Grayson. Delores Fossen

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Grayson - Delores Fossen Mills & Boon Intrigue

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I’ve been getting hang-up calls at my condo in San Antonio. And there’s been a time or two when I thought someone was following me. Nothing specific. Just a feeling. It was one of the reasons I decided to come out to the cottage. So I could get away.”

      Well, that explained that. Eve had inherited the cottage from her grandmother eighteen months ago, but to the best of Grayson’s knowledge, this was her first visit to the place. And she hadn’t just come to relax. She’d planned on calling him.

      Why?

      Again, he didn’t ask. He kept this conversation focused on the job he’d been called out to do.

      “Any reason you know of why someone would follow you or make those hang-up calls?” he asked.

      Another head shake. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” she admitted. “The job. And some personal stuff. Until I saw the man, I kept telling myself that it was all in my head. But he was real, Grayson.”

      He mentally groaned at the way she said his name. It was intimate, the way she used to murmur it after one of their scalding hot kissing sessions.

      He glanced at the woods, then the creek. “I’ll have a look around,” Grayson let her know. “But if you’re worried, you probably shouldn’t be staying out here alone.”

      He turned to have that look around.

      “Wait,” Eve called out. “Don’t go. I wanted to ask about your family. How are your brothers?”

      He had four living brothers. Four sets of news, updates and troubles. Since it would take the better part of an hour to catch her up on everything, Grayson settled for saying, “They’re all fine.”

      Grayson turned again, but again Eve stopped him.

      “Even Nate?” she questioned. “I heard his wife was killed a few months ago.”

      Yeah. That was all part of the troubles. The worst of them. “Nate’s coping.” But Grayson knew that wasn’t true. If Nate didn’t have his baby daughter to care for, his brother wouldn’t make it out of bed each morning. Grayson was still trying to figure out how to take care of that.

      “And the ranch?” Eve continued. “I read somewhere that the ranch won a big award for your quarter horses.”

      Fed up with the small talk, Grayson decided to put an end to this. Chitchat was an insult at this stage of the game. However, when he looked back at her, he saw that she had her hands clenched around the door frame. Her knuckles were turning white.

      Grayson cursed under his breath. “Okay. What’s wrong?” But he didn’t just ask. He went closer so he could see inside the cottage to make sure someone wasn’t standing behind her, holding her at gunpoint. Because Eve wasn’t the white-knuckle type. He had never known anything to scare her.

      The place was small so he was able to take in most of it with one sweeping glance. There was no one in the living and eating area, and the loft/bedroom was empty, too.

      Grayson looked her straight in the eyes. “Eve, are you all right?”

      She hesitated and nibbled some more on her lip. “I really did see someone about a half hour ago, I swear, and he ran away when he spotted me.”

      Since that sounded like the beginning of an explanation that might clarify the real reason for her call, Grayson just stood there and waited for the rest of it.

      “Could you come in?” Eve finally said. “I need to talk to you.”

      Oh, hell. This couldn’t be good. “Talk?” he challenged.

      He was about to remind her that it was long over between them, that they had no past issues to discuss, but she kept motioning for him to come in.

      “Eve,” he warned.

      “Please.” Her voice was all breath and no sound.

      Grayson cursed that please and the look in her eyes. He knew that look. He’d seen it when she was thirteen and had learned her mother was dying from bone cancer. He’d seen it again sixteen years ago when on her twenty-first birthday she’d stood in the doorway of the ranch and demanded a commitment from him or else.

      Because he’d had no choice, Grayson had answered or else.

      And Eve had walked out.

      Now, Grayson walked in. She stepped back so he could enter the cottage, and she shut the door behind him. He didn’t take off his Stetson or his jacket because he hoped he wouldn’t be here that long.

      It was warm inside, thanks to the electric heater she had going near the fireplace. No fire, though. And it would have been a perfect day for it since the outside temp was barely forty degrees.

      With a closer look, Grayson could see the place was in perfect order. Definitely no signs of any kind of struggle or hostage situation. There was no suitcase that he could spot, but Eve’s purse was on the coffee table, and her camera and equipment bag were on the small kitchen counter. Several photographs were spread out around the bag. Since Eve was a newspaper photographer, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, either.

      “The pictures,” she mumbled following his gaze. “I was trying to work while I waited for you.”

      Trying. And likely failing from the way they were scattered around. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

      “Yes,” she readily admitted.

      Surprised, and more worried than he wanted to be, he turned around to face her. “Trouble with the law?”

      “I wish,” Eve mumbled. She groaned softly and threaded her fingers through both sides of her hair. That stretched her dress over her breasts and gave Grayson a reminder he didn’t want or need.

      He’d been attracted to Eve for as long as he could remember. But he refused to let that attraction play into whatever the hell this was.

      “Trouble at work?” he tried next.

      She lifted her shoulder but answered, “No.”

      He glanced at the photos on the table again.

      “I took those at a charity fundraising rodeo in San Antonio,” she explained.

      So, they were work, but judging from the casual way she’d mentioned them, they weren’t the source of the worry in her eyes. “Look, I could play twenty questions and ask about a stalker, an ex or whatever. But let’s save ourselves some time and you just tell me what you have to say.”

      She nodded, paused, nodded again. “It’s personal. And it has to do with you. I need to ask you something.”

      Grayson braced himself for some kind of rehashing of the past. After all, he was thirty-eight now, and Eve was thirty-seven. Hardly kids. And since neither of them had ever married, maybe this was her trip back down memory lane.

      Well, he didn’t want to take this trip with her.

      “I’ve been having some medical problems,” she continued. But then paused again.

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