CHAPTER 5

“DID YOU HEAR a word I said?”

Kyle forced his thoughts away from Grace and looked up at Brent Connors. His chief technician and right-hand man, Brent, was pacing in front of Kyle’s desk. “What did you say?”

“I said money’s tight enough as it is. We don’t need a new assistant.”

“It’s not a point of discussion, Brent. If we want to keep this business growing, we need help.”

Brent collapsed into the chair opposite Kyle’s desk, then leaned back and put up his feet.

Kyle waved an irritated hand at the soles of Brent’s loafers. “Do you mind?”

“Help? What are you talking about?”

“Running a business, Brent.” His partner might own thirty percent of the business, but Kyle did one hundred percent of the day-to-day crap that kept the operation running. On top of that, he was the face man—the ex-cop who could get the clients, liaison with the community, and generally do the whole PR schtick while Brent designed and installed the systems. Having grown up at the edge of Emily’s spotlight, Kyle was used to being on display. Brent, however, was a science nerd and was happy to be ensconced behind the scenes.

So far, the system had worked out great. And Kyle could see hefty profits in their future. But those profits hinged on getting out from under the Driskell mess.

Three days had passed since he’d dropped Grace off at the Laguna Beach bus stop, and, except for the occasional foray into fantasy, he’d spent the past thirty-six hours focusing on his business. But even that wasn’t enough. Bills had been left by the wayside and calls gone unreturned. If he didn’t want the business to go under even while he was trying to save it, he was simply going to have to buckle down and hire someone to help around the office. Because right then Kyle’s priority was not only finding the flaw in Driskell’s system but fixing it, as well. And for that he needed all of his resources—time, money and Brent.

“We’ll figure it out,” Brent said. His partner had a way of reading his mind that was both disconcerting and comforting. Brent had designed Driskell’s system and done the installation personally. He was a total geek who took his job seriously, and he’d sworn to Kyle that the system was impenetrable. After the robbery, Brent had had to admit something had gone wrong.

“How?” Kyle asked. “How are we supposed to figure it out if we don’t have any time to devote to the problem?” He picked up a pile of résumés the placement agency had sent over that morning. “No, I made up my mind last night. I’m hiring an office assistant. That’s it. End of story.”

Brent didn’t respond. Instead he took a silver dollar out of his shirt pocket and started twirling it between his fingers.

Kyle shook his head, exasperated. Brent didn’t want to deal with the situation, didn’t want to admit his system was buggy, didn’t want to admit that anything needed fixing. But it did, and Kyle needed his partner to focus. But focusing wasn’t Brent’s strong suit.

Brent tossed the coin into the air, and Kyle gave up and took the not-so-subtle hint. “Okay, okay. So tell me how you did at the tables.”

“Up three grand. Not bad, eh?”

“Not bad,” Kyle agreed. Too bad the money was in Brent’s pocket and not the company’s bank account. “So you’re staying put for a while?”

Brent pocketed the coin and sat up straight. “Actually, I’m going back tomorrow.”

Kyle closed his eyes and sighed. “Shit, Brent. What have I just been saying? You know I need you here.”

“You just need me to figure out the problem. And I think better in Vegas.” He shrugged, and although it might have been a trick of the light, Kyle thought Brent actually blushed. “And, uh, well, I met a girl.”

“The girl can wait, man. This is our livelihood I’m talking about.”

“Come on, Kyle. You know I do my best work in the casinos. The noise inspires me.”

“Forget it, Brent.”

Brent scowled. “Can I at least work at home, or are you going to chain me to the office?”

Kyle held up his hands. “I gave up handcuffs when I quit the force. Home is fine. Just come in once or twice a day so we can touch base. See what kind of progress we’re making.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Kyle ran his fingers through his hair once again, thinking about his to-do list that just kept growing and growing. “And just so you know, this is exactly why I’m hiring an assistant. If I’m going to run this place solo, I need someone who can do the grunt work. So if you so much as hint that you’re against hiring someone, I swear your slot machine arm will be in traction for months.”

“Big talk,” Brent said, his grin wide.

“Maybe,” Kyle conceded. “But the sentiment’s real.”

Brent chuckled as he shifted in the chair. “So you were deep in thought when I got here. Thinking about anything in particular? Or anyone?”

Kyle looked up sharply. “Excuse me?”

“Ha!” Brent barked out a laugh and slapped his thigh. “I knew it. It’s true.” He webbed his hands behind his neck and leaned back. “So, what? How come I never heard of this gal? Did she get under your skin or what?”

Did she ever. “Yeah, she—” He stopped, stared at Brent. “How’d you hear?”

“Usual channels. My great-aunt’s sister was at Miss Emily’s party. And since she knows we work together, she asked me who your new girlfriend was. Imagine my embarrassment when I, your best friend and partner, couldn’t give her any dirt.”

“A tragedy, I know. But I don’t have any dirt to give.”

“No?”

“Sorry.”

Brent unpeeled a stick of gum, popped it in his mouth, then leaned back again. “Well, at least give me something to work with. Who is she? Is she hot?”

“Yes, she’s hot, and she’s just a girl I met. She needed help with her tire.” Kyle had no idea why he was keeping the full story from Brent. Maybe because he figured Grace’s secrets belonged to her and her alone. Or maybe he was just embarrassed that despite actually cruising by the bus stop on his way to the office every day, he’d been unable to find her again. He couldn’t tell Brent who she was because he didn’t know himself.

That little fact had been keeping him from sleep as much as his business worries had.

The electronic buzzer over the front door chimed, and Kyle stood up. “My first interview.”

Brent rolled his eyes. “Have fun. I’m out of here.”

But instead of a twenty-something looking for a job opportunity, Miss Emily swept in, passing Brent on his way out. She gave Kyle a quick kiss on the cheek and then took the seat Brent had just vacated.

He abandoned his desk for the seat next to her. She never ventured to his office—the traffic drove her crazy—and he couldn’t help but be concerned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no.” She patted his hand, a little too casually, he thought. “Everything’s fine. I was just at the bank and thought I’d stop in.”

“And…”

She had the good grace to look a bit sheepish. “And I hadn’t heard from you in a few days. I thought I’d see how you were doing. And Grace, too.”

And there it was. He knew Emily wouldn’t come by without an agenda, and he was relieved that it was a matchmaking one and not that she brought bad news.

“I haven’t seen Grace in a few days,” he said. He kept his voice matter-of-fact. He knew better than to let his tone even hint that he wanted to see the woman. If Emily got wind of the fact that he didn’t know how to locate Grace, she’d have everyone from the Sheriff’s Department to the Canadian Mounties pitching in to help.

Though, to be honest, there were times when he would appreciate the assistance. Because he did want to see her again. And it was taking a heck of a lot of willpower not to call in some favors with his cop buddies and see if they could track down a slim brunette with a record of cat burglary.

The frown lines at Emily’s mouth deepened. “Did you two quarrel?”

He shook his head. “Nothing like that. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression but the truth is we really didn’t know each other that well.” He thought of the kiss they’d shared and wished they’d known each other just a bit better. He cleared his throat, hoping the action would clear his brain, too. “I was just helping her out of a bind.”

“I see.” She stood, her handbag clutched near her chest as she started to pace the room.

He watched her for a moment, then broke down and asked, certain he’d regret it. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no.” But her voice was a little too sing-song, so of course he didn’t believe her. Besides, he knew exactly what was wrong. She’d assumed that he and Grace were an item and that her matchmaking days had come to a close. Now that she knew he was still on the market, he imagined her running through a mental Rolodex and wondered when she’d spring the next woman on him.

The possibility held even less appeal than usual, and he had to acknowledge the deep, dark truth—if any woman was going to be tossed into his life, he wanted the woman to be Grace. Foolish, considering he knew very little about the woman—with the very glaring exception of her felonious past—but there was no denying the impact she’d made on him.

“Résumés?”

He glanced up, startled back to attention, and saw his grandmother holding the sheath of papers.

“Yeah. I need an office assistant.” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, the first applicant should be here by now. The placement agency already has about ten interviews lined up for today.”

“You’re spending the whole day interviewing?”

“Yeah. Why? Are you applying for the job?”

He was making a joke, but Emily didn’t seem to get it. Instead of laughing, she simply frowned. “Not me, of course. But an assistant. Hmm. Why, yes. Yes, I think that could work.”

He studied her. “Grandma, what the hell are you talking about?”

“To help you out, I mean. You obviously need an assistant.” She flashed him her most dazzling smile, then patted his cheek. “You do look overworked.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“And now I simply must be going.”

“You just got here.”

“Errands,” she said. “And you have your interviews.” She paused in the doorway. “Good luck, dear. I’m sure you’ll find the perfect woman.”

And then she was gone. And Kyle was left with the distinct impression that she hadn’t been talking about an office assistant at all.

* * *

MEL’S NOSE TWITCHED. That aroma, that smell. That delicious elixir.

She snuggled under the blanket, her hazy mind forced to choose between the lingering dream of Kyle and the very real smell of coffee wafting around her.

Coffee? She hadn’t set the coffeepot to brew.

She peeled her eyes open to the wonderful sight of a full mug swaying under her nose.

“’Allo, my dear. Sleep tight?”

She sat up and grabbed the mug from Gramps, sloshing drops of coffee onto her jammies as she greedily took her first gulp. She swallowed. Ahhh. She might survive the morning after all.

“Who are you today?”

He threw back his shoulders and smoothed his thin, gray mustache. “I’m Cary Grant. To Catch a Thief. Can’t you tell?”

She clutched the mug tighter and searched his face for a clue that he knew about Kyle and his nickname for her. Nothing, thank goodness. Probably just a coincidence that Gramps picked today to be Cary.

She took another sip. She didn’t mind Gramps delivering coffee in bed. But she would have enjoyed another hour or two with Kyle twirling her around the dance floor in her dreams. She sighed. Three days had passed since he’d dropped her at the bus stop, and every night she’d lost herself in his arms.

Her dreams overflowed with Kyle, and when Gramps had woken her, she still hadn’t had her fill of him. Too bad, too, considering the only place she intended to see Kyle Radley again was in her dreams. No matter how much she liked him, no matter how much she craved him, there couldn’t be anything between them. Not only did they come from two completely different worlds, but he knew her biggest secret. And rule number one was to never, ever get involved with anyone who knew she was or ever had been a thief.

Too bad. At twenty-five she was hardly a wall-flower, but never once had she been out with a man who’d set her on fire all the way to her toes. And with nothing more than a look. When he’d actually touched her, she’d just about melted.

Kyle Radley was a walking, talking recipe for a good time. Too bad he couldn’t be her good time.

She shook her head, trying to dissolve thoughts of Kyle along with the cotton in her brain. She took another slug of coffee. That helped. A little, anyway.

“So what are you doing here?” She’d told him that the necklace was safely back with Frances, and he seemed fine with that. Hopefully he wasn’t here to announce the acquisition of yet another priceless birthday present.

“I’m getting you up, girl. What does it look like I’m doing?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You want to tell me why?”

“Betsy called. She’s got some job she thinks you’d be perfect for.”

“All right. I’ll bite. Who’s Betsy, and why is she finding me jobs?”

“A friend of a friend. Owns a placement agency in Los Angeles. I thought maybe she could help you out, and it looks like I was right.”

“Really? That’s great. Thanks.”

“I’m supposed to make sure you get there by one.” He aimed a disapproving glance toward her digital clock, clearly not impressed by her penchant for sleeping till noon.

Of course, he didn’t know that she’d stayed up until three sending her résumé by e-mail to dozens of places she’d located on the Web. A long shot, but maybe she’d get a nibble.

A huge yawn sneaked up on her and she blinked a few more times, trying to wake up. Another hit of the coffee helped, and she let the warm liquid bring her slowly back to life.

She glanced over toward the clock, and reality filtered through her hazy brain. “There’s no way I can make it in time.” Too bad, too. She had no idea what sort of job this Betsy woman had lined up, but Mel was determined not to be picky.

“Nonsense. You’ve got plenty of time.” He turned to her bookcase and grabbed a tall glass filled with something thick and green. “Here’s your breakfast. Chock-full o’ vitamins. Fixed it myself.” He handed her the glass, then thumped his chest. “Not too tasty, but what a kick.”

Her nose crinkled as she sniffed it. Somewhere between spinach and battery acid. “Um…I’m not really hungry.”

“Fine, fine. More time to get ready.” He waved his hand toward her closet. Her best suit was hanging on the back of the door. Really, the man had more energy than a two-year-old.

“All right. You win.” She held out her mug. “Did you bring reinforcements?”

“Did Clark Gable give a damn?” He poured a refill from a thermos he’d left on her chest of drawers.

“Gable didn’t give a damn, Gramps, so the answer would be no. But you did bring more coffee.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Did you understand what I meant?”

“Well, sure.”

“Then hush up and respect your elders.”

She grinned toward the floor. Nothing irritated Gramps more than getting caught messing up a movie quote.

She shuffled toward the bathroom, nibbling on her thumbnail and considering Gramps’s grand gesture. “So why the sudden foray into job placement? Did you finally realize that I’m never going to manage to find one on my own?”

She frowned at her reflection, then ran a brush through her hair. She’d showered the night before and slept on it wet. Perfect recipe for a bad hair day.

His heavy sigh seeped through the closed door. “I worry about you. And you’re concerned about those taxes. I know. I see.”

She grinned, positive there was more to it than that. “And?”

He cleared his throat. “And maybe I’m trying to hurry things along.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that until you’ve found a job and settled down, you won’t be dating. And until you start dating you won’t find a husband. And without a husband, I won’t get great-grandchildren.”

An image of Miss Emily’s friends hovering over her and Kyle flashed in her mind. She opened the bathroom door and stuck her head out. “What is it with your generation, anyway? Haven’t you got anything better to do than play matchmaker?”

“I’m old and feeble. Meddling in your love life keeps me occupied.”

She ran her gaze over him. Sharp eyes, strong shoulders, a thin, wiry body covered with a gray sweat suit, and two-pound ankle weights on each leg. Not a feeble bone or thought within a hundred miles.

“Liar,” she said, smiling.

“All right,” he said. “So I’m not feeble. I still want the great-grandchildren.”

That she believed. The truth was, she wanted to give them to him.

And it was exactly because she did want a family that she needed to find a job on the right side of the law. She needed to get moving on her new life. A life where she could sweep the past away and start over fresh. A life where, if someone asked her what she did, she didn’t have to lie.

She craved that life, would do anything to have it. Even give up the thrill of her former life for it. She had to, because the alternative was just too horrible. True, Gramps did okay, but she’d seen the hurt in his eyes when people shunned him because of his reputation. In the Hollywood heyday, he’d been a mystery, the dashing young extra who might or might not have been “The Cat.” But Hollywood had changed, and so had the way people looked at Gramps. Both the ones who knew and the ones who only suspected.

Mel had heard all the stories and had seen enough with her own eyes to know full well how a person’s past could haunt them. How friends and family you believed knew you and loved you would suddenly shun you. Her own parents had refused to let Gramps see her. It had been an ironic twist of fate that had left him to raise her from the age of eleven after her parents had been killed in a car accident.

She wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to her. Gramps had stayed in the game too long, and now he was a loner. Not Mel. She was already retired, and she was starting over. A new life. A new career. Her past was going to remain her secret. And she’d do what she had to, to keep it that way.

And the first step was to get a real job.

No matter how boring, tedious and monotonous it was.

* * *

THE WOMAN SITTING across from Kyle shifted, a bright smile plastered on her face as she clutched a fake leather portfolio in her lap. She was a bit gawky and awkward, but she seemed to know her stuff, and that was all he cared about.

He stole a glance at her résumé, trying to remember her name. “So, uh, Terri, why did you leave your last job?”

She licked her lips and didn’t quite meet his eyes when she answered. “My boyfriend and I, we moved to Irvine. And, well, I didn’t want to make the commute all the way up to Burbank every day, so…” Her voice trailed off.

He nodded, then cleared his throat as he flipped through the file Betsy had sent over. Terri had been trained on all the basic office software and had a glowing recommendation from her former employer, the CEO of a small manufacturing company in the San Fernando Valley. She’d interacted with clients, answered phones, performed various secretarial functions. Basically everything that Kyle needed.

Except for the fact that carrying on a conversation with her was more painful than dredging up chit-chat at a cocktail party, the woman really was perfect.

And it wasn’t as if he actually needed someone in the office that he could talk with. True, it would just be the three of them, him and Brent and the new assistant, but he wasn’t looking for a friend. He was looking for an efficient, competent employee.

He’d seen three girls that morning and had a fourth due at one o’clock. Not a huge sampling, he knew, but so far this one seemed to have all the basic skills even if she was painfully, awkwardly shy.

He asked her what kind of benefits and time off she wanted, then flipped through the remaining résumés while she answered. Most of the applicants were lacking in some area, and he wondered if he should simply cancel their interviews. Only the one Betsy had faxed a few hours earlier looked as if it had potential. Melissa Tanner’s overall qualifications looked great. Hopefully, she’d have some personality, too.

A chime sounded, a signal that someone had entered the reception area adjoining Kyle’s office. Kyle sighed, then stood. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said to Terri. “I think the next applicant is early.”

He stepped into the reception area…and then stopped short.

There she was. The woman he’d scoured Laguna Beach for. The woman he’d spent three days fantasizing about. His Grace. Standing there all prim and proper in her conventional green suit, looking just as surprised as he felt.

He stepped forward, desperately afraid that she would bolt, then held out his hand in an attempt at bland professionalism. “Melissa Tanner, I presume? I’m Kyle Radley.” He smiled. “How very nice to meet you.”