"Where did… when did…?"
He patted the weapon. "I'm licensed to carry the gun. Dundee 's handles all the legalities that affect us whenever we cross state lines or work in foreign countries."
"I don't like the idea of your…" She frowned. "At present you're working as an investigator, not a bodyguard, so why is the gun necessary?"
"It's not." Jed removed the holster and placed it beneath his jacket on the seat. "Is that better?" There was no reason to tell Grace he carried another gun strapped to his ankle. A seasoned professional usually had a backup weapon.
"Yes, thank you. If someone had seen you wearing a gun, they might have reported it to the police."
"I thought you and Chief Winters were personal friends. All you'd have to do is explain to him that I'm working for you, as a bodyguard. Your being who you are, he'd buy that."
"How did you know Charles Winters and I are friends?" Her eyes widened with realization. "That Dundee report on me really was very thorough, wasn't it?"
Jed grinned. "Thorough enough, as far as preliminary reports go."
"Then the second report you're expecting will no doubt list my shoe size, my bra size, how many fillings I have in my teeth and whether I sleep in pajamas or a gown."
He tossed his unfolded coat into the back seat of the Mercedes, atop her neatly folded jacket, then surveyed her from head to toe. "I don't need a report to give me that type of info. My guess is you wear a size seven and a half shoe, a thirty-four C-cup bra…" His gaze lingered over her breasts, then moved up to her face. "I'd say no more than three or four fillings in your teeth and as far as what you sleep in…" He paused, imagining her in silk pajamas, then in a sheer see-through gown. "A woman with a body like yours should sleep in the raw… and you probably did when your husband was alive. But now, I peg you for the silk pajamas type."
Grace stared at him with a mixture of wonder and disbelief in her eyes. "Shoe size correct. Bra size correct. I have six fillings in my teeth. As a kid I loved sweets." She took a deep breath. "And I sleep in silk pajamas."
Jed noticed a tinge of color in her cheeks. Anger? Embarrassment? A bit of both, he figured.
"Should I apologize?" he asked.
"For what? For being too forward, for getting a bit too personal?"
She studied him, the intensity of her gaze informing him that his brash comments hadn't rattled her in the least. But he knew better. Deep down inside, Grace Beaumont was just a little unsure of him… and of the effect he had on her.
When he remained silent, she said, "I assume it's your nature to act the way you do. Just keep in mind that whatever effect your boldness has on other women, it's wasted on me."
"I think you just accused me of something… not having good manners probably." She wouldn't be the first to tell him that he was often tactless. "And just what effect do you think I usually have on women?"
Grace slammed the car door, looked up at him and offered him a cold smile. "I think you're used to women falling all over you. Now, shall we take our walk? I can give you a tour of the town in an hour."
She had adeptly ended the personal aspects of their conversation and changed the subject. Guess she put you in your place, he told himself.
"Lead the way," he said.
Jed fell into step alongside Grace as they left the parking lot and began their trek by following Avenall over to the next block. She pointed out several buildings, explaining that this particular section of town was, for the most part, close to two hundred years old. They passed two blocks of renovated structures dating back to the early nineteenth century.
"My father did a great deal to help restore many of the old buildings downtown," she said as they crossed the street onto Raleigh, which ran north to south. "Of course St. Camille isn't the tourist spot that New Orleans is since we're a small town, but we get our share of the Louisiana tourist trade. And we have a 'Tour of Homes' every spring, in late April, and again in the fall, in early October."
As they continued their walk around town, numerous people spoke to Grace and gave Jed curious stares, but she didn't introduce him to anyone, nor did she linger in conversation. By the friendly yet deferential way the citizens of St. Camille treated Grace, he concluded that they liked her, but didn't really know her on a personal basis; that everyone respected her, but many understood they weren't her social equals.
Jed had been to St. Camille in the past, but he remembered very little about the small, centuries-old town. As a teenager, he'd had no interest in history or culture, but seeing the town through Grace's appreciative eyes gave him a different perspective today. She pointed out four banks, two other restaurants, and several lawyers' offices, including the house where the man she referred to as Uncle Willis had his practice.
"That house is on the historical register," Grace said. "Uncle Willis had it restored as closely to the original as possible."
Jed nodded. "Mmm-hmm."
"Not your thing?" When he eyed her quizzically, she elaborated. "You're not interested in your heritage or the historical significance of Louisiana architecture or history of any kind or-"
"Hey, why don't we just agree that I'm an uncouth barbarian and leave it at that." He paused in front of the two-story structure that housed the St. Camille Register, a local weekly newspaper. "We can even go in and take out an ad in the paper stating the fact." He had overreacted and he knew it, but there was something about Grace's lady-of-the-manor attitude that grated on his nerves. She was so… so untouchable, which made him want to touch her all the more. Made him want to drag her down to his level, and get real-life dirty with her.
"Did I hit a raw nerve?" she asked.
A loud rumble of thunder echoed nearby. When a streak of wide, bright lightning zigzagged unexpectedly through the sky, Grace gasped. Her gaze collided with Jed's. They stood there in the middle of the sidewalk staring at each other for several seconds. Another boom of thunder preceded a closer lighting strike, a sound so powerful that it rattled the windowpanes in the old buildings along Main Street.
Suddenly raindrops plopped onto the sidewalk, splattered on their heads and bare arms, warning them to take cover.
But before they were able to respond, a torrent of rain descended. Jed grabbed Grace and pulled her into a narrow alleyway that ran between the St. Camille Register and the renovated Little Theater Playhouse. A small covered alcove at the back entrance to the theater provided a modest barrier of protection from the isolated springtime rainstorm.
Jed's arm tightened around Grace, pressing her body against his. She clung to him, shivering, her hair and face damp from the rain, as she hazarded a glance up and into his eyes. While he stared at her, his body hardened. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life than this flawlessly lovely woman wrapped in his arms. Striking blue eyes looked at him, her gaze riveted to his. When her full pink lips parted ever so slightly, all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her.
Another thunderbolt roared, followed by vicious lightning. When Grace trembled, he splayed his hand across the small of her back, then lowered his head to hers. She eased herself up on tiptoe as she prepared for the inevitable. Jed covered her mouth with his, instinct urging him to ravage her; but the moment their lips met, the very hunger of her response gentled his possession. When his tongue came into play, sliding inside her mouth, exploring, she accepted his invasion without protest. The kiss deepened and intensified. Whether it was his doing or hers, he wasn't sure. More than likely a mutual action. Within seconds all reasonable thoughts left his mind; desire ruled him completely.