Saving Grace

Praise for the writing of Jerri A. Drennen

Her Man Flint

I enjoyed that Ms. Drennen created a very strong, confident female character that could take care of herself but was also able to love and need love. Adriana and Flint are not characters you will soon forget. -- Tewanda, Fallen Angel Reviews

Her Man Flint by Jerri A. Drennen is a keep you on the edge of your seat romantic suspense with a hero and heroine who aren't afraid to kick some butt. -- Sinclair Reid, Romance Reviews Today A storyline that mesmerizes the imagination and then takes it for an exciting journey. I enjoyed reading Her Man Flint and found it to be a stirring story that captures the readers’ mind and then gives it all the action it requires. -- Sheryl, eCataRomance Reviews I thoroughly enjoyed this entertaining story and promise that everyone who reads it, will as well. I can't wait for more work from this talented author. -- Nadine St. Denis, Romance Junkies

Her Man Flint is now available from Triskelion Publishing.

SAVING GRACE

Jerri A. Drennen

www.loose-id.com

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

***** This book contains explicit sexual content and graphic language.

Saving Grace Jerri A. Drennen This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © June 2006 by Jerri A. Drennen All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-268-4 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Ansley Velarde Cover Artist: Croco Designs

www.loose-id.com

Chapter One

Cord Rawlings lifted the bottle of Jack Daniel’s to his lips and drained the last drops. He wouldn’t say he was drunk, just numb. He’d spent all evening in Rockford, Illinois, holed up in a room at a roadside motel, drinking, and still felt no better than he had before he’d opened the bottle. Would the painful memories ever fade -- as the face of his partner, Vincent Diaglo, had? He forced himself to swallow past the burning in his throat and slammed his fist into the lumpy mattress. Contempt for himself consumed him. Vince had died because of him. He should have been in the car that exploded, not his partner. Now all Cord saw when he thought about his friend was his charred remains -- not the strong, dedicated cop he’d been. Inside, Cord was dead, too. Probably wouldn’t fear dying because he’d been dead inside for a long time now. Maybe he should just end it all. Right here, right now.

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He shook his head. That would be taking the coward’s way out. No way could he do that. He tossed the empty bottle in the air. It landed on the carpet with a dull thud. Vincent would have been disgusted with what he’d become, and that bothered him more than anything. Vince and his wife had been like family to him. God, he could still see Grace’s pale, tear-streaked face at the funeral as the graveside attendants lowered the shiny silver casket into the ground, her hands white-knuckling the American flag that had draped it moments earlier. He hadn’t been able to face her that day. Guilt had eaten at him with a vengeance. So he’d watched from a distance, afraid she’d blame him for not being there to save her husband. The morning of the funeral, he’d pictured her misty-green eyes filled with loathing, eyes that had haunted him from the moment he’d met her, and known facing her would be impossible. Burying his partner and losing her respect, all in the same day. No, he couldn’t have dealt with that. He’d chosen not to confront her. Instead, he’d run away and buried himself in a bottle. Shaking off his alcohol-induced buzz, Cord forced the images from his mind. He refused to think about Grace any longer. His stomach knotted every time he did. What he needed was another bottle of Jack. Maybe then he’d pass out. Loud banging on the motel door had him going for his gun, instinct from years on the force.

Who the hell could that be? No one knew he was there. He stuffed the .38 into the back waistband of his pants, then stumbled to the door. “Yeah.” When he got no answer, he shouted, “What do you want?” “I was wondering if you needed some company,” a female voice said. “The desk clerk said you were alone.”

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Cord rolled his eyes. He’d have a little talk with the man later. It was unethical and illegal for a man in the desk clerk’s position to give out that kind of information, especially to a hooker. Eight years in the line of duty taught him that. “Come on, mister. I’m just looking for someone to spend some time with.” Cord unlatched the chain and opened the door, not surprised to find a scantily dressed young woman leaning against the wall, studying her long, hot-pink nails. A face caked with makeup peeked out from under stringy blonde hair, a cheap synthetic wig from the looks of it, the whole getup worn to conceal her age. Cord had worked Vice, knew all about prostitution rings and how they preyed on the young. “So, would you like some company?” She purposely tugged down her tube top, revealing more of her creamy-white breasts. “How old are you?” Cord was sure she’d lie. He’d seen it all too often. Most of the girls walking the streets today were fifteen- or sixteen-year-old runaways with no means of support other than selling their bodies. “I’m twenty-two. So, what do you say? How about a date?” He looked her up and down, angry when his body responded to the offer. It had been a long time since he’d indulged in some gratuitous sex, and with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in him, she didn’t look all that bad. Would almost be pretty, if she’d lose some of the makeup. What color was the hair under her hideous wig? She licked her bright pink lips, then made a suggestive play with her tongue. Cord swallowed hard. The erotic gesture spoke volumes of her sexual experience, but it still didn’t make her legal. “You wouldn’t happen to have any ID?” Her black-outlined eyes narrowed. “No. Why?” He leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Because I’m not sure you’re as old as you say you are.”

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Her eyes widened, a sure giveaway he was right. She wasn’t twenty-two, but just how young was she? “Why does my age have to do with anything? If you’re looking for someone your own age, I could always call my mother.” Cord couldn’t help but grin at her insult. Hell, he probably did look older than his thirty-two years. All he’d done for the past six months was drink. “What’s your name, kid?” “The name’s Tammy. So, what do you say? I’ll give you a quick blow for twenty.” The offer was tempting, but it didn’t sit well with Cord, especially in light of his past profession. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Tammy, I think you should reconsider your line of work. I’m going to give you twenty bucks. Go get something to eat, my treat.” “You mean you don’t want anything in return?” A deep line creased her forehead. From the looks of it, he’d surprised her -- she was clearly not used to getting something for nothing. He stuffed the money in her hand. “No. Just promise you’ll think about what I said.” “Sure, whatever.” She turned and sashayed down to the end of the hallway, knocking on another door. Cord shook his head and stepped back inside his room, closing the door behind him. That patron would probably take her up on her offer. Nothing surprised him. Tammy’s actions were as clear as day. She wasn’t planning to go home until money and bodily fluids were exchanged. Dropping onto the bed, Cord was determined not to think about Tammy and her next trick, or Grace Diaglo, for that matter. He knew what he had to do. It was time for him to sober up and go back to Chicago to face his demons.

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***** “Grace Diaglo, would you please stop worrying about everyone else for a change?” Emily pointed toward a full-length mirror hanging on the wall. “Look at yourself. You’ve lost more than ten pounds. Have you heard the word anorexia?” Grace hung half a dozen dresses they’d priced on a rack in front of her and tried to ignore her sister. Emily had become a broken record the last few weeks. “Are you planning to do any work today?” She stared at Emily, hoping she’d stop hounding her and do something constructive. Her ragging was hardly positive affirmation. Her weight had become a moot point after the umpteenth time she’d heard about it. Emily’s gaze pierced hers. “Since Vincent’s death, all you’ve done is volunteer -- from baking cookies for the annual policemen’s fundraisers, to feeding the homeless. Anything to keep yourself out of the house. You need to put Vincent to rest, Grace, and move on with your life. If you don’t, and soon, I’m afraid you never will. Do you want to end up all alone, your only company a houseful of stray cats?” Grace had to put a stop to this. Her sister would go on and on if she didn’t. “I’m fine, Em. Please don’t worry about me.” “How can I not worry? You look sickly.” “Thanks. I appreciate the kind words.” Grace tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hair that had become as dull and lifeless as she felt. Emily wasn’t the only one who didn’t like what she saw. Grace hated the way she looked. But Vincent’s death had sent her into a deep depression. Even antidepressants hadn’t helped. Her husband had been her life for three years. She’d loved him with all her heart, and since his death, she’d had no appetite. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up from this awful nightmare. Have Vincent back. But that wasn’t going to happen. He was

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gone, and her unconscious fasting wouldn’t change that. Nothing would, no matter how hard she prayed. She had to start eating again or she’d get sick. Something she couldn’t afford when she had a shop to run. Emily would be out on maternity leave soon. There’d be no one to run things if they were both in the hospital. Grace inhaled, the scent of lavender and rose sachets inundating her senses. The late morning sun streamed in through the long, wall-length windows, helping to dispel the chill her thoughts had brought on. She glanced around her. Lightly Seasoned was all she had. Thank God it was making a profit, not an easy feat for a newly opened business. It was hard to believe that she and Emily had turned their dreams into a reality. They’d made the consignment shop bright and welcoming to everyone who came in, working long hours to give it a personal touch, which had obviously paid off. Grace sighed. Time to get back to work. She picked up a few navy-blue dresses in different styles from a box on the floor and placed them together on the revolving rack. She glanced toward her sister and smiled. “I know you’re worried about me, Em, and I love you for it. But I’ll be fine. I just need to stay busy.” Her remark fell on deaf ears. “You need to slow down, Grace. And for God’s sake, eat something.” “If I promise to eat, will you lay off awhile?” “It’s a start, but you need to pace yourself, too. Chicago P.D. can do without your brownies for one event.” Grace’s hands unconsciously clenched at her sides. “But that’s the only way I can keep in touch with Vincent’s friends. I don’t want to lose them, too.”

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“I hate to say this, Grace, but maybe you won’t be able to move on until you do put Vince and the police force behind you.” Grace’s patience slipped. “I can’t do that. Vincent wouldn’t like it. He was such a dedicated cop. He’d want me to stay involved.” Emily shook her head again, her strawberry-blonde bob swinging in her face. Grace’s hair used to be the same vibrant shade before Vincent had passed away. “I thought you wanted to have children. You can’t do that with a ghost.” Grace didn’t understand why her sister wanted her to lose more than she’d already lost. What was wrong with helping out at the police functions? Wasn’t that a good thing? Weren’t people supposed to get involved, help wherever they could? Emily acted as if she was doing something wrong. Heck, she could have gone in another direction after Vincent died. She could have picked up a bottle the way his partner, Cord, had. Everyone knew how he’d fallen. Made a point of telling her that little tidbit. She hadn’t seen Cord in months. He hadn’t even bothered to pay his respects at the funeral. That in itself still hurt and made her angry. When she’d heard Cord resigned from the force two weeks later, she’d been shocked. Why hadn’t he told her he was leaving? He had become family when he’d been partnered with her husband. For two years, Cord and Vincent had been inseparable, at work and off duty. But for whatever reason, Cord had disappeared without saying a word to her. Another painful blow. First losing her husband, then him. He should have stuck around to help her through the months of missing Vincent with every breath she took. But Cord hadn’t cared enough to do that. “When are you going to bury Vincent, Grace?” Emily drew Grace back to their conversation. One she was putting an end to right now. “What is this? Why all the sudden resentment for Vincent?” “I don’t resent Vince, Grace. I just think it’s time for you to let go.”

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“I’ll decide when it’s time to pack Vince’s things and say goodbye.” Grace held on to her temper. “Until I do, I want you to respect my wishes and let me deal with this in my own way, all right?” Emily came over and hugged her. “Okay. But promise me you’ll take better care of yourself.” Grace drew back and smiled. “I promise. Can we get the last of these dresses hung now, so we can go have lunch?” Her sister’s round face lit up. “Now that’s music to my ears.” Emily patted her oversized belly.

***** Cord sat slumped in his car, watching the front door to Striker’s Grill. This was the first time since Vincent’s death he’d been back. Jack Neil was inside. How the man had the nerve to show his face in a cop hangout was beyond him. Was he there to meet one? To offer money under the table? Frustrated, he threaded his hands through his hair and turned away. The man made him sick. Neil ran Chicago’s biggest car chop outfit in the area and was known to bribe cops to look away. Before Vince died, Cord had really wanted to nail the creep. He glanced back at the café and saw a woman walking into Striker’s entrance. She looked familiar. Behind her stood a pregnant woman. He squinted to get a better look. Emily? That meant the woman in front of her had to be Grace. Cord’s heart revved like a wide-open boat motor. What had happened to her? She looked rail thin.

Saving Grace

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He swallowed, watching through the restaurant window as she made her way down the aisle to a booth. It was Grace. He’d know that profile anywhere. He’d memorized it the first time Vince introduced them. No woman had ever looked so good. The day he’d met her, her blonde hair had been pulled back, emphasizing her incredible cheekbones. She’d had the face of an angel, eyes that captured the soul, and full, pouty lips made for hours and hours of kissing. Hell, she’d been the only woman to make him even notice that about a woman’s lips. He desired her even now -- even when guilt ate at him for doing so. How many nights had he lain in bed thinking about those lips, about her striking, light-green eyes beckoning him, only to be reminded that she was his partner’s wife? That thought had ended the fantasy, but it always returned when the loneliness did. Maybe deep down he’d willed Vincent to die to have her. The recrimination ate at his gut. Cord was the one who’d deserved to die. But before he could allow his self-destructive ways to get the better of him again, he had a job to do. He had to uncover the dirty little secrets buried deep inside Chicago’s Ninth Precinct, and find out who killed his partner.

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Chapter Two

“What are you going to have?” Emily looked up from her menu. Grace glanced at her, mulling over the options. The smell of greasy French fries, burnt onions, and charbroiled hamburgers filled the air, nauseating her. “I don’t know. Something fattening.” She hoped that would appease Emily’s motherly instincts. Her sister was right about Grace’s weight, though. She’d lost quite a bit since Vince’s death. But she couldn’t help it. The last thing on her mind was food. “What are you having?” “Everything sounds good.” Emily eyed the dessert carousel. “All I want to do is eat. I can’t wait for this baby to come. Charlie laughs at me all the time. Who’ll have the last laugh when the baby does arrive and I still look like a beached whale?” Grace grinned. “There’ll just be more for him to love.” “Right. Not too convincing coming from Kate Moss herself.” “Very funny. I’m not that thin.” “Hah! When you turn sideways, you disappear.” Grace was about to disagree when the hairs on the nape of her neck stood straight up. Someone was watching her.

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She glanced around, studying all the faces in the diner. No one looked familiar, strange considering this was where Vince and his fellow cops had eaten lunch almost every day. Her gaze settled on a dark-haired man with piercing brown eyes watching her from a barstool at the counter. The intensity in his stare unnerved her, and she quickly turned to Emily, goose bumps prickling her arms. The guy made her uneasy. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the man stood and headed toward her.

Oh, God. Please be going to the restroom. He stopped at the booth and smiled at them, a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hello. Grace Diaglo?” She nodded. “I’m Jack Neil.” He extended his hand. When she didn’t take it, he lowered his. “I was a friend of your late husband’s. I wanted to come over and tell you how sorry I was to hear about Vince. He was a good man.” Grace’s throat constricted at his kind words. She felt guilty now for not shaking his hand. It touched her to know people thought good things about her husband -- things she’d always known, but was glad others shared. Vincent Diaglo had been as close to perfect as anyone could be. “Thank you. I appreciate you saying so.” She smiled, not sure what else to do. What was strange was that she’d never met him. Grace knew all of Vincent’s friends. How could he have possibly known she was his wife? “He was a good cop,” he continued. “Not like that partner of his. I’d watch my back with him.” The bell over the café’s front door jingled. Grace glanced up. Her jaw dropped when she saw Cord stalking down the aisle, his face distorted with anger.

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The man standing next to her visibly flinched when he saw him. Animosity crackled in the air. What had happened between the two men to generate such bad blood? Enough for this man to insinuate that Cord wasn’t a good cop. Vincent had never said anything derogatory about Cord or his abilities on Vice, so what had Jack Neil been trying to tell her? And an even bigger question, why had Cord chosen this moment to show up? After all this time? “What are you doing here?” Cord’s sapphire eyes met Neil’s. If looks could kill, Jack Neil would have dropped dead on the spot. “Hell, it’s a free country, Rawlings. I can eat wherever I want.” Cord pointed to Grace. “Stay away from her.” “What’s this all about?” Cord’s authoritative command ignited Grace’s fury. He had no right to tell anyone to stay away from her. That was her call, even if Jack Neil had sent a cold chill through her. “Stay out of this, Grace,” he shot back, scowling at Neil. “Keep your shirt on, Rawlings. I was just paying my respects. I’m leaving.” Cord snorted. “You do that, and stay out of Striker’s while you’re at it.” Neil’s nostrils flared in anger, although Grace could tell he was trying to make light of the confrontation. “Good day, Mrs. Diaglo.” He turned and headed for the exit. Grace waited until Neil reached the door before turning her attention to Cord. He, too, watched the man’s departure, hatred evident in his expression. Grace studied Cord’s features, noting the sunken, dark circles under his eyes. He’d never had them when Vince was alive. His whole face spoke of fatigue and his hair needed to be cut. He’d lost some weight, though not to the extent she had, but it was obvious he hadn’t taken Vincent’s death well either. So why hadn’t he stuck around? They could have helped one another.

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Anger suddenly overshadowed her concern for him. He couldn’t have cared for her and Vincent as deeply as she’d once thought, not when he could walk away so easily. Without so much as a goodbye. Grace leveled her cool gaze on him. “Why weren’t you at Vincent’s funeral?” His Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably when their eyes met. “I was there. Just not where you could see me.” “Why? Were you hiding?” A flicker of what Grace construed as fear crossed his features, but it quickly vanished. “Why, Cord? What were you afraid of?” His gaze bored into hers. “I want you to stay away from Jack Neil. He’s trouble.” “How do you know that?” Grace glanced at Emily, then back to Cord. “According to him, you’re the one I need to worry about.”

Cord struggled to control his anger. What had Jack Neil told Grace to make her question his integrity and his feelings for Vince? Her husband had been his best friend. Hell, they’d been as close as brothers. “What did that scumbag say?” “Why? Do you have something to hide?” Her accusation hit him like a tsunami. She didn’t trust him? Hell, could he blame her? He had snuck off for six months, like a man with a guilty conscience. Why should she trust him? “No, I’m not hiding anything, Grace. I just want you to steer clear of Neil. He’s not what he appears to be, believe me.” “What is he, then?” Her eyes were intent on his. She was trying to read him. No way did he want that to happen. All he needed was for Grace to learn of the corruption inside Chicago’s Vice unit. He still didn’t know how deep it ran. Knowing any of what was going down would only put her life at risk. Cord cared too much to see anything happen to her.

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“Please, just remember what I said and stay away from him.” He turned his attention to Grace’s sister for the first time since he’d walked into the cafe. “Emily, would you make sure she does?” Emily shook her head. “You know my sister. She’s got a mind of her own.” Cord inhaled deeply, unsure of how to keep Grace out of harm’s way if she wasn’t going to listen to him. Her resolve was as strong as her husband’s had been, something Vince had seemed to admire about his wife, and Cord knew would be trouble. A strong will was not his idea of an admirable quality -- not now. Not when the stakes were so high. He’d have to keep a close eye on Grace from now on. Who knew what kind of trouble she could get herself into? Besides, he’d seen the lust in Jack Neil’s eyes for her. Hell, who wouldn’t be attracted to Grace? She was a beautiful woman, lonely and vulnerable. Neil probably thought she was fair game for him. But the man would have to rethink that plan. Grace Diaglo was too good for the likes of Neil -- or him, for that matter -- and Cord would see to it that Jack Neil didn’t get within a hundred feet of her from this day forward.

***** Grace leaned into her tub and plugged the drain, then turned on the tap. A soothing hot bath was the cure for the day she’d had. She poured a generous amount of her favorite peach bubble bath and inhaled the wonderful aroma as it filled the air. Vincent had always loved the scent. Once the tub was filled, she stripped and eased into the silky, scented water, her body instantly relaxing. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

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Images of a tall blond man flashed like an old movie reel in her mind. The pictures did little to soothe her. It was Cord, his troubled blue eyes calling to her, stirring her body to life. Her nipples drew up tight under the water, the sensation the first sign of life in months. Since her husband’s death she’d felt nothing. His death had caused her to go dormant, but for some reason Cord’s return had triggered a need inside her, and for whatever reason, she felt guilty. She was betraying her love for Vincent. How would he feel if he knew she was having these thoughts -- these urges -- for his partner? Strange, but it’d been a long time since she’d had sexual thoughts. Even leading up to Vincent’s death, she and her husband hadn’t had sex -- he’d always been too tired. Weeks after he died, she’d wondered if he really had been. Maybe he’d just grown tired of her. Maybe his eye had wandered. Grace shook the thought. She wasn’t going to do this again. Cord’s image reappeared, this time naked from the waist up, his chest sparsely peppered with coarse blond hair, his wide shoulders strong and well defined. His eyes held such sadness. They pulled her into their depths and held her entranced. Okay, so her body missed intimacy. That’s why it was reacting to the image. It wasn’t Cord Rawlings at all. Any good-looking man would have stirred the same response.

Jack Neil didn’t. He was handsome enough. A thump from outside her bathroom window made her jump, sloshing water over the side of the tub. Her heart thudded against her chest. She quickly grabbed for a towel and got out, soap and water running down her body. She secured the towel around her and peeked out the curtain, the overhead light on the garage allowing her to see a shadowy figure slip out the back gate. Had someone been watching her take a bath? A peeping Tom?

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Heat raced up her neck. She should have made sure the shades were down. She felt violated. Swallowing hard, she tried to make a rational decision.

Go lock the doors. Grace raced to the back door and locked it, then proceeded to the front door to do the same. She leaned against the frame, her heart pounding furiously in her ears. What should she do? She should call someone. But who? Emily? No, she couldn’t upset her sister, not in her condition. Cord? Not on her life. She had no way of contacting him anyway, and he was the last person she needed to be around right now. Not after the vivid pictures she’d had of him. The police. She darted for the phone and dialed 9-1-1. Hopefully, they would get there soon enough to catch the peeping Tom before he had a chance to disappear.

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Chapter Three

Cord listened to the call on his scanner, caught the address, and recognized it instantly as Grace’s. His heart stopped, then restarted and pounded against his ribcage. Why hadn’t he done what he’d planned and parked outside her house? He whipped the car around and raced toward South Hastings. She had to be okay. Horrible images flashed in his mind -- graphic pictures of crimes scenes he remembered with clarity. Rape and murder. Terrible acts of violence, some that had taken him months to put out of his mind. He prayed nothing like that had happened to Grace. Minutes later, after running three red lights, he pulled onto Liberty, his emotions in shambles. Pure adrenaline pumped through his veins. What he wouldn’t give for a drink right now. Three black-and-whites were parked in front of the Diaglo home, a red, two-story brick Vince had inherited from some relative. No cop could afford a home in this neighborhood, not even a twenty-five-year veteran, unless he was dirty.

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Cord raced up the driveway. If it were simply a break-in, would it warrant three units at the scene? He didn’t think so. All activity seemed to be concentrated toward the backyard. He made his way up a winding brick path, recognizing three of the officers, one dusting a window ledge for prints. Shit. This didn’t look good. “Flannery, what’s going on?” He shoved past an overgrown shrub blocking half the walkway. Grace needed to have someone trim the damn thing. The grass needed to be cut, too. “Where’s Grace?” “Cord, it’s been a while,” the uniformed man said, glancing over his shoulder, shifting from one foot to the other. From the officer’s reaction, it was as if Cord had asked him to slip on a dress and dance with him. “Grace is in the house. But this is police business, Cord. You shouldn’t be here.” “She’s a friend of mine. But I don’t need to tell you that. Do I?” Cord kept his tone civil, even though he would have liked to rip the guy’s head off for not answering the question. How could they not think this was his concern? Grace was practically family. Though at this point, she’d probably consider him the black sheep, which bothered him, considering how much he cared about her. But he couldn’t change the past. Vince was dead, and he’d always blame himself. “Is she okay? What happened?” “You know I can’t divulge that information. You’re just another civilian now.” Cord could see he’d get nowhere outside. “I’m going in to talk to Grace. I don’t expect to run into any resistance. Understand?” His tone was light and controlled tone, but he was sure Flannery knew he’d force his way into the house if he had to. “All right. But don’t get in the way.”

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Cord caught the look Flannery gave the other two officers and wondered what they’d been told about his resignation. A hasty decision, one done under mental duress. He’d regretted it a week after he’d resigned. Without access to employee files, he’d have no way of finding out who was taking kickbacks at the Ninth. But he’d think of something. Finding out why Vince was killed and who’d done it was top priority with him. Hell, he could always go to Harris and beg for his job back. Groveling wasn’t one of his favorite things to do, but he’d do it if he had to. He shoved his thoughts of Vince to the backburner when he entered the door. He wouldn’t relax until he saw Grace, made sure she was all right. Inside, the place was dark except the kitchen, where he found her and Detective Anthony sitting at the table. They looked up when he entered. A look akin to relief crossed Grace’s features. Did that mean she was happy to see him? “What’s going on?” He studied her face. “Nobody outside would tell me a thing; seems I’m a civilian now.” “There was a peeping Tom watching me take a bath.” Cord’s blood pressure tipped the scales. Some sick son of a bitch was outside her window watching her soak in a tub. Naked. How perverted was that? When they found this creep, he’d wring his frickin’ neck. Now he knew why they were dusting for prints outside. “Did you get a look at him?” She shook her head, a strand of her wet hair sticking to her lips -- lips he’d imagined kissing over and over and over ...

Enough, Rawlings. Get a damned grip. “Any idea who it might have been?” His thoughts trailed back to earlier that day in the café and Jack Neil. Would he have the balls to do such a thing? Hell yeah, as far as Cord was concerned, he would. Grace frowned. “I don’t know anyone who’d do such a thing.”

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The woman had no idea how appealing she was. Even after dropping so much weight, she was still the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. And now it wasn’t safe for her to be alone. Not if some sick bastard was spying on her. Cord turned to Detective Anthony. “Are you planning to give Grace around-the-clock protection? I think we both know this could lead to something dangerous.” “You know we can’t do that,” Paul Anthony said, shrugging his shoulders. “The chief would never approve it.” “She’s Vincent’s wife, for Christ’s sake, Paul. Doesn’t that count for something?” Grace pointed toward a small box next to the back door. “Cord, I’ll be fine. I have a security system, remember? Vince installed it last year.” “Yeah, but that won’t keep you safe all the time,” Cord pointed out. “If they can’t keep an eye on you, then I will.” Her misty-green eyes grew saucer-sized at his offer. She seemed terrified at the prospect of him staying with her. Why? Was she afraid of him? Did she think he’d hurt her in some way? If so, then why had she seemed relieved when he showed up? What was going on in that beautiful head of hers? Right then, he would have given anything to know.

Grace’s stomach plummeted. No way was Cord Rawlings shadowing her every move. Not when he stirred such erotic thoughts and he wasn’t even around. The second he’d walked into the kitchen, her body had charged to two-twenty. Her blood raced though her veins like water down an intricate waterslide, churning her emotions. Vincent had never stirred such feelings. Strangely enough, her and her husband’s relationship had started out as friendship, leading into romance. They’d been best friends and she’d trusted Vincent completely, but Cord was a different animal. She didn’t trust him at all, not after what he done -- running off

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and drinking himself into a stupor. Besides, he was hiding something. There was no way he was staying with her. Heck, she couldn’t trust herself with him. Something could happen. “I’ll be fine, Cord.” Did she sound convincing enough? She hoped so. “I don’t need protection.” “I’m staying. And that’s that.”

God, why is this happening to me? He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Now what was she going to do? If she refused to let him stay, he’d be hurt and embarrassed, especially with Detective Anthony standing next to her to witness the scene. Then again, what would everyone think if she did let him stay? Just the two of them, alone in the house? She could imagine the rumors that would fly around the Ninth. Did you

hear about Grace? How could she do that to Vincent’s memory? She wouldn’t be able to show her face there again. “That’s not a bad idea, Grace,” Paul Anthony said. “We don’t have the manpower to keep an eye on you right now, but Cord can. He’s got the time.” “But --” “No buts. I think you should let him stay. At least until we find this guy.” Grace closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t get out of this; they’d given her no choice. Cord would be living under her roof until they caught this peeping Tom. So she might as well get used to the idea. “Okay, but I want to go on record as being against this unnecessary gesture.” Paul rubbed her shoulder. “I hear you, Grace. Thanks for cooperating. Vince would be rolling over in his grave if he thought we weren’t protecting you.” “Chicago P.D. isn’t really doing that, though, is it, Paul?” Cord interjected, crossing his arms over his chest. “True, but you are, and that’s good enough for me.”

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Grace heard the sarcastic undertones in both men’s remarks. She wished she could feel comfortable about having Cord around, but she didn’t. His presence would, at the very least, make her life difficult. From the doorway Sergeant Flannery cleared his throat. “We’re done out back, Detective Anthony.” “Okay, then. Looks like we’re done here, Grace. I’ll let you know if we find a match on any prints found. Try and get some sleep.” Paul rose and headed for the door. “Cord.” Once they’d gone, Grace reluctantly glanced at Cord. He studied his hands, then shifted his stance. He was nervous about the arrangement, too. But why? He’d been the one to suggest it. “I’ll show you to the guestroom.” Grace rose from the table, anxious to get to the privacy of her own bedroom, away from his commanding presence. He made her jittery. Distance was needed. Her overwhelming reaction to him pissed her off. Not once while her husband was alive had she felt an attraction to Cord. He’d barely garnered a second look. Or had he? She wasn’t sure. But now that Vince was dead, it was like she was seeing him differently, and what she saw appealed to her on so many levels. Tonight, he wore a light blue shirt that brought out the incredible sapphire hue in his eyes -- eyes as sad as any she’d ever seen before. Secrets were hidden in their depths. Without provocation, her gaze inadvertently flew to his zipper, where his maleness strained against a pair of faded blue jeans. What the heck was wrong with her? She was losing her mind. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Heat washed over her face. Grace led him down the hall, praying he hadn’t seen her ogling his crotch. That would be mortifying. All she needed was Cord knowing she felt an attraction to him. He might think badly of her. After all, he’d been her husband’s best friend. She’d probably be the last woman he’d entertain sexual thoughts about.

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Grace led him down the hall to the guest bedroom and opened the door, flipping on the light. “It’s been awhile since we’ve ... I mean, I’ve had any company. I hope it’s okay.” “It’ll be fine. Thanks, Grace. I’ll leave my door open, in case you need anything. I’m going to check the windows and doors, make sure they’re all locked. Good night.” “Night.” Grace turned and escaped to her room. What had he meant by if she needed anything? Like what? His strong arms to comfort her? His lips moving over hers, taking her breath? She rolled her eyes, then stared intently at the lock on the door. Should she secure it? Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? Like Cord would ever slip into her room -- into her bed. He undoubtedly liked big-breasted women with brains the size of peas. The thought had her glancing down at her 34-A’s. She sighed. That would definitely exclude her. She shook her head and went to her bathroom. The curtains covering the window had been pulled open, no doubt by one of the officers after they’d arrived on the scene and asked to see the bathroom. Would she ever feel the same coming into this room again? Ever feel safe from prying eyes? Grace stared out the window. What if he came back? Heck, he could be standing outside right now, watching her. That terrified her, had her heart pumping hard again. Quickly moving to the window, Grace flipped the locks and dropped the shades, then left the bathroom. Between thoughts of the peeping Tom coming back and Cord sleeping in the next room, she doubted she’d get any sleep tonight. But somehow, she had to try.

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Chapter Four

Cord lay in bed, wondering if Grace was asleep. He’d tried counting rounds, hoping he’d drift off, but had no success. All he could think about was the look of horror on Grace’s face when she’d realized he would be staying. She was scared of him. The last thing he’d ever do was hurt Grace. She meant so much to him, and he certainly didn’t want her afraid to have him around. He should have stayed out of her life, but her beautiful misty eyes captivated him, yearned for his protection. Besides, Vincent would have wanted him to see to Grace’s safety. Yeah, right. If Vincent had known Cord had feelings for his wife, he would have punched the ever-living shit out of him. For two and a half years, he and Vincent had been partners, and not once had Cord said or done anything to hint at his infatuation for Grace. No one knew about it, and Cord would never have acted on his feelings. She was his best friend’s wife, and that was enough to squelch any thought of her as Cord’s. Even now, guilt consumed him because of his attraction to her. As far as he was concerned, Grace was officially off-limits. She was too good for him, anyway. She was pure and loving. He wasn’t.

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He snorted. He was so far from pure and loving it was laughable. Cord had seen it all before he was an adult. Grace would be disgusted by some of the things he’d done in the thirty-two years he’d been alive. Vincent probably would have as well, if Cord had shared his past with him. But he hadn’t. No one knew the real Cord Rawlings -- the man whose own mother had hated even the sight of him. Of course, she wasn’t one to talk. A whore was what his mother had been, a woman who drank herself into an early grave. God, how he’d hated her. He never had found out who his father was, but it had to have been someone his mother despised, considering the way she treated Cord.

You’re a bastard echoed over and over in Cord’s head like a broken record. But Grace was different -- special. She came from a good family. She married a saint. He could never compete with that, never measure up to the Diaglo standards. Ever. He knew that. But he could redeem himself to Grace by finding Vince’s murderer. He owed his best friend that, too. Deep down, he felt responsible for Vince’s death. If he’d been the one in the car that night, Grace wouldn’t be in pain right now. She’d be happily married with a future. If she were awake, she’d probably be thinking about Vince, wishing he were there to protect her from some stranger who liked to watch her get naked. A faint noise carried from somewhere in the house. Cord bolted up in bed. He listened intently, not sure what he’d heard. It came again, this time a little louder. It sounded like sobbing. Grace. Was she crying? His stomach clenched. He was the cause of her pain. How could he face her knowing that?

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He rose, slipped into his jeans, and padded down the hallway. At her bedroom door, he stood, ready to knock, then hesitated, wondering if he should. Her agonizing sobs tore at his heart. With a helplessness he’d never experienced before, he threaded his fingers through his hair. Should he go in and comfort her? Would she welcome his consolation? Somehow he doubted she would. She’d probably be embarrassed. Cord turned and headed to the guestroom. He’d probably be the last person on earth she’d want to soothe her. He’d just go back to bed and try to ignore the gut-wrenching sobs tearing a hole through his heart.

***** Grace awoke to the sound of birds singing outside her bedroom window. Did they ever have a bad day, feel too depressed to drag their little wings out of their nests? She glanced at the alarm. Seven o’clock. She’d gotten exactly three hours of sleep, and her mouth felt as dry as if she’d swallowed a bale of cotton. Crying wasn’t good for a person, though she was getting really good at it. Last night, she’d fallen asleep only to be caught up in a nightmare -- one she’d never forget. Vincent’s accusing eyes pierced her soul. How could you betray me? he’d asked, holding out his palm, his wedding ring cushioned in the middle. Want this? And he’d thrown it at her. The ping of the ring bouncing off the wall had awoken her. The dream had seemed so vivid, so real, that she’d started to cry uncontrollably and couldn’t stop until she’d fallen back to sleep hours later. Could Vincent have really come to her in a dream, angry with her for her immoral thoughts about Cord? Had it been him, or her conscience trying to tell her something? Either way, she planned to keep her distance from Cord.

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Vincent had loved her, and he deserved better. Besides, it had only been six months since his death. Thinking about other men was out of the question, but it was time to go through his things -- they were doing no good hanging in the closet. A delicious aroma filtered into her troubled thoughts, making her mouth water. Was that bacon she smelled? And coffee? She hadn’t thought much about food the last few months, but whatever Cord was cooking made her stomach growl. She threw on a pair of jeans and one of Vincent’s old Chicago Bears t-shirts and headed down the hall. The closer she got to the kitchen, the louder her stomach rumbled. She entered the sun-filled room, cheery with its pastel yellow walls and contrasting chintz curtains and tablecloth. The kitchen was her favorite room in the house, one she’d fallen in love with the moment she saw it. Cord stood at the stove, a dishtowel tucked into the waistband of his jeans, emphasizing his narrow hips. He turned, a strip of bacon dangling from a tine of the fork he held in his hand. “Morning.” He smiled. “I hope you don’t mind my cooking breakfast. I found some bacon in the freezer and defrosted it.” “No, not at all. It smells great.” He pointed to the coffeemaker. “Coffee’s ready.” He took a sip of his, then placed it back on the counter. “How do you like your eggs?” “Over-medium.” She reached for a mug in the cabinet, poured a cup of coffee, and took a sip, savoring its robust flavor. She didn’t know how he managed to do it, but his coffee actually tasted much better than her own. “It’s good.” She raised her cup. “It’s the salt. It takes away the bitterness.” She grinned. “I’ll have to remember that.”

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Cord brought two plates to the table and placed them across from each other. “You want toast?” he asked, going back to the stove to get his cup. Grace nodded. “Yeah, but I’ll make it. You’ve done enough. Sit down and get started.” She placed bread in the toaster, then went to the refrigerator to get the margarine and strawberry preserves. “So, do you have to work today?” Grace turned, watching him take a seat at the table. “Not this morning. Emily has an OB appointment. We’re not going to open Lightly Seasoned until this afternoon.” “Hey, tell her congratulations on the baby. How’s the shop doing, anyway? I remember you and Emily had just started it when ... I mean, before I left town.” Grace knew Cord was reluctant to bring Vincent’s death up, and it touched her. “It’s doing fairly well. I’ve actually decided it was time to go through Vincent’s things this morning to see what I could take to the store. Is there anything you’d like to have of his?” She saw emotion cloud his eyes. “No. Thanks, though.” He stuck the last of his bacon in his mouth, a dab of grease glistening on his bottom lip. Grace was drawn to the spot. His bottom lip was full for a man’s, the upper well-shaped. His chin fascinated her, its deep cleft covered in rough, morning stubble. Cord was a ruggedlooking man -- so different from her husband. Vincent had been dark-haired, olive-skinned, with smiling amber eyes. Always groomed to perfection. He and Cord were as different as night and day. Vincent had been popular at the Ninth, had more friends then Grace could keep straight. Cord, on the other hand, seemed to be a loner, never going to any off-duty events. Even with their differences, though, he and Vincent had become best friends. She knew her husband had thought the world of Cord, had said so on numerous occasions.

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“Do you want me to help you with Vince’s stuff?” He took the slice of toast she offered him. “No. I think this is something I should do alone.” He nodded. They reached for the preserves at the same time and their fingers brushed. Grace drew her hand back immediately, feeling as if she’d been burned by him. Silence filled the room. The only sound was the ticking of the sunflower clock on the wall. Cord cleared his throat. “I noticed that you have some bushes on the walkway that need trimming and the grass needs cut. If you have a pair of clippers and a mower, I could do that for you. While you’re going through Vince’s stuff.” “You really don’t have to do that, Cord. Charlie usually cuts the grass. But with Emily so close to her due date, he hates to leave her.” “I understand that. Let me do it, then.” “All right, if you’re sure you want to. Both the clippers and the lawnmower are in the garage.” “Great. I’ll get on that, right after I do the dishes.” Grace was taken aback. A man who actually volunteered to do something domestic. Had she heard him correctly? Vincent had never once offered to do dishes, or help with them, for that matter. It was something she’d just assumed was part of her husband’s upbringing. “Don’t worry about it, Cord. I’ll just throw them in the dishwasher.” “You sure? I can do them.” “I’m sure. Oh, if you need gas for the mower, there’s a can in the right-hand corner of the garage.” “Okay. I’ll go get started on that right now.” He got up, took his plate to the sink, rinsed it, and left the kitchen. He was definitely handy around the house; Vince’s lack thereof was the only vice she could think of.

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Sighing, Grace went to work on her breakfast, ravenous for the first time in six months.

***** Cord killed the lawnmower’s engine and glanced around the yard, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He was happy with the job. Now the grass was cut; next he had to trim the shrubs. He pushed the mower into the garage and walked over to the workbench to get the clippers. As he reached for the tool, his eyes fell on a slip of yellow paper with the name Neil Automotive at the top.

What the hell? He grabbed the sheet, finding that it was a receipt for repairs on a 2000 Lexus.

That’s weird. Neither Vincent nor Grace owned a Lexus, but it showed that Vince had paid for the repairs. His signature was at the bottom. Paid for in cash. That in itself was strange, but what was even odder was that Neil Automotive had done the repairs. Vincent knew Chicago Vice had been watching the place -- knew Neil chopped cars at night. So why would Vince take a car there, unless he’d been working undercover without Cord’s knowledge? Maybe the department had needed someone to get inside, and Vincent had volunteered. Maybe that was how he’d gotten himself killed. Which would mean Cord couldn’t have done anything to save him -- not when he hadn’t even known what was going on. A scenario took shape in Cord’s mind. Jack Neil must have found out that Vince was trying to get the goods on him and killed him before he could expose his criminal activities. Sounded feasible, but how could he find out for sure if Vince had been working undercover?

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Captain Harris? He was the only one Cord could possibly convince to talk. Most of the other Vice cops wouldn’t discuss the weather, let alone something that covert, with him. He took the clippers from their designated hook and headed outside. Later, when Grace and Emily were safely at the store, he’d go talk to Bill Harris. He could only hope Harris would tell him the truth -- a truth that could exonerate Cord from being a catalyst in Vince’s death.

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Chapter Five

Grace took a deep breath and opened Vince’s closet, amazed his scent still lingered inside. The fresh citrus smell she’d always attributed to him was everywhere. The day she’d met him, he had worn it, and she’d fallen for the tangy scent right away. Falling for him had taken a little more time. Intense longing tightened her throat as she ran her hands over his suit jackets, most in gray and blue hues. Some winter fabrics, some summer. He had a few neutral colors, but most were dark because he thought he looked best in them. She could picture him slipping into one as he got ready for work. Sighing, she pulled three of the suits out and placed them on the bed. One by one, she went through the pockets. After finding nothing, she unfolded a cardboard box and placed them inside. She stuffed the next few in with the others, and then two more, until only one remained. Vincent’s favorite, the one she’d given him the Christmas before last. She took it off the hanger and brought it to her nose, inhaling him. “Should I part with you, or keep you for those lonely nights?” She shook her head. “No! They all have to go.”

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After her momentary weakness, she jammed her hand into one of the pockets and touched something cold, something metal. She grasped the object and pulled it out. A key. Rolling it over, she found the number two-thirty-five stamped on it. What was it to? It couldn’t be to anything at the house; she knew every lock to the place. This key was large and square, one she was sure fit no locks on the property. The key looked like one to an old motel or apartment.

When did he wear the jacket last? A few days before he was killed. Maybe he’d found the key. That was probably it. He hadn’t been able to find out where it belonged before he died. Grace threw it onto the bed and placed the jacket in the box, then went to pack some of his casual clothes.

Later, after she’d showered and changed, she carried three loaded boxes to the front door. She walked to the kitchen, wondering how Cord was doing with the yard work. He was probably ready for a tall glass of lemonade by now. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, she went to the refrigerator to take out the pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade and filled the glass to the top. She headed out the back door. The grass had been cut, and Cord stood shirtless in the walkway, trimming the shrubs that Vince had picked out. She remembered when Vincent had planted them. She’d warned him then they’d be too close to the path. Too bad he wasn’t there for her to tell him so. To chide him for his bad judgment. Instead, half-naked Cord was there, his back to her, a wide expanse that spoke of hard work.

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He looked comfortable working outside, the wind whipping his wavy blond hair. He leaned over to trim the lower limbs, and her gaze landed on his rear end. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. He must have heard her or sensed she was there. He turned and smiled. “I brought you some lemonade.” She held the glass out to him, hoping he hadn’t seen her checking out his behind. He reached for the glass. “Thanks.” “The grass looks good.” Grace glanced around the yard, trying to make polite conversation while her mind erased the image of his firm butt encased in faded Levis. Talk about quality and guaranteed to fit -- in the palms of her hands. She literally itched at the thought of molding her hands around his bottom. Cord Rawlings had a magnetism she couldn’t seem to fight, no matter how hard she tried. Even with the memory of her late husband’s disapproving eyes as a deterrent. “I’m just about done here. Are you ready to go to the shop now?” Cord’s question brought Grace’s attention back to him. “Ah, yeah. Whenever you are.” Grace wished she could kick herself. How pathetic she’d become. All goo-goo-eyed over a man she’d known for years -- one who, up until yesterday, she hadn’t really noticed. What had changed that? Why was she so drawn to Cord now? Especially when he was nothing like her late husband. “I’ll go load the boxes into the car while you finish up here.” “No, Grace. I’ll do that.” He grasped her arm, the contact injecting a fiery heat all the way down to her toes. Their eyes locked. Grace’s breath caught in her chest. Seconds passed. His eyes narrowed as if he were contemplating something; then, abruptly, he released her arm and backed off.

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“I’ll just put the clippers up.” His tone seemed deeper than before, and Grace refused to think about why. She turned and hurried into the house, sure if Cord had tried to kiss her, she’d have let him.

Geez, Grace. What’s wrong with you? Vincent is probably watching right now, angry at your wanton behavior, even if it is strictly in your head. When had she become so attracted to Cord? The whole situation confused her. One thing she did know as fact: she needed to keep her distance from him, or something might happen -- something she’d regret.

***** Cord cursed himself a thousand times over for touching Grace. The simple contact had left him totally aroused. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman so much, but imagining Vincent’s angry face stopped him. Cord felt sick inside. Why did he have no control when she was around? No woman had ever affected him this way. All he could think about was how soft her lips would feel on his.

Get control, Rawlings. You’d never be good enough for her. You’re the dirt under her feet. Besides, she’d never want you. With that sobering thought in mind, Cord went to put up the clippers, in no way looking forward to the ride to Grace’s shop. Having to be that close to her for twenty minutes would turn him into a bundle of nerves by the time they arrived. Thank God he planned to get away for a while. He needed time to regroup. He slipped into his shirt and headed around to the front of the house, spotting Grace carrying a box. Cord rushed to her side. “Let me take that.” He reached around the carton

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and took it from her. As he angled the box on his hip, he reached for the keys in his pocket, then tossed them to Grace. “Want to pop the trunk for me?” “Sure.” She stuck the key in the lock and opened it, smiling brightly at him. Cord swallowed. Grace Diaglo had a smile that could light up an eclipsed sky. He’d always been drawn to that grin -- those lips.

Crap. The drive to the shop is going to be pure torture. When the boxes were loaded, Cord opened the passenger-side door and waited for her to get settled before closing it. On the way to the shop, he tried to ignore the rich, floral scent, the heat of her body, and her slow, steady breathing just inches away. But it was damned near impossible. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. “Cord, the light’s red.” Grace’s voice was raised with concern. He stomped on the brake. With heat racing up his face, he glanced at her. “Sorry. I didn’t see it.” He was so distracted, he couldn’t even drive. This was not a good time for his mind not to function right. Too much was at stake. He needed to go over what he planned to ask Captain Harris, and for the life of him, he couldn’t, not with Grace sitting so close. “Why did you resign from Vice, Cord? I thought you liked being a cop.” Her out-ofthe-blue question startled him. What could he say? He’d quit because of some dirty cops? Because he felt sure that Vince’s death was related in some way? “I never fit in there,” he confessed. “Vince was really the only friend I had.” It wasn’t a lie, though it wasn’t the reason he’d left. Vincent was the only cop to offer him friendship. The others had looked at him as if he were a rabid, lone wolf. Hell, maybe he was. How could he be otherwise, with the upbringing he’d had? He cringed. He’d always been afraid people would find out about his past, about his mother.

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“Maybe you should have given them a chance. Vince gave you one.” Cord gave her a half-smile. “Vince could get along with anybody. He was just that type of person. Should I park in the back?” He hoped his inquiry would turn the discussion another direction. This topic made him sweat bullets. Talking about himself was the last thing he wanted to do. Grace looked around, apparently surprised they’d already arrived at Lightly Seasoned. “Yeah.” She frowned as they pulled up next to a green Grand Am. Unfortunately Cord knew his evasiveness hadn’t gone unnoticed. He turned to her. “Is that Emily’s car?” She nodded. “You go ahead inside. I’ll bring the boxes.” Cord opened his car door. This time he didn’t bother to come around and open hers. He was afraid if he got within an inch of her right now, he’d kiss her. Besides, she was asking too many questions -- ones he wasn’t ready to answer. He didn’t know if he ever would be.

***** Grace waited until Cord left the shop, then relaxed for the first time in hours. The man made her a nervous wreck. She couldn’t think straight when he was around. His scent, his aura, drew her to him. “So, how did you end up with Cord?” Emily’s hazel eyes were sparkling. Grace could see her sister’s mind working. “It’s a long story. One I don’t wish to talk about,” she snapped. “Come on. You walk in here with a male oozing masculinity and you don’t want to talk about it. Look at me. I have Goodyear written on my backside. Believe me, I’m not getting any. I want to hear about someone who is.”

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Grace’s jaw dropped. This was her baby sister. How could she say something so crude? Even if she and Cord had shared such intimacy, she’d never tell her about it. It’s not like Emily had told her about her adventures between the sheets. Not that she’d want to hear about them. “Nothing happened. Cord volunteered to be my bodyguard. Last night someone was watching me take a bath. Chicago P.D. thought it might be a good idea to have someone in the house, in case the guy came back. Cord just happened to show up and offered to do it.” Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “Are you all right?” “Yes, I’m fine. But Cord insisting on staying wasn’t my idea.” Emily smirked. “I’ll just bet it wasn’t.” Grace frowned. “What does that mean?” “It means, dear sister, he’s a man; you’re a woman. All alone in a big house. Do the math.” Grace couldn’t keep from rolling her eyes at Emily. Her sister had the wildest imagination. Obviously, this pregnancy had diminished her capacity to think like a normal person. Sex on the brain, that’s what her sister had. “Cord was Vincent’s partner, Emily. Nothing’s going to happen. Now, put your fantasies away and let’s price that jewelry we got in yesterday.” “You’re no fun.” Emily shrugged and walked over to get the tag tool and checked to see if it was filled. “I just have to know one thing. Have you even looked at Cord Rawlings, Grace? I mean, the man is steaming hot. If I’d met him before Charlie, who knows whose baby I’d be carrying now.” Grace was aghast at her sister’s comment. “I can’t believe you’d say such a thing. I have half a mind to tell Charlie,” she threatened. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be too happy about it.” “Charlie isn’t an old stick in the mud like you. He’d probably agree with me.”

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What had gone wrong in her sister’s brain? Cord, steaming hot? Okay, he was, but still. To think her husband would agree. “Oh, please. Just price the box of jewelry, okay?” Grace rubbed the back of her neck. Emily could try the patience of a saint. Her sister didn’t have to remind her of how sexy Cord was. Hell, her body had been doing that all day. All she needed was for her sister to reiterate it. So much for a little relaxation. Cord would be back from his errands in less than an hour, and she’d be just as frayed around the edges as before he’d left. Thanks to her sister, and her vivid imagery of Cord Rawlings and all his virile attributes -- and Emily hadn’t seen him without a shirt.

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Chapter Six

Cord entered the precinct. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the cool glares he got. So he no longer worked at the Ninth; it wasn’t going to stop him from strolling in as though he did. Everyone at the precinct had hated him, even when he was a cop, not that he cared one iota. Most were a bunch of ass-kissers anyway, and some took money under the table to keep the heat off illegal activities. He just needed to find out who. “Hey, Rawlings. I think you missed a turn somewhere,” Detective Glen Dryer said, grinning. “Larry’s tavern is a block or two over. You’re just in luck; I heard they’re having their annual pop-a-shot contest. You’d better get over there. You’d probably win handsdown.” Cord refused to let the jab rile him, but was thankful they were out of earshot of the other officers. “Thanks for your vote of confidence, Dryer. Is Captain Harris around? I need to talk to him.” “I don’t think he has time. Unlike you, he has a job. Oh, wait. Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on Widow Diaglo? Not a bad gig, I’d say.” He arched a dark brow. “I wouldn’t mind it myself. Though she’s gotten a little bony for my tastes.”

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Cord’s fists tightened at his side. Oh, how he’d love to punch that arrogant look off Dryer’s face. The hard part was listening to one of Vince’s so-called friends talk about Grace with such disregard. “Just call Harris and ask if I could speak to him. I’ll only take a few minutes of his time.” Cord tried to keep his tone from coming off icy, but failed. Dryer curled up the corner of his lip, his amusement gone. “You don’t work here anymore, Rawlings. You can’t tell me what to do.” Cord mentally counted to ten. “Cord, what brings you down here?” Bill Harris entered the room, his coffee mug dangling from his pinky finger. “I came to see you. You got a few minutes?” “Sure.” The captain walked to the coffee machine. “Let me get a cup of caffeine first. You want one?” Cord shook his head. “No, thanks anyway.” “If it was spiked with whiskey, he probably would,” Dryer said under his breath. Cord glanced at the man, who smiled as if he’d said, “Have a good day.”

Asshole. Captain Harris’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you have paperwork on the Simmons case to do, Dryer?” Dryer shrank down in his chair. “Yeah, I’m on it.” He opened a file on his desk. “You coming?” Harris was already in the doorway of his office. Cord rushed forward. Captain Harris had to be honest with him and tell him what Vince had been working on before his death.

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“Take a seat.” The captain pointed to the chair in front of the desk and moved a stack of files, then took a long swig of his coffee. “Long night. So, what did you need to talk to me about?” Cord studied the older man, noticing for the first time how gray his hair had gotten. Did he know anything about the corruption? Could he be involved? “I wanted to know if Vince was working on something that I didn’t know about.” Harris frowned, the wrinkles around his eyes becoming more prominent. “What do you mean?” “Was he working undercover on anything? Something he wasn’t able to tell his own partner about?” The captain shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cord. As I recall, you two were working on the crack house on Locus at the time of his death, right?” “Yes, but what about the Neil chop shop case? Could he have been working on that, too?” “No. Prince and Tidwell were on that. Why would you think Vince was working that case?” Cord’s gut clenched. This was not what he had expected to hear. “I found a receipt in his garage. One from Neil Automotive. They’d done work on a Lexus that Vince paid for the repairs on. You and I both know he didn’t own one. I just assumed it was an undercover sting of some kind.” Harris shifted in his chair. “If it was, it was done without my authorization. We both know Vince was a by-the-book cop.” “True. That’s why I thought you and he were working together. I wish I knew what this was all about.”

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“The only thing I can say, Cord -- and this is strictly between you and me -- is that I heard rumors that Vince had showed some interest in a woman working at the Tops and Tails. Might have been her car.” No way. If Harris said Vince was a cross-dresser, he’d be more apt to believe it. But why did that name sound familiar? “Wait a minute. Wasn’t that the strip joint we raided about a year ago?” Cord’s world crumbled around him. It couldn’t be true. Vince had been a saint. He would have never cheated on Grace. “Yes, it is.” “So, what?” Cord inhaled, afraid of what he’d hear next. “Is it possible?” The captain took another sip of his coffee, then shook his head. “Like I said, it was just a rumor. You and I know how much stock to put in that around here.” “Right,” Cord acknowledged, nodding in agreement. “Vince was a happily married man. He would have never done anything to jeopardize that.” Harris returned his nod. “You knew him better than anyone, Cord. If he didn’t tell you anything, then most likely it wasn’t true.” No statement was truer. Vince was his best friend. He would have told him if he were having an affair. Wouldn’t he? Cord stood. “Thanks for your time, Captain. I appreciate you talking with me.” When he reached the door, the captain’s gruff voice stopped him. “Hey, while you’re here, how about we talk about you coming back? You’re a good cop,” Harris admitted. “We need you.” Cord took a deep breath. “I’m keeping an eye on Grace right now. But I’ll think about it and let you know.” The captain rose and walked over to shake his hand. “Good, you do that.” Cord left the precinct with more questions than he’d had before he’d entered. Could Vince have hidden something from him, something unthinkable -- a mistress?

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The prospect seemed unlikely, but if he didn’t find out for sure what Vince had been up to, he’d never be able to think of his partner in the same light again.

***** Grace paced her bedroom floor, wondering why Cord had come back that afternoon so subdued. Something was wrong, but he refused to talk about it. Dinner had been excruciating. He’d sat across from her in deadpan silence, barely touching his food. Had she done something to upset him? If so, for the life of her, she couldn’t think what it was. She sat on the bed and felt something under her. She moved to find the key she’d placed there that morning. She turned the cold metal over in her fingers. Maybe she should find out who it belonged to. Vincent would expect at least that much of her. But where could she start? She wasn’t a cop, didn’t have a cop’s mind. But Cord did. Maybe he could help her find out where the key had come from. Yeah, and maybe he could also help her out in the sex department while he was at it. Grace covered her face with her hands as heat crept up her neck. Oh, God, what was wrong with her? Had she lost her mind? Yes, definitely. She was as crazy as a loon. She should call a shrink before she did something she’d regret. Cord would never forgive her. Light tapping on the bedroom door brought her halfway off the bed. Her heart raced hard in her chest. “Yes,” she managed in a less-than-steady tone. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Grace?” No way could she let him into her room. It would be too hard. All she would think about was Cord lying on her bed, naked, waiting for her to ride him.

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“I’ll be right out,” she squeaked, then took a deep breath, went to the door, and opened it. Cord’s shoulder was propped against the wall, his blond hair wet from a shower, his sapphire eyes troubled. She eased out of the room and closed the door behind her. “What did you need?” “I wanted to apologize for dinner. I was rude. My only excuse is that I have a lot on my mind. I just want to tell you I was sorry.” “No need to be. I didn’t think anything of it,” she lied, hoping her face didn’t give it away. Hell, it was pretty much all she’d thought about since. He smiled. “Good. I was worried.” “Could I show you something?” Grace opened her door to get the key she’d found on her bed. When she turned, Cord was standing inside her room, looking around. This was the last place she wanted him.

Okay, show him the key. Then he’ll leave. Grace placed the key in his hand. “I found this in one of Vincent’s sport coats. Do you have any idea what it could be?” Cord examined the key, then glanced at her. “Looks like an apartment key of some kind.” “Is there a way we could find out which apartment? I’m sure Vincent found it and had planned to get it back to its owner.” “I don’t know, Grace.” His brows furrowed. “Do you have any idea how many apartment complexes there are in this city? It could take a lifetime to find the right one.” Grace’s shoulders slumped. Sheer disappointment hit her. Her great idea wasn’t so great after all. He stared at her a moment. “I guess we could try, though. In the evenings, after you close the shop.” A glimmer of hope resurfaced. “Really? You’d be willing to help me?”

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He smiled. “Yes, of course. If that’s what you want to do.” She returned his smile. “Thanks, Cord. Knowing Vincent the way I do, he’d have wanted me to try.” “Okay. We’ll start tomorrow night. I’ll even buy you dinner.” The word dinner had her heart skipping a beat. Would he consider this a date? A chance to spoon, among other things? Grace’s stomach fluttered. She shook the idea. This was Cord. In the two and a half years she’d known him, she had never seen him with a woman. Wait a minute. She’d never heard him talk about dating a woman, either. A sick, sinking feeling hit in the pit of her stomach. Maybe he was gay. Maybe that’s why she’d never seen him out with any female. That could be why he was so good around the house, too. Grace watched his departing back. Watched his stride. He couldn’t be -- could he? She shook her head again. No way.

***** Cord lay on the guest bed and studied the key Grace had given him. Was this key something Vince would want his wife to find? It was an apartment key. But whose? Had Vince known the owner? Could it have been the same person who owned the Lexus? Just another question to add to the number he already had. They were really starting to pile up. His cop’s sense told him this key was important. He knew what his next step had to be. He’d go down to the Tops and Tails and do a little undercover work. If Vince had had a lover working at the club, Cord intended to find out about it before Grace did. He’d die before he saw her hurt because of an indiscretion her husband might have had. He could picture her face. The pain in her eyes. Nope, he couldn’t stomach seeing her like that again.

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He looked at the ceiling. “I hope for your sake you didn’t cheat on her, Vince.” Cord squeezed the key in his hand. “Not when you had the perfect woman waiting for you at home.” He placed the key on the nightstand and closed his eyes. Images of Grace floated around in his head. Her beautiful mouth spoke to him. He yearned to kiss her lips and feel her soft, supple skin next to his. Her sea-green eyes, filled with tears, tore at his heart. No woman had ever evoked such protectiveness in him. Her feelings and needs were uppermost in his thoughts. He’d never been in love, but he was pretty sure it felt something like this.

Hah! Get a grip, Rawlings. Love is for normal people, and you’re not even close.

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Chapter Seven

Grace rifled through her closet, angry that she couldn’t find anything suitable to wear. She’d never had the problem before. So why was the simple task of dressing this morning so difficult? Most of the time she’d just throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but that wasn’t good enough today. She wanted to look different, look nice -- and in the back of her mind she knew why. Cord Rawlings. The man had brought her out of her funk and turned her into a raving lunatic. The mere thought of him sent her heart racing, and the fact that he was just down the hall made it worse. Her dreams were no longer of Vincent, but of Cord -- dreams that made her blush. Not only did he fill her waking hours, but now her dreams revolved around him as well. What would be next? Daydreaming about him? His sad sapphire eyes beckoned for her to find out what caused his pain. Why he was such a loner, off to himself, never seeming to need anyone or anything? What had happened in his life to cause such antisocial behavior?

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Grace shook her head, determined to keep Cord and his tortured eyes at a safe distance. She didn’t need him messing with her head. She had her shop and her family, and they needed her full attention. She grabbed a pair of olive capris and a beige t-shirt and went to the bathroom to get dressed. To heck with trying to impress Cord Rawlings. He probably wouldn’t acknowledge it anyway. He seemed more likely to notice hair fibers at a crime scene then see a change in her appearance. He was a man’s man, which meant her silly deduction about him being gay was crazy. But if he was indeed into women, what type did he prefer? The ones she’d first thought of -- the brainless, big-breasted kind? Didn’t all men love well-endowed women? She looked at her chest and sighed. So she didn’t have huge boobs; at least she had brains, and that was much more important to her. Vincent had thought so. He’d loved her the way she was. Cord could take his big-breasted fetish elsewhere. She didn’t need it. All these foolish schoolgirl notions were just that -- foolish. Brushing her hair back, she secured it with a ponytail holder and went to find a pair of sandals. Now if she could just get through breakfast and the short drive to the shop, she’d feel better. In the kitchen, she grabbed a bowl and a box of cereal, thinking a quick breakfast would definitely be best. The sooner they got on the road, the sooner she’d get rid of Cord. Why she’d asked him to help her find the owner of the key was beyond her. Now she was going to have to spend the evening with him as well -- alone in a car, inhaling his incredible male scent. Maybe she’d get lucky and he wouldn’t look so good today. Maybe her attraction to him had all been some strange fantasy.

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“Morning,” Cord said from the kitchen doorway. Grace held her breath and glanced his way. Her heart missed a beat when her eyes focused in on him, admiring what she saw. Nope. Nothing had changed. His blond hair was slicked back, emphasizing his handsome, chiseled face. The jeans he had on were worn and faded, but fit him as if they’d been made for him, as did the blue chambray shirt stretched taut across his broad chest. Looking at him, it was obvious he didn’t spend much money on clothes, but he was delicious in anything he wore. “Morning,” she forced out, feeling her face heat.

Please don’t let him be able to read my thoughts. The man did strange things to her. Her body’s thermostat wouldn’t work right. Her temperature went from hot to hotter, and she had no way of adjusting it. She pushed her cereal bowl away. “Could we get going?” “Sure.” His brows furrowed together. “You don’t want to have breakfast?” Grace shook her head. “Emily’s bringing something to the shop.” Okay, so that was a lie, but she couldn’t spend another minute alone with him. Especially at the table she’d dreamed she’d made love to him on -- a vivid image that would be embedded in her mind all day.

***** Cord pulled in front of Tops and Tails, feeling a sense of déjà vu. The raid they’d done almost a year ago had garnered nothing more then a little kinky sex going on in the back of the club. Nothing out of the ordinary for a place like that. What they’d hoped to find was a link to drugs. On a tip, they went in to raid the place. The club was supposed to be dealing inside. But nothing was found. Either they’d heard Vice

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was ready to raid and gotten rid of everything, or they hadn’t been involved in any drug dealings at all. Somehow the first seemed more likely, and he’d bet money a bad cop had helped them out. He opened his car door. In his mind, he went over how he’d approach the subject of Vince. He’d just walk in as a regular patron and see what he could learn. As he entered, it took him a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. Stale air assailed his senses. Thick cigarette smoke burned his eyes. The place reminded him of the places he used to have to go into, looking for his mother. At a young age he’d seen women’s bodies in various states of undress, men pawing at them like animals. He hated the whole scene, but he was there to find out information, and until he did, he’d force himself to appear indifferent. He made his way to the bar and ordered a drink, then sat at a table next to the stage. He hoped to watch unobserved, at least until he was ready to ask some questions. Loud, drum-pounding music blared from somewhere, and a busty blonde, wearing a gstring and pasties, came out from behind a drab black curtain. She wore four-inch stiletto heels that didn’t seem to hinder her body’s gyration to a popular hip-hop tune. Obvious by their lack of movement, her breasts had been augmented to a size too taut for her body to accommodate. They looked almost plastic. Grace’s lean body popped into his mind. She had perfect proportions in his eyes. When the stripper reached the pole in the middle of the stage, her gaze fell on him, and with clear interest, she smiled. For the next ten minutes, Cord spent his time trying not to show his pity for the woman. Maybe he could pry some information from her if he handled the situation just right. Most of the girls in places such as this were tight-lipped when it came to talking about

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other strippers. The fact that they had an ethical code seemed almost laughable. Most did anything for money -- except talk about each other to the cops. The stripper moved closer to him, squatting down, wanting a little compensation for her performance. Cord reached into his jeans for money and stuffed a five into the top of her g-string, forcing a smile. Up close, he could see she wasn’t as young as he’d first thought. Probably edging close to forty, judging by the fine lines around her eyes. Otherwise she’d had a really rough life, as did most who had to resort to stripping. His mother had looked older than her years. Drinking did that to a person. Maybe it was time for him to give up the shit. He shoved his glass away as images of his mother’s haggard face bombarded him. When Mira Rawlings died, she’d had a bottle of bourbon clenched in her hand and was dead more than a day before anyone had found her outside a seedy tavern. They had to practically break her fingers to get the bottle out. No one had even missed her. A drunk leaving the same dive had stumbled over her body. She had no friends or family who’d claimed her, only him, and he’d been in Germany at the time, just nineteen, stationed with the Army. He’d been given four days to go home and bury her. Shaking the awful picture from his mind, Cord concentrated on the stripper. Her gaze pierced his. He knew the look. Lust shined in her dark eyes. She wanted more than to dance for him, but there was no way she was getting any more than the five bucks he’d stuck down her pants. The next time he had sex, he wanted it to mean something. He was tired of intercourse that left him feeling empty. That’s all he’d ever had. Hell, jacking off was more fulfilling. He wanted to fall asleep in the arms of a woman he cared for and wake up in the morning next to her. Was that too much to ask?

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Unfortunately, probably for him it was. He’d spent most of his life thinking he didn’t deserve to have what most did. Maybe that was because he wouldn’t allow himself to. A little voice in the back of his head -- his mother’s -- claiming he was a bad seed, always stopped him. But maybe he did deserve to have what most men had -- love and acceptance from a woman. Maybe his mother was wrong. The music ended and the stripper started toward the curtain, bringing Cord’s attention back to his mission. He needed to find out if his partner had been messing around. He’d see the blonde later, once she’d changed and worked her way to him. He just hoped she’d be worth his time and earn him some information.

***** “Look what I found in the box of stuff Cynthia brought in.” Emily held up a mint-green baby-doll dress. “Look at the color.” Grace glanced up from the tray of scarves she’d been folding. The dress her sister held was the exact color of her eyes, in a lush, clingy fabric. “And look,” Emily said with excitement. “Matching shoes, in a size seven. You have to keep this dress, Grace. It’s perfect for you. Go in the back and try it on.” Grace shook her head. “I don’t have time. I need to get these scarves folded before we close.” The bell above the door jingled, drawing both Grace and Emily’s attention to the front. Detective Mike Tidwell stood in the doorway. The man’s gaze darted uncomfortably around the store. Grace could imagine Lightly Seasoned was the last place he wanted to be. So why was he there? “Mike, hi.” Grace made her way to the door. “What brings you to our shop?”

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He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. “It’s not an official visit, Grace. I was wondering if you and I could maybe have dinner sometime?” Grace couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d asked to see some women’s underwear in his size. Mike had been a close friend of Vincent’s. Why would he ask her out? Especially when her husband had only been gone a short time. What was she going to say? She wanted to just say no, but she didn’t want to hurt his feeling. “Look, Mike, I’m really not ready to start dating again, but thanks for asking.” His smile fell. “Are you seeing Cord Rawlings?” His tone had deepened, and Grace was taken aback by the question. “Of course not.” “But he is staying with you.” She knew Cord’s presence at her house would cause trouble, but she was determined to squelch any rumors. “Only until they catch the man who was prowling around my house.” “I see. I’m glad to hear that, Grace. Because I saw Cord’s car parked outside Tops and Tails earlier today. He’s not the kind of guy you want to get involved with.” His remark confused Grace. She had never heard of the place. “What’s Tops and Tails?” “It’s a strip club, and not a high-class one, either.” Her stomach clenched as Mike’s words sunk in. Cord had left her at the shop to go watch women strip, and God knew what else. She felt sick inside, but what had she expected? That he spent his days going to church? She’d heard he’d been drinking a lot. Now she knew what else he did with his time, and with that knowledge went her respect for him. How could any man go in and watch women degrade themselves in such a fashion? The whole thing was disgusting. “Like I said, Mike, Cord’s just around to keep an eye on things. Nothing more.” The man’s smile returned. “Okay. So would you keep me in mind when you’re ready to start dating again?”

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“Sure,” she said to appease him. She could hardly say no, though Mike wasn’t her type at all. Barely an inch taller than she, and a little on the heavy side. “All right. Great. I’m in the book. Call me.” He turned and left. Grace glanced at Emily, whose hazel eyes were narrowed on her. “What?” “You’re not going to ever go out with that bozo, are you?” “No, but I didn’t want to hurt him.” Emily threw up her arms. “Mike Tidwell is trouble, Grace. You should have told him straight out no. And don’t you dare believe a word he said about Cord. You know darn well how the cops at the Ninth feel about him.” Why was Emily always standing up for Cord? You’d think she was dating the man. “Cord has been gone for months, Emily. We don’t know what he’s been doing with his time.” Emily’s eyes narrowed again. “Ready to condemn him, without even asking questions?” Grace didn’t understand her sister. “Why should you care what I think of Cord?” “I don’t know. I just see something in his eyes. Something that makes me think he’s a man who needs someone to care about him. But let’s drop this. Go try that dress on.” Grace rolled her eyes at how fast her sister could change gears. This time she’d allow it. She didn’t want to talk about Cord and his sad eyes. She’d seen them herself and knew Emily was right. But she wasn’t what Cord needed. Not if he was into strippers. “Okay, I’ll try the dress on. Just to get you off my back.” She took the dress and shoes from Emily. She’d try the darn things on to make her sister happy, then later hang it on the rack with all the other dresses. She had no intention of dolling up for anyone, especially Cord. Besides, he was obviously into women who wore far less.

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Chapter Eight

Cord parked his car behind Lightly Seasoned. He was still trying to erase the last two hours from his mind. Star, as she was known at the Tops and Tails, had come to sit with him, though she hadn’t given him anything but the name of a former stripper who’d briefly worked at the club. Heather Pratt. She’d said the exotic dancer had quit six months earlier, which paralleled Vince’s death. Could it be just a coincidence? Who the hell knew? If he were still on the force, he could run her name through their database and see what came up. The phonebook hadn’t proven much help to him, not when there were at least ten H. Pratts listed. He’d have to go through them one at a time, and he didn’t want Grace around when he did. The last thing he needed was for her to find out what he’d been working on -at least until he knew for sure Vincent hadn’t known the woman in question. This whole thing gave him a sick feeling in his gut, to think that Vince might not have been the person Cord thought he was. If indeed Vince had strayed, Cord couldn’t figure out why. Grace was the perfect woman. Soft and loving. Beautiful and charming. She was sweet beyond anyone he’d ever

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known before. A beautiful person in more than one way. The kind of woman you’d want to spend your life with. The whole thing made no sense. Why would Vincent want a stripper, if indeed he had been seeing one? Maybe there was a dark side to his friend that no one knew about -- another aspect of his personality he’d hidden from the world. The mere idea consumed Cord, but he had to push it aside for now. He was having dinner with Grace tonight, and he was looking forward to it. The prospect caused sweat to bead on his upper lip. He was a grown man, but she made him feel like a teenager on his first date He’d decided to take her to Portelli’s, a little place on the lakeshore he’d heard served great pasta. He hoped she liked Italian food. He exited his Camry and headed for the door, hesitating just long enough to glance at his watch. Three minutes to closing. Perfect. Cord opened the back door and made his way through the narrow hallway. Grace and Emily’s voices echoed from the front. “I’m not going to keep it, Emily.” Grace’s voice sounded strained. “Why not? It looks great on you” He came through the curtain and stopped dead in his tracks. Grace stood next to Emily in a slinky light green dress. He’d never seen her in anything like it before, and the sight kicked up his heart rate considerably. She had some damn fine legs. Why didn’t she ever show them off? “I think you should keep it, too, Grace,” he said from behind her. “You look incredible in the thing.” She faced him. Her eyes narrowed and took on a deep emerald hue.

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At the glare, Cord’s stomach clenched. Why did she look like she couldn’t stand the sight of him? What could have happened since he left that morning to make her stare at him with such contempt? Maybe he’d just startled her. “I’m sorry. I should have come in the front door.” She headed toward the back. “I’ll go change.” “Actually, you look perfect for where we’re going to dinner.” “See, Grace. Wear the dress,” Emily chimed in. “Just for tonight.” The look Grace gave Emily could have singed the hairs off a polar bear. “All right. I’ll wear it,” Grace snapped, then turned to go place the Closed sign in the window and secure the locks on the front door. Cord glanced at Emily, who shrugged, looking sympathetic. “I guess I’ll see you two in the morning.” Emily waddled toward the back of the shop. “Unless, of course, I go into labor. Then I won’t,” she flung over her shoulder as she left. When she’d gone, Cord turned to Grace. “Are you ready to go?” “Let me get the lights.” She walked to the back door, then flipped off a line of switches. On the drive to the restaurant, Cord glanced at Grace, noting the deep frown lines etched on her forehead. What had he done to make her so unhappy with him? His mind raced back to when he’d dropped her off that morning. Had he said or done anything that could have been misconstrued? He didn’t think so. He’d just told her he had a few things to do and he’d be back by the end of the workday. How could that possibly be misinterpreted? “Are you all right, Grace? You seem awfully quiet tonight.” She looked at him, her soft features strained. “How would you know? You have no idea how I am, and frankly, I know even less about you.” Cord was taken aback. “O-kay. What do you want to know?”

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“I want to know why you quit the force and left town after Vincent’s funeral.” He swallowed hard. That was the last thing he’d expected her to ask. “I don’t want to talk about that, Grace. Ask me anything else.” She shifted in her seat. “Where were you today?” God. Now he was going to have to lie. “I checked out a few apartment buildings to find out if the die-cast on the key was one they used.” Her eyes darkened another shade; then she shook her head, a few wispy strands of blonde hair falling from the clip that held it off her face. “That’s not what I heard.” Cord’s skin turned clammy. “What do you mean?” “I mean, Detective Tidwell thought he saw your car parked outside a bar called Tops and Tails. Was he mistaken?” Cord averted his eyes. She’d surely be able to read the guilt on his face. Damn his luck. The only day besides the raid he’d been inside the strip club in years, and Mike Tidwell drove by. What were the odds? What could he say? He couldn’t tell her the truth, not if it might lead to what he feared -- her dead husband’s betrayal. “I just went in for a drink.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He’d ordered a whiskey. Her narrowed eyes told Cord she doubted his story. “A drink. Really? So, why do they call this club Tops and Tails?” Grace wasn’t stupid. She knew what kind of place it was. She just wanted him to confirm it. He focused his attention on the road. He could imagine what she thought of him. Bile rose in his throat. “You already know, so why ask?” His appetite completely disappeared as acid churned in his stomach.

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“I guess I hoped Mike was wrong. Can I ask what you see in such a place, other than the obvious?” Cord’s fury ignited. She’d never believe his motives for being at the dive, even if he told her the truth. She wanted to think the worst about him. Hell, let her. He didn’t need her high moral judgment. He’d tell her what he was sure she was thinking anyway. “I’m a man, right? Don’t we all love tits and ass? And frankly, the bigger the better.” For impact, he checked out her chest and snorted. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’d like you to take me home now.” “Fine.” Cord cut the wheel and whipped the car around, narrowly missing an oncoming truck as he headed back toward South Hastings. Grace Diaglo’s respect for him had vanished, and this time he didn’t even deserve her contempt.

Grace clutched the car’s door handle, praying they’d make it back to her house in one piece. She’d never expected Cord to be so blunt with his answer and check her out with an eye of disapproval. The bigger the better. Hah! She held her tears at bay, refusing to cry in front of him. That would just make him pity her -- the last thing she wanted from him. At least now she knew for sure the kind of woman Cord Rawlings was interested in, and it wasn’t her. The car’s tires screeched as he turned the wheel and pulled in front of a liquor store. “I’ll be right back.” He slammed the car door behind him, making her flinch.

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A single tear slid down her cheek, and she swiped it away, staring at the plate-glass window in front of her. A neon sign advertising cold beer flashed like a beacon in the night, luring young and old to come in and buy a six-pack. Grace had never been much of a drinker, having just an occasional beer at company picnics, but she knew Cord had been drinking heavily since Vincent’s death. She assumed he’d gone inside to get a bottle of something. If he thought for one minute he was going to get drunk in her house, he was crazy. A few minutes later Cord came out, his head down, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He got in the car and inhaled deeply. “What? No bottle?” Grace asked, studying his profile. He turned to her. “Look, Grace, I’m not perfect like Vince, and I never will be.” He started the car and backed up, pulling out of the strip mall into traffic. “Why didn’t you get a bottle? That is what you went in the liquor store for, wasn’t it?” “Yes, but it won’t help. In the past six months I’ve learned you can’t drown your sorrows. They just float around in a haze for a short time until you sober up.” “I’m glad you realize that.” Grace leaned into the headrest. Something was wrong with her. Why had the idea of Cord staring at naked women upset her so much? She had no right to be angry with him. He was a man -- a single one, at that. It wasn’t like they were dating or anything. “Look, Cord, I had no right to preach. You’re a grown man. You have the right to do whatever you want to.” He gave her slight smile. “Thanks. So, do you want to go home, or would you rather check out some apartment complexes?” Grace glanced at her watch. Still early. “Let’s find out where the key belongs.” “Great. I know right where to start.”

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He turned left at the next intersection, heading into the heart of the city. Minutes later, Cord slowed the car and pulled into a rundown complex. It was an ugly yellow with shiny black trim. A dilapidated car stood on blocks in front of the first apartment. “Are you sure you want to check here?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “This key,” Cord pulled it out of his pocket. “Is an old style, probably used only by the older complexes.” “Okay, so what do we do now?” Grace peered around and cringed, leery about getting out of the car. A heavyset man with tattoos covering his arms from his wrist to beneath a black t-shirt came out of an apartment and headed straight for them. Grace swallowed and flipped the doorlock on her side. Cord glanced her way and frowned. “Why did you do that? We need to ask him about the key.” “Him?” “Yes. He just came out of one of the apartments, which means he either lives here or knows someone who does.” “But he ... ah ... has tattoos.” “And that makes him ...?” “Nothing. Forget it.” Cord shook his head and opened the car door. “Wait here. I’ll talk to him.” Grace released a ragged breath. She wasn’t used to this side of town or the people Cord seemed comfortable with. Then again, this could be his world. Maybe he came from the wrong side of Chicago and that’s why he never talked about himself. Maybe his life hadn’t been easy like hers and Vincent’s had and that’s why his eyes held such sadness. If it was, she

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wasn’t going to add to it by asking. If Cord wanted her to know about his past, his life before he became Vincent’s partner, she’d let him choose the time to tell her. If he ever did.

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Chapter Nine

Cord dropped Grace off at work and parked a few blocks away. He pulled out the directory page he’d torn from a payphone yellow book and unfolded it. There were ten H. Pratts to go through. Instead of punching in a number, he let his mind drift back to after he and Grace had had their squabble. They’d stopped at a few apartment buildings. All in bad sections of town. The man Grace had cringed at hadn’t been able to help them. They’d learned nothing about the key, but Cord did note how nervous Grace had been in that environment. She was obviously a fish out of water, scared of the seedier side of Chicago, the people -- the type he’d grown up around. Just another reminder of how different he and Grace were. Another reason to steer clear of her. Because no matter how hard they tried, it would never work between them. They were two very different people. He shook off the thought, then unclipped his cell phone and punched in the first number on the page, getting an answering machine. A man’s voice said he wasn’t in, but to leave a message. The next number garnered him a busy signal. He’d try it again later. The third was yet another man’s machine. He tried the next and a female voice answered.

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“Is this Heather Pratt?” “Yes. Who’s calling?” Her tone was friendly yet questioning. Cord’s pulse kicked up a notch. “Did you used to work at the Tops and Tails?” Silence filled the air space until she asked, “Who is this?” Her voice had changed from warm to hostile. “If you don’t tell me now, I’m going to hang up.” “Please don’t do that. I’m a friend of Vincent Diaglo’s. Do you know him?” Nothing again. “I’ve never heard of him. Don’t call here again.” The phone went dead. Cord had the sneaking suspicion she’d just lied to him. There had been fear in her voice. He’d heard it clearly. Why would she be afraid, if she didn’t know Vincent? What was she hiding? Was she embarrassed, unwilling to admit to an affair with his friend? He had to find out. No matter what he had to do. Glancing at the address given in the directory, Cord started his car. He was going to check out the place, see what else he could learn about Ms. Pratt. As he drove, his mind wandered back to his evening with Grace. One thing did confuse him -- Grace’s reaction to his visit to Tops and Tails. Why had she been so upset about him being at a strip club? It made no sense. Unless ... No, she couldn’t have been jealous. Could she? The idea brought a broad smile to his face, though he had to be wrong. Widow Diaglo interested in him? Highly unlikely. Seemed too far-fetched to think a woman like Grace could ever be attracted to him. Not when she’d been married to Vince. Talk about two very different people in looks and personality. Vince had had brown, laughing eyes. Cord’s were blue and sure reflected his jaded past. So why would Grace even look at him twice?

Get it through your head, Cord. She just didn’t appreciate being lied to, that’s all.

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With that in mind, he pulled into the Mellow Creek apartment building and took a sharp right toward the complex’s office, hoping his suspicions about his partner being involved with this woman were untrue. Vince would have told him about an affair. They’d talked about everything. At least, he thought they had. Maybe Vince had been afraid to tell him -- afraid Cord would go to Grace. Would he have? Funny thing was, he couldn’t be sure. He and Vince had been best friends, but Grace had meant something to him, too. She certainly didn’t deserve a husband messing around on her. Cord pulled in front of the office and left the car. If he was lucky, the manager would tell him what apartment Heather Pratt lived in, and he’d have his answers.

***** “What happened last night?” Emily asked for the third time, ignoring Grace’s previous responses. “Nothing happened, okay? Now, were you planning to do anything today?” “I’m tired.” Emily rubbed her swollen belly. “Charlie’s baby kept me up all night.” Grace frowned. “Now it’s Charlie’s baby. When did this happen?” “Oh, I don’t know, maybe when I got up to go to the bathroom for the eighth time last night. Do you have any idea how much pressure this little bundle of joy puts on my bladder?” She pointed an accusing finger at Grace. “No, you don’t. So I don’t want to hear a word from you about Charlie.” Trying hard not to laugh, Grace turned her back to her sister. She was sure Emily couldn’t wait to hold her child in her arms. She was just having another one of her fullbladder, hormone-induced mood swings.

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“Let me get this straight. You spend the whole evening with the sexy yet brooding Cord Rawlings and you didn’t even get so much as a goodnight kiss? What is wrong with you?” Grace turned and gaped at Emily. “Have you forgotten that I just lost my husband?” “It’s been six months, for God’s sake. How long are you planning to mourn? Cord won’t be available forever. They say strike while the iron’s hot, and believe me, Cord’s iron is hot for you.” “How do you know how hot Cord’s iron is?” “I have a wandering eye. He’s got nice equipment. Besides, have you seen the way he looks at you? He’s smoldering.” Her sister had lost it. “You’re crazy. Cord likes women a little on the trashy side.” “You’re just saying that because Mike Tidwell told you Cord was at that strip club.” “He was. He admitted it to me. I don’t want to talk about Cord. Drop it.” “I don’t care where he was. He’s in love with you. All you need to do is look into his eyes. You’d see that.” “You need to take your overactive imagination and come up with a new theme for the store for June, instead of fantasizing about Cord and what his eyes are saying.” “Whatever.” Emily headed behind the counter. “I’m just trying to help, but I can see you want to be miserable. I’m done trying to liven up your life.” “Good.” Grace was relieved, but unsure her sister would follow through with dropping the subject. “Have you got any ideas on how we should decorate the store for June?” “I had a few thoughts. It’ll be time for gardening season, right? How about we use vegetables in some way? Seems like all I can think about is food anyway.” “Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe some kind of play on casual wear. Planting flowers and vegetables. Khakis and denims.”

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“You mean, you actually like something I suggested? I’m dumbfounded.” Grace arched a brow. Was she that difficult to be around? “I’m not that hard to get along with, am I?” “Yes! You’re about as stubborn a blind mule.” Grace couldn’t hold back a grin. Her sister had just insinuated she was a jackass. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Emily shot her a white-toothed grin. “You’re welcome.” Grace shook her head. Could her sister possibly be adopted? She’d have to ask her mother the next time she talked to her on the phone. The thought of her parents made her sad. Sometimes she wished they hadn’t packed up and moved to Florida, a decision made without so much as a “What do you think, kids?” to either one of their children, three weeks after Grace had married Vincent. The last time she’d seem them was at Vincent’s funeral, and they’d only stayed a few days, still a sore subject with her. She’d really wanted them to stay longer. They had to have known how badly she hurt inside. She hoped when Emily had the baby, they’d come for an extended visit to spend time with their first grandchild. If not, Emily would be as hurt as Grace had been after Vince died. “Look at this.” Emily held up a lacy pink thong. “Do you think Charlie would like me in this?” Grace bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. The image of a nine-months-pregnant woman in a thong was more than she could take. “Sure, why not?” she lied. “Ha, ha. I can read you like a book, Grace.” “Sorry, but the thought of a pregnant woman in something like that? It’s funny.” “Maybe you could wear it for Cord instead?” Grace rolled her eyes. “What is this sudden fascination with Cord Rawlings?”

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Emily dropped the thong and leaned on the counter, placing her chin on her knuckles. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s just so cute, and my hormones are running amuck. I can’t help it.” “Yeah, well, maybe you could ask your doctor for something. Because, frankly, you’re driving me crazy.” Emily wrinkled up her nose. “I should ask for something for you instead -- a pill for blindness, because only a visually impaired fool could miss Cord Rawlings’s heat.” Grace didn’t know what to say. Her sister obviously needed to hurry up and have this baby before she’d lost all semblance of her sanity -- or came on to Cord. Whichever happened first.

***** Cord sat in his car in front of apartment two-thirty-five, the key Grace had found clutched tightly in his hand. He didn’t have to try the damned thing. The desk clerk had shown him the keys -- they were the same. Instinctively he knew the one he held would open the door in front of him. Vincent had to have known Heather Pratt. But how well was yet to be determined. Cord prayed it wasn’t as well as the rumors around the Ninth implied. The whole thing made no sense. When would Vince have had time for an affair? When he hadn’t been with Cord, he’d been at home. Besides, Grace was an amazing woman. Why would Vince need to cheat on her with some exotic dancer, or any other woman? For some reason, Cord’s gut feeling told him that Vince hadn’t been the man he’d appeared to be -- a man who, on the outside, looked like a dedicated cop, a friend to all who’d known him, and a beloved husband. But if he hadn’t been a faithful husband, could the rest of his life have been a lie as well? The apartment door opened and a tall, auburn-haired woman exited, heading down the street.

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Cord watched her, stunned. Either she had a hearty appetite, or she was several months pregnant. Dread cut into him. If this woman was Heather Pratt and Vince just happened to have a key to her apartment, could the child she now carried be Vince’s?

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Chapter Ten

Grace shifted on the oversized beige sofa. That evening, Cord had seemed distracted. He’d acted like he had the night she’d asked him about the key. That time he’d admitted to having a lot on his mind. Could it be that simple again? For some reason, she didn’t think so. Something was bothering him, and instinct told her it was something that weighed heavily on him. But what was it? Would he tell her if she asked? Maybe it was personal. Something to do with a woman, perhaps one he was dating. Could he have a girlfriend? The mere thought of him with a woman gripped her heart painfully. Heck, the man was gorgeous. Why wouldn’t he have someone in his life? Maybe she worked at Tops and Tails. That could explain why he was there the other day. An exotic dancer with huge --

Stop it. It isn’t as though he’s your man. He’s probably never even looked at you in that way. But what about Emily’s assumption: “He’s in love with you”? Could her sister be right? Could Cord have feelings for her? Was he afraid to tell her? Maybe he was reluctant because of his friendship with Vincent. That certainly held her back.

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If Vincent were still alive, how would he react? Would he hate the idea of her with his partner? Feel betrayed by them both? That was the million-dollar question, one she didn’t have an answer to. Anyway, it was a moot point if Cord was already involved with someone. “I saw someone prowling around outside.” Cord was on his way to the front door. Grace stared blankly at him. Her face warmed with embarrassment. She prayed he couldn’t read her mind, couldn’t know she was daydreaming about him -- thinking about touching him, feeling his warm body next to hers. Oh, God, maybe she was more like her sister than she thought. She rose. “Stay here,” he said, then stopped next to the open door. “But --” “Stay.” His command left no room for argument. Grace watched him slip out the front door, his Glock grasped tightly in both hands. Her heart jumped when the central air kicked on. She plopped down, listening intently as images of Cord being shot and killed played over in her head. She couldn’t lose another person she cared about. Tear clouded her eyes. She had feelings for Cord, feelings that were hard to admit to. How deep those feeling ran, she didn’t know yet. Her fear for him brought back the day she’d gotten the news about Vincent, and with it, the despair she’d felt. She’d known right away something bad had happened. Two of Vincent’s closest friends had stood at her front door, their eyes red-rimmed. Their words had ripped her heart apart and sent her to her knees. Grace could never go through that again. She dried her tears and fought for control of her emotions. She hated hysterical females, but right now she felt something strange building inside her. An intense terror.

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She saw awful images. Cord’s lifeless body -- a once strong and vital man who’d stirred her own body back to life. Grace clutched her chest when Cord sat down beside her, having slipped into the house without her knowledge. He gently rubbed her shoulder. “Why are you crying?” “I’m all right. I was just scared.” “I’ll protect you, Grace. You know that, don’t you?” His words opened the floodgates again, and tears ran in torrents down her cheeks. “Please don’t cry.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m here,” he said against her ear. The whispered caress stirred something deep inside her. She inhaled, stunned and intoxicated by his warm, musky scent. Her body responded to his nearness, electricity shooting up her spine, then skyrocketing her pulse. She wrapped her arms about his neck, holding on as if he were the lifeline keeping her head afloat. Her heart pounded. Her skin tingled, becoming sensitive to the touch, and she struggled for breath. He pulled back and looked into her eyes, his own darkening to midnight. At his throat, his pulse throbbed, and Grace instinctively knew her own raced just as quickly. He wiped tears from her cheek with his thumb, then, without warning, leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. The world splintered. Grace’s head felt as if it might burst. Vincent’s kisses had never muddled her senses. She felt mindless, weightless, as if she floated aimlessly on a rushing current. Cord’s kiss was more powerful than she’d ever dreamed a kiss could be. When he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing her lips, plying her mouth with pressure, Grace lost all sense of time or place. She focused on his warm, demanding lips and his tongue exploring her mouth. Her body tingled, an intense heat washing over her.

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If the world were to crumble around them that very moment, Grace wouldn’t want him to stop.

Cord’s body came to life. He’d never dreamed a simple kiss could numb his senses to everything except that moment. Her lips were sweeter than honey, drawing him closer into the wonder of her. She felt so right in his arms -- just as he’d imagined she would. But she didn’t belong there. She was Vince’s wife. Vince. His partner. His best friend. Even if the man was dead, it was wrong to want Grace. Without further thought, he pulled back and ended the kiss. Being intimate with Grace wasn’t a smart thing to do. It would only confuse things. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Cord pushed off the couch. Distance. He needed distance. He shifted nervously. “Sorry.” The guilty look on her face only added to his misery. If he could have kicked his own ass right then, he would have. Maybe he could get someone to do it for him. Hell, any cop at the Ninth would oblige. Damn it! Kissing her was stupid. Now Grace would be scared to be in the same room with him, afraid he’d pounce on her again. “Did you see anyone?” Her question drew him out of his internal struggle. “Yes, but just a shadow slipping out the gate. I couldn’t get a good look at him.” “Do you think it was the peeping Tom?” Cord was relieved that they’d moved past their uncomfortable moment. “Most likely. Do you have any idea who it could be?” She shook her head. “No. I have no idea.”

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“Can you think of anyone who might have an interest in you?” She was about to shake her head again, but instead her eyes grew big. “What? You thought of someone?” “Well, Mike Tidwell asked me out the day he came by the shop.” Grace’s announcement was like a kick in the gut. Mike had been a good friend of Vince’s, too. How could he have asked Grace out? “What did you say?” Cord’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for her answer. Her finely arched brows drew together. “I told him no, of course.” “Did he seem upset by that?” “No. Not really.” “Are you sure?” She lowered her gaze. “Well, I might have insinuated that I could change my mind.” “Really?” Cord couldn’t keep the harshness from his tone. “Why?” “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Besides, I don’t have to explain my actions to you.” Cord’s patience evaporated. “Look, Grace. Someone’s getting high off watching you get naked. Most peeping Toms are dangerous, and I’m just trying to find out who this creep is before he hurts you.” Her face paled to a milky white. Right away Cord knew he shouldn’t have said what he had. He rubbed at the tension in his neck. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is scare you. I need you to understand why I’m asking certain questions.” Cord hadn’t wanted to terrify her. He was just angry as hell at Tidwell for assuming Grace would have any interest in him, and at her for reinforcing that assumption. Better to be up front and honest from the beginning than to lead him to believe there could be

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something in the future between them. Tidwell had probably skipped all the way to his car the day he’d seen Grace. Probably could picture his grubby paws all over her. The thought made Cord sick. No way was Tidwell getting near Grace again. Cord would lay him out before that happened.

***** Cord rolled to his side, frustrated that all he could think about was Grace’s petal-soft lips on his. She always smelled like a warm spring day, all fresh and flowery. She was perfect, just as he knew she’d be. Why couldn’t his fantasy be just that -- a fantasy? Why did she actually have to be the woman of his dreams?

Because the powers-that-be want to see how much willpower you have -- or want to watch you suffer. He needed to think about something else, anything that could lull his over-amorous penis back into submission. Heather Pratt’s protruding belly came to mind.

Damn it. He needed to find out if the child she carried was Vince’s. Asking her wouldn’t garner an answer. She wouldn’t be truthful, especially when she’d told him on the phone she hadn’t even known Vince. But if she had, why wouldn’t she come forward and reveal her affair with him, a man revered in the community? You’d think she’d be shouting to anyone who’d listen that the baby she carried was his, unless she had something to hide. But what could that be? Cord had so many questions. He needed to find a way to get the answers to them all. Maybe Vince had some personal papers somewhere, ones Grace couldn’t access. Maybe down at the precinct, in his locker. Could be, if they hadn’t already cleaned it out.

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In the morning, he’d ask Grace if she’d gone through the locker yet. If she hadn’t, he’d offer to do it for her and see what he could find. If Vince had a secret life, one he’d hidden from his wife, Cord was determined to find out about it first. Grace would be crushed if he’d had a mistress and a child on the way. That would be betrayal at its worst. Vince had told him once that he and Grace had talked about having children, but his partner had admitted he wasn’t ready to be a father. Something Cord could completely relate to. It was a big responsibility. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready for it. What kind of father would he be, having had no example to follow in his own life? His mother never had a steady man, only those who’d spent the night, then disappeared, never to darken their apartment door again. Cord hated her for that. His life was a mess, and it all stemmed from his past, a tarnished childhood he’d just as soon not pass on to a child of his own.

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Chapter Eleven

Grace leaned on the shop’s counter, elbowing an earring stand, her mind off in space. She couldn’t concentrate on work. Warm, demanding lips filled her every thought. Cord’s lips. Her body tingled just thinking about them. “What’s with you?” Emily moved the stand away from Grace. “I thought I was the only one whose mind wandered.” Grace’s face heated at her sister’s observation. What was wrong with her? When had she turned into a silly schoolgirl, dreaming about a simple kiss? Who was she kidding? There was nothing simple about it. She straightened. What had she become? Oh, right. Pathetic would describe you to a

tee. She remembered Cord’s apology for kissing her, and her throat clogged with emotion. He probably hadn’t felt anything and didn’t want to say so -- afraid he’d hurt her feelings. “Grace?” Emily’s raised voice brought her out of the painful memory. “Are you listening to me?” “Yeah, what?”

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Her sister frowned. “What’s with you today? It’s not like you to go off into La-LaLand.” Grace shrugged. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” Her sister propped her hip against the counter, studying her. “Such as?” “Nothing I care to talk about.” Emily’s eyes sparkled. “It’s Cord, isn’t it? Did something happen between you two?” Grace’s face was on fire now. How come her sister could read her like an elementary primer? Emily jumped up and down. The sight was humorous, but the mood Grace was in, she couldn’t laugh. “Oh, you don’t have to say anything. Your face is red. Did you sleep with him?” “Of course not!” Grace couldn’t believe her sister would assume she’d hop into bed with Cord, just like that. “Okay, so you didn’t sleep with him. Did he kiss you?” Grace averted her eyes. “Oh, God, he did?” She looked up. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Come on. I want to know all about this kiss. Was it sweet? Passionate? What?” Grace came out from behind the counter, trying to find something to do. With all she’d been through the last few days, Grace’s patience snapped. “Don’t you have a life?” Emily grimaced, clearly wounded by Grace’s outburst. Grace regretted saying anything. “I’m sorry I want to know what’s going on in my sister’s life,” Emily snapped. “It’ll never happen again.” Grace sighed. “I’m sorry, Emily. I don’t know how I feel right now, okay? As soon as Cord kissed me, he looked like he wanted to be a million miles away.”

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Emily frowned. “Why? Tell me how the kiss happened.” Grace shrugged. “He thought he saw someone prowling around outside. I was worried that something might happen to him. It brought back the day I found out about Vincent’s death. I was crying when he got back.” “And?” Emily urged. “What happened then?” “He pulled me into his arms to comfort me, and then it just happened.” “How did it feel?” “For me, good, but apparently not for Cord. He told me he was sorry he’d done it.” “That doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it. Maybe he was afraid of his feelings. You know men.” Grace shook her head. “No, obviously I don’t. Vincent is the only man I have to go by.” “Okay, so compare kisses. Whose kiss was better?” “Emily! I’m not going to do that. We’re not teenagers.” Emily pierced her with a questioning looked. “Why? Are you afraid Vincent’s might not stack up in comparison?” Grace didn’t know what to say to that. She had to admit, Cord’s kiss had been so different, but did that make it better? A resounding Yes! echoed in her brain, making her feel even worse. “Vincent was my husband, and I loved him very much.” Emily’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t ask if you loved Vincent. That was never disputed. I just asked if he was a better kisser than Cord.” “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” A lie, but what was she going to tell her sister? Cord shook the very core of her being with his kiss. Vincent’s had never affected her in that way.

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“You’re lying. You forget who you’re talking to, Grace. I know you. I think you’re scared of how Cord makes you feel.” Why did her sister have to be right all the time? “Listen, Emily. It really doesn’t matter how I feel. Cord regretted kissing me. He didn’t feel anything. Everything he does for me is out of loyalty to Vincent. That’s all. So could we please end this conversation?” “All right, but I think you’re wrong.” Grace knew better. She remembered the look on Cord’s face. He’d wished it had never happened, and if that were the case, then she’d try to as well.

***** “Grace Diaglo asked me to come down and see if her husband’s locker has been cleaned out,” Cord said to the desk sergeant on the ground floor of the precinct. The pretty uniformed brunette looked up from the paperwork in front of her. “I have to check with the captain on that. Let me call upstairs.” Cord thrummed his fingers on the counter as he waited, all the while thinking about how Grace would feel if he found something incriminating inside Vince’s storage locker. “The captain said that they usually do, but with the circumstances surrounding Detective Diaglo’s death, they decided to wait for Mrs. Diaglo to get his belongings, and that it would be okay for you to empty the locker.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Do you need something to put his property in?” He returned her smile. “Yes, that would be great. Thanks.” She reached behind her, grabbed a small cardboard box, and handed it to him. Cord took the stairs to the basement. He pushed the locker room door open and sighed, relieved to find it empty. He didn’t need a run-in with anyone he knew right now. He located Vince’s locker and opened it, swallowing hard when he saw a picture of Grace on the top shelf.

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Vince must have loved her. Why else would he have her picture there, a framed photo he’d see every time he opened the door? Cord had to be wrong about his partner. Heather Pratt had to be carrying someone else’s child. Shaking off the thought, Cord reached up and grasped the picture, gently tracing Grace’s generous lips with his finger -- lips he knew were as soft as they looked. His throat tightened. Before self-disgust overtook him, he leaned down and placed the picture in the box. Fantasizing about her again was just hurting him. She belonged to Vince, even if he was dead.

Now get back to what you’re here for. On the shelf, tucked in the back, Cord came across a handful of papers. He pulled them out and found it was a stack of off-white envelopes, tied together by white cording. The letter on top had Vince’s name scrawled in a delicate script. Feminine handwriting, from what he could tell. Maybe they were letters Grace had written to him when she and Vince were dating? Cord turned at the squeak of the locker room door. Mike Tidwell strolled in and stopped dead when he saw Cord. “What are you doing down here?” Cord tucked the letters in his back pocket, wanting to punch the shit out of Tidwell, but he’d control the urge. For now. The man had some nerve asking Grace out. He was a jerk, one she’d do well to steer clear of. “I came down to clean out Vince’s locker.” Tidwell’s hazel eyes darkened. “Why didn’t Grace come by herself or ask one of us to do it for her?” For some reason, Mike seemed awfully angry over emptying out a locker. He was probably pissed that Grace hadn’t asked him to do the job. He’d no doubt hoped she would

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come by so he could convince her to go out with him. Maybe he believed Cord was competition. “I guess she didn’t have time. She does have a shop to run.” Tidwell leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I know. That’s one thing Vince never did like.” What the hell was the man talking about? “Vince was proud of Grace and her consignment shop.” Mike shook his head. “Vince certainly wouldn’t tell you how he felt. Mr. By-The-Book, frickin’ Boy Scout.” “What are you trying to say? Vince and I were best friends.” Tidwell burst out laughing. Cord clenched his fist, not seeing any humor in Tidwell’s crap. “Whatever.” He turned his attention to the locker and tossed its contents into the box, anxious to get away from the jerk. Tidwell made his skin crawl. “You’d better not try anything with Grace, Rawlings. I have my sights set on her. And if you mess that up, they might be aimed at your head.” Cord’s temper ignited. He turned to face Mike. “Was that a threat, Tidwell?” The man shrugged. “Call it a healthy observation.” “Go crawl back under a rock.” Cord picked up the box and headed for the door. “At least my mother wasn’t a whore.” The cutting words stopped Cord in his tracks. He faced Tidwell again. “What was that?” “Hell, everyone at the Ninth knows what your mother was. It’s been a running joke since Vince started it.” Intense pain ricocheted in Cord’s heart. “You’re lying.”

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“Right.” Tidwell’s eyes glistened with amusement. “You keep telling yourself that.” Cord slammed out of the locker room. A bunch of lies were all the man spewed. Vince had been his friend. He wouldn’t have gone behind Cord’s back to reveal something so personal. Besides, Vince knew nothing about his mother. Tidwell was just trying to start a fight, but Cord wasn’t about to let him desecrate Vince’s memory or the friendship they’d shared, no matter what anyone said.

***** Cord’s gaze darted around the shop. Emily stood behind the counter. “Where’s Grace?” “She went to pick up a package from the post office.” “I told her I didn’t want her going off by herself.” Emily grimaced. “She didn’t expect you back for a while.” “Are you okay? You look kind of pale.” “False contractions. I’ve been having them all day.” “Maybe you should sit down.” Pregnant women made Cord nervous. They were too unpredictable. Emily headed for the chair, but doubled over, gripping her belly. Cord raced to her side. “What’s going on?” “I think I’m in labor,” she managed through gritted teeth. Emily screamed, flinching with pain.

Now what? Think, Cord. “We have to get you to the hospital.” Emily shook her head. “I think it’s too late.” Tears were threatening in her panicstricken eyes. “Call an am...bul...ance.” She doubled over. “Now!” Cord picked up the phone and punched 9-1-1. Emily cried out again, this time bringing the hairs up on the back of his neck.

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“9-1-1,” a female voice said over the phone. “I have a woman in labor. She’s about to have her baby, right now,” Cord said shakily. “We have an ambulance on the way, sir. Now, are you the father?” “God, no!” Cord was never so thankful for that fact. Emily bellowed again, drawing him back to her side. “Cord, the baby’s coming.” “No, it can’t. The ambulance isn’t here yet.” “I don’t think that matters to him.” Cord took a quick, calming breath and thought back to his police training. “All right, we need clean sheets. Do you have anything?” “We have a few clean crib sheets. Over there.” She pointed, grimacing when another contraction hit her. Cord dropped the receiver onto the counter and rushed to get them, thinking about what else he needed to deliver this baby. “How about string?” he asked when he returned. “We have some package string behind the counter.” Cord ran to yank it from under the counter, then picked up the phone. “How long until they arrive?” “Five minutes.” “That’s too damn long.” He threw the phone back down and went to help Emily out of her shorts and onto the crib sheet, keeping a spare linen next to him to wrap the baby in once it was delivered. “I -- feel -- it -- coming, Cord!” Emily bellowed. Cord took another deep breath. “Did you take a class on delivery?” “Yes, why?” “Isn’t there some kind of breathing exercise you should be doing?”

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Her eyes darkened, then narrowed to tiny slits. “Here, give me your hand,” she insisted. Confused, Cord placed his hand in hers. She squeezed, then released it and said, “Could you breathe through that?” He flinched and rubbed his hand. He couldn’t believe a woman could inflict such intense pain, especially one in labor. A piercing scream brought him back to his immediate dilemma. He was going to have to do this. He glanced down and saw the head crowning. “Okay, Emily, let’s have a baby.”

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Chapter Twelve

Grace’s heart stopped when she saw an ambulance and police car parked in front of Lightly Seasoned. A dozen horrible possibilities raced through her mind. A robbery, Emily dead, or dying on the floor. She should have never left her alone. How could she live with herself if something happened to her sister? She quickly parked the car and raced for the front door. A uniformed officer stood just outside the entrance, blocking her way. “Let me in. My sister’s in there,” she insisted, pushing her way through. Inside, Emily lay on a stretcher. In her arms she held a bundle wrapped in an elephantprint sheet. Several paramedics hovered around her, one pumping up a blood pressure cuff on her arm. Cord stood to the side, wiping something red off his hands onto another sheet. Had he delivered Emily’s baby? Grace rushed to her sister’s side. “What happened?”

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Emily sighed. “Well, right after you left, I went into labor. Cord came just in time to deliver Jacob.” She pulled the sheet away from her son’s face. The infant was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Grace touched a wisp of feather-soft blonde hair on his head, emotion clogging her throat. “Oh, Emily. He’s perfect.” “Yes, he is. He has ten fingers and toes and the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.” A young paramedic interrupted them. “We have to get the new mother and baby to the hospital now.” “Okay. I’ll see you there in a few minutes. I’ll just lock up.” Grace squeezed her hand. “Oh, and I’ll call Charlie.” “God, in all the excitement, I forgot all about him. Tell him our son’s beautiful for me.” Grace nodded. “I will.” They rolled the stretcher out the door, and Grace glanced at Cord, who smiled weakly at her. She walked over to him. “Thank you for being here. I’d hate to think about what would have happened if she’d been alone.” The shop became quiet, almost suffocating. He shrugged. “All in a day’s work. My first delivery, though, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare the shit out of me. You’d better call Emily’s husband. He’ll want to get to the hospital to see his family.” Grace nodded and hurried to the phone, anxious and excited to relay the news to her brother-in-law. She was an aunt now. Tender emotions filled her. Unconditional love so intense her knees almost buckled. Next, she’d call her parents to make arrangements for their visit.

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Maybe the distraction of her mom and dad was just what she needed right now. Hopefully with them around, she’d stop thinking about Cord and the overpowering effect he had on her.

***** Cord paced the hospital waiting room, stopping to look at a pamphlet on childbirth, anxious to see Grace again. They’d arrived on the ward at the same time as Charlie, and she and her brother-in-law had been in with Emily since. “Here.” Grace held out a steaming Styrofoam cup to Cord. “I thought you could use some coffee.” He grasped the cup. “Thanks.” He removed the lid and took a sip. “How are Emily and the baby doing?” “They’re just fine. Thanks to you.” She smiled. “Is there anything you can’t do?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure there are a lot of things.” “I don’t know. You can cook and clean up after yourself, not to mention protect me from unknown perverts. Vince was definitely right about you. You are a good man to have around.” Grace’s words brought Cord back to Tidwell’s earlier comments. Had Vince actually felt that way about him, or was it all an act, like Mike had suggested? “He said that, huh?” “Yes, he did. Vincent told me you were a great cop.” “I’m glad he thought that. He was a damned good cop himself.” Cord only hoped that Vince had been a good husband, too. “Are you ready to go? I thought maybe we could stop somewhere and have dinner.” She nodded. “That would be nice.” “Good. I know this little Italian place. Do you like pasta?”

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Her green eyes lit up. “Love it.” On the way to the elevator, Cord asked, “Did you ever get a hold of your parents?” “No. I tried several times. I left a message on their machine. It’s strange, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of them since they left after Vince’s funeral. I always get their machine, but I’m sure they’ll call me at home later. Would it be all right if we came by the hospital early in the morning to bring the quilt I made Jacob?” He smiled, then punched the down button. “Sure, no problem.” “I’ll have to run the store by myself since Emily will be recuperating for awhile.” Cord hadn’t thought of that. He wouldn’t be able to leave her alone. At least until they caught the sick bastard who’d been watching her. Mike Tidwell came to mind again. Maybe he was the one trying to get a peek at Grace in the nude. He was definitely demented enough to do something like that, and obviously he had a thing for her. The idea made sense. He just had to catch the man in the act, then Cord could put him and this nonsense about Vince away. At the restaurant, he parked the car and came around to open Grace’s door. He planned to relax and have a nice meal. Forget about Vince, Tidwell, and anything else for one evening and enjoy being with Grace. This was a dream come true for him, spending time with the prettiest woman he’d ever known. Tonight, she glowed with renewed life. Her new nephew was clearly a blessing, one that seemed to have pulled her out of the despair her husband’s death had left her in. She actually looked happy for the first time since he’d been back. When they were seated at the restaurant, Cord glanced around, grimacing when he saw a familiar face. Jack Neil sat at a far table with another man whose back was to Cord. Neil was the last person he’d expected to see. Jack looked up from his food and saw them. He whispered something to the man he was with. “Grace, maybe we should go somewhere else to eat.”

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“Why?” She turned her head and obviously knew his reason. “What’s going on with you and Neil? Why do you hate him so much?” “He’s a crook. That’s all I’m going to say.” Cord wasn’t about to tell her he had a gut feeling Neil was involved in Vince’s death. It was just a hunch, and it would only upset her. She was too happy right now. He didn’t want to ruin that. “What’s he done?” Grace drew his attention back to her. “Nothing that you’d need to know.” “Right. Police business is for cops’ ears only. How many times have I heard that? The month before Vincent died, that’s all he’d say when I asked him why he had to go out in the evenings. Can you tell me what you two were working on?” Cord wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Vince had gone out after he got off-duty? Had he used work as an excuse to see Heather Pratt? Vince hadn’t been assigned to any undercover stakeouts. That was one thing he knew for sure after talking to Captain Harris. “Most of the work we do, Grace, is covert. Don’t take this personally, but I can’t tell you.” It was torture to keep lying to her, and that list of untruths was getting longer by the day. Guilt did strange things to his stomach, leaving him with a dull, aching pain. Like a burning ulcer. Hell, maybe he was getting one. But he couldn’t say a thing to Grace until he knew if his suspicions were correct. “In all the excitement, I forgot to ask about what you found in Vincent’s locker.” Cord couldn’t tell her the truth, especially with the stack of letters he hadn’t gotten a chance to look through yet. Before he handed them over to her, he had to make sure they were from her. “Not much.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I threw it all into a box. It’s in my trunk. I’ll get it out when we get home.”

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Home. Why did that sound like music to his ears? He’d never had one. Not really. When he was young, they’d moved every time his mother had gotten three or four months behind in the rent, sneaking out in the middle of the night to dupe the landlord. They’d spend a few weeks living out of her car until she’d come up with some money to rent another place. It had been a lifestyle for her, one he’d been unhappily forced into. “I’d really like to see what’s in it.” Grace laid her hand on his. “Thank you for thinking of it.” Electricity shot up his arm and quickly moved to his belly. He’d never had such a strong reaction to a woman. He could still feel her lips on his, taste her sweetness. He wished he could think of her as a friend. It certainly would make this situation a lot easier, but then again, Grace had always had a special place in his heart -- from the moment he met her.

***** Grace sat Indian-style on her bed, the cardboard box containing Vince’s locker contents in front of her. She reached inside. On top were his gym clothes and sneakers. She grimaced, wondering the last time they had been washed. Once she had opened the shop, she’d let a few things slide at home, a fact she now regretted. If she’d known she’d only have Vincent for a few more months, she would have lavished him with attention. She shook her head and went back to the box. Reaching in again, she came across some magazines. On top was Hot Rod. She’d had no idea Vincent was even into fast cars. He’d never said anything to her about it. Had there been other things she hadn’t known about her husband? She tossed the magazine aside and looked at the next. Her jaw dropped. On the cover was a naked, big-breasted blonde holding a riding crop. This couldn’t be Vincent’s.

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With shaky hands, she leafed through the pages, her face burning at the disturbing images. She quickly closed it, too embarrassed to look any further. Tears formed in her eyes at the idea of her beloved husband ogling the women in the magazine. Her mind raced. Had her husband been into this kinky stuff? Why hadn’t he ever said anything to her about it?

Come on, Grace. You think he’d tell you he was into something he knew you’d find offensive? No, he would have hidden it. What else had he hidden from her? Had she even known her husband at all? What other deep, dark secrets had he failed to mention in the duration of their three-year marriage? Suddenly, the man she’d put on a pedestal slipped, and she wondered if he should have been placed there at all.

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Chapter Thirteen

Cord held the quilt Grace had made for Emily’s son and rode the hospital elevator to the third floor. Grace stood next to him, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d spent the night crying. Earlier that morning, he asked her what was wrong, but she had denied anything was bothering her. Maybe she’d dreamt of Vince and it had brought back all the painful memories of his charred remains. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Cord allowed Grace to exit first. Without provocation, his gaze inadvertently zoomed in on her bottom. She had a cute little behind, one that would fit nicely in his palms -- a thought that made his penis twitch in response.

Get your mind on something else, Cord. Emily and the baby’s room were at the end of the long hallway in a double-occupancy suite. He followed behind Grace as a nurse drew back the curtain separating the beds. A pregnant woman lay on her back, looking out the room’s only window.

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“Good morning.” Grace leaned in to kiss her sister’s cheek. “How do you feel?” She glanced around. “Where’s Jacob?” “I feel surprisingly good, and Jacob is in the nursery right now. How about you? I wish I could say that you looked good.” Grace frowned. “That’s what I love about you, Emily -- always full of compliments.” “Sorry, but it looks like you’ve been crying.” Emily glanced at Cord. “What’s going on?” He shook his head. “No clue.” “Isn’t that just like a man?” Emily scoffed. “Never knowing anything when it comes to a woman weeping. Charlie always finds an excuse to leave the house when I get into a crying jag.” Emily looked at the woman in the other bed. “What about you, Heather? Have you experienced that?” The woman turned, and Cord felt his blood run cold. Heather Pratt. What the hell was she doing here? “I guess.” The woman’s attention locked on Grace. “Heather had some contractions,” Emily explained, pulling herself higher on her pillow. “The doctors are trying to stop them. She’s only seven months pregnant.” Grace smiled at Heather. “I’m sure they’ll be able to.” Cord inwardly cringed. If Grace had any idea who this woman was, she wouldn’t be saying that, though from the look on Heather’s face, she recognized her. What were the odds? Typical of his luck. He had to get Grace out of the room before Heather said something. Cord touched Grace’s arm. “Don’t we have to get going?” Grace sighed. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll come by tonight and see you and Jacob. Okay?” “Actually, Charlie’s taking us home this afternoon. Come by the house.”

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Relief washed over Cord. He was happy that Emily and Jacob were going home. He didn’t want Emily near Heather, either. The woman might spill her guts. Grace kissed her sister’s cheek again. “Oh, wait.” Grace reached for the quilt in Cord’s arms. “This is for Jacob. I made it myself.” Emily unfolded the blue and mint-green bundle and her face lit up with excitement. “It’s beautiful, sis. I love it.” “I’m glad. Nothing’s too good for my nephew. Well, we’d better go.” Cord and Grace turned to leave the room. “Grace,” Emily said, stopping them at the door. “Did Mom and Dad call you back?” Grace shook her head. “No, but I’m sure they will.” “I don’t know about that. It’s almost as if they’ve decided they didn’t want to be our parents any longer.” “They’ll call. After all, this is their first grandchild.” Emily inhaled deeply, then released the breath. “I hope you’re right.” “I’ll see you tonight.” Cord placed his hand on the small of Grace’s back and ushered her out of the room. The whole sordid scenario was more than his nerves could take. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades. What was going on? Everything he knew as truth had suddenly been turned upside down. He needed to find out what had happened between Heather and Vince as soon as possible. Outside the room, Grace turned to him. “Cord, I have this odd feeling I’ve seen Heather before. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out where.” Cord swallowed hard. “You’ve probably confused her with someone else, or maybe she’s been to the shop.”

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“Maybe.” Grace nodded and turned toward the elevators. Cord followed, hoping he’d put an end to her inquiries about Heather, at least for now. Though where would she have come across her? Would the woman have the nerve to walk into Grace’s shop, knowing she was having an affair with Grace’s husband? Hell, she was an exotic dancer. She probably would. How would Vince have reacted to that? Maybe he’d been into the danger element. Maybe it was a turn-on for him to come close to getting caught. Cord shook his head. Every day, Vince became more of a mystery to him -- one that left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

***** Grace flipped off the light and headed for the back door. The shop had been hectic, though when she recalled Cord helping a lady choose a dress from a stack she’d tried on, it brought a smile to her face. The woman had beamed from ear to ear to have a handsome man helping her. He was definitely a good man to have around, no matter where they were or what they were doing. Vincent would have sat in the back and sulked. Acted as if his time was being wasted. Not once had he helped her with anything at the store. Cord had actually been hands-on. Thoughts of Cord brought an incredible rush of heat coursing through her body. She could almost feel his hands on her. She met Cord at the back door. “Busy day,” he said, reaching for the doorknob. Grace went for the handle at the same time, and the contact made her knees go weak. Every time the man touched her, her stomach made a figure-eight, twisting her emotions. If she had the nerve, she’d drag him into the storeroom now and jump his bones. Crazy was what it was, to

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think of them being intimate, but she hadn’t had a sane thought since he’d come back to town. Her world had drastically changed. Not once in her twenty-six years of life had she wanted a man so much it physically hurt, but Cord made her ache with longing. Made her feel like a woman again. The two obviously had a chemistry she could no longer deny. She wanted his strong arms wrapped around her, wanted to feel his lean, naked body crushing hers. Damp heat pooled between her legs, her need building in intensity. Grace glanced up and found Cord studying her, his lips parted. She focused on his mouth -- lips full and wet as if he’d lapped his tongue over them. Lucky lips. Lucky tongue.

Kiss me; don’t kiss me, ran through her mind like a resounding echo in a cavern. Which is it, Grace? If he kisses you, it’ll lead to more -- if you have your way. As if he’d read her mind, he moved in and pressed his lips to hers, a gentle brush, ending much too quickly for her. He remained close, holding her tight, breathing deeply against her ear. Tingling sensations skirted her backbone and made her tremble. Her skin felt sensitive, every pore alive -- something she’d never experienced. She wanted him to kiss her again. Like their first shared kiss. Hot and demanding, a bonding that left her mindless of anything except his mouth, tasting -- exploring -- hers. His strong arms held her tight, making her feel safe and cared for. His callused hand ran with deliberate slowness up her arm, where goose bumps formed from his fingers caressing her skin. Grace tried to speak, but found she couldn’t, her throat now tight with passion. She took a deep, ragged breath to calm herself.

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The air around her felt strange -- hot and somehow charged, edged with a sense of danger. His thumb ran over her bottom lip, the same path followed by his tongue seconds later, an erotic lick, nearly buckling her knees. His firm mouth molded to hers, at first soft and tender, then quickly became more urgent, more demanding. The muscles in her stomach tightened. His hand slid up her side to cup her breast, making her mindless of anything except the taste and touch of him. Her nipple instantly beaded when his thumb played across her it, stirring a sensation in her lower belly. All she wanted was for Cord to be buried deep inside her, driving her to orgasm. The sound of shattering glass brought Grace out of her passion-induced state. A box on a shelf behind her exploded, raining confetti-like pieces inches from Cord’s head. “Get down!” Cord pushed her to the floor, shielding her with his body. Her heart raced. “What happened?” “Someone took a shot at us.” His voice was raspy. “Stay here. I’m going to look outside.” Grace grabbed his forearm. “No, Cord. You could get hurt.” “I’m glad you care, Grace, but I’ll be fine. I’m a cop. I know what I’m doing.” Grace nodded and released his arm. She was far from convinced he’d be all right, but they couldn’t stay on the floor forever. He had to see if the shooter was still out there.

Cord pulled his gun out of the side holster he’d just strapped on and eased his way to the door. Glass crunched under his feet. The bullet had barely missed his head, and that made him angry. Could it have been an accident? A stray shot aimed for whatever? Or had someone been trying to kill him? Either way, he was pissed.

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Slowly, he opened the door and leaned out, his gaze darting left then right. He exhaled. Behind the store there was no place for a shooter to hide, so whoever had fired the round was gone. Cord retraced his steps back to Grace and helped her off the floor. “They’re gone. I need to call P.D. and get them over here.” Her beautiful face was etched with fear. “Do you think the shot was meant for us?” He shrugged. “I can’t be sure.” The last thing he wanted to do was scare Grace further, but he was pretty sure the bullet had been aimed to at least scare them. But who the hell would take a shot? Tidwell had as much as threatened to kill him if he got close to Grace. Would the man have the balls to try? Cord unclipped his cell and pressed seven, a speed dial number for the Ninth. After relaying what had happened, he went back to Grace’s side. He found her shaking uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around her. Her quaking body stirred his protectiveness. Only minutes ago they’d shared a powerful kiss. Hell, he’d been shot at before with no reaction, but Grace’s kisses left him physically jolted -- a feeling he wasn’t used to. If he were honest, he’d admit he didn’t like feeling out of control. Obviously, he needed to avoid Grace’s lips from now on, or he was going to be a walking train wreck.

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Chapter Fourteen

“I think you should close it down, just until we catch this guy.” Captain Harris placed a reassuring hand on Grace’s shoulder as they stood near the back door of Lightly Seasoned. “Consider how many people come in here every day. Any one of them could be the shooter. It’s too hard to keep you safe otherwise.” “But I can’t close my shop. I need the income until I receive Vince’s death benefits. According to brass, for undisclosed reasons, it’s been held up.” The captain frowned. “Let me look into the situation. I’ll set a fire under them. Get the ball rolling.” “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” Grace hated the idea of closing her shop -- her reason to get up in the morning. What was she going to do all day without work to keep her busy? Puttering around the house had never been her thing. “Grace, maybe you could stay with Emily for a while? I’m sure with the new baby, she could use an extra pair of hands,” Cord suggested, coming up behind them. Why did she feel like he was trying to relinquish his job as her protector? Well, if that was the way he wanted it, then fine. She’d go stay with her sister. He was too hard to be

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around anyway. Besides, she was sure Emily could use some help. But what if that shot was meant for her? Would she be wise to stay at her sister’s? “Wouldn’t that be putting my family at risk?” Captain Harris shook his head. “I’ll post a unit in the area. You’ll be safe.” “And if Emily and Charlie have no objections,” Cord interjected, smiling, “I’d like to stay there at night.” Grace’s heart instantly reacted, missing a much-needed beat and nearly sending her into V-fib. Her uncontrollable emotions pissed her off, and out of anger, she took it out on the two men standing next to her. “I guess you two have it all figured out. I’ll just be a good little girl and do what I’m told.” “Captain,” a uniformed officer interrupted. “We pulled a .38-caliber bullet out of the wall behind the storage rack.” Harris nodded. “Good. Run it through ballistics, see what they can come up with.” Cord took hold of Grace’s arm and led her to a secluded corner. “We’re not trying to bully you into something you don’t want to do, Grace. It’s safer for you right now. I promise to get to the bottom of this quickly.” She sighed, thinking it best to listen to people who knew what they were doing. “All right. I just wish this whole nightmare would end.” He rubbed her arm, and goose bumps erupted over her body. “It will. You’ll see.” Grace recoiled from his hand. She couldn’t take him touching her right now. It brought back their earlier encounter, and guilt and yearning filled her. He frowned, and his blue eyes narrowed. He really had no idea what his slightest caress did to her, and probably didn’t care. She was just someone he could kiss and feel up when the mood struck. But she wasn’t used to someone turning on and off like a kitchen faucet.

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Understandably, being shot at would douse one’s passion, but to act as if nothing had happened at all was too much for her to handle. He was treating her as if she was just his partner’s wife again, even after their shared intimacy. His constant flip-flopping confused her. Then again, maybe he got off on playing with women’s emotions, tossing them aside like unwanted toys. Well, she was done playing. A pig would sprout wings before she allowed him to touch her again. She’d be a good little girl and go stay with her sister. That way she’d never have to be alone with Cord again.

***** Cord clasped Captain Harris’s hand firmly. “Glad to have you back,” the captain repeated. “I’m glad to be here.” Cord knew the only way to delve into the corruption at the Ninth was to be an officer and, while he was, do some digging on Heather Pratt. “I’m going to stick you at the desk in the corner. That way Tidwell and the rest will leave you alone.” Cord smiled. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” He took his cup of coffee and went to sit at his desk. His mind drifted back two years, to when he and Vince had first been assigned together as partners. Vince had immediately slapped him on the back and welcomed him to the Ninth. Cord hadn’t known how to react at the time to such an open display of friendship. Until he’d met Vince, he’d shied away from making any friends. People were normally cold and accusing once they’d learned of his juvenile history and his not graduating. He was still embarrassed about that. Luckily, he’d joined the Army, which had taught him discipline. They had changed his life and he’d always be grateful for that.

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“Hey, Rawlings, how you going to make it through the day without a drink?” Tidwell stood next to the coffee machine, a smirk on his face. “I think I’ll manage.” Cord tamped down his anger. He wasn’t going to get into a fistfight his first day back, especially with Mike. He’d bide his time. If Tidwell had taken that shot at him and Grace, he was going to prove it. But until he did, he’d act as if he had nothing against the man. So instead of punching the shit out of Mike like he wanted to, Cord turned on his computer and waited for it to boot up. If Heather Pratt had a record, he’d be able to find it. He quickly typed in her name, and a list of infractions came up. First was a shoplifting offense when she was fifteen. At twenty, she was arrested for solicitation, as well as for possession of a controlled substance. Man, she was a real piece of work. Definitely not good mother material -- too much like his own. The last time she’d been arrested was on the night they’d raided the Tops and Tails. Wow, he didn’t remember her, but then, he’d been looking for drugs at the time, not arresting the girls prostituting themselves in the back. Vince and a few of the other Vice cops had dealt with them. A bright, blinding light came on in Cord’s brain. So that could have been when his partner had met her. Still, the whole thing made no sense. Vince would have caught the woman in a sexual act -- why would he be interested after seeing her selling herself for money? Too much out of character for him. That baby damned sure had to be someone else’s. “I hope you don’t think you’re going to come in here again with that holier-than-thou attitude, Rawlings. We won’t put up with it like Vince did,” Tidwell snarled. “Everybody at the Ninth knows it’d be like calling the kettle black.” Cord took a deep, ragged breath, holding on to his last shred of control. He’d love to lay the man out on the floor, but he’d get suspended and didn’t need that right now. He had too

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much to uncover, and being at the Ninth would make that possible. “I’ll stay out of your way as long as you stay out of mine,” Cord forced out. “How would that be?” Tidwell snorted. “You do that.” Cord returned to the computer screen. He was boiling mad, but refused to let Tidwell know his derogatory comment had gotten to him -- obviously what the man had been going for. Cord’s phone rang and he picked it up. “Cord, it’s Harris. Could you come into my office?” “Sure. I’ll be right there.” He powered down the computer and headed for the hallway. Harris’s voice had sounded strained. What could he have possibly done in the ten minutes he’d been back at the Ninth? Sweat beaded Cord’s upper lip. He hoped he hadn’t done something to get fired already.

***** Grace held Jacob in her arms, amazed at how much he looked like his daddy. He had Charlie’s laughing blue eyes and sweet disposition, or at least he’d been an angel since she’d gotten there. She’d sent Emily upstairs to get some rest while she took care of the baby. Grace smiled at the infant. That was the one thing she regretted -- not having a child with Vincent. A baby would have allowed him to live on, at least genetically. A sad yearning washed over her, making her miss Vincent even more. He never should have died. If he hadn’t, she would have never kissed Cord, and she wouldn’t be so confused about how she felt or what she wanted right now. Vincent had made her feel stable, always

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on an even keel. Cord turned her emotions upside-down and sent them spinning around in circles, making her dizzy. How could anyone get a handle on that? “What do you think, Jacob?” she asked in a hushed tone. “Do you think Cord has any feelings for me?” She shook her head in disgust. “Like you could answer that.” “He might not be able to, but I can,” Emily said from the top of the stairs. “He does care about you, Grace. Give him a chance to prove it.” “How?” Grace stared at her sister, unsure what she was supposed to do. “He’s messed up, Em. We get close and then he pulls away. I don’t know how to deal with that.” “Don’t you think Cord feels the same guilt and apprehension you do? He loved Vincent, too. Maybe he feels like he’s betraying his partner, just as you’ve felt a sense of unfaithfulness to your husband.” Grace thought about what Emily said. She could be right. Cord could be as confused and guilt-ridden as she was. She smiled up at her sister. “How did you get so smart?” “That’s easy. I got all the brains in our family.” They both laughed, waking Jacob, who immediately began to cry. “See what you did. You hurt his feelings.” Emily came down the steps and took Jacob from her right as the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.” Grace walked to the front door and looked out, noting a delivery truck in the driveway. She opened the door to find a young man holding a clipboard and a long gold box with a black ribbon circling it. He smiled. “I have a delivery.” He handed her a pen and pointed to a line on the paper. “Sign there.” Grace quickly signed it and took the box. “Oh, let me get you a tip.” “Don’t bother; it’s been taken care of, ma’am.” “Okay, thank you.”

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She closed the door and carried the box into the living room, where Emily now sat, nursing Jacob. “Who are they from?” “I don’t know. I guess the card’s inside the box. Maybe they’re from Charlie.” Emily shook her head. “No, Charlie already gave me two dozen roses. They’re upstairs in my room. Hurry and open it.” Grace removed the ribbon and opened the top, unfolding the paper. Inside were a dozen blood-red roses, all large and symmetrically perfect. The sweet, aromatic fragrance filled the air. Grace tipped the box to show Emily. “They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen any that large before. I can smell them all the way over here. So who are they from?” Grace shrugged and dug around in the box for the card, pricking her finger on a thorn. “Ouch. I got stuck.” “Yes, but did you find the card?” Grace sucked on her finger, then spied a small white envelope at the bottom, tucked under a stem. She reached inside again and snatched it out. “Here it is.” Grace opened it and read the message, and her heart froze with fear. At the top of the card was her name. Beneath, in bold underlined print, Beautiful flowers, for a beautiful ...

Whore.

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Chapter Fifteen

“Cord, this is Brad Talbot from Internal Affairs. He’d like to have a few words with you,” Captain Harris announced and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in fifteen.” His boss left as if he’d had a fire set under him, and sweat broke out over Cord’s body. What the hell would Internal Affairs want to talk to him about? “Have a seat, Detective Rawlings. I’ve got a few questions to ask.” Cord sat across from him, his mind racing. He studied the thirty-something officer’s face. Nothing about his features gave away his intent. Obviously, that was why he had the job. In the eight years Cord had been a cop, he’d never come up against the board. “I can tell that you’re nervous, Detective Rawlings. Let me put your mind at ease. This has nothing to do with you. It concerns your late partner, Vincent Diaglo. As you know, his wife has applied for his benefits.” Talbot picked a pencil up off the desk and twisted it between his fingers, then asked, “Did you know that your partner was under review when he died?” Cord’s jaw dropped. No way. This had to be a joke. Some sick initiation on Harris’s part to welcome him back. Vince had been the pride of the Ninth. How could he have done

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something illegal? This had to be a ruse. For now, Cord would play along with the guy. “What did he do?” Talbot leaned back in the captain’s chair. “A number of things.” “Such as?” “He took bribes for keeping the Ninth off certain offenders’ backs. He wasn’t the only one under investigation. Anthony Prince and Detective Michael Tidwell are still under review to this day, though they are not privy to this, as Detective Diaglo was.” Cord could hardly believe what he’d just heard. This charge was too serious to be a prank. This man was here to find out what he knew. How could Vince have kept this from him? “I knew nothing about it.” “We’re aware, Detective, that you were not cognizant of the illegal activities Vincent Diaglo was involved in. Captain Harris wasn’t even informed, until he called us this morning to find out what the hold-up was on Mrs. Diaglo’s benefits.”

Great. “So, what does this mean for her? Will she receive anything?” “Not until the investigation has cleared Detective Diaglo of the charges.” Cord’s temper flared. This was his best friend being railroaded. “Do you think it’s fair to do that when the man is dead and can’t defend himself?” “I know this must be hard to hear, Detective, but we have evidence linking him to money that a mere detective couldn’t possibly earn. Did you know he paid cash for the house on Liberty?” “That can’t be right.” Cord interjected. “He inherited that house from a family member.” “No, we were able to get our hands on the paperwork for the sale. He paid for it outright. In cash, according to the previous owners.”

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Cord’s body went numb. This couldn’t be true. It had to be some huge misunderstanding -- one he hoped he could clear up with enough time and resources. Vincent didn’t deserve to have his name run through the mud, not when he wasn’t here to do anything about it. This was another thing Grace couldn’t find out about. It would hurt her too much. But how could he keep it from her when she expected to hear something about Vince’s benefits soon? He really hated to lie to her again, but what was his alternative? The truth wouldn’t set him free. Not this time. It would only make things worse. He had to think of something that would sound feasible to her. Something that would give him time to clear up this mess so Grace would get the benefits she needed and Vince could retain his record, remaining the exemplary officer in everyone’s eyes.

***** Grace stared out the picture window, watching a fat gray squirrel scamper across an electric line. Her stomach was knotted up into a tight ball. Who would have sent her those flowers and called her a whore? Had it been Cord? Would he think of her in that way after their encounter at Lightly Seasoned? Surely not! Mike Tidwell? A possibility. The whole thing made her sick inside. She wanted to cry, but refused to succumb to tears. It wasn’t going to help. Obviously, she needed to grow a thicker skin.

You’re a cop’s widow. Act like one. The front door lock clicked and the door opened. Charlie walked into the foyer, smiling when he saw her. What a great smile he had. Grace had loved Charlie Danner the moment she’d met him. Right away, she’d seen how much he adored her sister, and all Grace had ever wanted was for Emily to be happy. She was sure her sister wanted that for her, as well. And for some strange reason, she thought Cord could be the road to that happiness.

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Charlie walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder. “How’d everything go today?” Grace smiled. “Fine. Jacob and Emily are both upstairs.” He nodded. “Do you know when Cord will be here? I thought that later I’d throw some steaks on the barbecue pit.” “Sounds good. Charlie, I need to ask you a question.” “Okay, shoot.” “You don’t have a problem with us staying here, do you?” He shook his dark head. “Not at all, Grace. Heck, I thought while Cord was here, I could get him to help me do some repairs on that old tree house out back, for Jacob. I have two left hands when it comes to working with wood.” The glow in Charlie’s eyes when he spoke of his son made Grace’s heart tighten with emotion. He was definitely a proud papa and, to her, an amazing husband to Emily. She sighed. It was sad that she’d never get to witness Vincent in that realm, but he’d have been a wonderful father. “I’m going to run up and see Emily and the baby.” “Okay,” Grace said half-heartedly. “I’ll go see about those steaks.” Grace entered the kitchen, focused on preparing a meal. She’d make some kind of salad to go along with the steaks. She opened the refrigerator and looked inside, her mind meandering back to having children. What kind of father would Cord make? He was such a loner. How could he be open to a child’s needs when he was so distant with everyone? Would he even want kids? Probably not. A light tap on glass made Grace slam the refrigerator door.

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She turned to find Cord standing in front of the sliding glass door. Her heart fluttered when he smiled. The fleeting sunlight gleamed down on his head like a golden halo, highlighting each strand of hair. He looked like a god. Why did he have to be so darn good-looking? Desire gripped Grace’s belly. She’d never wanted a man so much in her life. Obviously pigs could spout wings. Inhaling deeply, Grace went to unlock the door; after allowing him inside, she shut and relocked it. She thought about mentioning the flowers she’d received, but dismissed it. She’d talk to him later about them. His smile broadened and her heart took off again, careening out of control. “How’d it go today?” he asked, his gaze intent on hers. Grace tried to speak, but found her throat clogged. She swallowed and tried again. “All right, and how was your day?” “Interesting.” He brushed a wisp of hair from her face, and Grace fought the urge to take hold of his hand and bring it to her chest. She cleared her throat. “Charlie was just asking about you.” His brows came together in a questioning look. “Really?” “Yeah, he was going to throw some steaks on the grill. I was just getting ready to make a salad.” “Can I help?”

God, no. The last thing she needed was Cord breathing down her neck -- or it was the only thing she needed. Which she didn’t want to think about. He unnerved her to the point of making her clumsy. If she allowed him to help, she might end up with a few missing appendages. “Actually, I think Charlie planned to ask you to help him work on the tree house out back.”

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“No problem. I’ll go and take a look at it now.” “Okay. I’ll tell Charlie you’re outside when he comes down.” He walked out the doors, and Grace released a ragged breath. She needed serious psychological help. She was no teenager girl mooning over a boy in tight jeans. Not hardly. More like a lonely, desperate widow wanting to divest a man of his tight jeans, which was far worse.

***** Directly after supper, Cord and Charlie climbed up the slatted ladder nailed into the base of the tree to examine the structure. Cord noticed the place was shaped like a ship, twenty feet up, in a huge old elm. Inside, Cord eased his way across the flooring on his hands and knees, relieved to find it sound. “I think the decking is pretty solid, Charlie. We shouldn’t have too much to repair.” “That’s good to hear. I’m definitely no Handy Andy.” Cord laughed. “I’m hardly a carpenter, myself, but I’m sure we can get it seaworthy, so to speak.” Charlie smiled. “I guess I have a few years before it’ll be used anyway. I just feel a need to do it now. You never know what tomorrow will bring. Mortality was thrust into my face when Vince died.” Cord nodded. “That’s true.” Charlie sat next to the door. Cord could tell by the man’s expression that he wanted to ask something. “What’s on your mind, Charlie?” “I know this isn’t any of my business, but what’s going on with you and Grace?”

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The question took Cord by surprise. Had Grace said something to him? Was she wondering where they stood, after their brush with passion the other day? “What do you mean?” “Look, Cord. You’d have to be blind not to see there’s something between you two. I think you’d be good for my sister-in-law. She needs someone who she can start over with.” “I’m not that man, Charlie. She needs someone who doesn’t drown himself in a bottle when things get tough.” Charlie shook his head. “You’re stronger than you think you are.” Was he? Cord wished he were as positive about that fact. “I have a lot of baggage. Grace doesn’t need that.” “She needs someone who can love her completely. That’s all, Cord. Between you and me, Vince was too into himself to be the perfect husband. He didn’t look at Grace the way a man in love should.” Cord was caught off guard again by Charlie’s confession. “Why do you say that?” “Vincent wasn’t crazy in love with her. They were friends before they became romantic. And, from what I witnessed, the romance wasn’t anything to write home about. Not like Emily and me.” Cord thought back to the times he’d spent with the couple, remembering they hadn’t been real affectionate with each other, but he’d thought it was just because he was around. He’d assumed they were different in private. This could have been motive for Vince to stray, if indeed he had. But it made no sense. When Cord was with Grace, he felt like a wildfire burned out of control in his body. He couldn’t be within fifty feet of her without his temperature surging to an uncomfortable level.

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All he’d thought about since their passionate exchange was Grace’s soft, firm breast against his palm, her nipple tightening in response. Her sweet, tender lips on his, inciting him to insanity. So why hadn’t Vince and Grace shared that same kind of magic? Grace was pure sexual energy, and she ignited an overwhelming passion in him that he had to fight every second of every day, or it’d take over. How could Grace have that with him and not Vince? Yet another question he had no answer to, and never would, with Vince dead.

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Chapter Sixteen

Grace stared up at the light in the tree house, contemplating what she should do. A late night breeze chilled the fragrant summer air. She wrapped an afghan tightly around her shoulders.

Should I go and talk to Cord? Goose bumps popped up at the prospect of being alone with him. He’d probably have the opposite reaction. He didn’t want to be in the same room with her anymore. Why else would he choose to spend the evening working on a tree house? Charlie had come down hours ago and gone upstairs to bed. Grace was left to wander the house, desperate for someone to talk to. She understood Emily and Charlie’s need for rest. They had a baby that kept them up. But she wasn’t even remotely tired. She was restless. Needed someone to interact with. Someone, huh! Interact, right! Who was she trying to fool? She wanted Cord. Close. Touching her. Making her feel alive again. Her decision made, she draped the blanket over one shoulder and placed her foot on the first rung, easing up the ladder. Her heart raced faster the closer she got to the tree house. At the top, she hesitated.

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What are you doing, Grace? Are you going to throw yourself at him? Beg him to make love? She cringed at the prospect. She was about to climb back down the ladder when Cord stuck his head out. “You shouldn’t be out there, Grace. It’s not safe. Hurry and get up here.” He reached around her waist and pulled her into the house, losing his balance in the process. He fell backward, and Grace landed with a grunt on top him. Seconds passed without a word or the slightest movement. Grace studied Cord’s handsome face, seeing pain. “Did I hurt you?” He swallowed once, then again, and shook his head. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” His voice was husky. Grace shivered, her body singing with excitement. Just being near him stirred sensations she’d never dreamed existed. She came to life in his arms. Making love to Cord would be magic. He excited yet terrified her, all in the same breath. She shifted her weight, and his discomfort became evident against her leg. She smiled. No passion for her, huh? This was a clear indication she’d been wrong. He wanted her, too, and that knowledge exhilarated her. His blue eyes darkened to slate. “What’s so funny? Do you get a charge from giving a man a hard-on?” Her smile grew. “Only you,” she confessed. He growled deep in his throat. “Grace, I don’t think --” “Don’t think at all. Just feel.” God, when had she turned into a blatant seductress? “But --”

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Grace placed her finger to his lips. “Shhh!” She leaned in to replace the finger with her lips. The contact sent every fiber in her being tingling to life. Her senses heightened. She inhaled, intoxicated further by the hint of wood and musk around them. Grace clasped his shoulders, drawing closer to him, pleased at the moan of pleasure it evoked. His groan grew to a full-out growl as he took control, rolling her onto her back, deepening their kiss. His hand traced a path over her shirt to her breast and caressed her nipple, which beaded in response. His weight crushing her to the hard boards of the floor only added to the excitement as she wound her leg around his, running her foot up and down his calf. Cord reached under her shirt, his hand gliding along her naked skin to her breast. She gasped with pleasure, thankful for her decision not to wear a bra that morning. He continued to explore her body, his feathered touch stirring something deep in her belly. She’d never burned for a man’s touch like his. Yearned for him to strip her naked and drive all thoughts from her mind. Reluctantly, she turned to end the kiss, and his lips quickly moved to her ear. He drew the lobe into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, a surge of electricity shooting down her spine. The sensation was pure torture, and yet she wanted it to continue. “Cord, please,” she pleaded, yanking at the hem of his t-shirt. Smiling, he slowly rolled over and removed his shirt, tossing it behind him. Grace gulped, memorizing each hard contour and plane of his body, every detail, down to the sparse blond hair trailing into his jeans. Could any man be more perfect? She touched his chest, amazed when the muscles jumped. She glanced into his eyes and saw raw desire in their blue depths. Without hesitation, Grace pulled her own top off and watched his eyes deepen to steely gray.

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Boldly, she took his hand and brought it to her breast. “Touch me, Cord. Make me feel alive again.” His hand splayed over her breast, treating it as if it were a piece of fragile glass. Grace flung her head back and closed her eyes, reveling in the gentle yet agonizing caresses, struggling for breath. Searing heat forced her eyes open when he took a nipple into his mouth, laved it, then moved to the other until she thought she’d lose her mind. The pulsating heat between her legs became unbearable. She wanted Cord naked, his hard cock inside her, ending her agony. With shaky hands, she fumbled at the waistband of his jeans and pried open the button, spurred on by the urgent need to have him ready to do just that. Grace unzipped his pants and caressed his rigid staff, and a groan of pleasure escaped his lips. She tugged at the tight denim, trying with no success to pull the jeans down. Cord grasped her hand and smiled. “I’ll do it. Lay out that afghan.” Grace spread the blanket out, every inch of her body tingling, anxious that she’d do something wrong. It had been so long. What if she couldn’t please him? Brushing the thought away, she removed her tennis shoes and was in the process of removing her own jeans when Cord’s words stopped her. “Let me do that.” Grace turned around, her full attention on Cord, who was on his knees, completely naked, his cock standing proudly erect. She was right. He was perfect in every way. Cord crawled to her side, then with tortured slowness, unbuttoned her jeans, sliding his hands in over her hips. “Lie down.” She did as instructed, and he tugged the jeans off, leaving her exposed. Surprisingly, Grace wasn’t shy at allowing him full appraisal, his eyes speaking volumes. He liked what he saw.

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He inched his way up her body, easing down next to her. “Grace, I want you to tell me what you need.” She brushed her fingers along side his jaw. “Just touch me, Cord.” His hand cupped her breast, then moved over her belly with intent, gliding between her legs to delve inside her womanly core. She moaned as his finger explored her, dipping in and out of her heat until she thought she’d explode. When she cried out, he slid over to blanket her body, his full weight melding into her, an intense throbbing proclaiming her need. He nudged her knees apart, and she held her breath as he thrust deep into her, hard and deliberate, filling her completely. She sucked in another breath and wrapped her legs around him, drawing him into her further. As they moved as one, light perspiration formed between their bodies, intensifying her body’s awareness, the friction between his chest and her nipples adding to the intensity. Grace arched up, meeting him thrust for thrust, the tension building in her body until she cried out, tight, inner muscles erupting into spasms. Cord groaned her name with his own climax seconds later and collapsed on top of her. Grace held onto Cord, refusing to lose contact with him. She knew what they’d just shared was extraordinary, leaving her with a million and a half questions. Until now, an orgasm had never been so powerful, so fulfilling, leaving her exhausted yet exhilarated at the same time. He made her feel sexy -- something she’d never felt before. Slowly, coming out of an afterglow fog, she heard a strange noise, a rocking sound with a shaky vibration. “What is that?” she asked. He looked around, and then his eyes sparkled with amusement. “We brought down the house.”

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“What?” She pushed him off to see what he was talking about. A gaping hole allowed her to see twinkling stars. She pointed to the hole. “Did we do that? How are we going to explain how that happened?” “Calm down, Grace. It’s a swinging door. See the rope hanging down. The latch must have given way.” Grace heaved a sigh. “Thank God! I thought we were going to have to fess up and tell Emily and Charlie we destroyed Jacob’s tree house with our wild antics.” “Antics? Is that what they call it these days?” Grace slapped his arm. “You know what I mean.” “No, show me.” He leaned in to kiss her, igniting a renewed spark -- one that turned into a raging inferno in her body within seconds.

***** Cord leaned back in his precinct chair, its old springs creaking, a big grin permanently affixed to his face. He was one happy man. Hell, why shouldn’t he be? Last night’s lovemaking had continued until early this morning, when they’d finally decided to try and get some sleep. Sleep. Right. Cord yawned. Even when Grace had left him and gone to the guestroom, he’d lain on the couch and thought about her. Her beautiful skin glistening in the moonlight. She was one exciting woman. Making love to her had been the highlight of his life. He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed in such a short time. He was in love -- though that wasn’t really anything new. He’d been in love with Grace for years. But now they might actually have a future together.

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“What the hell you so happy about?” Tidwell stood on the other side of his desk, a snarl curling his lips. “Harris said to give you this.” Cord was in too good a mood to let Mike Tidwell ruin it. He yanked the file out of his hand. “What is it?” “It’s a case he wants you to look at.” “Thanks.” Cord placed the file in front of him and opened it. Maybe if he just ignored Tidwell, he’d go away. “So, I heard you were called in front of review yesterday. What did you do? Do a quality check on seized liquor in the evidence room?” “You’re so funny, Mike. This year you should do a comedy act at the Christmas party.” “I just might. I guess you’ll be absent again. Last year you were the main topic of conversation. Too good to socialize with anyone here.” “With the likes of you, yes.” Cord felt his patience slip a degree. “I have work to do, Tidwell. Go pester someone else.” Harris’s loud, controlled voice vibrated from across the room. “Tidwell, do we pay you to stand around? Get back to work.” The captain grinned at Cord before turning to go back to his office. Cord looked at the file in front of him, noticing it was a missing person case. Martin Andrews, a thirty-six-year-old mechanic from the south side of Chicago. Cord continued to scan the paperwork until a name stopped him. Neil Automotive. The man worked for Jack Neil, the biggest crook in Chicago. Was it a coincidence that this missing man worked for him, or could Jack have something to do with it? Cord’s gut said that Neil did. He rose and headed for the elevator. A visit to Neil Automotive was clearly called for, and if Jack didn’t cooperate, Cord might just have to haul his ass in for questioning.

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Chapter Seventeen

Grace stood under the shower spray. Her body still tingled from her night with Cord. He’d proven more than knowledgeable in the art of love. He’d driven her body to orgasm more times than she could count, more than she’d experienced during three years of marriage to Vincent. So what did that mean? She and Cord were sexually compatible? Maybe she just hadn’t been well-suited in that area with her husband. She’d loved Vincent and always excused his lack of interest. From the beginning of their marriage, they hadn’t indulged often. Their schedules were conflicting. Vincent had worked nights, she had days. They didn’t see each other much until he was placed on the day shift; then he’d complained of fatigue. He had a high-stress job, one she could clearly see left him feeling tired and burnt-out, not necessarily interested in sex. But Cord was different. He had relished bringing her body to fulfillment -- hadn’t allowed his own until she was satisfied. What a man. Sexy, and well endowed. A man who knew his way around a woman’s body. Her heart beat faster just thinking about him. What was he doing right now? Was he thinking about her?

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Turning off the faucet, she stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, quickly drying off. She glanced in the mirror. Her face had red, blotchy patches, marks made by Cord’s whisker stubble. A trophy of sorts, to remind her of their wild night together. She smiled, happy and elated with life. Nothing was going to ruin her day. She slipped into a navy tank top and a pair of white capris, then walked downstairs to see if Emily was in the kitchen. She strolled across the living room, her mind on Cord when a loud rapping sounded at the front door. Her heart skipped at beat. Was it Cord? She hadn’t seen him that morning before he left for work. She glanced at the windmill clock on the wall. It was eleven o’clock. Maybe he had come by to take her to lunch. She raced through the living room and unhooked the chain and locks, opening the door, disappointed to find another deliveryman standing there, another long gold box in his hand. “I have a delivery for a Grace Diaglo.” “That’s me.” Grace signed the clipboard and, with trembling hands, took the box. She closed the door and placed the box on the table, too afraid to open it. What if it was from the same guy? What if the note inside proclaimed her a whore again? “Hey, who was at the door?” Emily asked from the kitchen doorway. Grace pointed to the box on the table. Emily blanched. “Do you think it’s from the same person?” Grace swallowed. “I don’t know.” “I’ll open it.” Emily rushed to pick up the box. She removed the ribbon and inched the top off, examining the content. She tipped the box to show Grace. Inside was a rainbow assortment of flowers. “They’re not roses this time,” Emily remarked. She dug under the flowers and found the card. When she opened it, her face flushed bright red.

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“What? What does it say?” Emily handed Grace the card. “I think it’s personal.” She glanced at the note. These reminded me of you. Last night was a dream come true.

Yours, Cord. Heat rushed to Grace’s face. She looked at her sister, who had the biggest smirk and inquiring eyes. “What?” Emily arched a quizzical brow. “So, a ‘dream-come-true,’ huh? You must have been really good.” Grace covered her face, too embarrassed to answer. So much for keeping the relationship a secret. Her sister knew everything, all because she was too afraid to open a darn box of flowers.

***** Cord pushed past two goons on his way to Jack Neil’s office. “We need to talk, Neil.” Jack Neil waved his men to a stop. “Boys, wait out front. If I need you, I’ll call.” He turned his attention to Cord. “I haven’t come near Mrs. Diaglo, Rawlings. So what the hell would we have to talk about?” “Martin Andrews. Wasn’t he a mechanic here at Neil Automotive?” Neil didn’t even blink. “I fired him over six months ago.” “Did you know he’s been missing for that long?” “No, but I’m surprised anyone missed him. He was always late and came in stinking of booze. And frankly, he was the worst mechanic I ever had.” “Yeah, well, coming from you, that doesn’t mean a whole lot. You hardly have room to talk about shortcomings.”

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“I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.” “Yes, you do.” Cord reached in his back pocket and flashed his badge. “I’m working the case. You’d better hope you’ve told me all you know, or I’ll be back. Here’s a warning for you, Neil. Watch your back, because I sure as hell will be.” Cord stormed from the office, all eyes on him as he went for the exit. He stalked to his car. Squealing tires off to his right had him jerking around. He caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man in a red Corvette. The guy looked back, and Cord’s knees buckled. No. Couldn’t be. It just looked like him. Cord shook his head and laughed. Jesus, Cord. You’re losing it. Vince is dead. You saw

the body yourself, his badge visible as proof. His mind raced back to the night Vince was found in their black Sedan, C-4 the catalyst for the massive explosion that left nothing but the shell of a car and Vince’s charred body. The case was still under investigation, though Cord wasn’t allowed any knowledge of where the probe had taken Homicide. But they assumed it was someone who’d had a grudge against Vince. Cord knew better. Everyone loved Vincent Diaglo. The explosion was more than likely meant for Cord. Cord jumped into his car. He started the engine and left the parking lot, pulling into traffic. In his head, he quickly went over the facts about Vince. He was being investigated at work. He might have had an affair, with a baby due in a few months. Then again, maybe he was killed for one of those same reasons. Maybe Vince had been the intended target. Talbot had told him Tidwell and Prince were being investigated, as well. Maybe one or both had killed Vince to keep him quiet. That was a possibility -- one he’d explore more thoroughly when he had time. Right now he had a missing person case to solve.

*****

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Cord took the glass of lemonade Mrs. Andrews offered him and smiled. “Thanks.” “You’re very welcome. I’m just glad someone’s trying to find my husband.” “Can you tell me a little about Martin?” The woman’s face glowed. The look in itself told Cord the woman loved her husband very much. “He was a good man. Hard working. He loved his children and wouldn’t have left us. That’s why I know something bad has happened to him.” “Jack Neil told a different story,” Cord interjected. “He implied that your husband was a drunk and had no work ethic.” Her friendly face darkened. Anger radiated from her striking amber eyes. “Jack Neil is a tyrant. Martin worked sixty-plus a week for that man, and he has the nerve to say that. You tell me, when would he have had time to drink? You have to believe me, Detective Rawlings, Jack Neil is a liar.” Cord nodded. “I believe you, Mrs. Andrews. You wouldn’t happen to have a recent picture of your husband?” “Yes, I had one taken a few days before he disappeared.” She stepped out of the room. Cord watched as a little girl, about two, toddled up to him, her cherub face framed by a mass of dark curls. Strange, but she reminded him of someone. Mrs. Andrews walked back into the room and handed him a picture. Tears filled her eyes as she touched the little girl’s head. “This is my daughter, Lily. She looks so much like her father.” “She’s beautiful.” Cord rose from the chair, placing his glass on the table. “Thanks for the picture, and the lemonade. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.” “Thank you. My husband deserves to be found.” “And I’m going to try to do that. Thanks for your time, Mrs. Andrews.”

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Cord left with the image of the little girl stuck in his head. If Martin Andrews were dead, what kind of life would that little girl have? Daycare. After-school programs. A latchkey kid, left alone for hours to fend for herself. Cord cringed at how her life would inevitably change, possibly being as awful as his had been. When he was seated in his car, he glanced at the picture Cynthia Andrews had given him, and did a double take. The man could be Vince’s brother. He had the same build, the same hair and eye color. The red Corvette popped back into his head. Could that man have been Martin Andrews? If that were the case, his wife didn’t know him as well as she thought. Cord cursed himself for not getting the license plate number. He could have traced the car. Now his only option was to run a check on all red Corvettes in the Chicago area. Not much to go on, but it could narrow the field a little. Maybe he could shorten it further by looking for male owners in their early thirties. Cord turned the car onto Roosevelt, heading back to the Ninth. As he drove, his mind drifted to Grace. Had she received the flowers he’d sent her? Had the card’s sentiments brought a smile to her face? He could only hope. From the moment he’d woken that morning, he’d inwardly had one on his. He released a ragged breath. Grace had changed his outlook on life overnight, and he’d forever be indebted to her for that.

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Chapter Eighteen

Grace studied her reflection in the full-length mirror, turning to her side to look at the back of the short black dress Emily had loaned her. She smiled as she recalled Cord calling from the precinct to ask her to dinner. He had told her to dress up and he’d pick her up at seven. She hoped he approved of what she’d chosen to wear. Grace glanced at the wall clock, butterflies creating havoc in her stomach. Fifteen minutes. She picked up the black shawl Emily had also let her borrow and headed down the stairs. Her sister stood at the bottom of the banister. “Oh, Grace. You’ll knock his socks off.” Grace whirled around, happy and excited to be spending an evening on a real date with Cord. The first, and hopefully with more to come. The doorbell rang, and Grace jumped halfway out of her skin. He was early. “I’ll get it.” Emily rushed to the door.

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Seconds later, she came back with Cord in tow. He took Grace’s breath away. He wore a dark suit that fit as if it had been custom-made for him, and a crisp white shirt with a heather-gray tie. She glanced at his handsome, smiling face and noted he’d gotten a haircut. In his hand was a heart-shaped box of candy. Flowers and candy, all in one day. It was like Valentine’s Day. His gaze met and held hers. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, then placed his hand on the small of her back and gave her the candy. “Are you ready to go?” “Yes.” Emily winked at Grace. “You two have a good time.” Grace smiled and caught the amused glance Emily gave Cord. She was glad they were on their way out; otherwise Cord would probably have had to endure embarrassing questions, the ones she’d managed to avoid, about their night together. Emily had wanted to hear every last detail, down to each kiss, but Grace had refused to tell her anything. Their night had been special, and she didn’t plan to broadcast it to the world, no matter how much her sister begged. In the car, Cord leaned over and brushed his lips over hers, then drew back. “I’ve been waiting all day to do that.” Grace sighed. “Was it worth the wait?” His brow arched. “Definitely.” Grace buckled her seatbelt. “So, where are we going for dinner?” “That’s a surprise. I hope you’re hungry.” She patted her stomach. “Starved.” “Good, because where we’re going, you’ll need to be.”

*****

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Cord opened the car door for Grace, closing it when she’d settled herself. He looked back at Ruby’s, the restaurant where he’d just enjoyed one of the biggest, juiciest steaks he’d ever eaten. When he’d gotten back to the precinct that afternoon, and after calling Grace to ask her to dinner, he’d asked Captain Harris where he’d take someone special, and the captain had suggested this place. Cord had quickly made reservations and left the precinct to buy a suit and get a haircut. He wanted their first evening as a couple to be perfect, and so far it had been, down to how gorgeous Grace looked. She was more beautiful than any woman had a right to be. Her hair had been pulled off her neck, and he’d had a hard time not nibbling at the exposed flesh. Last night’s lovemaking came back to stir his body. The woman had completely satisfied him. The only thing he wished had been different was her going off to bed without him. He’d wanted to wake up in her arms, but being under her sister’s roof made that impossible. Once they caught the peeping Tom/shooter and they were alone in Grace’s house, though, things would be different. He’d insist on spending the whole night in her bed -every night -- for the rest of their lives. What was he thinking? Every night? The rest of their lives? Would she even want that? He wasn’t sure she felt the same way he did. He loved her. Would do anything to be with her. Would she do the same? Did she want them to have a future together? Cord sighed. He and Grace had so much to talk about, but they couldn’t think of being together forever until all this mess with Vincent’s indiscretions and Grace’s safety were cleared up and behind them. Obviously that would have to be a priority for him. He needed Grace, and he wanted everyone else to know she was his, especially Mike Tidwell.

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He made his way around the car and opened his door. As he leaned in, he heard a loud pop, flinching when his window shattered. He scrambled into the car to cover Grace, his lone thought to protect her. Squealing tires brought him back up, a blur of red taillights the only thing in sight. “Cord, you’re bleeding,” Grace cried, her eyes huge with fear. Cord looked at his arm and noticed a hole from which blood seeped. So much for his new suit. Grace quickly got out of the car, slammed the door, and came around. “Move over. We have to get you to the hospital.” In a daze, Cord slid to the passenger seat and watched her start the car. She pulled out of the lot and raced down the boulevard, swerving in and out of traffic. Cord held his arm, angry with himself for not sensing something was wrong. But when Grace was with him, his reaction time was muted. She distracted his every thought. They pulled in front of the hospital emergency entrance, and Grace helped him out of the car. Entering through a revolving door, they met a nurse, who instantly took control. Cord was shoved into a wheelchair and taken to a partitioned area, then helped out of his suit coat and shirt so the wound could be examined. The doctor pulled the curtain back right as the nurse started cleaning the entry and exit wounds. The bullet had entered through the back of his arm, exiting through the front. “What do we have here?” the gray-haired physician asked the nurse. “Gunshot wound, Doctor.” “Have the authorities been contacted?” Cord remained quiet until police were mentioned. “I’m a cop. Somebody took a shot at me outside Ruby’s Bar and Grill.” The doctor tipped his head to the nurse, who rose and slipped behind the curtain.

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“Let’s take a look at this.” He examined the wound. “We’ll take some x-rays to make sure there’s no damage inside. But it looks like a clean shot through muscle tissue. As long as there’s no other involvement, we’ll probably just flush the wound and stitch it.” Cord released a breath and nodded. “Okay, let’s get those x-rays taken.” The doctor placed his hand on Cord’s shoulder. Cord stood, then followed him down a narrow hall, his mind on what had happened. This was a second attempt on his life. Whoever had taken the shot tonight was getting better. If Cord didn’t find the gunman and soon, the next shot might actually kill him.

Grace paced the small waiting room, the sterile antiseptic smell in the air churning the acid in her stomach. She glanced around and saw a young woman sitting in a padded orange chair, a toddler sleeping in her arms. Why were they here? Was the child’s father in Emergency, too? Grace stopped her pacing long enough to pick a magazine off a rack, then on second thought placed it back. She was too nervous to read. Hadn’t she promised herself never to put her heart at risk again? Hadn’t she done just that with Cord? She knew this wasn’t a life-or-death situation this time, but what about the next shooting, or the next? He was a cop. He put his life on the line every day. Could she allow herself to fall in love with him, knowing that? Fall in love? Right. It was too late. She was already in love with him. Every breath she took, every beat of her heart, was for Cord. She shook her head. When had this all happened? Last night? Last week? She didn’t know for sure, but she was deeply, thoroughly, desperately in love with Cord, and nothing or no one could change that. Not now, not after their night together.

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“Grace,” Mike Tidwell called, drawing her out of her thoughts of love. “What are you doing here?” “Cord was shot. I drove him to the hospital.” “Yeah, that’s why I’m here. The hospital reported a gunshot wound. Harris sent me.” Grace didn’t know what to say. Mike Tidwell gave her the creeps. He could be the guy spying on her and the one who’d taken a shot at them at her shop. She’d have to be blind not to see he was interested in her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and asked, “So, what, Cord was shot at your sister’s?” Grace drew back. His touch sent a cold chill racing down her spine. “No. He was shot outside Ruby’s Grill.” Mike’s eyes widened in surprise, which said to Grace he hadn’t been the shooter, at least this time. “Why were you two at Ruby’s?” “We were having dinner.” His eyes darkened. “Dinner? Why would you go to dinner with Rawlings? You do know what his mother was, don’t you? A whore. He’s scum, Grace. You’re not dating him, are you?” Grace closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying hard to keep her temper in check. Why would Cord’s mother being a whore have anything to do with him as a person? It’s not like he’d had any control over what family he was born into. “Mike, I don’t think you have any right to discuss Cord’s mother or his private life. And yes, I’m seeing him. He’s a wonderful man.” A throat cleared behind her.

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Grace twirled around, her face burning with embarrassment when she saw Cord, his left arm held in a sling. His eyes sparkled with amusement until he looked at Tidwell. “You need to get a crew out to Ruby’s and look for evidence. You’ll see the glass where my car was parked when I was hit. I’ll take Grace to the station and file a report.” He took hold of Grace’s arm and they headed for the exit. Grace didn’t know what to say. Had he heard her confession? Was he all right with everyone at the Ninth knowing they were dating? “Cord, I --” “Thanks, Grace” She stopped and faced him. “For what?” A smiled curled his lips. “For bringing me to the hospital. For putting Mike in his place.” He hesitated, then said, “For last night.” Grace glanced down, her skin prickling with excitement. Cord tipped her chin up and kissed her, a light brush of his lips that left her wanting more. But the hospital was hardly the place to show Cord how much she wanted him, and truth be told, he was in no shape to repeat last night’s performance anytime soon.

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Chapter Nineteen

Cord and Grace slipped in the back door, hoping not to wake Emily, Charlie, and the baby. “I think you should take the bedroom tonight.” Grace gently touched his arm as they paused in the kitchen. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” “No, Grace. You take the bed.” Her green eyes searched his, filled with concern. “You’re hurt. You won’t be able to get comfortable on the sofa.” Cord shook his head, a wry smile playing across his mouth. “I won’t be able to get comfortable, period.” “Are you in a lot of pain?” “Yes, but not the kind you think.” She looked confused. “Can I do anything?” Cord gulped. What a question. He didn’t want to tell her how she could take away the ache. She’d think he was a letch. Since they’d left the precinct, all he could think about was how Grace had defended him to Tidwell and how she’d even told Mike they were dating. The reverence in her voice had spoken volumes. She cared about him, and Cord wanted to

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take her in his arms and show her how much that meant to him -- to hell with any discomfort his arm would endure. His libido took precedence over anything else right now, and he wanted Grace more than he had last night, if that were possible. “Please let me help,” she pleaded, drawing him back to her. Cord studied Grace’s face intently. Watched as wisps of her blonde hair fluttered about her face, stirred by the ceiling fan above them. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something. He knew at that moment he had to have her. Time seemed to stand still as he watched the pulse point at her throat thrum like a well-oiled machine. “Could we sleep in the guestroom together?” He waited for her look of disgust, but it never came. She actually smiled, then took his hand and led him to the staircase. Cord’s heart did a back flip in his chest. “We’ll have to be real quiet,” she whispered when they stepped onto the top landing. The guestroom was located on the opposite side of the house from the master bedroom, which was a good thing. Cord didn’t exactly want Charlie and Emily to overhear what was going to happen between them. They tiptoed to the door and she slipped inside. He followed her into the moonlit bedroom and closed the door behind them with a soft click, then stood in silence, watching Grace turn down the bedcovers. She faced him again, smoothing her skirt, her gaze moving around the room. “Grace.” The quiet admonishment brought her attention to his face. “I’m a little nervous.” “Are you sure you want to do this?” “Yes.” The word held such conviction that Cord didn’t question it. He smiled and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finding it difficult with one hand.

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Grace rushed to his aid, her hands covering his. “I’ll do it.” As she worked the buttons free, Cord took in the fresh, flowery scent of her hair. He caressed a loose strand between his fingers, amazed at its softness. Inhaling, he tried to imprint the fragrance on his memory. “I’m going to have to take the sling off. Will you be okay?” Cord nodded and held his breath as she released the snaps. He flinched when he tried to straighten his arm. It was already stiff. God help him if he couldn’t make love to her in his condition. “I’m not sure how we’re going to --” “We’ll figure something out.” She unbuckled his belt, then looked up and winked at him. Cord kicked out of his shoes. With nimble fingers, Grace had him out of his shirt and pants, standing naked in front of her, then took his hand and led him to the bed. “Lie down, and I’ll be right behind you.” Her eyes sparkled and Cord’s cock hardened. He lay on his back and watched impatiently as she undressed, every movement seductive. It was agonizing, yet it made him hotter than he’d ever been in his life. His fingers itched to touch her, his mouth yearning to taste every last inch of skin. When she stood naked, moonlight casting a surreal glow over her body, Cord could hardly contain himself. She had him so hard it hurt. He was ready to explode. She unpinned her hair, silky tresses falling in waves over her ivory shoulders. The woman was an angel to look at, but after last night he knew she was also a hellion in bed. A perfect combination in his eyes. And she was his. She crawled onto the bottom of the bed, working her way toward him, like a cat on the prowl. Cord was thankful he was her prey. Her velvety hands slid up his calves, trailing along his heated skin, stirring his desire further. As her fingers worked up his thighs, he sucked in a ragged breath, sure that before she was through, he’d lose his mind.

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When her fingers encircled his erection, he squeezed his eyes closed.

Slow, deep breaths, Cord. Think baseball. Think control ... ah, hell. With purpose, her soft, pliant fingers moved up and down his shaft at a slow, torturous pace until Cord groaned and opened his eyes, noting satisfaction in hers. “Come here,” he growled and, using his good arm, drew her to him, his lips crushing hers. He cupped her neck, deepening the kiss, intent on sending her over the edge as she’d done to him. His tongue traced along the line of her mouth, and when she opened to him, his tongue darted inside to blend with hers. He pulled back to look at her. “Grace, I’ve thought about kissing you all day. At dinner I couldn’t stop watching your lips.” His hand left her neck to explore her breast, palming her nipple until it beaded tight, then moving on to her flat belly. To revel in her petal-soft skin. She moaned when his hand covered the nest of hair between her legs, his fingers spreading her womanly folds to explore her heat. He was amazed at how wet she was. “God, you’re so hot,” he whispered in her ear. He continued his intimate caresses, her little moans of delight vibrating against his mouth. She tore her lips from his. “I need you.” Cord inhaled and gestured to his arm. “I’m completely at your mercy.” She grinned wickedly, then moved to straddled him, easing down onto his cock. The feel of her intense heat encompassing him was almost his undoing. She gasped when she’d settled on top of him, then began to move up and down slowly, until it didn’t seem to satisfy her any longer and she changed direction, rocking back and forth, increasing her tempo. She rode him hard and fast. He closed his eyes, trying not to groan too loudly as wild sensations bombarded him. Moments later, he felt her shudder and tighten around him, giving rein to his own powerful release, shooting through him like a magnitude-seven earthquake.

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She eased down on top of him, her breathing shallow and erratic against his chest.

I love you. The words rushed to his tongue, but fear swallowed them. What if she didn’t love him? He’d feel like a fool. He wrapped his good arm around her and opened his eyes, smiling when he found Grace asleep. Wasn’t falling asleep directly after sex a man thing? He sighed. At least he was going to get his wish. He was going to wake up next to her -a dream that, six months ago, he’d thought would never happen.

***** Grace heard the faint wails of a baby crying. She opened her eyes and saw Cord lying on his back, looking sexy as hell. He looked so handsome. Better than Vince had ever looked to her. His hair stood up on one side, like a little boy’s. But Cord Rawlings was hardly that -he was all man. She blushed when she thought of making love to him last night. She prayed that Emily and Charlie hadn’t heard them. Last night was the first time she’d ever taken the lead in lovemaking, and she’d found it quite liberating. She moved her hand over his chest, amazed at how taut his skin felt under her fingers. He inhaled, then opened an eye and smiled. “Good morning.” “How’s your arm?” He tried to move it, but grimaced. “Stiff.” “Maybe you shouldn’t go to work today,” she suggested. She’d love nothing more than to be with him, spending so-called quality time together. “I wish I didn’t have to, but I have a missing persons case to solve, not to mention finding out who shot me last night. Hopefully, they found something outside Ruby’s.” His remark had Grace thinking. “Cord?”

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He cocked an eyebrow up. “Yes, Grace?” “Did they find out anything on that bullet pulled from the wall at the shop?” “Good question. I need to call the crime lab this morning to find out.” “Do you think it was the same guy?” “Seems probable.” She frowned. “Do you have any enemies?” “Enemies? I don’t know. Now, if you asked if I had any friends, that one would be easy to answer. I don’t think too many officers at the Ninth like me all that much.” “Nonsense. Vincent thought the world of you.” “He was the only one. I’m not real friendly with people.” “Why? Or would you rather not talk about it?” He touched her cheek. “Grace, I want to tell you all about myself, but not this morning. I better get out of here before your sister gets up. I don’t think you’d want her to catch us in bed together.” “She already knows we’ve been intimate. She opened the flowers and card you sent yesterday.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sent them.” “No, Cord. I loved the gesture. It’s just that I received some roses the day before that had a nasty note in them. I was afraid to open yours.” His blue eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me about these flowers?” Grace tucked the sheet tightly around her. “I don’t know. I guess I was embarrassed.” “Embarrassed? Why?” “Yeah. Whoever sent them thought I was a whore. At least, that’s what the card said.” He bolted upright in bed. “Word for word, what did it say?” “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful whore.”

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He shook his head. “Do you still have this card?” “No, I threw it and the flowers away.” “Would they still be in the garbage? What about the florist? Do you remember which one it was?” “I’m not sure about the name, and I’d have to ask Emily which day she has trash pickup.” “Do that. If they’re still here, keep them for me to look at. I’d better get up and get out of here. We wouldn’t want Emily to hound you all day about why I was in your room this early.” He leaned over to kiss her, then got up to get dressed. Grace pulled herself up on the soft pillow and watched, amazed at how perfect his body was. She sighed deeply. Cord smiled. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m coming back to bed. To hell with what your sister thinks.” Grace gave him her best Cheshire cat grin. She’d love for him to do just that, but now wasn’t the time -- not with her sister, Sherlock Danner, afoot.

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Chapter Twenty

Cord picked up his cell phone and punched in the crime lab’s number. While he waited, he searched his glove box for a pen. He noticed the letters he’d found in Vince’s police locker. He’d put them there days ago and had completely forgotten about them. Holding the phone against his ear and shoulder, he snatched them out. “Lab,” a woman answered. “This is Detective Rawlings. Did you get anything on the bullet pulled out of the store on Second and Reed?” “I’ll have to check on that. Can you hold?” “Sure.” Cord went back to the letters, slipping off the string. He took one and studied the handwriting. Definitely female. Opening the envelope, he pulled out the letter. The name Heather, with a silly red heart at the bottom of the page, jumped out at him. Cord took a ragged breath and started to read.

Hey, lover, I miss your mouth, all over my body. Your hard cock inside me, driving me to such incredible orgasms. I loved the role-playing best. I’ve never been Goldilocks before.

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Oh, the bit with the handcuffs was hot. I’d like to try it again. You’re my stud, Vinnie, my stallion. Cord threw the letter down. He couldn’t stand to read any more. It made him sick. Vince was not the man Cord had known -- a loving husband and dedicated cop. “Detective Rawlings?” the voice on the phone asked. “Yes, I’m here.” “We have a match on the barrel the bullet was fired from. It came from a police-issue handgun used in a burglary shoot-out with the Ninth four years ago.” How lucky was that? “Who was the gun issued to?” Could he get even luckier and have it be Tidwell’s? “Officer Vincent Diaglo.” Cord’s heart stopped. When it restarted, he asked, “Are you sure?” “Yes, hundred percent, Detective. We ran it twice.” “Okay, thanks.” Cord ended the call, more confused than he’d been before. Had Vince’s gun been recovered in the explosion? He couldn’t remember. If not, who had it? No doubt the same person who’d sent Grace the flowers with the note calling her a whore. Who would have reason to feel that way about her, and want him dead at the same time? Why did Mike Tidwell seem the perfect candidate? Cord needed to contact Homicide to find out if Vince’s .38 was found at the scene. It would suffice to say that Tidwell wouldn’t be stupid enough to use his own gun anyway. Maybe he’d gotten his hands on Vince’s before the explosion. A dead man’s gun would definitely throw anyone off his tracks -- anyone but Cord. Where did the internal investigation of Tidwell, Prince, and Vince fit into all this, or did it?

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Cord shook his head. His brain hurt thinking about everything. The what-ifs and maybes were giving him a migraine. All he knew for sure was that Vince had been having an affair with Heather Pratt, and he’d bet the bank the child she carried was his, too. That fact was going to kill Grace. She had a right to know her husband had been unfaithful, but he didn’t want to be the one to tell her. He loved her too much to see her suffer because of Vince’s infidelity. He tossed the letters back into the glove box and started his car. He’d head for the precinct to check on the red Corvette. Hopefully he’d get lucky and get a name.

***** Grace hung up Emily’s kitchen phone. A sick feeling settled deep in her stomach. Why hadn’t she questioned her parents not returning her calls before now? It had been over six months since she’d spoken to them in person. Emily hadn’t talked to them either, only their answering machine. Grace could use her loss as an excuse, but it still wouldn’t justify why she hadn’t called a few of her parents’ neighbors to find out if they’d spoken to them. Though, if something had happened to either one, wouldn’t someone have contacted her or Emily? “Did you get them?” Emily asked, coming into the room, Jacob cradled in her arms. Grace shook her head. “I got the machine again. Something’s wrong. I have a bad feeling about this. Do you know any of Mom and Dad’s neighbors?” Emily frowned. “No. They didn’t give me any names or numbers. I don’t think they knew any of them well enough to give out their numbers. What about calling the Miami authorities? Maybe they could dispatch a unit to check on the house.” Grace nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. I feel so bad that I haven’t thought about any of this until now. Six months is a long time.”

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Emily placed a hand on her shoulder. “You and I both know, Grace, that Mom and Dad have separated themselves from us over the last three years. There have been months and months between phone calls. Remember how they couldn’t wait to get back home after Vince’s funeral?” “I know, but still ... Something could have happened to them.” “You’re right. Let’s just call the Miami police and tell them the situation. That’s all we can do for now, unless you want to fly to Florida.” Grace shook her head. That was the last thing she wanted to do, but if she had to, she would. “If the Miami police don’t find them, I may have to.” Grace picked up the phone again and called information. Hopefully by the end of the day, her parents’ disappearance would be explained by nothing more than a defective answering machine.

***** Cord rubbed his sore arm while he waited for a computer read-out. He’d tapped into the motor vehicles registry and searched for late-model red Corvettes registered to thirty- to forty-year-old males. A list appeared. He sighed. There had to be a least a hundred names. It was going to take him a long time to go through the list. He glanced down the first page, then the next, stopping at a familiar name. Jack Neil. Why was his name popping up all over the place? So Jack Neil owned a 2002 red Corvette. That would explain why the car was there yesterday, but who was driving it? Martin Andrews? Why would Neil lie to him about Andrews being fired if he still worked for him? It made no sense. Cord’s phone rang. He picked it up. “Ninth precinct, Detective Rawlings.”

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“So you finally got what you wanted,” a man in a husky voice whispered. The hairs on the back of Cords neck charged. “Who is this?” The man laughed. “You mean you don’t know? I thought you were a better cop than that.” Cord had no idea what to say. “You say I got what I wanted. What’s that?” “Oh, come now, Rawlings. What have you been dying to get your hands on for the last two years?” “Nothing that I can think of.” Cord tried to mentally wade through the man’s riddles. “How about a fine piece of ass -- a piece you’ve been watching with moon-eyes since you laid eyes on her.” Was this guy talking about Grace? “Who is this?” The man laughed again. “Let’s just say it’s someone who’s not going to miss his target next time.” The phone went dead. Cord placed the phone on its cradle and cleared his throat. A tingle raced up his spine. He knew the voice, though the caller had been trying to disguise it. A series of events formed in Cord’s brain like a slide show. The first picture of Vince’s charred remains, ending with a red Corvette and a photograph of a man who could have been his body double. Who was in that car the night it exploded? Was it Vincent Diaglo, or someone else? Was the real dead man Martin Andrews? If that were the case, had Vincent killed him, placed him in the car, and blown it up to cover his ass? Vince’s demise would have definitely helped him out of the mess he’d been in with Internal Affairs. Why investigate a dead man?

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The only person it would hurt was Vince’s wife. And if Vince wanted to be with Heather, it was an easy way out of telling Grace the truth. Cord shook his head. The ramifications were staggering. If this were true, he’d known absolutely nothing about his partner. His best friend. What would this mean for him and Grace? She was still married to Vince. He rolled his chair back and rose, headed for the elevators. It was time to have a little talk with Heather Pratt. He needed to know if the baby she carried was Vince’s and if he’d come back to haunt Cord.

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Chapter Twenty-one

Cord banged on apartment two-thirty-five’s door, running over in his head what he needed to ask. He’d always been good at interrogation, and he hoped Heather wasn’t smart enough to catch on. The door opened a crack and Heather peeked out, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed. “What do you want?” By her tone, Cord knew she wasn’t going to be cooperative. From what he could see of her face, she’d obviously been crying. “I need to talk to you about Vince Diaglo. Can I come in?” The door didn’t budge. She just glared at him. “Do you have a warrant?” “No. I just want to ask you a few questions. I found the love letters you wrote to Vince. I know you two were involved.” “If you haven’t noticed, he’s dead. So leave me alone.” “Is he?” Cord watched her face, saw a flicker of terror in her eyes, though it quickly vanished.

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“What do you want?” Time to move on to something else. “Is that baby you’re carrying his?” She opened the door a crack. “What do you think?” “I think it’s a good possibility.” “Then why ask?” she snapped. “Are you going to let me in, or do you want your neighbors to know every sordid detail of your life?” Her eyes darkened, but she opened the door to allow his entrance, then closed it behind him. Cord glanced around, disgusted by how dirty the place looked. Soda cans and pizza boxes littered every possible surface. There was an overly sweet smell in the air that turned Cord’s stomach. Maybe it was her perfume. How could Vince stand to come here, let alone have sex with the woman, when he’d had Grace to go home to? The whole thing made no sense. “When did you meet Vince?” She shrugged, and Cord noticed large purplish bruises on her upper arm. Vince beat women now? Was he a Dr. Jeykll and Mr. Hyde type? Heather noticed him eyeing her bruises and covered them with her hand. She cleared her throat. “I met him about a year ago. He was one of the cops that raided the back rooms at Tops and Tails. I saw you there that night, too. You were out front. Vince told me you were too by-the-book for him to tell you we were seeing each other.” “Did he tell you right away he was married?” “Sure, but when you have what Vinnie and I had, that didn’t matter. He told me he and Grace hadn’t had sex in months. They didn’t have the spark me and Vinnie had.”

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Cord tried hard to keep his contempt for her from showing, though she was a real gem. “So the child is Vince’s?” “He wasn’t real happy at first, but he’s come around.” She realized her slip and backtracked. “I mean, before he died.” “Right,” Cord said, playing along with her error.

Go ahead and think I didn’t catch it. “Did you know that Vince had Internal Affairs on his back?” She didn’t blink an eyelash at the question. Clearly she had known. She gave him her best I’m-dumb look, then said, “What’s that?” Cord shook his head. He wasn’t getting anywhere with her. She’d obviously been coached on what to say if he came around to talk to her. But she had slipped up, and Cord intended to keep a close eye on her. She knew where Vince was holed up. Given enough time, she’d lead Cord directly to him. “I guess that’s all the questions I have for now, Ms. Pratt. But don’t leave town. I might think of a few.” She rolled her eyes at him. “If you haven’t noticed, Detective --” She patted her huge belly. “-- I’m in no condition to go anywhere. Oh, and Rawlings, I’m going to give you a little advice. Keep your head down, or you might end up with it missing.” “If that’s a threat, take a number. That’s the third one I’ve gotten this week.” She smiled crookedly. “Maybe that’s a sign you’re treading where you shouldn’t.” “Undoubtedly,” Cord acknowledged, then turned to leave. “Oh, one last question, Ms. Pratt. What kind of car do you drive?” “A Lexus. Why?” “Just curious.” He stepped toward the door to leave. At least he now had that loose end tied up.

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What a crock of crap this whole thing was. He knew he’d stepped in something rotten with Vince, Heather, and Jack Neil, but instead of the smell dissipating as it should have, it was getting funkier by the minute, and from what he could tell, it stemmed from two of the most deadly of sins. Lust and greed.

***** Grace raced to meet Cord when he pulled up to the curb at Emily’s. She had to talk to him about her parents. The Miami police had called her earlier to report their neighbors hadn’t seen them since they’d left for the funeral. Before he could open his door, Grace did. He’d be able to tell by her face something was wrong. “Are you all right?” He got out, and she flung herself into his arms. “Grace, honey, what’s the matter.” “My parents are missing,” she forced out. “Don’t they live in Florida? How do you know they’re missing?” She pulled back to look him in the eye. “I talked to the Miami police. My parents’ neighbors told them they haven’t seen either one in over six months.” “Wow, that’s strange.” “Since Vince’s funeral, Cord,” she continued. “This isn’t good, is it?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Let me get on the phone and find out if they arrived back in Florida. Do you remember what day they left?” “The officer I talked to said that the neighbors picked up their papers, just assuming they’d decided to stay here in Chicago. He said piles of mail cluttered the floor under the mail drop in the house. And yes, it was the tenth of December.” “Have you talked to them at all in the last six months?”

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Tears clouded Grace’s eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d been so self-absorbed. “No. I talked to their machine.” His eyes narrowed. “Was it common for you to not hear back?” “Sometimes. I guess I just assumed they didn’t care. They were so flippant after Vince died. They insisted on leaving the day after his funeral, and I was upset by that.” “This is not your fault, Grace. You had no way of knowing they hadn’t made it home.” “I know, but I should have sensed something was wrong. They’re my parents.” “I didn’t,” Cord slipped in. Grace heard guilt in those two little words. Had Cord been through something similar to this? “What do you mean?” “Just that I was in Germany when my mother died. I never felt anything. Of course, we weren’t on the greatest terms with each other. What Tidwell told you last night was true. She was a drunk and a whore.” “Whatever your mother did doesn’t give that man a right to think badly of you, Cord. Everyone should be judged on his or her own merits, not someone else’s.” “I did sink into a bottle for a few months, but I took a good, hard look at myself. I didn’t want to repeat what I resented so much about my mother.” Grace smiled. “And that’s a good thing. I’m proud of you.” He sighed. “Let me call some people and see if I can find out if they took a flight back to Florida. If they did, then we’ll have to work with Miami police on the case; if not, we’ll get involved on this end.” Grace nodded. She was glad Cord was there to take charge. At this point, she was worried to death and couldn’t think clearly. What if her parents were dead? Had been for over six months? How would she deal with that? Cord placed his hand over the mouthpiece of his cell phone. “Grace, would you grab my pad and pen out of the glove box?”

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Grace raced around the car and swung the door open, popping the box. She rifled through it and found a pen and a stack of letters. The name on the top stopped her. Vince’s name in a distinct feminine scrawl was there. She opened one and started to read, her stomach lurching at the contents. Vincent, her beloved husband, had been having an affair with some woman named Heather. The letter was filled with disgusting innuendoes about what she’d do to him the next time they were together. Tears formed in Grace’s eyes, ready to spill, when she realized that not only had her husband been unfaithful, but Cord had kept this from her. The letters were in his car. He must have read them. “Did you find a pen, Grace?” he asked from the other side of the car. She stood and looked at him. The man she loved. The man who had changed her life. A man who had lied to her. What else was he hiding? She raised the letters and shook them at him. “When were you going to tell me about these? How long have you know about Vince’s little affair? Did you know about it when he was alive?” “No, Grace. I just found --” “Save it. I don’t believe you. You’re just like my husband -- a big, fat liar. And probably, given enough time, a cheat as well. I don’t ever want to see you again.” He pulled the phone away from his face. “Don’t say that, Grace. I was afraid to tell you the truth, sweetheart. I didn’t want to hurt you.” She glared at him. “Oh, you hurt me all right, by not telling me what you knew about my husband.” Grace pivoted on her heels and ran to the house. Her heart was broken in two, and this time it wouldn’t heal -- not with all the deception exhibited by the only two men in her life she’d loved.

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Trust was the most important thing in a relationship, and if you didn’t have that, you didn’t have anything.

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Chapter Twenty-two

The front door to Emily’s house slammed behind Grace, and Cord’s world crumbled in around him. Her face had said it all. She hated him for not telling her about Vince’s affair. Why the hell hadn’t he remembered the letters were in his car? What was he going to do now? An O’Hare ticket agent spoke. “Detective, we show that they had reservations on flight two-sixty-three, but they never picked up the tickets.” “Okay, thank you.” Cord closed his phone, his gaze still glued to Emily and Charlie’s door. He had to make this right with Grace. He loved her too much to lose her now. But first he had to find out what had happened to Grace’s parents. It worried him. Two people couldn’t just vanish into thin air. Someone had to know where they were. What did he know? They didn’t make the flight. So what had happened to them between Grace’s house and the airport? What a dilemma. Six months was a long time to try to retrace someone’s steps, but it wasn’t impossible.

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Where should he start? Had they rented a car? Taken a taxi to airport? This was a question only Grace could answer. He walked up the drive to the door and knocked. Emily answered it, her face blazing with anger. “What? Haven’t you done enough?” “Emily, I’m sorry I didn’t tell Grace what I found out. I need to talk to her.” “She doesn’t want to talk to you. So go away.” Emily tried to slam the door, but Cord stopped her. “I need to know how your parents got to the airport.” She looked confused. “What?” “Did they take a taxi that day? Do you know?” “Yes, they did. Why?” “Because they never made their flight, which means something happened to them on their way to the airport. Can you recall the service they used?” “Yes, Windy City Cab. I called them myself.” “All right. This is at least some place to start. I’ll let you know if I find out anything. I want you to know that I love Grace, Emily. I’m not going to let her throw away what we have. You tell her that.” Emily leaned her head on the door. “Okay, but she’s very angry right now.” Cord threaded his hand through his hair. “I know. I should have told her about what I’d learned, but I didn’t want to hurt her.” He sighed. “I’m headed to the cab company. I’ll call you if I find out anything.” Emily nodded, then closed the door. Cord spun around and raced to his car, determined to find out what happened to Grace’s parents.

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He had a bad feeling in his gut about them and just hoped his stomach’s reaction was wrong.

***** Grace wiped at her eyes. How could her husband have done this to her? Who was this Heather in the letters? Heather? Why was that name so familiar? The hospital. Emily’s roommate had been a Heather. Grace remembered how strangely the woman had looked at her. Like she’d seen a ghost. Oh,

God. Was she the woman Vincent had been screwing around with? Grace had thought she’d seen her somewhere before. Would she have the nerve to show up at the shop?

Think, Grace. She racked her brain. Think about the woman not pregnant. Her hands flew to her mouth, strangling a sob. The woman was pregnant. Was she carrying her husband’s child? Intense anger filled her and left her shaking. If Vincent were here, she’d kill him. “I think we should wait a few years to have children, Grace” had been his words to her when she mentioned having a child. So he didn’t want children with her, but he could have one with this woman? Grace swiped at another tear. No wonder he’d been too tired to have sex with her. He was getting it somewhere else. Images of her husband in this woman’s arm buckled her knees. She fell to the floor, sure the magnitude of his betrayal would kill her. It hurt so bad she wanted to die. “Grace.” Emily sat down beside her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “It’ll be okay.” Grace shook her head. “No, it won’t. How could I ever trust anyone again? My husband was having an affair. Screwing around with some woman named Heather. Do you remember

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your roommate in the hospital? Wasn’t she a Heather? She gave me such an odd look when I was there. Could she be the one he was messing around with? And is the baby she’s carrying Vincent’s?” “I don’t know, Grace.” “What about Cord? Did he know who she was that day? As I recall, he seemed in an awful big hurry to get out of there. Maybe he knew and was worried she’d say something.” Emily brushed a tear from Grace’s cheek. “If he did and he didn’t say anything, I’m sure it was because he didn’t want to see you like this.” “You don’t know that. He probably knew about the affair from the beginning. He and Vincent were best friends, remember? Wouldn’t Vincent have told him what was going on? Bragged about his hot conquest? The unbelievable sex he was having? Isn’t that what men do?” Emily pulled back to look Grace in the eyes. “I don’t believe that. Look, Grace. You’ve been intimate with Cord. Do you think he’d be able to keep this from you after Vincent died, knowing you were in such pain? He’s a caring man. I think if he’d known, he would have told you.” Grace inhaled a ragged breath. “But you know how men want to keep their secrets. Especially cops.” “Some, but I don’t think Cord is one of those men. The way he looks at you just melts my heart. He loves you so much, Grace. If he kept this from you, it was because he couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt.” “I don’t know. I need time to think. I have to get out of here for a while. I’m going to go down to Lightly Seasoned and work.” Emily grasped her arms. “No, Grace. I don’t think you should. It could be dangerous.” Grace sniffed, then brushed her sister’s hands off and stood. “I’ll lock the doors. I’ll be fine. I just need some time alone.”

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Emily rose and hugged her sister. “All right, but I don’t feel good about this.” She squeezed Emily tight. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you as soon as I get there and right before I leave, okay?” Grace turned and grabbed her handbag. She’d go and spend some time working. Hopefully space would help to clear her mind enough to make some decisions.

***** Cord pulled in front of the precinct, his stomach in knots. The cab company had been able to give him the name of the driver who’d picked Grace’s parents up that day, but all the man could tell him was that he dropped them at the airport terminal. Cord was at a dead-end and had no idea where to go from there. Something had happened to them at the airport, or they’d flown somewhere else that day, under a different name. The latter made no sense, so he’d have to concentrate on an event at the airport. They had security. No one could just vanish like that. Someone had to have seen something that day. Maybe a surveillance camera had caught something. He jumped out of his car and headed into the building. He’d call the airport and see how far back they kept their security tapes. As he headed for the elevator, his cell phone ran. He flipped it open and pressed talk. “Cord, this is Emily. I hate to bother you but I’m worried about Grace. She was upset and insisted on going to the shop to work for a while. She called me when she got there, but that was hours ago. I called the shop and got a busy signal. I’m afraid something’s happened to her.” Cord’s heart jumped in his chest. “Okay, Emily. I’m headed over there right now. I’ll call you as soon as I can.” He quickly retraced his steps, racing back to his car, an even sicker sensation forming in his belly. Once out on the busy thoroughfare, his mind wandered.

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Was Grace on the phone with someone, or had something happened to her? Vince was out there somewhere. Would he have the nerve to show himself to her? Now, after all this time? And if he did, would he hurt her? The flowers Grace received had to have come from him. Who else would think that way about her? Tidwell wanted Grace. He’d have nothing to gain by calling her a whore. Vince, on the other hand, might think of her affair with Cord as infidelity. For some sick reason, Cord thought that fit Vince somehow. An “I can mess around as much as I want, but my wife can’t” mentality. Cord gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening, and narrowly missed a car as he weaved into another lane.

Slow down. You’ll be no help to Grace dead. Relief flooded him when he pulled into the store’s parking lot. Grace’s car was parked in front of the door. He leaped out of his car and pulled out his revolver, noticing the shop’s door was ajar. With a sinking heart, he eased the door open further and slipped inside. Nothing. Dead silence. With his back against the wall, he slid to the front room. The lights were on, but no one was there. A clothing rack of dresses was turned over, a sign to Cord that there had been a struggle. The phone was off the hook and buzzing. He walked to the counter and, with a scarf he grabbed from a basket to protect any existing prints, hung it up. He flung open his cell to contact the Ninth. If Vince Diaglo had his wife, he’d better hope he didn’t hurt her in any way, or Cord would kill him -- and make sure he stayed dead this time.

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Chapter Twenty-three

Cord closed his cell phone and spotted a piece of folded paper next to the phone. He must have missed it when he’d hung up the receiver. He opened the note, shocked that it had his name at the top.

Dear partner, come to the Bay Court Motel and ask for Martin Andrews at the desk, if you want my wife back. Come alone. If I see anyone who remotely resembles a cop, I’ll kill her. Sirens blared in the distance, and Cord knew the Ninth was close. He tucked the note in his jean pocket. He couldn’t chance telling Harris about it, not when Grace’s life was at stake. He’d have to bide his time until he could slip away unnoticed. The sirens became intense, then abruptly stopped. It was show time. Cord made his way to the back and met Harris at the door. “What happened? I thought Grace was safely tucked away at her sister’s?” “She was upset today and told Emily she was coming here to work.” “What was she upset about?”

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Cord inhaled, then answered. “She found out about Vince’s affair with that stripper. I found some letters in his locker. They were in my glove box and she found them. She was upset I didn’t tell her about what Vince had done.” Harris scratched his head. “Why did her sister let her come down here alone?” Cord placed his hands on his hips. “I’m sure Emily tried to stop her, but you know Grace. She can be pretty stubborn at times.” “Women.” Harris rolled his eyes. “Okay, so lay the scene out for me.” “The phone was off the hook, buzzing. I’d have the receiver dusted for prints. That rack of dresses was turned over, and an earring rack was off on the other side of the counter. I knew right away there had been a struggle.” Cord’s cell rang. “Hang on.” He flipped it open. “Rawlings.” “Cord, have you found her?” Emily’s panicked voice asked. “No. I think someone has her.” He heard her deep intake of breath. “I’ll find her, Emily. Tell me everything you know.” “What do you mean? I don’t know anything.” “What did she tell you before she left?” “Nothing. Just that she needed time alone and she was going to the shop to work. She promised to call me when she got there -- which she did -- and when she was about to leave. When she didn’t call, I called the shop and got a busy signal. That’s when I called you. Maybe she’s just out driving around?” she suggested. “Her car’s here.” Cord knew Emily would take that last announcement hard. He could hear her sob, and it ate at his gut. “Emily, I promise I’ll find her. Try not to worry.” He knew exactly where Grace was, and if Vince even looked at her wrong, Cord was going to wring his crooked-ass neck.

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“Emily, I’ll call you as soon as I find her.” “Okay.” He reclipped his phone and turned back to Harris. Five uniformed officers had arrived, one now talking to Harris. This could be his chance to slip out unobserved. Without looking back, Cord exited the shop and raced to his car. He had to get to Bay Court before Vince decided he wasn’t coming and hurt Grace.

***** Grace sat on a lumpy bed, her hands and feet tied in front of her. Shock had taken her off somewhere, but she was becoming aware of her surroundings again. She blinked and turned her head to the left, then right, until her eyes landed on what had sent her into the catatonic state to begin with. Vincent sat in a chair, his eyes narrowed at her. This had to be a dream, a figment of her imagination. Vincent was dead. How could he be sitting across the room, looking at her as if she were some annoying child? “It’s me, baby.” He jumped from the chair and came to stand next to the bed. “I’m not a ghost.” “But how?” “I know this is a hard thing to swallow. You see, I wasn’t in the car that exploded. It was a man who looked like me.” Grace heard his confession and her jaw dropped. This was just too much to comprehend. “Why?” she asked, fighting her restraints. “That’s a good question, Grace. There were a number of reasons, actually. First, I was in trouble at the Ninth. They knew I’d been taking kickbacks from Jack Neil in exchange for

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keeping the cops off his back. For that, he was quite generous. He was the one who paid for our house.” “What? I thought you inherited it.” “No. How stupid are you? That’s just something I told everyone so they wouldn’t get suspicious.” Grace flinched at his insult and tears filled her eyes. “Don’t start crying,” he snapped. “You can’t help that you’re dumb. That’s why I married you. I could do whatever I wanted without worrying about you figuring things out. Heck, we didn’t have sex for months and you never once questioned me about that.” He chuckled. “Most intelligent women would have at least wondered why I wasn’t interested.” Grace’s heart split in two. How could this be the man she’d taken vows with, promised to love and honor? He knew nothing about either. He slapped her in the head. “Cat got your tongue? Can’t deny any of your stupidity?” Tears stung her eyes and her head hurt. This man was not the same one she knew. He was crazy. “God, Grace, I screwed around on you all the time. Heather was just the last. She was adventurous in bed. You would just lie there. So many times I wanted to slap you to get some kind of response, but I was afraid good old Cord would notice. His greedy eyes were on you from the moment I first brought him to the house. He mooned over you like a lost puppy. It just made me sick, especially when I knew how frigid you were.” Grace sucked in a ragged breath, tears trailing down her cheeks. Vincent moved to pace in front of the bed. “Does it hurt to hear that? Imagine what it was like for me to be married to you. A cold fish in bed, one who had a full-time job to keep her from at least making me a decent meal at night.” What did he want her to say? That she was sorry his stomach had suffered. To hell with that. “What do you want from me? Why appear now, after all this time?”

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“Another good question. I’m surprised you thought of it. You see, Cord’s sticking his nose into my business, not to mention into my wife’s crotch.” He shook his dark head. “I really thought you’d mourn my passing a little longer, Grace. You sure jumped into bed with my partner awful fast. I’m really disappointed in you.” Grace couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was angry with her for not grieving longer? How ironic was that? “Why should you care what I do?” she said through clenched teeth. “You as much as said you faked your death to get away from me. Why all the concern about who I sleep with now?” “Because, dear wife, it’s Cord. Cord, the perfect cop. A man I could never be. Did you know they called him By-The-Book Rawlings at the precinct? He made me sick. He thought I was his best friend. What a joke. I undermined him to everyone who’d listen.” Grace’s temper ignited. “You’re disgusting. Cord’s a good man. And frankly, a much better lover than you ever were. With him I don’t just lie there. I actually enjoy making love to him.” The slap she received for her declaration echoed in her ears, stinging her cheek and bringing fresh tears to her eyes. “You slut. You’ll be changing your tune before I’m through with you.” She glared at him. “Did you send me those roses?” “Yes. Did you like them? I was a little put off that day. You see, I was listening to you and Rawlings up in the tree house, grunting like two wild animals.” He stopped pacing and glared at her. “You never made those noises with me. If you had, maybe I’d have shown myself sooner. Heather’s as big as a house right now. She can barely walk, let alone satisfy me.” He winked at Grace. “You’re looking good. I like the Twiggy look on you, especially after being around her these last few months.” “I can’t believe you, Vincent. She’s pregnant.”

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“That was not my greatest accomplishment, believe me. I told her I wanted her to have an abortion, but she refused. The bitch. I should have ended it then and there, but I needed a place to hide out and she helped with that.” “At the hospital, I could have sworn I’d seen her somewhere before. Is that possible?” “It probably wasn’t her so much as her perfume. She’d been in our house. In our bed.” Grace struggled to get loose from the ropes. She wanted to rip his head off. How dare he have the nerve to bring another woman into her bed? “Yeah, it was while you were working.” His words ceased her struggles. “I’d take off early. We’d do nasty things in our bed -- on the sheets you slept in later that night. I think deep down inside I was hoping you’d catch us. It was like a game, one that made life so much more exciting. Just like the Ninth. I played the game there, too, until I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. That’s when I knew I had to die.” Grace had so many questions. She asked the one that was most important. “Who was in the car that exploded?” He shrugged. “No one important. Some jerk who worked for Jack. He looked a lot like me. We had the same build. It was easy to fool everyone. All I had to do was throw my badge in there and no questions were asked. They just assumed it was my body. Everything went according to plan, too, until Cord came out of his drunken stupor and stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.” “Cord was just trying to help. So, it was you watching me.” Vincent laughed. “Yes, it was. Believe it or not, I missed you. I watched outside the house when I could get away. You spent a lot of time crying those first few months. I liked that. I was impressed by your loyalty. Until Cord came back.” Grace scowled at him. He had some nerve enjoying her suffering twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

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“You know what was really funny -- you and Cord almost caught me at Portelli’s. The night you and he were having dinner. I was a few booths over with Jack.” Grace remembered the night. His back had been to them. Why hadn’t she known it was him? “I have a question for you, Grace. Did you have the hots for Cord when we were

happily married?” Grace gritted her teeth, holding back what she wanted to say. Had they ever been happily married? Obviously, for Vincent the answer was a resounding no. She would love to tell him where to shove his accusation, but thought better of it. He’d probably slap her again. “No,” she said with venom. “That’s all I’m going to say.” “Did you know he was in love with you then?” “No. You’re crazy.” Vince shook his head. “You were blind to his feelings, but I wasn’t. He’d follow you around a room with those sad puppy dog eyes. I’ve never seen a sorrier sight in my life.” Grace glared. Then anger filled her. “Why is that? Is it so hard to believe someone could care about me?” “Well, think about, Grace. Your parents couldn’t even stick around long after my funeral.” Grace’s stomach dropped. She stared hard at him. “How do you know when my parents left?” He sighed. “That’s something I feel really bad about.” The sound of a car’s engine had Vincent racing to the door. “Well, well. So he came. I guess it’s time to end this farce. Your lover is going to die. But not before he gets to view me having one last romantic encounter with my wife. So, get ready, baby. One way or another, I’m going to make you scream.”

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Chapter Twenty-four

Cord removed his sling and took a deep, calming breath. All he could think about was saving Grace. His heart raced as he entered the Bay Court Motel’s office. He walked up to the counter. The man behind the desk looked like a weasel, with his pointed nose and beady, too-close-together eyes. A perfect representation for the dive he worked at. Bay Court was one of the local pay-by-the-hour motels, frequented by hookers and their clientele. Cord had busted his share of them over the past two years. “Can I help you?” The man’s voice was annoying. “I need the room number for Martin Andrews.” The desk clerk nodded, opened a book in front of him, and ran his finger down the page, stopping halfway from the bottom. “He’s in room seventy-six, but I don’t think he’s up for company. He had a hot little number with him.” Cord snarled at the man. No one had a right to say that about Grace. Cord spun around without so much as a thank you and stalked outside. He glanced to the left to see how the numbers ran, then took a left up the stairs. Vince’s room was on the upper level.

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With each step, his heart quickened.

Stay cool. If you don’t, it could cost Grace her life. He had to convince Vince that he wouldn’t gain anything by killing her. He’d play on the man’s sympathies. If he had any. One thing Vince couldn’t deny was the fact that Grace had been a devoted wife. There was no way he could dispute that. On the upper level, Cord pulled his Glock from the shoulder holster buckled around him and checked the rounds in the magazine. Fully loaded. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to fire a round. He was determined to talk his and Grace’s way out of that room. Room seventy-six was all the way at the end of the walkway. He stood staring at the putrid green door, his heart pounding a frantic, harrowing rhythm in his chest. If Grace weren’t inside, he’d go in guns blazing and take Vince out. After all, it was nothing less than he deserved. But Grace was with him, and Cord wasn’t about to take any chances with her life. He rapped hard on the door and waited. A chain rattled and the door came open. Cord sucked in a breath when he saw Vince. Up until this moment he’d harbored a snippet of hope he’d been wrong about his partner, but there he stood as proof of his deception. An evil plot that had cost an innocent man his life. It was hard for Cord to keep his contempt at bay. He wanted to wring Vince’s neck. “Hello, partner. I bet you thought you’d never see me again.” “Vince.” His name came out in a hiss. Vince gave him a wicked grin. “I guess that means you’re not happy to see me.” Cord snorted at his cavalier attitude. Vince had a lot of balls, considering he was a liar, a cheat, and worst of all, a murderer. “Come on in. We need to talk.” He moved aside to allow Cord into the room. Cord didn’t hesitate. He stalked inside. Grace was just inches away, and he’d die before he let Vince lay one finger on her.

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His gaze made a beeline to find her, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. He found her on the bed, her hands and feet tied, her eyes huge and filled with tears. “Are you okay?” She nodded. “How touching.” Vince pulled his .38 out of the back of his pants, pointing it at Cord. Cord headed for Grace, but Vince shoved him toward a chair in the corner instead. “Sit down.” Cord sat, his anger growing more intense by the second. Vince pointed his weapon at Grace. “I need your gun, Cord.” Grace let out a whimper. He was in deep shit without his firearm, but he had no choice. The look on Vince’s face said he’d have no qualms about shooting his own wife. Cord pulled his gun out of his shoulder holster and handed it to Vince. “Now, I want you to put your hands behind your back, Rawlings. I don’t trust you to stay seated when I tell you why I had to play dead.” Cord narrowed his gaze at him. “I already know everything.” “I don’t think you know everything. Like -- where are my wife’s parents?” Grace gasped and Cord tried to jump up to comfort her, but Vince stuck the barrel of the gun against his chest and pushed him down. “Hands behind your back, Cord. Now, or I’ll hurt Grace. I know you don’t want me to do that.” Cord scowled, but did as he was told and placed his hands behind him. He flinched with pain when Vince pulled his arms back and handcuffed him through a rung in the chair. He was at Vince’s mercy now, as Grace was. Maybe he should have come in guns blazing -their chances would have probably been better.

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Hell, you couldn’t reason with a mad man, and that was something that was becoming quite apparent about Vince. He’d lost all semblance of sanity.

Grace fought with the ropes at her wrists. She had to get loose, or she and Cord would die. Vince wasn’t going to allow either one of them to leave that motel room. Not breathing. And that was not something she’d accept. She had plans for her future -- ones that Cord would be part of. She’d known that the minute he entered the room. Everything had become clear to her. She loved him with all her heart. He’d come to her rescue. To her that spoke volumes about how he felt about her. Grace took a deep breath and wiggled her hand against the rope, intense pain shooting up her arm. She had to fight the pain. This was her only chance. Vince’s attention was on Cord. This was her opportunity to get free and help him. “I didn’t want to do any of this, Cord,” Vince said, drawing her attention away from the ropes. “I liked my life. But they’d gotten wind of what we’d been doing at the Ninth, and I had no choice.” “We,” Cord repeated, his gaze questioning. “What do you mean by we?” “Prince and Tidwell. When Jack Neil came to me, it was just too tempting not to take the money. I wanted nice things, and on a cop’s salary, you can’t have them. With Jack’s help, I could have anything I wanted. A new house in a great neighborhood. A fortythousand-dollar car. Women by the dozens. You name it. The opportunities were endless. That’s why I took the money. Once you do something illegal, it’s easy to go the next step. Like a domino effect. One crime leads to another. Eventually the crimes get worse. I’d killed in the line of duty.” Vince sighed. “It wasn’t any different when I wasn’t. Killing is killing, though I really didn’t want to kill Grace’s parents. But I had no choice. They saw me at the airport.”

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Grace went numb inside. He was lying. He couldn’t have killed them. “Grace, I’m real sorry about that. They gave me no choice, baby.” “How did you get them to leave with you?” Cord asked. Vincent shrugged. “I had to think fast. I told them that my murder was an undercover sting to weed out bad cops at the Ninth. I informed them that I couldn’t even tell their daughter about what I was doing.” Grace closed her mind to his confession. She had to get free. Once she did, she was going to claw his eyes out. “I asked them to come with me to talk to my superior officers. I took them to Chicago Grade landfill, and the rest you can just imagine for yourself.” Grace swiped at her tears with her arms, then fought with the ropes again. A hand slipped free. Her heart rate increased. She was loose. Now she had to untie her feet without him noticing. Cord glanced at her and she shook her head, hoping he’d not draw Vince’s attention toward her. “How did you kill Andrews?” Cord asked, obviously having read her mind. Vince laughed. “That was easy. He’d do anything Jack asked him to. I guess he was afraid of losing his job if he didn’t. I think he had two sniveling brats at home to support. Anyway, I couldn’t just shoot him. The coroner might notice something like that. I drugged him. He was still alive when the car exploded.” Grace pulled the rope through the knot and released her feet, sickened by how matterof-fact Vince could be about murdering someone -- a hardworking man with young children. Her husband was a monster, and she hoped he’d rot in jail for what he had done. Now that she was loose, what was she going to do? She glanced around, hoping to find something she could use to knock him out. A small alarm clock sat on the night table next to the bed, but it didn’t look heavy enough to inflict much damage. Maybe she could get to his gun?

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She shook her head. Vince was too strong to attempt that.

Think, Grace. What would Cord do? She could try to escape and call for help. No, that wouldn’t work. By the time they came, Cord could be dead. She couldn’t chance that -- not with the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with. Besides, the door was locked and the chain secured. She’d probably get caught before she even made it to the door. She looked down at her boots. Hummm. What if she took one off and whacked his hands hard with the heel? He’d drop the gun, and she could scramble to get it before he recovered. Would it work? Maybe, maybe not. But she had to do something. They were running out of time. With shaky hands, she unlaced the boot and eased it off her foot, then slid to the side of the bed. She’d only get one chance to do this right. It had to work, or she and Cord were going to die. Scooting off the bed, she brought the boot up and slammed it down on Vince’s hands. He dropped the gun and it skittered across the floor. She raced to get to the Glock, Vince hot on her heels. She dove on top the gun, screaming when Vince landed hard on top of her. Grace wrestled with him, fighting for control of the gun beneath her. Her hand made contact at the same time his did. She held tight. Her life depended on her gaining the upper hand. She couldn’t allow him to get it away from her. Pain shot through her finger when he bent it back. She released the gun. “Good girl. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to break your finger.” Grace glared at him.

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He grinned. “Now, is that a way to look at your long-dead husband, Gracie? You’d think you’d be happy I was here to take you away from that --” He pointed to Cord. “-dumb bastard.” He grabbed her by the hair and brought her face to his. Pain-induced tears clouded Grace’s eyes as he smashed his lips to hers. He pulled back and his eyes were filled with passion. “I’m going to enjoy having sex with you this time, Grace. I have a feeling you won’t just lie still.” “You keep you filthy hands off her, Vince!” Cord bellowed from across the room. “I swear I’ll kill you, Goddamn it!” “How you going to do that, Cord?” Vince laughed. “You seemed to be all tied up at the moment.” Grace kicked Vince in the gut and scrambled away. He grabbed her leg and dragged her back, smacking her hard across the face. She saw stars. Grace felt numb inside when Vince ripped at the neckline of her shirt and tore it apart, exposing the skin beneath. From somewhere in the room she heard a crash and wood splintering. What was happening? Had Cord gotten loose? If so, what was he going to do? One minute, she was fighting to get Vince off her; the next, a pair of handcuffed hands came up around Vince’s throat and lifted him from her. Cord! She glance over to see the chair he’d been sitting in turned over, one of its rungs split in two. Cord stood, the chain of the cuffs cutting into Vince’s throat, her husband’s tanned face turning red. “I should break your neck, Diaglo. It’s what you deserve.” “You can’t kill him, Cord,” Grace pleaded. She might not love Vince any longer, but she didn’t want Cord to kill him. “Call 9-1-1,” Cord snapped, his eyes turning liquid silver. Was he angry with her for not letting him kill Vincent?

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She raced to the phone. She had no time to contemplate that now. The police had to be called.

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Chapter Twenty-five

Cord stood in the Bay Court parking lot as two uniformed policemen loaded the now handcuffed Vince into a patrol car. A large crowd had gathered since they’d arrived. He never had understood what the fascination was about someone being arrested. He glanced to his right. Grace sat in the back of an ambulance, being examined by paramedics. Cord had no idea where he stood with her. Even after her husband had tried to rape her, she’d still protected him. He’d wanted to strangle the life out of Vince after the abuse he’d inflicted on her, but the look of terror in Grace’s eyes had stopped him. Why should she care what happened to her unfaithful, murderous husband? Did she still love him, even after he’d killed her parents? Would she stand by him at trial? He cleared the emotion clogging his throat. It was hard to look at her, not knowing what she was going to do. Cord had so many questions, and Grace was the only person who could give him answers. His heart ached at the idea of living without her. He’d already lived too many years lonely and unsure of himself, and he couldn’t live that way any longer. He wanted Grace. She’d filled his heart with so much love and hope for a normal life.

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He’d pictured them as husband and wife, with a comfortable home and a couple of blond kids. He never would have fathomed they’d be part of a dream of his, but with Grace he wanted a family. He’d watched Emily’s husband beam with love for their son. It would be that way for him, too. His mother might have jaded him with her coldness, but his feelings for his children would never be anything but warm and loving. He knew that, now. Grace had made him see that he was worthy as a man and would also be as a father. But would she share his dream? He closed his eyes. Grace held the key to his happiness in her delicate hands, and that scared him more than anything else. He had no control over what she felt. “Cord,” Grace whispered from behind him. He opened his eyes and turned to face her. She stood clutching a blanket around her. “You okay?” He wanted to grab her and hold on tight, but he wasn’t sure she’d let him. She nodded, her eyes clouding up. “I can’t believe this is real. I feel like I’m in a nightmare I can’t wake from.” “Yeah, it’s pretty hard to believe that Vince is alive.” “My husband comes back from the dead to tell me he killed my parents. Do you think they’ll be able to find them, Cord?” “That depends on Vince. If he’ll confess to their murders and lead authorities to their bodies, then there’s a possibility.” “If he doesn’t?” “Even if we can’t recover the bodies, we can put him away. He did tell us he killed them. If we testify to that, hopefully he’ll see the inside of a prison cell for the rest of his life. Would you be willing to do that? Do you want Vince to pay for your parents’ deaths?” Her eyes narrowed. “Of course. Why would you even ask that?”

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Cord threaded his fingers through his hair, unsure of what to say. Should he confront her about his uncertainties of where her loyalties lay? Hell, hadn’t there been enough secrets between them? It was time to be completely honest with Grace and see where they stood. If she was going to stand behind Vince, then it was best for him to know now so that he could move on with his life.

Grace was dumbfounded by Cord’s question. Why would he even ask if she wanted her husband to go to jail? He could rot away in prison for all she cared. She’d never admit it, but she’d wanted Cord to strangle the life out of him. The only thing keeping her from telling him to do it was that Cord could’ve risked going to jail himself. She couldn’t take that chance. How she wished Vincent had died in that car. Her mom and dad would still be alive if he had. Would be enjoying their first grandson right now. But that would never happen, because of a man she’d brought into their lives. A man who claimed to have loved her. A murderer. Could Vincent get the death penalty for what he’d done? She hoped so. “Grace, I need to know what you’re going to do,” Cord said, drawing her back to him. “Do? What do you mean?” “About Vince? Will you stand by him?” Grace’s jaw dropped. How could he think she’d forgive her husband for what he’d done? She’d never be that big a fool. “I can’t believe you’d even ask. I’ll do whatever it takes to put Vincent away. He deserves to die for what he did to my parents, not to mention the mechanic he killed to stage his death.” Cord’s expression change, the deep frown leaving his face. He’d actually been worried she’d stick by her husband. He clearly had no idea how much she loved him. “We need to talk, Cord.” His Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably. He was as nervous as she about what their future held.

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“Maybe we should talk in my car.” He gestured to the crowd gathering behind them. Grace nodded, and he led her to the passenger side and opened the door. She sat thinking about what to say as he came around to get in. Once he was seated next to her, she lost all bravado. She wasn’t sure what to say. What if he didn’t love her as much she loved him? “Grace, these last few days have been the happiest of my life. I wanted you to know that.” Grace’s heart tightened at Cord’s confession. Was he telling her that he loved her? She needed to hear him say the words. “I feel the same way, Cord. You’ve made me realize I need more than my work to be happy. I want what my sister has. A home. A loving husband. Children.” A deep-set frown appeared on his face again, and it worried Grace. Was he having second thought about them? Did he wish he could take back what he’d said? “Tell me what you’re thinking, Cord.” He reached for her hand. “Do you want all those things ... with me?” Grace was shocked he’d even ask. Had his insecurities been holding him back from telling her what was in his heart? Somehow she had to reassure him that he was the man she wanted to be with, the man she chose to have as the father of her children. “I love you, Cord. You’re the man I want -even if there’s a chance I might lose you.” Tears filled her eyes when she saw the emotion in his. He did love her. He didn’t have to say one word. It was written in his eyes -- eyes that, up until that moment, had held such sadness in their blue depths. Something new radiated there now, and she’d do whatever it took to keep it shining. “I love you so much, Grace.” His voice broke with emotion. “You’re my redemption -my saving grace. He smiled. “Will you marry me and keep me on the straight and narrow?”

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She nodded. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I don’t know how straight and narrow our path will be, but I promise to walk with you, side-by-side, for long as we both live.” Cord pulled her to him and kissed her -- a kiss that proved to Grace that he loved her and that no matter what happened from that day forward, they’d deal with it together.

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Epilogue

Grace slipped into the ivory lace gown, nervous and excited about what lay ahead for her. Soon, she’d walk down the aisle of the small church and become Mrs. Cord Rawlings. She’d thought this day would never come. Not with all that had happened. Vincent would be going on trial in another few weeks, along with Jack Neil, Mike Tidwell, and Anthony Prince. All involved in police corruption, though Tidwell and Prince knew nothing about the murder of Martin Andrews. That was strictly Vincent and Jack Neil’s doing. Prince and Tidwell hadn’t even known Vincent was still alive. The mess was finally behind her. Grace’s petition for a divorce had been granted. Vincent had been pressured into signing the papers. She was free to marry the man she loved -- finally able to move on with her life and be happy. A light rap and Emily’s voice brought Grace back to her task of getting dressed. “Need some help?” Emily closed the door and came to stand by her. “You could zip me up.” Grace turned her back to her sister. “I’d be honored. I have to tell you, I saw Cord. I’ve never seen a man so happy.” Grace smiled. “He really loves me, doesn’t he?”

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Emily returned her smile. “Absolutely. You two are going to be so happy together. When are you going to tell Cord about the baby?” Grace’s smiled widened. “Tonight. When I think he’s ready for the news.” She slipped into her shoes. “What do you think?” She whirled, the train of the dress flowing around her. “I think you’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” “I don’t know about beautiful, but I’m happy. The only thing that would have made it better is if Mom and Dad could have been here to witness our union.” Emily hugged Grace tight. “I miss them, too, but they’re here in spirit. They’d be so happy for you, like I am. I know you and Cord will be as happy as Charlie and I are.” Grace’s eyes clouded with tears. In a perfect world she couldn’t have asked for a better sister. “Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup,” Emily scolded. “You don’t want to look as if you aren’t happy to be making the trip down the aisle.” Grace took a calming breath, and from the next room the wedding march started. “Are you ready?” Emily asked. “I’ve never been more ready in my life.”

Jerri A. Drennen Jerri Drennen is married, has four children and resides in a small southwestern town in Missouri. Her hobbies include drawing, gardening, cooking and reading. She’s been writing romance for 6 years, and loves to create characters that stay with the reader, to write stories that leave them smiling. Visit Jerri on the Web at http://jerridrennen.bravehost.com.