Sticks and Stones (4 page)

          Chase took a
steadying breath. Blake was sucking all the patience out of him. “So, not
married then. What about a boyfriend?”

          Blake’s lips
thinned and he crossed his arms over his chest.

          “Fuck it!”
Chase snapped and pulled out his cell phone.

*        *        *

          Rick stood with
his hands in his pockets looking at the skaters on the ice. “Look, Victor, I’d
love to keep the clinic going but I’ve got to start training soon for the new
season.”

          “Ricochet, I’m
just saying, it’s too bad it has to end. You know, you’ve made quite an
impression on those kids,” Victor stated.

          Rick blushed,
“They made an impression on me, too.” He felt a vibration in his pocket and
pulled out his cell phone. “O’Shea!”

          “I found her!”
Chase giggled.

          Rick stuck his
forefinger in his ear to hear better. “What?”

          “Did I stutter?
I said I found her!”

          Rick walked
towards the exit. “You found
her
?”

          “Yep! Now, how
fast can you get your ass to Blake’s office?”

*        *        *

          Olga Cabot
fidgeted in the stiff chair in Grace’s office. “Really, it’s only two blocks
from here. I’ll gladly pay for cab fare!”

          “Usually, Ms.
Cabot, a consultation is just that. You, as the client, tell me how you’d like
for your home to be decorated and I come up with sketches and call you within a
week. Since you’ve provided photographs I already have a feel for what you’re
looking for.”

          Olga lifted her
chin. “I’ll just take my business elsewhere!”

          Grace really
wanted to tell her what she could do with her business, but refrained. Eating
was more important. She gritted her teeth and smiled sweetly. “Let me just tell
my partner that I’ll be gone for a bit.”

          When she opened
the door to her office she was surprised that Mr. Storm was still in the
meeting room with Blake. As she moved closer she noticed that both men looked
irate. She knocked gently on the glass door before opening it.

          “Is everything
okay?”

          Chase pasted a
smooth grin on his face. “Fine. Blake and I are just having a minor
disagreement.”

          Blake snorted.
“I’ll say.”

          “Is this about
Bewitching Designs working with you?” she asked softly.

          “No, not at
all,” Chase assured.

          Her right
eyebrow lifted, unsure. “I have to leave the office for a bit,” she shrugged,
motioning behind her. “Ms. Cabot wants me to see her loft before I sketch
ideas.”

          Chase ran a
hand through his now unruly hair. “Will you be back soon?”

          “I believe so.
Is there something else you’d like to discuss?”

          Chase’s eyes
darted to Blake. “Yes, I actually have some ideas that I’d like to pass by
you.”

          “Oh. Very well.
I should be back within the hour.”

          She nodded
goodbye and followed Ms. Cabot to the elevator.

          Although a
breeze swept over the city, Grace felt the humidity when they reached the
sidewalk.  She lifted a hand to flag a cab and Olga pursed her blood red lips.

          “Really dear,
it’s only a few blocks! Surely a woman in your shape can walk two measly blocks
on such a beautiful sunny day,” she sniffed.

          Grace glanced
at her four-inch Louboutin heels and ground her teeth. “Fine,” she hissed.

          Five blocks
later, Graces feet burned and ached. Sweat pooled under her arms and around her
neck.

          “Ah then! Here
we are,” Olga crooned happily. She opened the door to the building and
muttered. “The elevator’s out of service. We’ll have to take the stairs.”

          Grace’s teeth
clenched. “What floor are you on?”

          Olga grinned.
“The sixth floor.”

*        *        *

          Rick drove as
safely as he could to Blake’s office. He was eager to find out how Chase found
Miss Not Interested, but didn’t want to use the phone as he drove. He’d already
been detoured by one accident and didn’t want to create another.

          He knew the
vicinity of the office, but not the address. He pulled into a parking garage,
sliding his Mustang into the first available slot. As he exited the garage he
dialed Chase’s cell.

          “What the
address?”

          “What the fuck
took you so long to get here?” Chase yelled into the phone after rattling off
the address.

          “There was an
accident so I had to take a detour. Is she there?”

          “No, but she
should be back any minute.”

          “How do you
know it’s her?”

          “I drew the
fucking picture. If it’s not her then it’s her twin!” Chase snapped.

*        *        *

          On the cab ride
back to the office Grace wanted to slide her shoes off but questionable
substances on the floor mats deterred her. Damn her luck and four-inch heels
with pointy toes!

          When the cab
came to a stop she threw a twenty at the driver, mumbling for him to keep the
change. She slowly got out of the cab and hobbled to the building doors and
through the lobby. The elevator chimed and using every ounce of energy, she ran
for it. “Wait!” she yelled as the doors began to close.

          The heel on her
right shoe snapped and sent her tumbling towards the elevator.

*        *        *

          “We’ve got to
stop meeting like this,” Rick said silkily, grabbing her upper arms.

          Grace blinked
in surprise. It was the guy from the bar! Trying to maintain some dignity she
tried to stand, but yelped when she put weight on her right foot.

          A female security
guard picked up Graces heel and handed it to her. “Miss Ryan are you okay?
Shall I call for assistance?”

          Grace shook her
head, embarrassed. Mortified, even.

          “C’mon. Let me
help you to the bench,” Rick offered, wrapping an arm around her.

          He sat next to
her and noticed that her hair created a curtain against her face as she removed
her shoes. His eyes drifted to her smooth legs.  Then further up to her thighs.

          She shifted and
stretched her legs out. “Does my ankle look swollen to you?”

          Rick dragged his eyes from her
thighs. “I’ll say!” He moved from the bench, knelt on the floor and held her
calf with his hands. “Can you move your foot?”

      
He’s gripping my calf! Why am
I not freaked out by this? Duh! Because he’s hot!

          “Can you move
your foot?” Rick repeated.       

          Grace blushed
and slowly moved her foot to the left. “Argh!”

          “Okay, slowly
move it to the right now,” Rick urged.

          “But it hurts!”
she whined.

          “I know,
sweetheart, but I want to make sure you don’t have a break.” She gritted her
teeth and moved her foot.  “Good! No break, but one helluva sprain. We gotta
get you to a doctor.”

          She pulled her
leg from his grasp. “We?”

          He placed his
sweaty palms on his thighs. “Yeah. You can’t drive with a swollen ankle so I’ll
take you.”

          “Hey, just
because you’re good looking and can dance doesn’t mean I’m getting into a car
with you,” she glared.

          “Ricochet! Can
I have your autograph?” a business man interrupted.

          “Sure,” he
replied, keeping his eyes locked on Grace. He held out his hand to the man who
handed him a notepad and pen.

          Grace tried to
stare defiantly at him but instead was taken with the way his hair hung loosely
around his face and his sexy deep dimples.

          “What do you
think your chances are next time around?” the man asked, giddily.

          Rick handed the
notepad and pen back to the man and grinned. “I’d say they’re pretty good for
the Stanley Cup and other things.”

          “Thanks
Ricochet!” the man chirped, walking away.

          Grace folded
her arms over her chest. “Just who are you?”

          “What? You’re not a hockey
fan?” he replied, amused.

*        *        *

          “I said
no
,
Janice. End of discussion!” Ben Weinberg yelled.

          Janice’s hazel
eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I want an office on
Michigan Avenue! I’m a better interior designer than Grace Ryan!”

          Ben ran a hand
through his black hair, clenching his jaw. “Grace is one of the most successful
designers in Chicago. She’s built a reputation for herself and since she joined
forces with Blake O’Shea, her business has skyrocketed.”

          When Janice
continued to glare, Ben placed his hand on her shoulder. “You wouldn’t be able
to compete. Why not try your hand in the suburbs instead? I’m sure we can find
you a nice spot to set up shop.”

          Janice smiled,
but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Sure, darling, whatever you say.”

*        *        *

          Ben slid into
his BMW, but instead of driving to work he stopped at the park where he and
Grace would often have picnic lunches.

          The park was
relatively quiet, save for a few mothers with toddlers playing in the
sandboxes.

          He wandered to
the bench where he and Grace would rest after a long walk on the hiking trail.

          When had it
gone wrong with her? Everything had been perfect, hadn’t it?

          He rested his
elbows on his knees and ran a hand through his hair. “My God! What have I done?”
he gasped.

*        *        *

          Janice moved
her long auburn hair over her shoulder and mumbled as she flipped pages in her
Grimoire. “How dare he think I won’t be as successful as Grace!”

          Taking Ben from
her was like taking candy from a baby. Now she’d have Grace’s business too,
with the help of the Bohemian witch. She stared blankly at the pages and
chuckled low when she found the spell she’d been looking for.

          She frowned
when she realized she didn’t have all the necessary supplies to complete the
spell. She quickly jotted down the items and left, leaving the office door
unlocked in her haste.

*        *        *

          While Ben sat
on the bench, memories flooded his brain. Grace leaving for the seminar, Janice
calling him from her apartment, saying she was sick and needed help. But the
thing that struck him the most was the scene in Janice’s apartment when he
arrived. Candles were lit in every nook and cranny and incense smoke filled his
nostrils. He shuddered when he remembered the maniacal grin on Janice’s face.
After that, it was all a blur.

          He drove home
as quickly as he could, needing to confront Janice.

          When he entered
the condo he called out her name even though her car wasn’t in the driveway. He
moved swiftly through the rooms and stopped when he noticed the door to her
office ajar. Hesitantly he entered, flipping the light switch in the process.

          His eyebrows
knitted together. He touched a large leather bound book while his other hand
reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He snapped photo after photo of the
pages in the book then he rifled through the maple desk drawers.

          His nose
scrunched when he found a clear plastic box with strands of his hair along with
nail clippings. He snapped a photo of that as well and pushed the box back into
the drawer.

          Ben turned to
leave the creepy room when from the corner of his eye he spotted an altar,
similar to the one Grace had. He took a picture of that too.

          As he headed
for the door he felt the hair on the back of his neck lift. He quickly turned
expecting someone behind him and scoffed when he found he was alone.

          Ratman watched the man
leave and chuckled softly.

*        *        *

          Grace’s eyes
widened. “
You’re
Blake’s brother?”

          Rick smiled,
exposing deep dimples. “Guilty.” His upper body moved side to side and he
extended his arms out. “So? Hockey fan?”

          She couldn’t
contain her grin. He was awfully cute. She shrugged, “Never watched a game in
my life.”