What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(52)

When she came to his bed, he wanted her warm and willing and whole.

Nope, the reason he was up at the crack of dawn had been to make sure that the surprise he’d put into motion yesterday had arrived.

Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a charcoal sweater, he headed down to the lobby. Thirty minutes later he had a slender package tucked in his pocket and a tray loaded with coffee, scones, and pots of jam and cream.

He’d just returned to the room and crossed to set the tray on the low coffee table when a noise had him turning toward the guest bedroom.

Carmen.

Instant awareness heated his blood as his gaze skimmed over her damp curls and her rosy cheeks. His attention lowered to her slender body, which was covered by a terry cloth robe.

She’d clearly just stepped out of the shower, and her citrus scent filled the room.

“Merry Christmas, sunshine,” he murmured.

She appeared momentarily flustered, as if she’d forgotten what day it was, and then she was moving toward the tray with brisk steps.

“Has your computer program found anything?” she asked.

“We can discuss it later,” he assured her, watching with pleasure as she filled a plate with three scones and a large dollop of cream. He didn’t know where she put the food, but he loved knowing that he could provide it for her.

Like he was some primal animal.

She took a large bite of the scone, unaware of his weird thoughts. Then she gave a shake of her head.

“No, I’d rather concentrate on our investigation.”

He arched a brow. “It’s Christmas.”

“And I’m about to spend it with the family I never wanted to see again, in a house where my parents died,” she reminded him in dry tones.

He grimaced. She had a point.

“Okay.”

He crossed the room to the desk next to the large window. Sliding out the leather chair, he took a seat and pulled up the program he’d used to investigate Lawrence Jacobs’s finances.

A silence filled the room as he sorted through the vast amount of information he’d already managed to gather. Most of it he deleted. He was more interested in the past than the current accounts.

At last he heaved a frustrated sigh. “So far it looks like Lawrence was telling the truth about the family business. It was running in the red before Lawrence closed the stores and sold the properties to pay off the creditors,” he told her.

She sat aside her empty plate and leaned over his shoulder. Instantly he was surrounded by her warm scent.

“And the estate?” she asked.

Griff cleared his throat, trying to pretend he wasn’t reacting to her like a hormonal teenage boy.

“Your grandfather’s will is written to make certain that house is to be passed to the oldest son.”

She moved back, turning to pace toward the large windows. “So my uncle has no reason to try to get rid of me.”

Griff grimaced. He truly believed the stalker had some connection to her past. But so far it was nothing more than gut instinct.

He needed proof before he could try to involve the authorities.

“I’m continuing to search,” he assured her, his brows tugged together as he skimmed over Lawrence’s private bank accounts. “Your uncle managed to use a large influx of cash to purchase three new big-box stores after your father’s death, but the accounts are so tangled together that it’s impossible to unravel where the money actually came from without more information.”

She heaved a rueful sigh. “We should have gone to Baltimore.”

Rising to his feet, Griff moved to stand next to Carmen, who continued to admire the view. Who could blame her? The morning sun was bright in the cloudless blue sky, while a layer of frost added a glittering beauty to the buildings that curved along the edge of the Ohio River.

A perfect Christmas morning. A damned shame they were going to waste the day with the Jacobs family.

“Before you start any ‘I told you so’s,’ I have something for you,” he said.

Clearly surprised by his soft words, she turned to face him. “For me?”

He pulled the long, narrow package from his pocket and handed it to her.

“For you.”

She studied the gold paper that was neatly wrapped around the box and the tiny bow.

“Where did you get this?”

“Do you ask Santa Claus where he gets his gifts?” He reached to tuck a curl behind her ear. “It’s Christmas magic.”

“But I didn’t—”

“Shh.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. “Just open it.”

She wavered for a minute, then, lowering her gaze, she ripped off the paper and pulled the top off the box.

Griff stepped closer, watching as her face softened with shocked pleasure at the sight of the gold bracelet with antique charms that was nestled into the ivory satin.

“Oh, Griff.” She lightly touched a charm in the shape of a seashell with a dusting of tiny diamonds. “It’s perfect.”

Satisfaction raced through him. He’d contacted a friend who owned one of the most exclusive antique stores in L.A. He’d told him he wanted something unique. A special gift for a special lady. Then he’d paid an obscene amount of money to have it shipped overnight on Christmas Eve.

And it had been worth every penny.