Too Much Temptation (15 page)

But not Grace. She didn’t take offense at anything, but she did get her point across. When one wizened old man had called her sweetie, she’d patted his wrinkled cheek and said, “Sure thing, pops,” and then put an extra scoop of ice cream on his apple pie. The old guy had been so infatuated, he’d nearly slid off his bar stool.

There was only one hope left, and that was in the uniform each waitress was required to wear. Ben had never seen Grace in a skirt above her knees, so perhaps she’d balk at the semishort tan dresses, covered only by crisp white utility aprons. They were serviceable outfits, but they also had a vague resemblance to something out of a fetish catalogue. A few of his younger waitresses went so far as to wear heels with the dresses. Somehow he knew Grace wouldn’t.

Ben snagged Grace as she started back to the kitchen. “A moment, Gracie.”

Her cheeks were flushed, her long hair held back in a ponytail that swished around the small of her back. “Okay, but can we make it quick?” she asked. “I’ve got orders piling up.”

Conscientious to boot. Ben just knew Noah was going to kill him for hiring Grace, but what else could he do? He drew a breath and bit the bullet. “You’ve got the job. Can you start tomorrow?”

Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, and then she let out a loud, uncharacteristic
whoop
and threw herself against him for a hearty hug.

Touched, unable not to smile, too, Ben returned the tight embrace. Grace was soft and warm and he liked hugging her. She made him feel good. “It’s just a job, Gracie.”

“Oh, no. It’s a fun job, and everyone is so friendly, and I like this so much more than sitting in the library taking notes or doing correspondence or putting things on the computer for hours on end. That was so boring and so…lonely.”

Ben scowled. Agatha had near worked Grace to death and had never given her the appreciation she deserved.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake.

Squeezing her again, Ben said, “Well, you’ve certainly impressed me. Customers have been hanging around longer just to talk with you.”

She pushed back from his chest to blink at him. “They have?”

With his arms looped casually around her waist, Ben grinned. “You didn’t realize? Hell, Grace, you’re a hit. A lot of truck drivers stop in here for coffee and sandwiches, and most times they look miserable. They’ve been on the road for hours and they’re tired and lonesome. Today, in less than an hour, you had them all smiling.”

“I did?” She sounded so hopeful.

Ben gently turned her. “Look around, Grace.”

Her attention went from one booth to the next, one bar stool to another. She gripped her hands in front of her. “They all look…happy.”

“Not usually, but yeah, today they’re lighthearted.” He leaned down and kissed her ear. “Cuz of you, Grace.”

She turned back to him with a blush. “Wow.”

It amazed Ben that she hadn’t noticed her effect on the customers, that she had no real idea of her appeal. “Noah won’t be happy about you working here.”

In typical Grace fashion, she drew herself up. “Well, whyever not? This is a great place.”

Great.
Ben shook his head. “I’ve been robbed twice, Grace. In the evenings, when people drink more, fights sometimes break out. No one has ever been seriously hurt, but there’ve been some minor scrapes, some black eyes. The cops have been here five times in two years. Noah is the protective sort. He grumbles about
me
being here, so I can only imagine what he’ll have to say about me hiring you.”

As if that idea were inconceivable, Grace patted his chest and said, “Don’t worry. Noah and I don’t have that kind of relationship. He won’t bother himself about where I work, I promise.”

Her naïveté blew Ben away. What did Grace think, that Noah was just playing with her?

Come to think of it,
was he?

Ben didn’t think so, but everything had happened so fast, he couldn’t be sure what his brother thought. The idea of anyone using Grace didn’t sit well with Ben. He’d have to have another chat with Noah, to let him in on Grace’s perception of their relationship. Hopefully, Noah would set her straight.

“What hours will I be working?” Grace asked, interrupting his musing.

“Unfortunately, it’ll vary and include some weekends.” Noah was going to
kill
him. “Let me take you on a rundown of things.”

Trying to block his brother’s potential reaction at having his new relationship derailed with weekend work, Ben escorted Grace to the kitchen where she turned in her orders. While the food was being prepared, she followed him to the quiet backroom with the pop and coffee machines, where she could take her breaks, and where the schedule was posted along with a time clock.

“I’ll have a time card for you tomorrow, so don’t forget to clock in and out. I’ll write in the hours you worked today. For the rest of this week, you’ll be replacing Rose, so go by her schedule. You can finish out her time today if you want.”

“That’d be great!”

Still bemused by her attitude, Ben chuckled. “Great, huh? All right. I post the new schedule on Thursdays, and the week starts on Mondays. Any problems, let me know right away.”

Grace pulled a pencil and order pad out of her pocket and jotted down her hours. To Ben’s amazement, she didn’t look at all taken aback by the later days, but he made a mental note to try to give her as many evenings and weekends off as possible.

“Got it.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Ben looked her over. She was full-figured, with a lot of curves. “Grace, what size do you wear?”

Grace’s head shot up and she blanched. “Excuse me?”

He cocked a brow at her startling reaction to a simple question. “I have to get you a uniform.”

Rather than answer, she bit her lip. For the first time since she’d arrived, she looked unsure of herself. Ben didn’t understand. He’d expected her to not like the uniforms, but he hadn’t expected her to look stricken over the prospect.

After a few seconds of heavy silence during which Grace fidgeted and didn’t meet his gaze, she asked, “Do you have any in stock?”

“Yeah.” Keeping his gaze on her, Ben tipped his head toward a storage closet. “The previous owner had just ordered in a bunch when I bought the place from him. They’re hanging in there.”

Visible relief washed over her features.

It didn’t make sense. She’d been so sure of herself, diving into every duty with gusto, as if she’d been waiting tables for years. Yet now she looked timid.

“Grace, I can get you a new one in a week.” Hell, he’d even let her lower the hem if she really wanted to. “There’s no reason for you to keep a worn, already used uniform.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” She darted toward the closet.

Ben frowned. “Grace…”

She rummaged around a moment, continually peeking back at Ben, then turned with three neatly folded uniforms in her arms. “Um, mind if I take these home to try on? I’ll return any that don’t fit tomorrow.”

Ben gave up. “Yeah, sure, help yourself. Take as many as you want. The women all have at least two for a change.”

The cook yelled out that the orders were ready, and Grace rushed to put the uniforms with her purse on a top shelf. On her way past Ben, she paused to treat him to a fat, glowing smile. “Thanks again, Ben. This is just the best job ever.”

Ben stood there until Grace was out of sight, then scrubbed his hands over his face. The best job ever? Jesus. Working for Agatha must have been worse than he’d imagined if Grace thought being a waitress was a good job. But then, Ben would rather slave naked in a coal mine than lift a finger for his grandmother—a grandmother who wouldn’t claim him.

The kitchen phone rang, and a moment later Horace shouted, “Ben, phone’s for you!”

“Got it,” Ben called back, and lifted the extension in the break room. “Hello?”

As if he’d summoned her, Agatha Harper grumbled at his greeting, saying, “You should teach that awful man some manners. He shouted in my ear.”

Ben didn’t show his surprise, or point out Agatha’s own rudeness in not identifying herself. Not that she needed to. Ben knew that strident, heartless voice oh too well. “What do you want, Agatha?”

She sniffed at his surly tone, and Ben felt the weight of an awful foreboding. “Agatha?” he asked again, now with a dose of caution and mixed demand.

“I need your help.”

Ben took her words like a punch in the lungs. It hurt, damn it, and knocked the wind right out of him. Wheezing, more than a little incredulous, Ben rasped,
“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Benjamin Badwin, and I’m not saying it again.”

Ben remained speechless, though Agatha did not. “Be here tomorrow for lunch,” she commanded. “Eleven will be perfect, so don’t be late.”

Ben drew one careful breath, then another. His brain felt blank, his muscles cramped, but he heard himself say with just the right amount of contempt, “Sorry, Aggie, I have to work.”

She gasped. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”

“Yeah, I told you not to call me. Period.”

Once, long ago, Ben had looked forward to maybe getting to know his grandmother. He’d seen her as a form of assistance to his mother, a way to lessen her load in raising a child alone.

But Agatha’s insistent belief that her son had been a saint and his mother had been too free with her love, had ruined any chance at a relationship. Agatha had dealt her first insinuation against his mother minutes after they’d met, and Ben had permanently made up his mind. He loved his mother too much to tolerate any slurs against her, subtle or otherwise.

Ignoring much of his rudeness, Agatha said, “Surely you can take one afternoon off.”

The numbness receded, went away. “No, I can’t.” Ben sounded more like himself, stronger, thank God. “I know it’s tough for you to remember, Agatha, but I’m in that lower class of people who have to work for a living. I can’t afford an afternoon off.”

As if speaking through her teeth, Agatha said, “I’ll pay you to show up.”

Fury shot through him, making his heart race. “This’ll come as a shock, Aggie, but I can’t be bought.”

“Damn it, Ben, I need to see you!”

For the first time that Ben could remember, his grandmother sounded desperate. He didn’t like her, had no respect for her, but damn it, he couldn’t bear the faint hint of fear in her tone. He was used to her being an indomitable harridan, not a frail old woman.

Ben squeezed the receiver so hard, his hand hurt, but it made no difference. He wanted to refuse her, he really did.

Instead, he gave up with a sigh of disgust. “I can make it next week, maybe Sunday.”

Even through the ringing in his ears and her efforts to disguise it, Ben could hear Agatha’s relief. Her breath was shaky, broken. “Good. That’ll be fine, then. Remember, eleven o’clock.”

And she hung up.

Well, hell
, was Ben’s first thought, followed by loathing at his own weakness.

He couldn’t imagine what Agatha could have possibly meant by her statement.
I need your help.
Ben shook his head, still muddled. Agatha Harper needed no one, least of all a grandson she didn’t claim.

With precise movements, Ben replaced the phone on the hook and turned away. He needed to call Noah, and he needed to get some paperwork done. He did not need to give his grandmother another thought. Whatever she wanted, it wouldn’t matter in the long run. Nothing could change the past. Hell no. Never.

Damn it.

Agatha stared at the phone on her desk, aware that her hands were shaking despite how tightly she clasped them together. That had been harder than she’d anticipated. Ben was always so…defensive. So difficult. Unlike Noah, she knew Ben would never meet her halfway.

She jerked around and paced across the library. The room, the whole house, seemed lonely and empty and dark without Noah or Grace around. She couldn’t think in so much quiet. She couldn’t sleep either.

It wasn’t right.

But she had plans to fix everything. Noah was only being stubborn, and once she made him see reason, Grace would return to work, too. Everything would be back to normal. She’d see to it.

For lack of anything better to do, Agatha reached for the ornate teapot arranged among delicate cups on a tray on her desk. It was empty.

Nan, her housekeeper, was off to the grocery store, so Agatha would have to wait until she returned. She’d instructed Nan to prepare a very special lunch for Ben, and that had required additional supplies.

The lunch was delayed but not canceled. Ben would show up at the end of next week. That’d be soon enough.

In order for her plans to work, Agatha needed Ben’s cooperation. She meant to give him a taste—literally—of what he could expect once he aligned himself with her, which included the very finest cuisine.

Agatha turned and started back across the eerily silent library.

Or better yet, her thoughts continued, why not take advantage of the propitious timing of this little crisis and play generous? She could at last acknowledge Ben as part of the family without denting her pride. Ben would understand that Noah’s best interests motivated her, rather than any imagined weakness.