The Rancher Bodyguard. Carla Cassidy
once that you worked as an investigator before you became a lawyer.”
“That was a long time ago,” he reminded her.
She crossed her arms, a mutinous expression on her face. “Fine, then I’ll investigate it on my own.” She turned on her heels and walked off.
Charlie sighed in frustration. “Grace, wait,” he called after her. “I can’t let you muck around in this alone. You could potentially do more damage than good for Hope.”
“Then help me,” she said, her voice low with desperation. “I’m all that Hope has. The only way to make sure she isn’t railroaded for a crime she didn’t commit is for me to find the guilty person, and that’s exactly what I intend to do—with or without your help.” She paused, her eyes glittering darkly. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket and shook his head. “I’d forgotten just how stubborn you could be.”
“I don’t think you want to start pointing out character flaws in other people,” she said pointedly.
To Charlie’s surprise, he felt the warmth of a flush heat his cheeks. “Touché,” he said. “All right, we’ll do a little digging of our own. The first thing you should do is make a list of William’s friends and business associates. We need to pick his life apart if we hope to find some answers.”
“I can have a list for you by tomorrow. Why don’t you meet me at my shop around noon, and we can decide exactly where to go from there.”
“You’re going into work?” he asked in surprise.
“I’d rather meet you at the shop than at my place,” she replied.
“All right, then, tomorrow at noon,” he agreed reluctantly. Charlie had worked extremely hard over the last six months to gain control and now felt his life was suddenly whirling back out of control.
She nodded. “Charlie, you should know that just because I came to you for help—just because I need you right now—doesn’t mean I like you. When this is all over, I don’t want to see you again.” She turned and left without waiting for a response.
Jeez, he seemed to be watching her walking away from him a lot, especially after throwing a bomb at him. Still, he couldn’t help but notice the sexy sway of those hips beneath the suit skirt and the length of her shapely legs. A surge of familiar regret welled up inside him.
He was a man who made few excuses or apologies for the choices he made, but the mistake of throwing Grace away would haunt him until the day he died.
The morning sun was shining brightly as Grace parked in front of her dress shop on Main Street. She turned off the engine but remained seated in the car, her thoughts still on the visit she’d just had with Hope.
Hope had been no less confused about the events of the day before and didn’t seem to understand that at the moment she was the best suspect they had.
Fortunately, Dr. Dell wanted to keep her under observation for another twenty-four hours, and that was fine with Grace. The tox screen had come back showing a cocktail of drugs in Hope’s system but Hope was still vehemently denying taking anything. At the hospital, Hope was safe and getting the best care.
Grace wearily rubbed a hand across her forehead. The day was just beginning, and she was already exhausted. Her sleep had been a continuous reel of nightmares.
She’d been haunted by visions of Hope stabbing William and then taking the drugs that knocked her unconscious. And if that hadn’t been bad enough, images of Charlie also filled her dreams.
Charlie. She got out of the car and slammed the door harder than necessary, as if doing so could cast out all thoughts of the man.
She focused her attention on the shop before her. Sophisticated Lady had been a dream of hers from the time she was small. She’d always loved fashion and design, and five years ago for her twenty-fifth birthday, William had loaned her the money to open the shop.
Grace had worked her tail off to stock the store with fine clothing at discount prices, and within two years she’d managed to pay back the loan and expand into accessories and shoes.
Now all she could think about was whether she’d sacrificed her sister’s well-being for making her shop a success. She’d spent long hours here at the store, and when she wasn’t here she was away on buying trips or at Charlie’s place for the weekend.
As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t know what had been going on in Hope’s life lately, but she intended to find out.
She entered the shop, turned on the lights and went directly to the back office, where she made a pot of coffee. With a cup of fresh brew in hand, she returned to the sales floor and sat on the stool behind the counter that held the register.
Much of her time the night before had been spent thinking about William, grieving for him while at the same time trying to figure out who might want him dead. The list of potential suspects she had to give to Charlie was frighteningly short.
The morning was unusually quiet. No customers had entered when Dana Taylor came through the door at eleven-thirty. “Hey, Grace,” she said, her tone unusually somber. “How are you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected,” Grace replied. “Right now I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around it all.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dana replied sympathetically.
“I was wondering if maybe you’d be available to take some extra hours for a while. I’m going to be busy with other things.”
“Not a problem,” Dana replied, as she stowed her purse under the counter. “When Ben got home from the hospital last night, he told me not to expect to see a lot of him for the next week or two.” She didn’t quite meet Grace’s eyes.
“There’s a new shipment of handbags in the back. If you have time this afternoon, could you unpack them and get them on display?” Grace asked, desperate to get over the awkwardness of the moment.
“Sure,” Dana agreed. “Any business this morning?”
“Nothing. It’s been quiet.” Grace turned toward the door as it opened to admit Charlie.
An intense burst of electricity shot through her at the sight of him, and instantly every defense she possessed went up.
“Morning, ladies,” he said as he ambled toward the counter. Clad in a pair of snug jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt, he looked half rancher, half businessman and all handsome male.
His square jaw indicated a hint of stubbornness and his eyes were fringed with long, dark lashes. His nose was straight, his lips full enough to give women fantasies of kissing them. In short, Charlie was one hot hunk.
His energy filled the air, and despite her wishes to the contrary, Grace felt a crazy surge of warmth as she gazed at him.
“Good morning, Charlie,” Dana replied. “How are things out at the ranch?”
“Not bad. The cattle are getting fat, and I’ve got a garden full of tomato and pepper plants that are going to yield blue-ribbon-quality product.”
Pride rang in his voice, a pride that surprised Grace. Two years ago, the only things that put that kind of emotion in his voice were his fancy surround-sound system, his state-of-the-art television and the new Italian shoes that cost what most people earned in a month.
He turned his gaze to Grace. “We need to talk,” he said. His smile was gone, and the enigmatic look in his gray eyes created a knot in Grace’s stomach.
“Okay. Come on back to my office,” she said.
He followed her to the back room, where she turned and looked at him. “Something else has happened?”
“No, I just have some new information.”
“What