Falling For Gracie. Susan Mallery

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 do cakes for showers sometimes, but most people aren’t willing to pay that kind of money except for the actual wedding.”

      “How much are we talking about?”

      She shrugged. “I’m working on a shower cake right now. It’s fairly ornate and will serve fifty. I’m charging a thousand.”

      The car swerved slightly. “Dollars?”

      “I’ve found it really helpful to keep my prices in U.S. currency. It saves confusion.”

      “For a cake?”

      “A really good cake.”

      “But still.”

      She smiled. A lot of people reacted the way he did. Those who wanted something incredibly special and totally handmade were willing to pay the price.

      “How many cakes do you make a year?” he asked.

      “Less than a hundred. Of course wedding cakes are more expensive, but they take longer. I do okay, but I’m not getting rich. I won’t until I decide to expand, which I’m not sure I want to do. I like having total control.”

      As she talked he drove through Los Lobos. “You know where Zeke lives?” she asked.

      “I’ve been there a couple of times.”

      “I have his license plate,” she said, digging in her purse for the information Alexis had given her.

      Riley nodded at the windshield. “If this rain gets worse, we won’t be able to read it from any kind of distance.”

      He pulled onto a side street and slowed. Gracie had only been by her sister’s house once since returning to town, so she had to check out numbers to figure out which one it was.

      Riley turned off his lights and cruised to a stop across the street. He pointed. “That’s Zeke’s SUV.”

      She peered through the windshield. “Is it black?”

      “Dark blue, but in this weather, anything dark is going to look black.”

      “Okay.” She leaned back in her seat. “Now what?”

      Riley glanced at her. “We wait.”

      She’d known that, of course. That’s what stakeouts were all about. Waiting. But thinking about it and actually doing it were two different things. Not only did Riley make her nervous, she found it really difficult to sit still. He sat there, immobilized, watching the house, while she shifted in her seat, stretched out her legs, fussed with her jacket, then tugged on her Dodger cap.

      “You going to settle down anytime soon?” he asked, never taking his attention from the house.

      “I’m settled. I just can’t get comfortable.” She sat up straighter in the seat. “I’ve been accused of fidgeting, but I don’t understand how people can sit there like lumps. It’s not natural. It’s—”

      “There,” Riley said, cutting her off and pointing.

      Sure enough Zeke hurried out of the house toward his SUV. Gracie instinctively sank down in her seat and shielded her face.

      “I doubt he can see you through the rain,” Riley said dryly.

      “I want to be sure,” she said. “Keep your voice down.”

      Riley grinned. “You’re taking this too seriously.” He started his engine and waited until Zeke pulled out before shifting into gear and following him.

      Riley might think they were safe, but Gracie stayed slumped in her seat until it became obvious Zeke was heading directly to the freeway and not trying to lose anyone.

      “Where do you think he’s going?” she asked as she shifted into a more comfortable position. “And what’s he up to? If he’s not seeing another woman, the possibilities are endless.”

      “Please don’t list them,” Riley said.

      She glanced at him. “I wasn’t going to.”

      “One never knows with you.”

      She bristled. “Excuse me,” she said, turning toward him as much as her seat belt would allow. “You don’t