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Granger dried his hands on a dish towel. “Seriously, has this person been vetted?”
“Since this person is a ninety-year-old grandma named Hazel, I think I’m good. But just in case, keep your cell phone handy.” She gave him a smile almost as dry as one of his. That was another thing she’d learned about him; he was the master of the dry quip.
Six
Granger had dealt with a lot of shady characters in his years, but no one quite as elusive as Bliss. Every time he thought he had her pinned down, she wriggled free. Like telling him just enough about what happened in Thailand to make him stop pushing. At least for now.
Even though she said nothing had happened since she’d left Thailand, he wasn’t taking any chances. Telling himself it was his professional obligation, he agree to accompany her to Carly’s for dinner. It was better for him to stick as close as possible until more time had passed.
Which he didn’t mind at all. She didn’t seem to either.
She didn’t shy away when he touched her on the lower back to usher her inside Carly and Thomas’ house. He felt long, fine bones and smoothly flexing muscles, and gritted his teeth against the pleasure they gave him.
“Good to see you again, man.” Thomas shook his hand vigorously as he and Carly welcomed them into a farmhouse on the unglamorous scrubby section of lakeshore. Thomas Cooper was almost as tall as Granger. A former fire chief, now town alderman, he was a direct, confident, standup guy who had immediately earned Granger’s respect during the aforementioned incident.
“Likewise. Thanks for the invite. I didn’t want to crash a family reunion.”
“It’s all good. Carly’s going to drag Bliss upstairs to wedding central. When you’re trying to plan a wedding in a span of about three weeks, nothing else really counts. My son is around here somewhere too. Danny!” he called.
Carly Gault skipped the handshake. Her green eyes aglow with warmth, she gave him a quick hug instead. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t realize you were the famous FBI agent here in town to help Kirk. I’m so glad you’re here to watch out for Bliss too.”
A little overwhelmed by the effusive welcome, Granger shot a quick side glance at Bliss, and noticed a certain stiffness in her posture, as if she was holding herself back. Odd that he already knew enough about her to notice the difference. Maybe that was what happened when you shared a hotel suite with someone. Or maybe it was because he’d been studying her, trying to figure out why the hell she needed a “head of security.”
A tall teenager appeared, all sandy blond hair and gangly limbs.
“This is my son Danny,” said Thomas. “He’s home from school for Christmas break.”
“Hello. Hi,” the kid said shyly. Even while he was ostensibly addressing Granger, he darted curious glances at Bliss. What would it be like to learn that you were acquiring a supermodel aunt-by-marriage?
“Hi Danny. It’s really nice to meet you.” Bliss took the awkwardness out of the moment by grasping both his hands in hers. “I’m so happy I’m getting a step-nephew out of this whole marriage thing. Is that what we should call it? I’ve been trying to figure it out.”
Danny grinned at her, color rising in his cheeks. “You can just call me your nephew. Seems easier.”
“Done.” She shook his hand, her face lighting up in one of her genuine smiles. During his “studies,” Granger had been able to discern that she had a variety of smiles in her arsenal, some meant for the camera, others as a shield, still others as a genuine connection.
He’d also tried to pin down what made her so photogenic. Not that she wasn’t beautiful—she certainly was. But it wasn’t the kind of beauty that slammed you in the face. It was more subtle, and it depended on the angle, and the light, and her expression. She knew how to drain the expression from her face so that a casual glance would slide right over her without stopping. His theory was that it was all about the contrasts in her features. The surprising fullness of her lips compared to the delicacy of her bone structure, for instance. High cheekbones in a narrow face. That sort of thing. But her beauty was—like the rest of her—elusive, and maybe that was why it took a professional to pin it down.
He was just an FBI agent, not a fashion photographer. What he wanted wasn’t to pin down the source of her beauty, just the basic facts of why she needed him here.
Carly shepherded them into the dining room, where an enormous pan of bubbling lasagna took center stage on a table covered in a festive red tablecloth. A centerpiece of pine cones with a stubby candle had been moved to the side. A bottle of red wine sat uncorked. The scent of melted cheese and tomatoes made Granger’s stomach grumble.
“If you can believe it, we have another pan still in the oven.” Carly laughed as they all took seats, with Granger automatically claiming the chair next to Bliss. “The amount of lasagna these two can eat would blow your mind.”
“Best news I heard so far,” said Granger, practically licking his lips already.
He caught Bliss staring at the decadent mass of cheese and pasta, and wondered if it was the kind of thing models usually ate. She looked a little overwhelmed. “More cheese than you usually see in one place?” he murmured in her ear.
She shook her head and spoke under her breath while the others talked about who wanted wine and if Danny preferred a soda. “No. More family than I usually see in one place.”
He filed that away. The Gault siblings were complicated; he’d already figured that much out based on publicly available information. Steven Gault had fathered three children by three different wives. He’d started with a New York socialite who had given birth to Conor, the oldest and only son. Then he’d married a moderately successful actress, who had become Carly’s mother. Bliss’ mother had met Gault when she was hired by the Freaks as their on-tour massage therapist. Her given name was Monica Mayhew, but she’d legally changed it to Serenity Om.
Naming her child Bliss had probably been a no-brainer.
“How long since you’ve seen each other?” he asked Bliss. But Carly overheard the question as well.
“We were all at the memorial for Gault,” Carly answered. “Before that it was about two years, right, Bliss?”
Bliss smiled vaguely, and gave an absent shrug, as if the entire concept of time escaped her. “I’m terrible with dates, you know me.”
