A Mom for Matthew. Roz Fox Denny

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ raised it halfway to his lips. “Bringing in an oil well isn’t like finding a vein of gold or copper and then mining it until the thread peters out. Finding pockets of oil anywhere, especially undersea, is a long, involved process. Sure, I can call in test engineers again, provided they haven’t gone to Louisiana to hire on with another outfit. That’s only a small part of my problem. I have a well ready to dig. Guaranteed to pump oil, understand?”

      “I see.” Grace fiddled with her coffee cup. “I’m sor—”

      “Don’t say that again,” Zeke burst out. “Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

      “You needn’t shout. People are staring.” Grace tasted her own coffee, then set the cup down and with a shaking hand added cream.

      Zeke swiveled his head left, then right. People were indeed watching. He hated being at the center of a scene. Trixie Lee had instigated plenty of them in public during the short time they were married.

      Luckily, the waiter arrived with their spumoni and a sack holding Zeke’s leftovers. Well aware that the woman seated across from him had him over a barrel for the moment, all he could do was down the ice cream fast and get the hell out as gracefully as possible. His obligation, with regard to Grace Stafford, would end the minute he dropped her at Seaport House. From here on, dealing with her would be Pace Kemper’s problem, thank God.

      Zeke only wished she hadn’t closed her eyes after her first taste of spumoni, and then made noises that brought visions of another kind of ecstasy. Her smile of satisfaction as she savored her dessert showed the barest tip of her tongue—which sent blood rushing to Zeke’s groin. He tried to tear his eyes away, but couldn’t.

      Her eyelids popped open suddenly and Grace caught him gaping with an odd expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder. “Oh, did I embarrass you? If so, I can’t help it. This ice cream is heavenly.”

      Zeke shifted his attention to his own melting ice cream, quickly stabbing his spoon into the center of his dish. He’d be damned if he’d admit to letting his mind drift to a different sort of heavenly experience. Obviously one he’d put on the back burner for too long, if watching a virtual stranger eat ice cream turned him on. “Eat up. I’m sure we both have to get an early start,” he said brusquely.

      Grace didn’t know why, but it felt as if Zeke Rossetti was a Jekyll-Hyde personality. One minute he acted friendly; she even caught glimpses of compassion. The next minute, he was cold and distant. Well, she didn’t need that. She’d been dumped on by enough unpredictable, lying people, what with her mother, then that jerk of a science teacher, Stuart Mathias.

      Bending her head, Grace matched her moody dinner partner in silently shoveling up ice cream. Trouble was, it was cold enough to freeze her tonsils, and deserved to be eaten with more care. However, a lot could be said for one’s own company. Grace was supremely glad that after tonight there’d be no reason for her to ever cross Zeke Rossetti’s path again.

      Because she was feeling rocky, Grace pulled out her wallet when the waiter brought the check. “Since I’m causing you and Mr. Kemper grief,” she said as sweetly as possible, “I insist on paying my share. As you said when you phoned my room, I had to eat dinner anyway. I would never have tried this great restaurant if you hadn’t brought me here.”

      Zeke scowled, raising his eyes from the folder where he’d already plunked down the company credit card. “Put your money away. I invited you, I’m paying. It’s final.”

      “I want to confirm that there’s no obligation on my part,” she said stubbornly.

      “I got your message loud and clear.” Zeke left an edge of his credit card sticking out as he closed the padded folder and set it on the edge of the table.

      Flushing, Grace shut her wallet and returned it to her purse. “I just don’t want your boss to have any misconceptions.”

      “Out of curiosity, what’s so damned important about this plane? I know you said it belonged to your grandfather, but what’s in the salvage for you? Did he go down with gold on board?”

      “Not everyone is motivated by money,” she said stiffly.

      “Okay. So, it’s an historic plane. Now what?”

      Grace studied him for some time, then finally said, “My grandmother’s doctor told me her heart’s in bad shape. It’s giving out. He say’s she’s overtaxing weak artery walls—because she’s obsessively trying to set my grandfather’s war record straight before she dies. I wasn’t aware until recently how much time she’s devoted to writing letters and petitioning the navy to give her husband his due. He’s listed as missing. She needs remains or medals or something to bury beside her. Think what it’s like for her. He left to fly a wounded naval officer to Pensacola, Florida, and then a storm cut off his communication. The navy searched the waters off the Florida coast at his last coordinates. My research turned up reports from about that time of a plane crashing in Galveston Bay. The Coast Guard read my notes and they agree it’s possible the storm blew Albert Dugan’s Grumman Duck this far off-course.”

      “But nothing’s certain? You’re riding on a hunch?”

      She clutched her purse. “A hunch that’s strong enough to interest the Pentagon. Which is why I received authorization to dive here. If I’m right, it’ll close the books for the navy, for Grandmother and the family of the wounded officer Grandfather was transporting.”

      “I have to hand it to you, babe, for a teacher, you’ve got guts.”

      “You have something against teachers?” Her chin rose and she thrust it out pugnaciously. “And kindly don’t call me babe.”

      “Sore spot, huh? Okay, so no one ever accused me of being a teacher’s pet. I was referring to the fact that your field generally takes brain, not brawn, like salvage.”

      The waiter scooped up Zeke’s credit card, saving Grace from having to further defend her abilities in either area. And because Zeke told the man they’d follow him to the register in front, they didn’t return to the subject.

      Grace put on her sweater and waited by the door until Zeke had signed his credit slip. When he joined her, she began to open the door, but he was faster and reached around her to hold it open. His warm breath whispered against her left ear and cheek and made her shiver.

      “Cold?” he asked.

      She clasped her sweater under her chin. “It’s the contrast between the warm restaurant and the sudden night air.” She stepped onto the sidewalk, then stopped to let Zeke catch up. “The shops are still open,” she said, gazing longingly at the Strand spread out ahead. “I assumed everything was closed by now.”

      The last thing Zeke wanted to do was escort a woman with shopping on her mind in and out of the largely touristy shops that lined the Strand. But who knew if Grace Stafford might get it in her head to wander around alone? The business district was by and large safe. But the side streets she’d have to take to get back to her wharf hotel weren’t. Zeke had witnessed some incidents in the past. “I could stand to walk off that pasta. I don’t mind taking the long way if you’d like to window shop. The stores won’t close for another hour.”

      “You don’t mind?”

      He did, of course, but the smile she flashed him left Zeke wondering how he’d ever considered her drab. His tongue seemed stuck to the СКАЧАТЬ