"I've always liked the way the city looks at night," Grace murmured, looking up at the buildings.
Abruptly, she caught the toe of her shoe in a crack and lurched forward.
Smith grabbed her around the waist and felt her relax against his body. She was warm and soft and his fingers tightened around the narrow span of her waist. He didn't want to let her go, even though walking with his arm around her wasn't smart. All they needed was a photograph of the two of them together and there'd be even more complications in her life.
"We shouldn't be so close," she muttered a moment later.
When she shrugged away from him, he let her go.
"After all," she said, in a louder voice, "I'm a married woman. A goddamn married woman."
Smith looked over at her. She was frowning.
" Bo isn't, you know. Married, that is."
He resumed scanning the street and the sidewalk. "She mentioned that her husband had died."
"Three years ago." She paused. "You two seemed to get along well at dinner. She's beautiful, don't you think?"
He cocked an eyebrow, wondering where she was taking the conversation. "She is."
"Tell me, Smith." She repositioned her wrap with a sharp movement. "What makes a woman beautiful to you? What was beautiful about Bo?"
As they strolled under a street lamp, the light fell over Grace's delicate features and Smith knew exactly what his definition of beauty was. Before he could frame an appropriate response, she spoke up.
"Oh, don't answer that." Grace batted her hand about as if to erase the question. "I don't know why I asked. Probably to torture myself."
She seemed surprised by her own admission and said in a hurry, "Bo's husband was a wonderful man and she loved him deeply. Now that was a marriage that really worked. 1t was cruel, that it ended so soon."
Smith's instincts came to attention.
Glancing behind them, he felt, and then saw, a shape disappear into the darkness. Nonchalantly, he released the button on his tuxedo jacket in case he needed to get to his gun.
"I think it's time to head back," he remarked, taking Grace's arm firmly. She looked up at him. Not wanting to alarm her, he said smoothly, "It's getting late."
"Someone is following us, aren't they?" she whispered.
"Maybe."
He could tell she was frightened by the tension running through her body and the tight hold she took on his bicep but she showed no outward signs of fear. She just kept walking with her head up.
Good girl, he thought.
Smith looked around casually, searching for an opportunity to get her off the street. They came up to a lively restaurant.
"Let's go in here," he said, drawing her into the fashionable eatery. As soon as they were inside, he flipped open his cell phone and called Eddie.
Through the thicket of people waiting to be seated, the maitre’d made a beeline for Grace with a wide smile. "Welcome, Countess. Will you be joining us this evening? "
As Grace struck up a conversation, Smith stayed by her side and looked for Eddie out of the wide windows that faced the street. When the black Explorer pulled up, he took her arm and ushered her outside. They had just stepped free of the door when a man jumped out at them. Smith covered Grace with his body as a flashbulb went off.
Moving before the blinding light had dimmed, Smith pushed her into the Explorer, slammed the door and went after the paparazzo. He caught the man in three strides and dragged him into the alley next to the restaurant. As the guy started yelling, Smith grabbed his camera, stripped out the film, and bulldozed him against the brick building.
"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Smith pressed his forearm against the guy's throat as he smiled amiably.
"I'm going to sue! That's my film—"
"Here, take it." He shoved the exposed negatives into the guy's pocket.
"Let me go!"
"Not until you promise to leave her alone."
"It's a free country! You can't hurt me. If you do, I’ll sue her!"
The man continued to struggle, his face growing red with anger. Smith held him easily, wondering how long it would take before the guy tired himself out.
"She's public property!" The photographer sneered. "Although why anyone would care who's f*cking an ice princess like her—"
Smith stopping smiling. "What did you say?"
"I said—"
Smith shifted his weight, pushing his forearm harder against the man's throat and cutting off his words. "On second thought, I don't think it's in your best interest to repeat it. I might get upset and then things would get ugly."
"Oh, yeah?" the guy choked out. "What are you going to do?"
Smith put his face down close to the photographer's and the man fell completely still. "You don't want to know what I'm capable of."
The guy began to look worried, his eyes shifting up and down the alley as if he were looking for help. There was no one around.
Smith kept him trapped against the brick wall so he had plenty of time to imagine all sorts of grim injuries. He was kind of hoping the paparazzo would say something else, something that would give Smith an excuse to hit him. Hard.
Hearing a lowlife talk about Grace like that had really pissed him off.
"You had enough?" he asked the guy.
The nodding was fast and furious.
"I'll just assume you and I are in agreement about the countess. If I see you around again, I'm going to do a hell of a lot worse than rip the film out of your camera. Got it?"
When Smith let go, the photographer slumped against the building and grabbed his throat. Smith turned and started walking away.
"I'm not afraid of you!" the man called out when there was a good distance between them.
A single glance over the shoulder shut the guy up.
When Smith got into the Explorer, Grace stared at him in silence. She seemed to be in shock and he couldn't blame her.
"You move so fast," she murmured, as they pulled away from the curb.
"When I have to. Eddie," he said, "take us around back when you drop us off. In case our little friend with the flashbulb called any of his buddies."
The day before, at Smith's request, Eddie had scouted out the back entrance to the building. There was a walkway that wound through the basement and came up into the lobby. It looked as if they were going to have to start using it.
As they were speeding through traffic, he felt Grace looking at him.
"That photographer .. .Did you hurt him?" she asked in a small voice.
"No."
There was a pause. "Are you sure?"
So that was the reason she was eyeing him like he was a stranger. She'd never seen someone haul another person into a back alley and come out alone.
"Yeah, he's going to be fine."
While she wrapped her arms around herself, Smith was glad she didn't know what he'd wanted to do to the guy.
Ten minutes later, Eddie pulled up behind the building and Smith squired Grace in the back door and through the musty smelling corridor to the lobby. The doorman was asleep at his station and Smith rapped the guy sharply on the shoulder.
"Get up. They're not paying you to sleep," he said roughly.
The guy shook his head, although whether it was from shame or just as a way to wake up, Smith wasn't sure.
He pushed the elevator button and cut off the doorman's apologies. "If you can't stay up, find another shift or another job."
Grace's voice was much more gentle as she offered the man a soothing smile. "That's okay, I know your new baby's probably running you ragged."