Grace wished she could take the helmet off and feel the wind like a thousand fingers lifting her hair from her scalp and running warm Georgia sunshine through her hair. She had often ridden ATVs back in Iowa, but they didn’t fly over asphalt like a motorcycle.
Griffin had taken her for a fast ride down a two-lane road shortly after they had dropped the BMW back at his grandparents’ home. Holding onto him as though they were spooning, her breasts vibrating against his broad back, her legs wide around his hips, she understood the sexual appeal of motorcycles.
She actually had a license to drive a bike. She’d learned the basics while at Marine Corps Base Quantico, and had taken the street test in D.C. where she was forced to stop almost every block and maneuver through bumper-to-bumper traffic. It had no appeal to her to own a motorcycle in the city.
That attitude changed thirty minutes ago. Now she wondered how much a motorcycle cost. Griffin’s Harley-Davidson was very different from the Honda street bike she’d been trained to drive.
Griffin slowed as he made a right and coasted to stop at a guard gate, bringing her out of her thoughts.
“Driver's license and picture identification, please.” The man in his early twenties sounded bored as he tapped on his tablet. Glancing up he asked, “I need you both to take your helmets off.”
Obliging, Grace pulled off the helmet and raked her fingers through her damp hair. She wondered why the motorcycle helmet made her sweat so much more than her flight or combat helmets. If she was going to buy a bike, she was definitely getting a different style helmet. Reaching into her back pocket, she dug out her military ID. She was surprised when the guard used his tablet to take a picture of both front and back of her official ID card. He then glanced back and forth several times between her and the blown up version on his tablet. She wondered just how bad she looked.
This process was ridiculous. She had been on some of the most secure military bases in the world with less scrutiny than this young man was giving them. He was certainly taking his job seriously.
He handed her card back to her with a smile. “Thank you for your service, ma’am.”
She never knew what to say when somebody thanked her for serving their country. You’re welcome sounded stupid. She was proud to serve in the United States Navy. She was even more proud to be a member of the elite Ladies of Black Swan team. Fortunately, she didn’t have to answer because he moved his focus on to Griffin.
“Mr. Mitchell, are you visiting your parents?” The young man seemed to stand straighter.
“Yes.” Griffin’s brief answer surprised her.
“If you’re going to be staying in the area, you might want to ask your folks to get a bar-coded pass, then you can drive through the automatic gate.” The guard lifted his chin toward the street with an arm that bounced up and down with every passing car.
“I won’t be needing one.” Griffin stated.
The guard raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He stepped back into the small building, emerging with a piece of paper he handed to Griffin. Glancing over the motorcycle, he shrugged. “You’re supposed to put this in the window so that the roving guards know you’re legit. I’ll let you figure out where to put it.” He stepped back. “Please be aware that the speed limit is fifteen miles per hour throughout the community. Enjoy your visit.”
Following Griffin’s lead, Grace put her helmet back on. As they putted through the maze of curving streets, she caught glimpses of a golf course on both sides. Sometimes the golf path crossed the street. The houses that started out large close to the gate, grew increasingly palatial the deeper into the neighborhood they drove. The yards looked like putting greens, and the landscaping was obviously professionally maintained. Weeds didn’t dare grow in this community. Color burst everywhere. She had no idea the names of most of the flowers, but they were gorgeous.
They finally turned down a street where each house seemed to sit on five acres and back up to a lake. Although in colonial style, the homes were brand-new. Grace preferred the centuries old home of Grams and Gramps to these modern interpretations.
Griffin turned into the driveway of one of the largest homes. He pulled around a BMW and an Audi, both with the tops down. Steering off to the side of the herringbone brick entrance before stopping the motorcycle, he kicked down the stand with the heel of his boot. She quickly popped off her helmet swung her leg over the back of the bike leaving him plenty of room to dismount. He set his helmet on the seat just vacated, so she did the same.
He scowled as he glanced at all the cars in the driveway. “Looks like Mom’s got company.” The corners of his mouth kicked up. “Good. Then we won’t be expected to stay long.” He grabbed Grace’s hand and trotted up one side of the curved staircase to the double front doors that had to be twelve feet tall. To her surprise, he rang the doorbell.
At Grace’s home, she would have just walked in announcing the presence. They waited. She looked at the cars in the driveway. “Maybe they’re sitting out back. Should we go around?”
Griffin shook his head. “The maid should answer the door.” He rang the bell again.
A young woman in a gray uniform dress, obviously harried, threw the door open. “How can I help you?”
“You can let my son into my house,” snapped a sarcastic voice from behind her. “You may go finish your duties.” The scowl on the woman’s face immediately transformed as she opened the door wider. “Griffin.” She leaned up to give her son her cheek.
Dutifully, Griffin placed a small quick kiss without damaging the perfect makeup. Nervously, Grace ran her fingers through her hair doing what she could to fluff it. She was sure that it was matted to her head from the helmet.
“Mother, we only have a few minutes, but I wanted you to meet—”
“We’re always happy to meet your new friends, but several of your childhood friends are waiting for you in the parlor.” Her smile was warm as she gazed up at her son.
Well, that explained all the cars in the driveway. If they were as fun as Beau this was going to be an entertaining afternoon. But the moment his mother shifted her attention to Grace, she reconsidered.
The smile was practiced and far from genuine as she seemed to look down her aristocratic nose at Grace. Light brown hair with blonde highlights fell to her shoulders and curled under softening her thin angular face. Eyebrows shaped like birds in flight, coupled with expertly-applied shadow, made her look wide-eyed and younger than her years. But her impossibly golden eyes couldn’t hide her true feelings as her gaze dropped over Grace with disdain.
Griffin grabbed Grace’s hand and followed his mother’s straight back and square shoulders into the room immediately off to the right. Grace had barely gotten a glimpse of the long wide hallway that stretched from the front to the back doors. She caught sight of several beautiful antique hall tables before being dragged into a room with a refined mix of new and old. She wanted to take her time and look at each and every piece of furniture in the room, especially those that were centuries-old, but her eyes tracked to the three stunning women who rose when they entered.
The dark-haired woman in the bright yellow sun dress ran to Griffin in three inch heels. The happy, welcoming smile on his face dropped Grace’s heart into her stomach.
That was the look he gave her every time she returned from a mission.
She had thought that joy was for her, and her alone.
She’d been wrong, and knew it for certain when Griffin dropped her hand to open his arms for the other woman.
“Griffin, I’m so glad you’re here.” The other woman threw her arms around his neck and kicked both legs off the floor forcing him to hold her up.
Jealousy started to course through Grace’s veins but turned into a torpedo when she kissed him on the lips. Her eyes glued to the two of them, she wanted to yell and scream at Griffin in a fight or flight mechanism. He was her man, and she would fight to keep him.
When their mouths finally separated, he set the beautiful brunette on the highly polished wood floor. Stepping apart, his smile was far too bright. “Norie, it’s good to see you again.” His hand went out toward Grace, but she’d taken several steps backward without realizing it. When he turned to look at her, his face showed surprise, but his eyes were apologetic.
In one large step, Griffin stood beside her. With his hand at the small of her back, he pushed her toward the attractive woman with large brown eyes, wispy dark hair highlighted by the southern sun that hung in soft waves past her shoulders. “Norie, I want you to meet my friend Grace.”
She automatically held her hand out and pasted on smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Griffin has talked about you often.”
Those big coffee-colored eyes grew even larger as she glanced up to Griffin.
“I told Grace about hanging out together in high school,” He quickly interjected.
From his tone, Grace suddenly knew there was much more to their relationship than he’d told her.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet,” he glanced to where the three younger women now stood side-by-side, “my very special friend, Grace Hall.” He then returned his gaze to his mother.
Grace felt as though she were meeting the Queen of England and once again had an urge to curtsy. Instead she extended her hand. “Mrs. Mitchell, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The woman’s buttery soft hand barely touched hers before she snapped it back. Her gaze flew to Griffin. “This is the friend you brought with you?”
Hesitantly, Griffin said, “Yes.”
As his mother turned her attention to the other women standing in a row, perfectly posed as though in the beauty queen contest with the heel of the right foot in the arch of the left, toes spread six inches apart. Grace knew how to stand that way for hours, because she, too, had been a queen more than once. Inwardly she laughed at herself. She doubted the model perfect women before her would be impressed with her Iowa Pork Queen crown.
“Lauren, Anna, I sincerely apologize for interrupting your day.” His mother glanced back at Griffin, disappointment written all over her youthful face. Grace filed away the thought that his mother must have had plastic surgery. No one in their late fifties naturally looked that good. “Normally when Griffin tells me he’s bringing home a friend, it’s one in many of the handsome men he works with. I was sure you would enjoy an afternoon entertaining his friend.”
“No problem, Mrs. Mitchell.” Lauren raised one perfect eyebrow and glanced between Griffin and Norie. “This has been more fun than you’d believe.” Her grin was one degree away from evil. “Missie, I’ll call you later.” She said as she ignored everyone else in the room and walked out.
Anna gave Norie a hug, whispered something in her ear that that only she could hear before turning to Mrs. Mitchell. “Thank you for the iced tea, ma’am.” She hurriedly caught up to Lauren.
Before the other women got to the front door, Norie started after them. “Mrs. Mitch—”
“Missie, have a seat.” It was an order if Grace ever heard one.
Norie started toward one of the chairs.
“No, dear, sit on the loveseat.” Mrs. Mitchell then grabbed Griffin’s hand and dragged him to the loveseat also, practically pushing him down next to Norie, who seemed perfectly fine with the arrangement.
His mother smiled at the two of them then sat in an antique high back chair perpendicular to them. “There. The two of you can catch up now.”
Grace stood ten feet away, waiting for her seating instructions.
Griffin looked at Grace and opened his mouth as though to say something.
Norie laid her hand on Griffin’s thigh. “So, tell me everything that’s happening in Miami these days.”
He immediately turned his head away from Grace to answer her question. “I never thought managing the Guardian Security Miami Center would be so much fun.” He then looked up at Grace again and started to stand. “Sweetheart, come sit down.”
His mother looked at Grace as though she had just walked in the room. “Oh, yes, please do sit.” She indicated the single chair farthest away from Griffin and Norie. Obediently, Grace sat down where specified while Norie recaptured Griffin’s attention with her next question.
“That sounds…interesting,” Norie glanced over at his mother. “Don’t you miss being an attorney?”
“Missie is doing very well at Mitchell and Mitchell. She has some quite impressive clients.” His mother demurely crossed her ankles and tucked them to one side. Grace’s attention was drawn to the awesome designer shoes with their unmistakable red sole.
Only then did she notice what Mrs. Mitchell was wearing. The cap sleeved, light blue linen dress fell to just above her knee. Stockings covered well-toned calves. Grace wondered if they were the result of years spent with a personal trainer or if the woman played sports, perhaps tennis.
Glancing down at her own attire—faded blue jeans, low-healed and well used sturdy black boots, an aqua tank top under a leather jacket—Grace felt extremely underdressed. She should never have believed Griffin when he told her she looked beautiful, but when they’d left the house, she had no idea she was going to meet his mother. He’d told her they were going for a ride.
“Missie is the vice president of Junior League this year, so she and I will be working together very closely for the Debutante Ball.” His mother extolled, “She has some wonderful ideas that I’m sure we’ll be implementing.”
Junior League? Debutante ball? These women were so far out of Grace’s league she wondered what she was even doing in Georgia. Off to the side, out of their line of sight, the three of them discussed past social events. She looked over at Griffin who seemed perfectly comfortable with the discussion.
She took the opportunity to glance around the room. An antique clock sat atop the mantle. She didn’t doubt that the picture above was a real Renoir, nor that the Persian rug under her boots was handmade of silk. Although the loveseat was very high-quality, it had been made within the last decade yet tastefully blended with the pieces over century-old.
“Just think, Griffin, now that you’re home, Missie’s office will be right down the hall from yours.” Mrs. Mitchell’s declaration brought Grace’s attention back to their conversation.
“Mother, I’m not—” Griffin started to protest.
“Of course you are.” His mother straightened her back. “You’ve had your fun in Miami, and we’ll call that your business experience, but you need to take your place in the Mitchell family now. You’re the next generation. As the only Mitchell son, you’re responsible for carrying on the family legacy.”
Griffin was shaking his head. “I’m not quitting my job, and I’m certainly not moving back to Augusta.”
“You know what’s expected of you. There has been a place for you in the Mitchell Law office ever since you passed the bar.” His mother steamrolled over Griffin’s objection. “You’ll work there for at least a year, and then we’ll announce your candidacy for State Senate. I’m glad you stayed in shape. I’ve had your uniforms cleaned and pressed. You’ll look so handsome in the photo shoot. Military is very popular right now you know. From the State Senate to U.S. Congress for at least two terms, then the Senate. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were tapped for vice president before you are forty-five years old. You could be president by the time you’re fifty.”
“Mother, you’re not listening.” Griffin leaned forward in his seat, his hands clenching his knees. He glared at his mother. “You know how much I hate politics.”
What if his mother won that battle? Grace had known about Griffin’s law degree, but he loved what he was doing at Guardian Security. He also loved the adrenaline rush he got while being part of the black ops missions Guardian occasionally accepted. Perhaps he wanted more in life than running one office. If his mother had her way, he could run the country.
Ignoring Griffin’s protestations, his mother continued with her plans. “Tomorrow night were having a dinner party here. I’ve invited several state and national politicians. You’ll need to be here by five thirty for cocktails.” She smiled at Norie. “You, of course, will be here, too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Norie smiled and nodded her head slightly.
Mrs. Mitchell continued holding Norie’s gaze. “The next night is the United Way charity ball. Have you picked up your dress yet?”
“Oh, yes. It’s red and it’s gorgeous.” Norie claimed.
“Griffin, do you have a red cummerbund to match Missie’s dress?” His mother asked.
“I’m sure I do.” Then, as though he suddenly remembered Grace, he looked directly at her. “Grace, did you bring a formal dress with you?”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, dear. You will be accompanying Missie and won’t really have time to entertain your friend.” His mother then looked over her shoulder at Grace. “This event has been sold out for weeks. Had we known you were coming, we would’ve gotten you a ticket.”
Grace didn’t miss the insincerity in the woman’s voice. Griffin’s mother was on a mission to get her son moved home. If the way she’d thrown Missie at him was any indication, the older woman had picked out the perfect politicians wife for him.
The young woman who answered the door appeared in the archway to the hall. With a dismissive nod from Mrs. Mitchell, she was gone. “Your rooms are prepared for you. Are you bags in the car?”
“Mother, we rode over on my motorcycle.” Griffin stood and looked at Grace with relief in his eyes. “You didn’t need to go to all that bother. We’re staying with Grams and Gramps.”
“Well, it’s so nice that you could bring your friend home and give her a taste of Southern hospitality…at its finest.” She looked at her son. “But I must insist that you stay with us. You should be here with your parents. Your room is always ready for you, and we’ve prepared a room down in the East wing for...” It was obvious that his mother had forgotten her name as she looked everywhere but at Grace. “Gwen,” she finally announced.
Anger flashed across Griffin’s face. “Her name is Grace. And as I already told you, we’re staying with Grams and Gramps. They don’t have a problem with us sleeping together.” He put his arm around her and drew her tight to his side.
His mother looked horrified as she glanced toward Missie then back to Griffin. “Are you…living together? In sin?”
“No, mother. We don’t live together.” Griffin kissed her temple. “Grace is assigned to Homeland Security in Washington D.C., and you know very well I live in Miami. We don’t get much time together. When we’re in the same city, we’re in the same bed.”
At his repeated words, and commitment to them, Grace grinned.
“If this…indiscretion…comes out during your campaign, it—”
Griffin cut her off. “Mother, there will be no campaign because I’m never going into politics. Grace and I need to leave, now, before I say something we both regret later.”
Tucked under his arm, they headed toward the door. As though in afterthought, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Norie, it was good to see you again.”
Grace threw her arm around his waist as they walked in step out the door.
“There’s no fucking way I’m ever moving back here or going into politics.” Standing beside the motorcycle, he cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “Sweetheart, those are her plans. Not mine.”
“I know that.” She went up on her toes to give him a quick kiss. “She certainly is a force to be reckoned with. I’m not sure you’re going to be able to get out of the dinner party tomorrow night and the charity ball.”
“Yeah, I’m not either.” He threw his leg over the bike, and she hopped on behind him.