Sweet Talk (Buchanan-Renard #10)

Sweet Talk (Buchanan-Renard #10) Page 36

She laughed. He didn’t join in. “Oh my . . . you’re serious? I am not keeping my coat on while I eat.” She laughed again. “So, you like the dress?”

“How about I tell you what I wanted to do to you when I saw you standing in the doorway?”

Her face felt warm, and she knew she was blushing. “The dress isn’t inappropriate . . . is it?”

His slow smile caught her by surprise. “No, the dress is beautiful.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

He decided he might as well tell her the truth. “It’s you. You’re the problem.”

Turning toward him, she folded her arms defensively. “Would you care to explain?”

“It’s the way you fill out the dress. It hugs your perfect, voluptuous body, and the sensual way you move in it . . . hell, it should be illegal.” His voice was becoming more intense. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known, and in that dress . . .” He shook his head. “Just keep the coat on.”

He thought her body was voluptuous? She fought the urge to look down at her chest. Wait a minute. . . . Was voluptuous a code word for “fat”? No, it couldn’t be. Grayson wouldn’t be looking at her that way if that’s what he meant. He was telling her she looked hot. She smiled at him to let him know she appreciated the compliment, but he returned her smile with a frown.

“Now what?” she asked.

“How many other men have seen you in that dress?”

“This dress is a 1960 vintage—”

“How many?”

“None. This is the first time I’ve worn it. I was waiting for a special occasion, and you did tell me to wear it.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Remember the promise? As soon as you were convinced you had the right man behind bars for trying to kill me, you’d pull the bodyguards and we’d celebrate.”

“We’ve got the gun—”

She interrupted. “The gun used to shoot me?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “That gun.”

“Where did you find it?”

Grayson promised to tell her everything later. He pulled up to the restaurant entrance. A valet rushed forward to open Olivia’s door while another attendant came around to give Grayson a claim ticket. He told the man to keep his car close.

Veronique’s was a small bistro with a European flair. Grayson was watching the crowd as they entered. He thought every man there was staring at Olivia, and he didn’t like that one little bit. She hadn’t taken off her coat yet, but the second she’d walked in, she had their attention.

“Would you like to check your coat?” the maÎtre d’ asked her when they stepped up to his podium.

She looked at Grayson. “Would I?”

He muttered something she couldn’t quite catch before he helped her remove her coat. He took her hand and headed to the bar. Like the sea parting, men stepped back on either side, making a path for her. It was actually comical, and had he not been feeling so possessive of her, Grayson might have laughed. Instead, he decided a little intimidation was called for, and he unbuttoned his suit jacket so that his badge and gun were visible.

Olivia also noticed the stares. Her reaction was panic. Ever since the scandal with her father had hit the news, various photos of the MacKenzies had been plastered on all the media. There were quite a few pictures of her parents and her sister attending parties, and since Olivia was never with them, she hadn’t expected she’d be so easily recognized.

She turned back to Grayson and whispered into his ear. “I’m not so sure this was a good idea. I think some of these people might know who I am. They’re staring. Maybe we should leave.”

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “It’s the dress they’re staring at.” It wasn’t just the dress, of course. They were staring at a beautiful woman.

The maitre d’ appeared and told them their table was ready. Grayson didn’t like the first choice—the table was in the middle of the room—but another was available against the wall near the back. It was more intimate.

Once Olivia was seated with a menu in front of her, she began to relax. Her back was to the other diners, and she decided she would let Grayson handle any problems tonight. If anyone wanted to get in her face and yell at her because of what her father had done, she would let Grayson shoo him away. She was not going to let anyone or anything mar her evening.

She tried to ask Grayson for the details about the gun, but he shook his head and said, “We’ll talk after dinner. Every time I think about you getting shot, I get angry, real angry. I don’t want to ruin my appetite.”

She turned her attention to the menu. Each selection was written in French with the English translation below. Everything sounded wonderful.

“I’m starving,” she admitted.

“Potato chips didn’t do it for you?”

A waiter placed a silver basket filled with freshly baked bread and a small silver disk with sweet, creamy butter on the table.

“Dr. Pardieu would like this restaurant,” she remarked.

Grayson’s cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket to see who was calling, then quickly got up from the table. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got to take this.”

He wasn’t gone long. “I’m sorry, Olivia, but we have to leave. Henry’s on his way to the emergency room to get stitches. It doesn’t sound too bad,” he rushed to add when the color left Olivia’s face.

She didn’t ask questions until they were in the car. “What happened to him?”

“He went to a birthday party at one of those indoor playgrounds. I guess he tried to do a summersault into some kind of ball pit and didn’t quite make it. Ralph’s father thinks Henry will need about six stitches in his forehead. Ralph is Henry’s best friend, and he doesn’t have a brain in his head either.”

“Henry’s a smart little boy.”

“Yes, he is,” he agreed. “But he also just turned nine, and at that age, caution isn’t a word he’s familiar with.”

A few minutes later, they were walking into the emergency room lobby. Ralph and his father were in the waiting area. As soon as they saw Grayson, they hurried over.

“Henry’s getting an X-ray to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. Who’s this?” the father asked, thrusting his hand out to Olivia.

Grayson made the introductions. “Olivia, this is Dr. Ralph Jones.”

The doctor wasn’t letting go of Olivia’s hand. Staring intently at her, he said, “I’m an ophthalmologist. A divorced ophthalmologist. Would you like to sit with Ralph Junior and me while Grayson checks on Henry?”

What the hell? Grayson thought. Ralph was hitting on her. Grayson put his arm around her shoulder and said, “She works for the IRS.”

A pallor came over the doctor, but he quickly recovered. “Someone’s got to, I suppose. Why don’t you tell me all about your job?”

“She’s coming with me,” Grayson said. “Let go of her, Jones. You don’t need to stay now that I’m here.”

Olivia softened the harshness of his command. “I’d like to sit with Henry.”

She noticed a nurse waving to her. It was Kathleen from the chemo ward. Olivia excused herself and went to say hello. “What are you doing in the ER?”

“They were short staffed, so I’m filling in,” she said. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

“I’m good.”

“Yes, you certainly are,” she replied, looking past Olivia to Grayson. “That’s one fine man you’ve got there.”

Olivia agreed. Grayson was one fine man.

“Has Jane been admitted again?” Kathleen asked. She knew everything that went on inside the hospital, and she’d made it a point to keep up with all the Pips. “Is that why you’re here?”

“No,” Olivia answered, “not this time.”

“Jane certainly has had a rough go of it,” Kathleen said.

“She says she’s doing better, but I don’t believe her. Neither does Collins or Sam.”

“Dr. Pardieu is back from his medical conference, and you know what a miracle worker he is. He’ll sort it all out. Why are you here then?”

After Olivia quickly explained, Kathleen called radiology to see how much longer Henry would be. “He’s on his way up now. Did you have a big evening planned? You’re all dressed up.”

“Dinner at Veronique’s,” she answered.

“Oh, that’s fancy,” Kathleen said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you with makeup on. You look lovely. Let’s see what you’re wearing.”

Smiling, Olivia unbuttoned her coat and held it open. “Gorgeous,” Kathleen raved. “The fabric is divine.”

Grayson had finished the paperwork and came up behind Olivia. Kathleen introduced herself and asked, “Have you and Olivia been dating long?”

“We’re not—” Olivia began. She’d seen the speculative look in Kathleen’s eyes and thought she should explain that they weren’t actually dating, that the evening was more of an obligation for Grayson because of the investigation.

Grayson cut her off. “For a while now,” he said.

“Then you know Olivia’s a hellion, don’t you?” the nurse said, smiling. “She gave us such trouble when she was about your nephew’s age. Made all of us love coming to work just to see what she’d do next.”

“Kathleen’s being polite,” she said. “I was a holy terror back then.”

Grayson leaned down and whispered, “Back then?”

“My break’s over,” Kathleen said. She hugged Olivia. “They’ll put Henry back in bay four. It’s the second curtain on your left. Why don’t you wait in there?”

As soon as Kathleen hurried away, Olivia said, “I should stay out here. Have Ralph and Ralph left?”

“Yes,” he replied. “But you’re coming with me. Henry will be happy to see you. He asks about you all the time.”

“He does?” she asked, smiling.

“Yeah, he does. I have to make up all sorts of terrible stories about you.”

They walked to the curtained-off bay Kathleen had pointed out. Henry’s shoes were on a chair in the corner with his coat. There was another chair on the opposite side of the bed.

“Why don’t you sit here while I go see what’s taking so long,” Grayson said.

He was on his way to the elevators when the doors opened, and Henry was wheeled out by an orderly. The child had blood all over his face. There was a jagged cut that started at the top of his hairline above his right temple and ended at the tip of his eyebrow. He also had a bloody nose.

Grayson’s breath caught when he saw all the blood, but he concealed his appalled reaction because Henry was watching him. “How are you doing, Henry?” he asked, his voice filled with sympathy.

The child was trying hard not to cry. “It hurts,” he whispered as he was wheeled past. “Ralph said they’re going to put a needle in my head. A big one,” he added worriedly.

Henry spotted Olivia just as the orderly stopped the wheelchair. He was so happy to see her, he bolted out of the wheelchair and ran to her. She was getting up when he threw himself into her arms, nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Don’t . . .” Grayson called. But it was too late. Henry had his arms around Olivia’s waist, and his bloody face was pressed against her chest.

“I’m glad you came to see me,” he said.

“You certainly have had more than your share of injuries lately, haven’t you?” she said sympathetically. “Let’s see what you’ve done to your face.”

He stepped back and looked up at her. “The nurse cleaned it, but it started bleeding again.”

“Does it hurt?”

He nodded. “A lot,” he admitted. He noticed the front of Olivia’s dress was covered in his blood, and he became teary eyed again. “I ruined your pretty dress.”

Her smile was filled with tenderness. She brushed his hair out of his eyes and said, “That’s okay. It’s old.”

Henry moved on to his major concern. “They’re going to put a needle in my head.”

Grayson stood there watching her as she listened to Henry’s worries. She couldn’t have cared less about the dress now. All she wanted to do was comfort the child.

Grayson’s heart swelled with his love for her. He probably should tell her how he felt, he supposed, but he knew what would happen. She would panic and bolt. He understood how her mind worked now. She’d run, all right. She wouldn’t get far, though, because he was determined to spend the rest of his life with her. Getting her to agree was going to be a challenge.

Grayson filed the problem away for another time and went to his nephew. He picked him up and placed him on the bed, then tilted his head to the side so he could get a better look at the damage.

“Did you break your nose?”

“No, he didn’t, and he doesn’t have a concussion.” The emergency-room physician gave the news. “He just banged his head. The plastic surgeon on call is already here finishing up with another patient. I thought, because of where the cut is, a plastic surgeon should do the repair. He wants me to go ahead and numb the area and clean it.”

A nurse placed a metal tray on the counter. Henry spotted the needle and grabbed his uncle’s arm. Grayson calmly assured him that the needle would take away the hurt, and as soon as the area was numbed, Henry relaxed. By the time the plastic surgeon arrived, Henry was laughing at a story Olivia had told him.

They didn’t leave the hospital until after ten, and Henry was sound asleep in the back of Grayson’s car before they pulled out of the hospital drive.

“Thank you,” Grayson said to Olivia as he checked on his nephew in his rearview mirror. “Having you there made it easier on Henry.”

“I’m just glad he’s okay,” she answered. “Henry’s a great little boy.”

“I’m really sorry about tonight,” he continued. “The evening didn’t exactly turn out the way I’d planned.”

“There are more important things than dinner at a swanky restaurant,” she said.

“We’ll celebrate another time,” he promised.

“You haven’t told me about the gun,” she reminded him. “Are you sure they’ve found the gun that shot me?”