her hand on his forearm and said, “Could we talk?”

A minute later, after Alex had removed her apron and redirected two quarreling youngsters, she joined him on the front stoop. A steady stream of traffic played stop-and-go at the intersection.

According to Grace, Alex was thirty-five. Today, she appeared older. She used her index finger to rub a spot between her brows. “Headache?” he asked.

“A reaction to my new medication, I think. But I’ll live.” She looked at him. “I heard you were at the hospital the other night. I guess that means you know all about my ongoing minidrama.”

“It doesn’t sound very small to me. Your sister was quite upset.”

She rolled her shoulders. “Yes. Grace is the baby of the family. We tended to shelter her from the everyday disappointments most people experience when they’re growing up. That’s why she takes it so personally when a person—or fate—messes with her plans.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said drily.

“Anyway,” she said, scratching at a dab of purple paint on the knee of her jeans, “I just wanted to say thanks for helping out. She said you were a calming force in the waiting room. Grace is a pacer. We love her, of course, but she has a tendency to drive the rest of us crazy.”

He understood completely. He waited, sensing there was something else she wanted to ask him.

“Do you smoke?”

The question took him by surprise. “No. Why?”

Her olive-colored skin changed hue slightly. “I used to. Before I got sick. Even a little bit afterward until Grace went ballistic one day and accused me of under
mining my body’s ability to defend itself.” She smiled sadly. “Now I like to hang out with people who smoke so I can smell their clothing. God, that sounds really pathetic, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, sort of, but I understand.”

“You do?”

“I smoked in my twenties. Then my mom had a scare and she asked my dad and me to quit. It was no big deal for me, but my dad went through all kinds of hell. The gum. The patch. Hypnosis. He still sneaks a puff or two when he gets the chance.”

She gave him a smile that told him she did, too. Maybe knowing they shared a secret gave him permission to ask, “Do you know where Jurek Sarna lives?”

“Laughlin. But I don’t know where in Laughlin. Mom knows, though. Are you planning to see him?”

“Maybe.”

“Cool. Mom didn’t say so, but I believe that was her ulterior motive in asking you to come stay with us.”

“It was?”

She nodded. “She feels sorry for him—being sick and an outcast from the family.”

“An outcast? You mean he’s not welcome here?”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t have anything against him. Whatever happened took place a long time ago. When Mom was a baby, I think. I don’t know the whole story. Maybe you should ask her.”

Nick left shortly after that. He returned to Claude’s and tried his parents’ number one more time, but only the machine picked up. Nick knew it was foolish to worry. They were moving into a new phase of their lives and everything would be fine. He’d be home
soon. His dog was waiting for him. All he’d be leaving behind was a family he’d come to care about, a woman he most probably loved and a man he thought he hated.

What if Grace was right? Maybe it was wrong to condemn Jurek without ever bothering to hear his side of the story. But first, Nick had to finish the job he’d come to Vegas to do. A job that didn’t include falling for Grace.

G
RACE WAS FOLDING
menus when a voice said, “You did it, didn’t you?”

Grace looked up to find Kate staring at her. Her tall white chef’s hat was cocked in a rakish tilt that made Grace want to smile. “Did what?”

“You know what. I can tell. You’ve got a dreamy, state-of-grace look. Did you have sex with Nikolai?”

No. We didn’t just have sex. We made love.
At least it sure felt like love to Grace. “Go away.”

“An admission of guilt if I’ve ever heard one.”

Grace had arrived late and had been playing catch-up ever since. Which, she told herself, was a good thing. She’d been too busy to think about what she’d done. Or the possible consequences.

Unfortunately, this had turned out to be family night at Romantique. Every other table she seated had at least one, if not two, adorable youngsters and/or babies.

She shoved the menus into their compartment and turned to face Kate. “Why aren’t you in the kitchen? You never leave mid-rush. Is the power off?”

“Very funny. I’m letting Jo finish up. I covered for her at lunch so she could eat with her son after our meeting.”

“Right. Your new lawyer. Is he a keeper?”

“He’s a man,” Kate said sharply. “We only talked about Ian and Maya. He seemed qualifed to handle my case.”

Grace sensed there was something Kate wasn’t sharing. “Is he handsome?”

Kate grabbed the menus from her and stuffed them away. “Why would that matter? I hired him for his law degree not for the color of his eyes. What’s wrong with you?”

Yep. Something was up with Kate, but Grace was still too emotionally drained to ponder it. The nap had helped, but it hadn’t erased the memory of Charles’s revelation, nor could sleep mute the passion she and Nikolai had shared. “You’re right. Sorry I asked. My brain is elsewhere.”

“With Nikolai?” Kate didn’t give her time to answer. She put her hands on her hips and gave Grace a stern look. “If you’ve fallen for him, you’d better hope he plans to stay in Vegas. Your work, your commitments are here. You can’t just fall in love and leave.”

Grace’s temper flared, but she swallowed her reply when one of their servers—their cousin Enzo’s daughter, Babette—appeared with a question. Apparently she’d mixed up an order. The guest had eaten the meal but was now refusing to pay.

Grace heaved a sigh. Had it been one of their regular patrons, she’d have comped the cost in a heartbeat. But the two men that Babette pointed out were strangers, and her gut told her they were only after a free meal.

“I’ll handle it,” Grace said.

She took her time walking to the table, greeting reg
ulars to show how warmly her patrons were treated. The two men appeared agitated by the time she reached them.

“Gentlemen,” she said, employing one of her well-practiced, superficial smiles. “I’m Grace Radonovic. My sister and I own Romantique. Babette tells me you have a problem.”

“No, you have a problem, lady,” said the older of the two. Probably in his midforties, his bulging belly displayed by a much-too-snug golf shirt, his florid face was an unhealthy shade of red. “Your girl brought my friend here the wrong food.”

“Yeah,” his buddy said. “I ordered the veal. She gave me some chicken thing.”

Grace looked at the computer-generated receipt. “I can see that. Chicken Saltimbocca instead of Veal Picata. You’re right. The mistake is ours, and I will gladly comp your meal.”

She took her pen and crossed out the chicken. Her personal favorite.

“Not good enough,” the vociferous speaker said. “I want our whole meal comped, including the wine. Your lousy service, which you just admitted to, ruined our dining experience,” he said in a way that proved to Grace he was well-practiced in this kind of scam. “Besides, the food was only so-so.”

Grace had been dealing with the public for a long time. She took a deep calming breath. “I’m most sorry that we’ve been unable to serve you to your satisfaction. It’s always Romantique’s aim to provide our patrons with—”

He rudely interrupted. “Yeah, whatever. I don’t give a shit about that. You screwed up, lady. We’re leaving.”

He reached for his jacket, which was draped across the adjacent chair, but Grace used her hip to pin it in place as she pulled her cell phone from its clip on the waistband of her slacks. “Feel free,” she said, pushing buttons with slow determination. “This young lady’s father, my cousin, Enzo, will meet you at your car. Did I mention that his World Wrestling Federation name was The Barbarian?”

The men looked at each other.

“Enzo doesn’t take insults to his daughter too kindly. Nor does he appreciate it when some low-life scum tries to cheat his cousins out of the price of a meal.”

“Hey,” the man barked, “if your crummy food—”

Grace reached past him and picked up his empty plate. “The food you devoured?”

“I was hungry enough to eat shit—that doesn’t mean I have to pay for it.”

She glanced around, aware that other customers were following the drama. “Yes, actually, it does. It’s the law.” She put down the plate and pressed the final two numbers. “I just know he’d love to meet you, wouldn’t he, Babette?”

The girl nodded nervously.

“Now, listen,” the man started, his voice sounding pinched. “I don’t want no trouble. I just—”

Grace glared at him. “You just wanted something for nothing. But my sister and I work very hard to make this place a success. We don’t take it lightly when a couple of two-bit bottom feeders show up and try to take advantage of a small, very human mistake.”

The murmur of crowd approval swelled.

“Yeah,” said a man from a nearby table. “Especially
since I overheard you two talking about how you could screw the place out of a freebie.”

Grace smiled her gratitude to the customer. She couldn’t remember his name but would be sure to send a bottle of wine to his table the next time he came in.

The loudmouth jumped to his feet and pulled his wallet from his hip pocket. “Fine. Whatever.” He threw four twenties on the table. Enough to cover the price of dinner and his bar tab. “We’re outta here. And, believe me, we’re gonna tell people about how we were treated.”

Before he could turn away a hand grabbed his shoulder, freezing him in place. “You forgot the tip.”

Grace nearly dropped her phone, which she’d turned off to cancel the call to Liz.
Nikolai?
She hadn’t noticed him come in.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” the man complained.

“Do I look like the type who kids?” Nikolai asked. “Y’see, me and Enzo used to wrestle together. He taught me everything I know about getting the most hurt for the least amount of effort.”

The man’s mouth flapped soundlessly. His friend hastily tossed down another twenty. “There. That’s enough, isn’t it? She really did mix up my order.”

Grace handed the money to Babette, who was staring at Nikolai as though he were her knight in shining armor. “And had you brought that to our attention at the time, we would have fixed it,” she said. “Now, please leave and don’t come back.”

The men grabbed their jackets and left. The room erupted in applause. Grace made a what-can-you-do sign. “I think this calls for champagne. On the house.”

Nikolai caught up with her at the bar. “We have to talk.”

After she directed her servers to offer a glass of either champagne or sparkling apple juice to every guest, she pointed Nikolai to the staircase that led to her office. “I’ll meet you upstairs in a minute. I need to sign off on the drink order.” She turned away, then stopped. “Oh, and thanks for your help.”

“It was nothing. You had it under control, but since Claude told me Enzo is in Mexico at the moment, I thought I’d try Plan B,” he said, reaching for her hand.

Grace couldn’t bear to touch him. Not yet. She still felt too fragile, too off balance. “I’ll be right back.”

“Grace, I’m sorry for the way we left things this afternoon. What happened probably shouldn’t have, but—”

“Not here,” she said, stepping away. She wasn’t ready to dissect what had gone on between them. She knew she couldn’t avoid the conversation for long, but was one night to sleep on it too much to ask? “Can we save this for later? At home. Or—”

Before she could complete the sentence, Kate appeared with a big smile on her face. “Nice save, Grace. I loved the clean-plate bit. Brilliant. And I really enjoyed the way Nikolai went after the tip. Maybe we should hire him as our bouncer. We could even come up with a diabolical name. Like Brutus.”