to believe me.”
Riley had learned a long time ago not to trust anyone. As much as he liked Zeke, he wasn’t going to change his rule for him.
“If whatever it is you’re doing spills over into the campaign, I won’t just fire you, I’ll do what I can to ruin you,” Riley said. “Do we understand each other?”
“Sure.” Zeke jerked his head toward the portrait on the far wall. “I know you never met your uncle, but I did. You probably don’t want to hear this, but you’re a lot like him.”
No, Riley didn’t want to know. “Thanks for sharing,” he said dryly. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
When Zeke had collected his papers and left, Riley stared at the door for a long time. He wanted to believe the problem was solved, but the tension in his gut told him otherwise. Zeke was up to something and Riley wanted to know what.
He picked up the phone and pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket.
“Hi, this is Gracie,” a female voice said after two rings.
Riley grinned. Whoever would have thought he would one day be calling Gracie Landon on purpose?
“It’s Riley. I talked to Zeke.”
“And?”
He outlined their conversation.
“Alexis isn’t going to be satisfied with that,” Gracie said.
“I’m not either. I’m going to follow him tonight. See where he goes.”
“I want to come with you.”
His first instinct was to say no, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. The Gracie he knew would simply follow him, which meant they would be a very conspicuous parade.
“Fine. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. Are you back at the old house?”
“No. I’m renting a place.” She gave him the address. “This is pretty cool,” she said when he’d written it down. “I’ve never been on a stakeout before.”
“Great. This is the perfect opportunity to round out your stalker past.”
GRACIE WASN’T SURE of the correct fashion choice for a stakeout. In the movies everyone wore dark colors and drank cold coffee. She couldn’t possibly drink coffee this late—not if she wanted to sleep or even keep her belly from going up in flames. She was nervous enough. Caffeine would simply cause an overflow of acid and the resulting pain would lay her low for hours.
“Clothes first, refreshments later,” she told herself as she stood in front of the closet.
She hadn’t brought all that much up with her for her stay in Los Lobos. Most of the space in her Subaru had been crammed with baking supplies and decorating tools, not to mention her nifty cooling racks. She’d limited her clothing choices to two small suitcases. Of course when she’d made that decision she hadn’t planned on playing Bond girl sidekick to Riley’s yummy 007.
“Black,” she murmured as she sorted through jeans and other slacks. A pair of black Dockers caught her attention. Somewhere she had a black T-shirt. That should do.
She found the T-shirt in a drawer. Unfortunately it was decorated with a white silhouette of a bride and groom and proclaimed itself to be from the 2004 Bride on the Beach show she’d attended the previous summer.
Gracie ignored the unfortunate pattern and pulled it on. She studied herself in the mirror and realized her blond hair would act as a beacon. Another quick search unearthed a battered Dodgers baseball cap. The blue didn’t match the black but hey, this was a stakeout, not a fashion show. Besides, Riley was unlikely to notice what she was wearing.
Riley. Just his name made her body tense and her heart rate quadruple. She was going to have to figure out a way to counter her reaction to him. They were only together to figure out what Zeke was up to. She had a feeling that given the choice, Riley would rather spend the evening with a known mass murderer than her. Any attraction on her part was a really bad idea.
She stuffed her feet into sandals and headed for the front of the house. The light patter on the roof told her the rain promised by the local news had arrived. She picked up a windbreaker and then searched out her purse and keys.
Seconds later lights swept across the front window. He was here.
She didn’t know if she should run for cover or boldly step into the night. She settled on waiting for him to knock on her front door.
“Hi,” she said as she pulled it open, then was grateful she’d done the speaking thing before seeing him.
God, he looked good. Like her, he’d dressed all in black, but his T-shirt didn’t advertise anything beyond the chiseled muscles of his chest and the narrowness of his waist. Raindrops winked from his slicked back hair as if bragging about their close proximity to the man himself.
“Ready?” he asked as he brushed off his bare arms. “You have a coat. Good. It’s really raining.”
She found herself more than tongue-tied. She felt frozen in place, as if her feet had somehow become completely stuck to the foyer tile. She might never move again. Centuries from now archeologists would unearth her and put her still upright body in some natural history museum with a little notice beside her on the wall saying they couldn’t explain what she was doing, either.
She forced herself to breathe and then to speak. “Are we, um, taking your car?”
“I’d rather.”
It was fine with her. She didn’t feel up to driving. She doubted she was capable of much more than involuntary bodily functions at this moment. She wasn’t just overwhelmed by her attraction to Riley, but also by the unfairness of the situation. She’d been gone for so long and had gotten on with her life. Was it too much to ask that she be able to come home for a few weeks and not make a complete fool out of herself?
No answer crashed through the heavens, so she grabbed her purse and her keys, turned out the living room light and stepped into the cool, damp, night air.
Riley led his way to his car—a sleek, silver Mercedes that still smelled of new car and high-end leather. She slid onto the passenger seat and tried not to think about the fact they were going to spend the next who-knew-how-long together. Confined.
In some circles this could be considered a date. Of course in some circles she would be considered a menace to society and in desperate need of counseling.
“Why aren’t you staying at your mom’s house?” he asked.
“I thought about it, but I need the space for my work. I tend to be a night owl and a lot of people don’t appreciate noise from the kitchen at 3:00 a.m.”
He backed out of the driveway, then glanced at her. “Do I remember something about cakes?”
“Wedding cakes. They’re very fancy. I also
