All That I Need (Grayson Friends) (4 page)

Fallon hugged her, then leaned her head against hers. “Same here. Like I said, the apartment gods were smiling on me this time. It’s been great living next door to you these months.”

Naomi straightened. “You and Catherine helped me stop being afraid and reach out for Richard. You’ve been wonderful with Kayla. I’d say it was the other way around.”

“Yeah, it’s been nice.” Fallon removed the waffle when the alarm sounded. “Mama and Megan are anxious to have me home before I leave for my next assignment.”

Taking the platters of meat and waffles, Naomi placed them on the kitchen table. “If you weren’t leaving, would it make a difference with things between you and Lance?”

“I’m not sure.” Fallon sipped her coffee. “Bad timing. I’m going out there today to take more notes.”

“Then there’s still a chance.”

Fallon shook her head. “Lance is a hard man to read.”

Naomi placed another plate on the table. “So it will take more effort. Won’t the end results be worth it?”

All Fallon had to do was think of the searing look Lance had given her the night before. “Yes.”

“Then go get him.”

*   *   *

Late Tuesday afternoon Lance finally heard the sound that he had waited all day to hear, the chime of the doorbell. So, she had finally come—if it was her. She was almost two hours later than the day before. He’d begun to worry about her fifteen minutes past the time he thought she should be there.

Bad. Very bad.

No matter how much he told himself to keep it professional, some part of him—the stubborn part that had helped him succeed in business if not his personal life—wasn’t listening. He’d almost called Richard to check on her, then reasoned that if something had happened Richard would have notified him.

If Richard knew.

Lance threw his pen on the desk and came to his feet. He hadn’t done a solid ten minutes of work all day. Women messed up a man’s orderly life. He knew that better than most. Yet—

A knock came on his office door. “Mr. Saxton, your guest, Ms. Marshall, is here.”

Relief, excitement, uneasiness—so many emotions crowded Lance’s brain he couldn’t sort all of them out. He’d never been this conflicted about a woman or anything else in his life. He tended to see things in black and white—no gray—since the year his mother had married another man and made Lance feel like an outsider in his own home.

“Mr. Saxton?”

Letting go of the resentment, Lance unclenched his fists. The past needed to stay in the past. “Come in.”

The door opened. He caught a brief glimpse of Carmen, his housekeeper; then Fallon stepped into the room and she became his entire focus.

She was stunningly beautiful and off-limits. Before he knew it, he was moving. He didn’t ask or hesitate; he just took her into his arms, his mouth finding hers. He expected a mild resistance—which he was fully prepared to overcome. What he didn’t expect was for her to melt in his arms, to soften and wrap her arms around his neck, letting her sleek, elegant body mold itself against him. He was a bit shocked by his behavior, but passion was stronger than caution.

Heat and desire shot through his veins. He took the kiss deeper, his tongue thrusting and sliding across hers and feasted off her incredible soft, sweet mouth as one hand swept down her elegant back. Finally he lifted his head and swept his mouth across hers, intending to kiss her again.

“That’s some hello,” she said, but her voice trembled as much as she did in his arms.

He couldn’t recall a woman being that shaken by a kiss, but staring down into Fallon’s deep brown eyes, he had the feeling again that she was different—and therefore more dangerous to his peace of mind.

Still, his thumb traced over the dampness of her lower lip. Before now he would have thought himself a cautious man—life had made him that way. Yet—“I regretted I didn’t kiss you last night.”

“So did I,” she admitted.

His head dipped. She pushed out of his arms. He let her go—for now.

“I’m leaving Sunday on the seven-thirty morning flight to Austin,” she said, her voice steady, her gaze direct. “I don’t do affairs.”

He believed her. His bad luck with women was holding. After three years of going through the motions, he’d finally met a woman he’d like to get to know better out of bed and she wasn’t available. “I wish you weren’t a woman of principle.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Which means you’ve been around the wrong type of women.”

Since she was right, he didn’t comment, just went to stand behind his desk. He needed to put some distance between them. “You’re late.”

“Naomi’s coworkers gave her a surprise bridal shower after school. I went to pick up Kayla.” Fallon grinned, quick and easy. “The principal was concerned that some of the gifts might be of the adult variety, and she was right. I’m here now.”

“So you are.” He took a seat and picked up his pen. “They’re still doing inventory, but feel free to roam and take pictures.”

Her eyes widened, her hand went to her chest.

He came out of his seat and crossed to her. “What is it?”

Her gaze went to him, then skittered away.

He’d seen that evasive look from women too many times in his life. He’d hoped never to see it again. He started for his desk. “I won’t keep you.”

“I was hurrying and forgot my camera,” she said softly, but he heard and swung back around.

“At your apartment?”

Folding her arms, she looked out the window over his shoulder. “The car.”

He stared at her. She’d been that anxious to see him?

“Don’t get the big head,” she told him, lowering her arms. “The house has a lot of appeal as well.”

“Yes, it does.” Not only could he get a big head, but he also could lose it over the woman with a half smile on alluring lips whom he was beginning to crave.

“I better get to it.” She went to the door.

“Do you have any plans for dinner?” he asked, hoping to sound casual.

She wrinkled her pretty nose. “Two-day-old spaghetti.”

“I think I can do better than that,” he said.

“You cooking?” Folding her arms, she leaned against the door.

“Not one of my talents,” he told her. “Fortunately, Carmen is an excellent cook, although I’m not sure what’s on the menu tonight.”

“I’m easy.”

His brow lifted.

She flushed. “I meant—”

“Believe me, I know full well what you meant.” The laugh just slipped out. It was rare to see a woman blush, even rarer to laugh in the company of one.

Eyes narrowed, she came away from the door. “You’re laughing at me.”

“It would seem.” He pulled a folder closer to him. “Carmen prepares dinner for me before she leaves at six. Usually it’s something I can reheat since I have a tendency to get buried in my work, so any time after six we can eat.”

She returned to the door. “I can get involved as well. One or the other of us will come find the other if the other gets hungry.”

“Ah, I think I understood that,” he said, smiling. She really was fun.

She grinned. “Later.”

The door closed and Lance stared after her, his smile slowly fading. Fallon Marshall was proving to be more than a pretty face and incredible body. He just hoped she was as open and as honest as she appeared.

Chapter 3

Fallon had told Lance the truth regarding becoming engrossed with work and forgetting the time. She thoroughly enjoyed the hunt, as she called ferreting out information and places that others might have missed or presenting them in a different way to people to give them an entirely new perspective. She wanted to do that now. Very much.

Lowering the camera, she stared down at the graceful lines of a Regency table crowded with delicate-colored crystal in various shapes in front of the window in the master bedroom suite. Thaddeus’s daughter had collected crystal. Fallon’s fingers traced the curves of the intertwined heart-shaped red crystal paperweight.

“First-anniversary present from her husband.”

Fallon looked up to see Lance, arms folded, long jean-clad legs crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. She accepted that he’d always make her heart race. The man certainly packed a wallop. To give her heart time to calm, her body not to want what it couldn’t have, she glanced back down. “They’re beautiful and stunning.”

She sensed rather than heard or saw him move. “According to her journal, she’d hoped her son’s children would collect as well.”

Sadness swamped Fallon. In spite of what had happened, her family still had one another to talk to, to be there for one another. “She and her father had so much hope for a legacy that will never happen.”

Lance’s wide-palmed hand gently swept down her arm in a comforting gesture—which surprised and pleased her. “Perhaps not her family, but another family. I’m selling the collection in one lot, so the chances of that happening are good.”

Fallon frowned and picked up the paperweight. “I don’t know about crystal, but since everything I’ve seen is of the highest quality I have to reason that this collection is also.”

He nodded his dark head. “They are. Most are Baccarat like the one you’re holding.”

“Wouldn’t your chance of selling all of them be better if they were sold separately?” she asked.

“Possibly, but they’ll present better in a group.” His hands slid into the pockets of his jeans. “Dinner is ready.”

She didn’t think that was his only reason, but she let it pass. She replaced the paperweight. “You help the house come alive for me. I—” Her eyes rounded as a thought struck.

Spinning sharply, she grabbed his am, felt the warm muscles flex beneath her fingers, and tried to keep her mind on what she’d been about to say. “What if you put details about the furnishings on discreet cards? It would do the same for a lot of the buyers coming, and give people time to think about purchasing and starting their own tradition.”

“It will be on the auctioneer notes.”

She was shaking her head before he finished. “Some will buy on impulse, but others need time to think.”

“Then they’ll miss out.” He took her arm and started from the room. “It’s almost seven.”

“If you had an open house—possibly invite the local historical society, prominent collectors, to get a nice buzz—it would be great.”

Lance threw her a skeptical glance before starting down the stairs. “The auction is in less than two weeks.”

“To get an unhurried view of this place, they’d clear their schedule if they had to.” Fallon sniffed the air as they stepped off the last rung of the spiral stairs. “Something smells good.”

“Roast chicken, garlic roasted potatoes, asparagus, yeast rolls.” Lance led her through the kitchen with deep mahogany cabinetry and six-inch crown molding. At least he tried to.

“This is almost as big as my entire apartment.” Fallon stopped and turned in a circle. “I love the contrast of the white window frames and curtains against the dark wood.”

“The kitchen was modernized two years ago with Miele ovens, a Viking cooktop and grill, and Rohl sinks with Dornbracht fittings,” he told her.

Fallon grinned. “Only the best.”

“Exactly.” Lance opened the back door and stepped onto the loggia.

“It’s beautiful out here.” Fallon followed him onto the vine-covered bricked area and admired the many potted plants in varied hues, the green lawn, and the deep blue waters of the rectangular pool a short distance away.

“Herbert did some updates like the kitchen and baths, but where he really shined was in his vision to turn the dry, unforgiving land around the house into a verdant garden.” Lance pulled out a chair at a round rattan table with a glass top.

Fallon placed her camera on a low table nearby and took her seat in one of the rattan chairs. “Thank you.” Once he was seated, she blessed their food and served them. “So what do you think of my idea?”

“It has merit.”

Getting used to Lance’s short or monosyllabic answers, Fallon plunged ahead. “I could help write them up. I think handwritten notes would be more personal, don’t you?”

What he thought was that Fallon was proving to be as smart as she was stubborn, but then so was he. “Yes.”

She wrinkled her nose and handed him his plate loaded with food. He noticed with pleasure that she had healthy portions on hers as well. She seemed to enjoy food. He could only wonder if she enjoyed more carnal appetites, since he was doomed never to know the answer.

“It’s impolite to stare.” Fallon cut into her chicken.

Since she had caught him, there was no sense denying the fact or looking away. “I enjoy looking at beautiful things.”

Her head came up sharply. Her eyes went dreamy; then she shook her head. “Stop that.”

“I’m not sure I can,” he admitted, then wanted to kick himself. Telling a woman that she had any kind of power over you was a recipe for disaster.

She sat back in her chair. “I can’t figure you out. One moment you’re all business, the next you’re the flirtatious man I first met, then next you’re somewhere in between. Which one is the real you?”

“Somewhere in between,” he said. “How is the chicken?”

“Delicious, and you’re evading. But since I’m hungry and this is your home—” She broke off.

“What is it this time?” he asked, getting used to her thoughts hopping from one subject to the other.

“This house. Usually no one lives on the estate in a case like this, yet here you are and the grounds are spectacular and the house is spotless.” She laced her fingers together and propped her elbows on the table. “So, give. Who bought this house?”

Lance took another bite of his asparagus. “Smart, but perhaps the person wants to remain anonymous.”

Fallon popped a potato cube into her mouth, chewed, and studied him. “Perhaps.”

He didn’t like the way she was scrutinizing him. As smart as she was, she might figure it out. For the time being, he didn’t want anyone knowing he’d purchased the house. “How long does it usually take to write an article?”

She picked up her fork. “Depends on if I’m able to get reliable and full information.”

His mouth twitched. So she knew he was trying to throw her off track. “I’m sure the piece will be excellent in any case.”