of months, business had boomed and he’d gone from one job to the next without any real downtime in between. There had been no time for women or fun or anything but work.
Hopefully, the investigator who had been hired would discover that the author of the disturbing letters was a housebound, ninety-year-old man who was incapable of following through on any threat he might have penned. And hopefully the investigator would come to that conclusion quickly so that Clay could get home.
“Gracie will be right down,” Libby said as she returned to the room. She picked up her glass from the coffee table and went back to the bar. “Sure I can’t get you something?” she asked.
“No thanks, I’m fine.” He turned his gaze to the door as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
A little girl appeared in the doorway. Clay guessed her age to be between seven and eight and she looked like a little fairy princess. Long blond hair framed a heart-shaped face and lively blue eyes gazed at him with friendly curiosity.
There were three things in life Clay wasn’t particularly fond of: snakes, storms and children. He smiled politely as the little girl approached where he sat.
“Hello,” she said, and smiled prettily. “My name is Gracie, what’s your name?”
Gracie? His heart dropped to his feet. This baby girl was Gracie? She was his next assignment? Oh, hell no! No way. He’d call Tanner and get somebody else out here to do this job. This definitely wasn’t for him.
“This is Bunny,” the little girl said, and for the first time Clay noticed she clutched a raggedy stuffed pink bunny in one arm. “She’s my friend.”
“She looks like a nice friend,” Clay replied. He couldn’t wait to get a minute alone to call his brother. He’d never worked with a kid before. Hell, he’d never even spent any time around a kid.
It wasn’t that he hated kids, he just hadn’t ever given them much thought. He had no nieces or nephews, no children at all in his world.
“My mommy says you’re going to be my new friend and you never told me your name.” She scooted next to Clay onto the sofa and gazed up at him with eyes the color of the Oklahoma sky. It was instantly clear to Clay what the connection was between Libby and Gracie. Gracie was a miniature carbon copy of Libby.
“Clay. My name is Clay.”
“I like that name,” she replied. As the little girl once again smiled up at him, Clay felt a sinking feeling in his heart. He wasn’t going to call his brother and get another assignment. If somebody was threatening this baby girl with her innocent eyes and pretty little smile, then he was right where he needed to be. Guarding Gracie had just become his new mission.
Clay West was nothing like what she’d expected. When Charlie had mentioned hiring somebody to keep an eye on Gracie, Libby had assumed it would be another Hollywood type, slick and polished to blend into any social situation.
He definitely wasn’t a Hollywood type. Although many men in Hollywood wore jeans, they wore designer brands coupled with expensive shirts, and always looked as if they were a little uncomfortable in the casual clothes.
This man, this cowboy from Oklahoma, wore his jeans as if he’d been born in them. They fit his lean, long legs as if especially made by the best tailor money could buy. His dress shirt, while adequate, strained across broad shoulders she suspected had come through hard work rather than hours in a gym. Dusty cowboy boots rode his feet, boots she thought probably weren’t strangers to mud or manure.
But it wasn’t his dress that disturbed her. And it wasn’t that his hair was dark as night and on the wrong side of a haircut. It was his eyes that bothered her, beautiful green eyes that held a whisper of arrogance, a touch of aloofness and a hint of judgment that made her both wary and defensive.
The living room was huge, but something about his presence made the walls close in. As long as he remembered who was working for whom, they would get along just fine, she thought.
“Mommy, is Mr. Clay a director?” Gracie asked.
Libby smiled at her daughter, her heart expanding with love. “No, sweetie. He’s just a friend who’s going to be staying with us for a little while.”
“That would be nice,” Gracie replied.
A young dark-haired woman flew into the room and stopped abruptly at the sight of them all. “Ah, there you are,” she said to Gracie. She smiled at Libby. “Ms. Lillian has arrived for her voice lesson.”
“Thank you, Molly.” Libby directed her attention to her daughter. “You’d better run along, Gracie. We don’t like to keep Ms. Lillian waiting. Besides, Clay and I have some grown-up things to discuss.”
“’Bye, Mr. Clay. I’ll see you later.” Gracie got up from the sofa and ran toward Molly. Before they left the room, she turned to look at Clay once again. “Maybe after dinner tonight we could play Barbies.”
Libby might have laughed at the frantic look on his face if she wasn’t so concerned with exactly how she was going to deal with the whole situation.
She believed that Charlie had jumped the gun. He had just become Gracie’s agent three months ago and Libby suspected he was simply trying to prove his worth.
“I promise you playing with dolls will not be part of your duties,” she said once Gracie had left the room.
“Thanks. I don’t usually work with kids.” He rose from the sofa, looking a bit impatient.
She frowned. “This isn’t going to be a problem, is it? I mean, you don’t hate kids or anything like that?”
“To be perfectly honest, I’ve never thought much about kids. But, no, it won’t be a problem.” He said the words with a decisive firmness and she wondered if he was trying to assure himself or her.
“Good, because my number-one priority is my daughter. Her well-being and happiness is all that matters to me.” She thought she saw a flicker of some doubt in his eyes, but it was there only a moment then disappeared.
“For as long as I’m here, we share that common goal.”
“Good. Now why don’t I show you to your room, then we can meet in the sunroom and I’ll show you the letters that prompted Charlie into hiring you.”
“Sounds good.”
He was apparently a man of few words, she thought as she led him through the foyer where he picked up a suitcase he’d apparently brought with him. She thought about telling him that she could have somebody carry it up for him, but she had a feeling he was a man who was comfortable doing for himself.
She led him up the wide, sweeping stairway that led to the second level where the bedrooms were located. She wished she was dressed more appropriately, but she’d been in the pool only a few minutes before he’d arrived and hadn’t had a chance to make it upstairs to change.
“Nice place,” he said from behind her.
“Thank you.” It was a beautiful house that radiated success and money in a town that revered both. They’d only moved in six months ago so it had yet to really feel like home.
She
