Great-Aunt Sophia's Lessons for Bombshells (27 page)

Andrew broke first, making his excuses and promising to see
Sophia the next day. When he was safely gone, Sophia set down her glass and looked Declan in the eye.

“Give me the facts, nothing more.”

Declan sighed. “There’s been an injunction by the court to stop work on the development, pending investigation of a reported sighting of a new species of cricket on the land, the fabled Steinbeck cricket, to be exact. A member of Save Monterey photographed a specimen on my land, but didn’t capture it ‘for fear of further reducing an already fragile population.’”

Sophia steepled her fingertips together and tapped them on her lower lip. A smile slowly formed, of the sort she saved for someone who had shown unexpected cleverness. Declan had the bad feeling that the smile was not meant for him.

“Dr. Andrew is full of surprises, isn’t he?” she said, confirming Declan’s suspicion.

“Unfortunately. He’s always hated me. I just never expected him to act on it in such a malicious way.”

“But you do know why he did.”

“To get his rocks off keeping land undeveloped, and to give me a poke in the eye in the process. How could he resist?”

Sophia chuckled. “You don’t really think that that’s what this is about, do you?”

Declan frowned, then glanced toward the house, and the balcony to the Garden Room. “You don’t mean . . .”

“Of course I mean Grace. He senses that you’re a rival, and he’s trying to pluck you of your fine professional plumage in front of her eyes. He’ll leave you bare as a Christmas goose if he can.”

Declan’s eyes narrowed as he remembered the way Grace had stepped toward Andrew during the argument and defended the lying bastard. “So you’re getting what you wanted,” he said bitterly. “Andrew has finally gotten off his ass and started to reach
for what he wants. You’ll have them engaged by the end of the month.”

“Whatever you’ve been doing with Grace, do keep it up,” Sophia said. “She couldn’t come to Andrew’s defense fast enough. Did she even glance your way?”

Declan scowled.

“We need to keep up the pressure on Andrew, though, if he’s going to propose to Grace. Tomorrow I want you to take her out in the Auburn and teach her to drive a stick shift.”

“You want me to what?”

“You heard me. It will send Andrew round the bend.”

“It will send
me
round the bend,” Declan countered. “You really want her to hate me? I taught a friend to drive a manual once, and before we were finished he’d slugged me once and kicked me out of the car three times.”

“Wonderful! I want to see her come home agitated, perhaps even disheveled. I’ll make sure Andrew is here to see it. It will rouse his protective instincts.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I should think my gratitude would be sufficient.”

Declan snorted.

“You could steal a kiss or two from her if you’re seductive enough; that would at least give you some degree of revenge against Andrew.”

Andrew would have heart failure if he knew the things that Declan had already done with Grace, but there were certain things an honorable man never divulged. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to lay a finger on Grace.”

“That was when I feared she might be foolish enough to fall for you. Her heart is safely in Andrew’s hands now.”

“Safe in his hands,” Declan repeated, but found nothing
reassuring in the idea. Andrew was all wrong for Grace. He had no vibrancy, no passion, no adventurousness. If she married him, he’d suck the life out of her and turn her into a boring, sanctimonious clone of himself.

What a waste.

Grace needed someone who could match her energy and spirit, and who wouldn’t be frightened by her sexual hunger. She needed someone who would push her to seek out her limits and surpass them. She needed challenging, and needed a man strong enough to make her feel safe in being herself; a man she knew would never be afraid of her. The last thing she needed was a passive-aggressive man like Andrew who’d never directly confront her. Andrew would make her neurotic, and leave her unsure if he loved her, hated her, or was indifferent to her.

But she wasn’t Andrew’s, yet. And in Declan’s book, no woman was off-limits until she’d said “I do.”

Though she probably didn’t like him very much, she was physically attracted to him and she enjoyed his touch. If he put his mind to it, he could turn her attention firmly away from Andrew.

And on to himself.

A nauseating, fluttering feeling filled his gut, and he dimly recognized it as fear. Grace’s full attention and adoration
was
what he wanted, wasn’t it? It was the real reason he’d left town after that unforgettable night with her. He wanted her to give all of herself to him—body and soul—and the intensity of his yearning had scared the bejesus out of him. He wanted her with a hunger he’d never before felt for another woman, but it seemed she couldn’t care less about him.

To top it all off, this was Sophia’s grand-niece, and Sophia had made it clear that she wouldn’t take kindly to him playing with Grace’s heart. If he meant to capture Grace’s affections, then he’d better want to keep them.

But he wasn’t ready to settle down or make lifelong pledges of devotion. He wanted Grace
right now
. What he might want, or what she might want, six months from now was a different story. And did he really even have to worry about that? If they were meant to grow old together, they would. If not, they’d go their separate ways, no harm, no foul. But they’d never find out if they were meant to be together if Grace married Andrew first.

But then he remembered: driving lessons.

They’d probably kill each other before they got anywhere near a bed.

“I want something in return,” Declan said.

Sophia’s eyebrow twitched. “Oh?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“I assume not; you would have asked for it sooner, otherwise, and not waited until you had a lever to use on me.”

Declan hesitated, feeling a twinge of doubt. He didn’t want to upset Sophia, but this was a rare chance that likely would not come again. “I want to borrow the MG.”

Sophia’s face went cold. “Do not tell me that you are taking part in that exhibition race.”

“It’s a once in a lifetime chance. My Jaguar doesn’t meet the 1956 age minimum, but the MG does. I’ll be careful—you know I will.”

“I know no such thing. No man is careful once a competition begins.”

“It’s an exhibition, not a real race,” Declan argued. “This will be the only time I can race a historic sports car through the original route of the Pebble Beach Road Races. I drove in the Monterey Historic Automobile Races at Laguna Seca twice, but that’s not the same.” The Laguna Seca racetrack, a little ways north, had been built as a rough copy of the 17-Mile Drive race route, keeping many of the turns and hills but erasing the danger of trees
lining the road. The Pebble Beach Road Races had moved to Laguna Seca in 1957, and eventually been renamed the Monterey Historic Automobile Races. Now those races were over, too; the last MHAR had been in 2009. “I’m not interested in winning. I’m interested in the experience.”

“Bullshit. Winning trumps all.”

He reached across the table and put his hand on hers. “Sophia, please. I’ll be careful. I’ve got too much to live for to be careless.”

Her gaze sought his, examining. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “If I kill myself in the race, I won’t have a chance to get even with Dr. Andrew for that goddamn fake Steinbeck cricket he planted on my land.”

“Mmm,” Sophia murmured noncommittally, and took a sip of Scotch. “Yes, that’s obviously the most important thing on your mind.” She stared off into the distance, then shrugged. “Take the MG. You’re right, you have more important competitions to win than a road race.”

“Thanks, Sophia.”

Declan sat back, surprised and gratified by Sophia’s acquiescence. As usual, though, it didn’t take more than a few moments for him to grow suspicious. He glanced over at her and wondered what exactly was going on in her head. Sophia never agreed to anything without having an angle in it for herself.

For a moment, he even wondered if he’d been manipulated into asking for the car.

But no, that was past even Sophia’s skills.

Wasn’t it?

CHAPTER

20

S
ick to her stomach with nerves, Grace stood on the front step of the house and waited for Declan to emerge from the garage with the car.

The night before, Sophia had given her a long lecture on the inappropriateness of choosing sides with men before having received—and returned—a declaration of love.

“When a man has declared his devotion to you, and you have accepted that devotion, then and
only
then do you side with him against all comers. Until then, you remain neutral. You become Switzerland.”

“And pretend I don’t have a brain?” Grace had scoffed.

“This isn’t about who’s right or who’s wrong, or who you think has the better argument. Have you been listening to anything I’ve been trying to teach you? This is about recognizing the basic, animal emotions of men. What’s the primary reason that males in the wild fight each other?”

Grace lowered her chin and mumbled, “Females.”

“Females. And why does Mother Nature make them fight for the right to mate?”

“So that only the best males pass on their genes.” Grace scowled. “But we’re not lower animals! Declan could beat up
Andrew if he wanted to, but that wouldn’t make me want to choose him. Andrew’s probably got the better brain.”

“If you interfere in their argument, you will be robbing Andrew of his chance to prove himself better than Declan. Grace, they
want
to fight, and they want to do it in front of you. Each wants the chance to prove himself superior to his rival.”

“I don’t think Declan does.”

Sophia rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that they met and had their argument here, where you were most likely to be a witness to it? Declan could have met Andrew anywhere else.”

Grace hadn’t bought Sophia’s argument about Declan wanting to fight for her, but she could see that she needed to step back if she was going to give Andrew the chance to cut Declan off at the knees and then beat his own chest in victory. A solo victory was always more ego gratifying than one earned while being supported by others.

None of that discussion last night with Sophia had made her feel any better about today’s driving lesson. Sophia insisted that it was a necessary counterbalance to Grace’s faux pas of supporting Andrew yesterday, but Grace suspected Sophia was using that as a convenient excuse. Grace almost thought Sophia was punishing Declan for an unknown transgression: why else do something so cruel as force him to teach her to drive a stick shift? It would be a teeth-gritting exercise in patience for him.

He was probably dreading seeing her, too. She had no idea what was going on in his head but guessed he might still be smarting after her winning the bedroom bet. It was at least one explanation for his disappearance. At any rate, he had to know she wouldn’t be feeling friendly toward him after his vanishing act.

Nerves had her bouncing on the balls of her feet, which were clad in pristine white Keds. They had been Sophia’s concession to practicality for the driving lesson. The rest of Grace’s outfit
said anything but “serious driver”: a short white pleated skirt, and a lavender forties-style halter top with a faux knot between her breasts and a broad strap that tied at her nape. A thin tangerine scarf served as a headband, its tail ends draping over one shoulder. Pale green jade dangled at her ears and was strung in chunks on a bracelet at her wrist.

At the moment, she wasn’t sure if she was more anxious about spending time with Declan or about driving a manual. She was an adequate driver, just as she was adequate at most physical things she learned, but she was no genius. She knew there were going to be many, many mistakes made in the next hour or two, and she’d be frustrated and Declan would likely start ranting at her, wondering why she couldn’t catch on quicker, which in turn would make her more nervous and destroy her concentration.