The Murderer's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

none,” he said. He shook his head. “I’m not making sense, am I?” He put his glass down. “This is going to sound inane but I don’t do this as a matter of course.”
    Strange, almost archaic phrasing. This time Grace’s smile was unplanned amusement. “You don’t do what?”
    “Talk to strange women—oh, crap, sorry, that came out wrong—talk to…unfamiliar…” His fingers fluttered, almost effeminately. “I’m not good at this.”
    Grace lowered her hand over his, let it rest lightly. Her touch made him jump. She said, “There’s nothing to be good at, we’re just talking.”
    He bit his lip and Grace thought he’d draw away. She’d overvamped and blown it?
    But he relaxed. Retrieved his glass and raised it. “Cheers, Helen.”
    Grace freed his hand from hers. He drank; she pretended to. They sat there, side by side, not listening to the piped-in music, unaware of anyone else in the room. Finally, Grace ingested a few drops of Negroni.
    Thinking of that Valentino in Florence. Thinking of all of them. Lovely.
    Roger drained his glass. Suppressed a burp. Grimaced and murmured, “Smooth. Geez, this is…”
    “I abhor smooth, Roger.”
    “You do?” Bit of slur in his speech, now. “Why’s that?”
    “Because smooth is just another form of phony, Roger. Like charisma. And what’s worse than charisma?”
    He flinched. Looked upward. “Agreed, charisma sucks.” His voice had deepened. As if Grace’s comments had supercharged him.
    “It does, indeed, Roger. Are you a political person?”
    “God forbid,” he said, with sudden vehemence. “I try to avoid politics.”
    “Unaffiliated?”
    “Pardon?”
    “No major commitments?”
    “Nothing. Political or personal.”
    “Same here, Roger.” Showing him her hands, free of rings. “That way I’m assured of pleasant company after a tedious workday.”
    He laughed. “Hope I haven’t disrupted that.”
    Grace let a moment pass before answering. “You apologize a lot, Roger.”
    “I do? Sor—” He gaped. Cracked up.
    Grace brushed his knee with her nails again, moved her hand atop his, squeezed his fingers gently. His tongue glided over his lower lip. A pulse had begun to pound in his carotid, let’s hear it for that paragon of honesty: the autonomic nervous system.
    Grace let some silence sink in before half whispering, “Roger?”
    He leaned forward. No aftershave, just a nice soap-and-water lightness. “Yes?”
    “Would you be so kind as to walk me to my car?”
    “Pardon—”
    Grace squeezed again. “It’s been a long day. Would you walk me?”
    She stood, took hold of her purse and her briefcase. Roger remained on the love seat, staring up at her, his face a pitiable mask of disappointment.
    Crushed and adolescently charming. Grace almost felt sorry for him.
    “If it’s too much of a hassle, Roger—”
    “No, no, sure, no problem.” But he continued to sit there.
    “I’m not talking a hike, Roger. Just half a block, a girl can’t be too careful.”
    He shot to his feet. Teetered for an instant, threw back his shoulders and drew himself up. “Absolutely. My pleasure. Let’s do it.”
    Grace took his arm. A shiver ran up his biceps. Nice muscles, stronger than he looked.
    They left the lounge together.
    No one noticed.
    —
    The brief stroll was spent without talking. Roger was baffled, worked at hiding it, sneaking quick looks at Grace, trying to understand her behavior. But he took care to match Grace’s stride. She tested that, slowing down, speeding up, slowing again.
    He might hesitate for a sec but he always got back on track. A good one.
    Roger, if you don’t know how to dance you can be taught quickly.
    As they approached the city lot, Grace firmed up her grip on his arm. He flinched, stumbled half a step, recovered fairly gracefully but his balance remained a mite off as they entered the structure.
    A quick downward glance and an even quicker upturn of his eyes suggested the reason.
    Khakis, as it turned