An Unforgettable Lady (An Unforgettable Lady #1)(13)

"Only if you fill me in on what happens tomorrow," Grace said, passing the papers back across the desk.

"Can't be worse than the last one."

"The one who wanted you to get in touch with your inner artist?"

"No, the last one was the guy with the Peter Pan fixation. The one who wanted me to body paint him with my lipstick was two dates ago."

"Hard to keep track."

"Hard to keep a straight face, too. God, when am I going to meet a real man? "

An image of Smith came to mind as Kat bustled out.

Grace dug her heels into the carpeting and pushed back the chair. The office was on the top floor of the Hall Building and took up the whole northeast corner. The windows and the view they offered were one of the space's greatest assets.

She looked out at the majestic New York skyline, a chorus of buildings rising from the earth, silver and iron gray and black. With the sun just dropping over the horizon, a peach glow was growing in the sky.

She was having a terrible time forgetting about Smith. The man had been lingering in her mind, like an impulse she couldn't shrug, since he'd turned away from her for the second time. She wondered again if she should call him and knew only one thing for sure. If she did, she better have made up her mind to hire him. He wasn't the type to tolerate having his time wasted again.

The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Lamont to see you."

Grace went back to the desk. "Tell him I'll be right there."

She crossed over the deep red oriental rug and pushed back a pocket door to reveal her father's private bathroom. In the gilded mirrors, she checked her chignon and her makeup. Everything was holding up well. She looked elegant and composed, just like a Hall should be.

Good thing no one knew the truth.

She had indigestion, thanks to having eaten tic tacs and three old Fig Newtons for lunch. The beginning of a headache was digging in at her temples, her left foot had a blister on it from the new pair of Jimmy Choos she was wearing, and her bra had a little rough spot under the clasp in back that was irritating her no end.

She was coming out of the bathroom when her cell phone rang. Rushing behind the desk, she answered it curtly. When she heard Lieutenant Marks's hoarse voice on the phone, her blood ran cold.

"We've found another body," he said.

Grace gripped the phone, the plastic cutting into her skin. "Who?"

"Suzanna van der Lyden. Early this morning."

A wave of dizziness crashed over her and she fell backward into her father's chair. She'd seen Suzanna two nights before at a prominent museum's annual fundraiser. The woman had chaired the event for the past few years.

"Where did it... happen?"

"At her home."

"Do you have any idea who.. .” She couldn't finish.

"We're still going through the crime scene. We found her late last night when her husband, who was traveling, called us when he couldn't reach her. Listen, I'd like to assign a detail to you.”

"A detail?"

"A couple of my men. So you're protected."

Her first impulse was to say yes, but then she pictured a photo of herself surrounded by cops showing up on the front page of some tabloid.

"Don't worry," Marks said, obviously guessing what she was thinking, "they'll be in plainclothes."

"I'd like some time to think about it."

Marks hesitated. "Okay. You know where to find me."

When Marks hung up, she sat frozen in the chair, her phone in her hand.

She should do something, she thought. Call someone. Go somewhere safe.

Except there was no one to go to and nowhere to hide. Her mother was hardly the place for solace and good advice. She'd already leaned on Carter enough. And she'd rather be by herself than with Ranulf.

She was totally alone.

And how ironic, considering she'd spent the morning culling a list of the city's top five hundred luminaries.

When the intercom buzzed, her head snapped around.

"Mr. Lamont says he needs to go to another meeting."

"Right. I'm coming," Grace answered.

But in reality she was going nowhere. Her mind was clogged, her body unresponsive. Abruptly, she felt her chest tighten, as if she'd inhaled something toxic, and she bolted to her feet. She knew what was coming next.

The anxiety attack came on fast and hard, bringing with it a crushing sensation of suffocation. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't—there was no... No breath in her lungs.

Opening her mouth, she tried to reassure herself that she was in fact drawing in air. She felt it passing over her lips and her tongue but it seemed to travel no farther. As her body ran away from her mind, she braced herself on the desk and broke out in a cold sweat. Quick breaths went in and out of her. Frantically, she brought a hand up and wiped off her forehead. Hell of a lot of good that did. Her fingers were numb now and all they did was tangle in her hair.



Grace wheeled around, caught sight of the big windows and the overpowering view and let out a moan as her head spun. She doubled over, leaning on the back of the mighty chair and putting her head down on her arms.

She tried to picture happier times. Her father at her college graduation, beaming from the crowd. The way she'd felt when she'd finished her first marathon. That Thomas Cole she'd just bought.