Susan Mallery - Falling for Gracie

“I gotta run and take care of my candidate,” Zeke said. He bent down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”

She wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for. She stared after him as she thought about all he’d said about her sister.

The sense of having lost her family was still there, but for the first time she considered that while she’d been sent away against her will, she had chosen to stay away. She could have come back, if she’d wanted to. Yes, she’d felt rejected by her family, but it wasn’t as if she’d bothered to reach out overly much.

Something to consider.

THE NEXT MORNING Gracie collected her various ingredients, baking pans and other supplies, loaded up her car and drove up to the bed-and-breakfast on the bluff.

She remembered this old place from when she’d been a kid. Rumors of an alien landing some time in the 1950s had made the location both irresistible and terrifying. Some of the high school kids used the place as a make-out point, while the younger ones tested their bravery by being willing to run up to the front door and knock.

In her youth, Gracie had made it all the way to the porch, which had been pretty darned impressive. Now she parked in back with the expectation of actually stepping inside and working. Aliens be damned, she had cakes to bake.

She knocked once as a courtesy, then used the key Pam had given her to let herself in.

As it had when she’d first seen the kitchen, her heart fluttered with all the foolishness of young love. This time, however, it wasn’t a man who got her blood to racing. Instead it was gleaming stainless steel appliances, yards and yards of counter space and big windows that let the morning light spill in.

Gracie mixed up her first cake batch and carefully poured everything into the pans. She added the heating core to the larger pans and slid them into the waiting oven.

As she set the timer, she heard another car pull up next to hers and looked out in time to see Pam stepping out of her Lexus.

Unable to escape due to cake-bakeage, she plastered a smile on her face and hoped for the best.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully as Pam entered. “How’s it going?”

“Great.” Pam dropped several books of wallpaper samples onto the counter. “I’m down to the details with the rooms, which is fun.”

Gracie had sort of dressed for her day. She wore a cotton blouse over black pants, but felt frumpy next to Pam’s Ultrasuede pants and matching jacket, with a little camisole underneath.

“I drove by the high school,” Pam said. “There was a crowd there for Riley’s speech.”

“Really?” Gracie pretended she hadn’t been there. “Is his campaign going well?”

“I hope so,” Pam told her.

Gracie tried not to react, but the surprise must have shown because Pam grinned.

“I mean it,” she said. “Hey, it’s been years and years. I was young and foolish and I sure don’t hold a grudge against Riley. Besides, Franklin Yardley gives me the creeps. He’d just been elected mayor when I was a senior and he was at graduation handing out some award. I swear he patted my butt when he gave it to me.”

Gracie pressed both her hands on the counter. She remembered Jill telling her a similar story. “You’re kidding! He did the same thing to a friend of mine. She was totally grossed out.”

“Do you blame her? He was old and it was just too disgusting. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t think anyone would believe me. So Riley gets my vote.”

She sounded sincere and Gracie sort of wanted to believe her, but she couldn’t. Not completely.

“You never remarried.”

Pam leaned against the counter. “I know. I thought about it, but I really prefer being single. I’m seeing someone now. He lives in Santa Barbara, which is pretty perfect. We’re close enough to get together on a regular basis, but he’s not in my face all the time. I like that. I’ve been on my own for so long, I don’t think I could get used to living with a man. What about you?”

Gracie was more than willing to get used to living with a man, but the only one who made her feel sparks wasn’t interested in her. Besides, he was the last guy on the planet she should be with. It made no sense. And they wanted really different things. He might find her attractive and kiss like a dream, but she knew he wasn’t the settling-down type.

She shook her head and realized Pam was staring at her. “I’m sorry. What did you ask me?”

Pam laughed. “Never mind. I can see you’re distracted. I’ll just grab my light reading and get out of your way.”

Pam picked up the wallpaper sample books and left the kitchen. Gracie stared after her and wondered if maybe she’d been wrong to judge Pam so harshly all those years ago.

RILEY STOOD outside in the late afternoon. He’d canceled his last two meetings with the intent of going for a drive. But instead of heading up the coast or even south to L.A., he’d traveled a short distance across town to find himself parked outside of Gracie’s rental.

He knew she was home-her Subaru Forrester sat in the driveway and he could hear music. As he stood beside his car, he stared at the front door and wondered when he’d left the world of normal behind.

There were a thousand other places he could be and a handful he should be, and Gracie’s house didn’t fall into either category. She was nothing but trouble-not the way she used to be by stalking him and making his life hell. No, this trouble was worse. He liked her.

He enjoyed her company, her humor, her craziness and right now he wanted to be with her in every sense of the word.

He told himself he was only here to talk, that she wasn’t his type and he was a man who was cautious about where he laid his head. He’d always been careful to pick women who were content to be part of the three F’s. Gracie wasn’t like that.

If he had a brain in his head, he would walk back to his car and drive away. Instead he stepped forward and pressed the doorbell.

“Just a sec,” she yelled from somewhere inside the house.

He heard something slam, some mild cursing, then running footsteps and the front door flew open.

She stood in front of him with a smudge on her cheek and a dish towel in one hand. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Her T-shirt fit snugly, emphasizing curves that haunted him, while her slightly loose khakis hung low on her hips. She was barefoot, not wearing a speck of makeup and he wanted her with a hungry desperation that made it impossible to speak.

She grinned. “Thank God you’re not my mother or one of my sisters. I’m all familied out right now. I can’t even tell you the forty-seven ways they’re making me crazy.”

She stepped back. “Come on. I have a cake in the oven and I have to turn it every ten minutes to keep it baking evenly. I know, I know, I could have gone back over to Pam’s but I was there before and she was actually nice and it kind of freaked me out.”

She shut the door behind him and led the way into the kitchen. “So what’s going on with you?”

The sway of her hips called him. He wanted to grab her, pull her close and take her right there in the hallway. He wanted to tug the rubber band from her hair, pull off her clothes and have her on top, wet, ready and panting his name as she demanded he give her more.

“I wasn’t in the mood to work,” he said instead. “Thought I’d stop by.”

They reached the kitchen. She bent over the oven, pulled it open and used the dishcloth to protect her fingers as she gave the large cake pan a quarter turn.

“I appreciate the company. Oddly enough, you’re the most normal person I know these days. Who would have thought?”

She straightened and walked to the refrigerator. “Do you want anything to drink? I have soda and milk and some sparkling water.” She glanced at him. “Let me guess-macho guys don’t drink sparkling water.”

“Not unless we open it with our teeth first.”

“Figures.” She held up a can of soda. “This okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He glanced around at the small kitchen. Even though she was a short-term tenant, she’d still made the space her own. There were cake pans and racks covering the space. She’d tacked up sketches of cakes, a calendar and the article from People magazine. The small table held all kinds of delicate-looking tools he couldn’t identify.

The room felt lived in, comfortable. No ghosts here.

He settled on a bar stool by the counter and took the drink she offered.

“What terribly important meetings are you missing out on?” she asked as she set the timer for ten minutes.

“One about the direction the Federal Reserve will probably take. A recap on our lending ratios. Banking stuff.”

She leaned against the counter across from him. “Are you enjoying being a banker? It has to be different from living on the oil rig.”

“Shorter hours, and everyone smells better.”

“That has to be nice. But do you find it interesting or boring?”

He frowned as he popped open his soda and took a drink. “I never thought about the banking job as more than something I had to do to inherit.” When he’d either satisfied the terms of the will or failed, he was walking away.

“Would you consider it as a career?”

“Maybe. There are aspects I like.” He loosened his tie, then unfastened the top button on his dress shirt. “The clothes can be a pain.”

“I know what you mean. I like baking days when I don’t have to get all fancy for my meetings.” She glanced down at her T-shirt and brushed a smudge of flour. “When I’m in the kitchen I make sure everything is washable. I seem to be the kind of baker who has a lot of accidents with ingredients.”

He could smell her. Something soft and feminine that had nothing to do with the sweet scent of baking cake. Need nearly drove him to his feet, but he pushed it down and did his best to ignore it. After all this time, Gracie had turned out to be an unexpected pleasure in his life. They were friends, and he wasn’t about to screw that up with sex.