Falling For Grace. Stella Bagwell
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he’d thought to have fallen asleep like that. His lips twisted ruefully at the thought. Another clue that he was getting old and burned out.
Rising from the longue, he started for the house, then stopped dead in his tracks as Grace’s voice floated over to him.
“Joshua, don’t let your instrument sag. What have I been telling you for the past three weeks? You must keep it up and level at all times. Now, hold it there and start again. And this time don’t disappoint me.”
Jack’s eyes opened wider. The woman wasn’t in any condition for kinky, afternoon sex, was she?
Not less than fifteen feet away, a chain-link fence, along with several head-high azalea bushes, separated the two backyards.
Not knowing what to expect, he walked to the fence and peered through the bushes. About ten feet away, on a brick patio, Grace was standing with her back to him. Her hair was once more piled atop her head in a mass of loose curls. She was still wearing the yellow blouse and long skirt he’d seen her in early this morning.
As for the reprimanded Joshua, there was no sight of him. Then suddenly the squeaking noise that had awoken Jack moments earlier began again. Grace stepped to one side, giving him a bird’s-eye view of the culprit.
He appeared to be about eight years old. A shock of brown bangs threatened to jab his eyes and his tongue stuck from one corner of his mouth as he concentrated for all he was worth on the small violin tucked beneath his chin.
A music student! God help him, he’d come here for peace and quiet. This was the most torturous noise he’d ever heard in his life! And Grace Holliday couldn’t be a music teacher. She was too young. Too pregnant! Women like her didn’t do things like this, he silently argued.
“That’s much better, Joshua.” She spoke again. “But you’re letting your bow slide. Remember you must keep it straight with the bridge. And level.”
“Yes, I remember, Miss Holliday. But when I’m thinking about the notes my fingers have to make, I forget about the bow,” the youngster complained.
Jack watched her give the boy an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “I know you do, Joshua. But soon it will all come together for you and you’ll be playing Strauss in no time. I promise.”
Strauss! Hell’s bells, this kid couldn’t even play the scales. Was she loony?
Jack didn’t wait around to hear more. The screeching sounds of horse hair pulling and pushing against metal strings filled the backyard again, drowning out the breeze and the call of the seagulls.
He escaped into the bungalow, glad he had the windows shut and the air conditioner running. It was time for dinner, anyway, he thought. He’d fix himself something to eat, then maybe later, after “poor little Joshua” was gone, he’d find some way to talk to Grace again.
This time he intended to get some answers.
Chapter Two
Two hours later, the screeching and sawing was still going on. At the moment the offender was a redhead she called Albert. He’d come in after a towheaded boy who couldn’t have been more than six years old had pulverized Jack’s eardrums as he’d attempted to grill pork chops outside.
By now Jack was beyond trying to think up some legitimate excuse to talk to the woman again. Hours of this agonizing noise had given him ample reason for another confrontation.
Grace was unaware anyone was around until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She whirled and her mouth formed a perfect O at the sight of his tall frame towering over her.
“Uh…what are you doing over here?” she asked bluntly.
Jack asked himself the same question. He was a stranger around here. An interloper. Someone who would only be here for a short time, whereas this was her home. He didn’t have a right to complain or question her.
Unless she was planning something detrimental to his nephew, he quickly reminded himself. And there was no way of knowing that without acquainting himself with the woman. But that didn’t mean he had to be nice about it. Which was a good thing, because at the moment Jack was feeling anything but nice.
His jaw tight, he asked, “What do you think I’m doing?”
Her brows disappeared beneath a fringe of black bangs. “I wouldn’t know,” she answered curtly.
Disbelief widened his gray eyes, then his lips twisted into a mocking line. “I’m sure you never once imagined you’ve been dealing me some misery.”
Quickly she glanced at Albert, who was still struggling with the G-scale. Then casting her gaze back on her unexpected visitor, she asked, “I beg your pardon?”
He snorted at her innocent response. “Do you realize the noise you’re making over here?”
The man needed kicking in the shins. But with Albert present, she did her best to curb the unladylike urge.
“Would you mind stepping over here?” she asked, gesturing to a grouping of redwood lawn furniture positioned several feet away from Albert. “I don’t want my student distracted.”
Before he could reply, she’d turned and left him standing with his hands in his pockets.
“Look, Miss Holliday,” he said after he’d followed her to the secluded area where several chairs and a table were shaded by an enormous live oak. “I didn’t come over here to sit and have a chat with you. All I want is for you—”
Jack’s words halted as his eyes fell past the full thrust of her breasts and on to the large rounded bulge of her midsection. He’d not been around many pregnant women in his life and the ones he had, he’d not found attractive. But this one—there was just something about her that left him feeling wet behind the ears.
“For me to do what, Mr. Barrett?” she prompted.
He heaved out a disgusted breath. Then biting back the words he really wanted to say, he said, “Last night I didn’t tell you, but I plan to be here for the next few days.”
He hadn’t really told her anything about himself last night, Grace thought. But then, she hadn’t exactly stuck around to ask him. She’d found the man more than disturbing and this evening the feeling hadn’t lessened—in fact, it had intensified.
She couldn’t be certain about his age, but he appeared to be somewhere around thirty-eight or forty. That prime age when a man just can’t look any better. And this man was definitely at his peak, Grace decided.
He had the lean, muscled body of an athlete. His rough-hewn features, coupled with his thick mane of hair and cool gray eyes made him one of the most striking men she’d ever seen in her life.
“Really? So you’ve bought the bungalow from Trent?”
It wasn’t like the boy to lie, Jack thought. At least, he didn’t think so. But then he had to remind himself the Trent he remembered being around had been a teenager. Maybe he’d changed since then. Or maybe this woman was subtly trying to draw information from Jack.
“The place belongs to me now,” he said evasively.
Once again he could see a shadow of disappointment cloud her green eyes.
“I see,” she said quietly. “So that means…”
“Means what?” he urged.
She shook her head, then forced a wan smile to her face. “Nothing.”
For the first time in his life Jack was at a loss for words, making him glad his associates weren’t around to see him. He’d tackled hundreds of hostile witnesses, wrangled words with some of the most formidable judges in the country and never lost his ability to lead the conversation to where he wanted it to go.
But with this woman, words failed him. All he could do was stare and think. And feel things