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“Well, I’m going to go around the side of the house and see if there are more footprints. One was left at another house, so I’m hopeful there will be another that matches, so we can tie the incidents together. Having your imprint will help us eliminate your shoes from any I find out there.”
Pepper listened to the brothers talking, but she found she didn’t have much else to say on the matter. She hadn’t seen the peeper this time. All she knew was that she had been targeted twice by this pervert. Her house was in better shape than it had ever been and she was so close to making it the home she’d always dreamed of.
But how could she ever feel comfortable or safe knowing that guy was still out there?
Chapter 9
“Have you always had that dress?”
Pepper looked down at the outfit she’d selected for their Valentine’s Day date and frowned. “Well, I’ve had it for a year or so. Why? Is something wrong with it?”
Grant looked her up and down with a desire surging through his veins. He suddenly felt too warm and the collar of his shirt was suddenly too tight. “Oh, no. Everything about that dress is very, very right. I just wanted to know how long I’ve missed out on seeing you wear it. You should wear that dress every day.”
She smiled and did a little spin in her entryway. The bright red dress was a bold contrast to her creamy, pale skin. The dress was fitted and fell just short of her knees. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline that exposed her delicate collarbones and the full swell of her breasts. The silky red fabric had a layer of matching red lace over the top and a belt with a large red rhinestone daisy that highlighted her tiny waist.
“I think it’s a little much for the Piggly Wiggly,” she said. “Especially with these uncomfortable red satin pumps.”
They might be painful, but they were hot. He didn’t even know how she could walk in heels like those. “No worries. They make your legs look amazing. I guarantee you that any red-blooded man who sees you in that dress will gladly carry you wherever you need to go.” Grant pulled out the small bouquet of roses he had hidden behind his back and offered them to her. “These are for you.”
Pepper accepted the bundle of peach-and-pink roses and brought them to her nose. They were exactly like the rose he’d given her after the auction, although he was certain she’d been too spun up that night to remember that.
“You weren’t supposed to buy me anything,” she argued.
Grant shrugged. “Force of habit. Besides, those roses remind me of you.”
She looked down with uncertainty at the pale peachy flowers with the pink edges on the petals. “I’m not sure how, but thank you. Let me put them in a vase.” Turning on her heels, she walked back into her kitchen.
From his vantage point in the doorway, he could see her open a couple of cabinets, then finally settle on putting the flowers into a plastic drinking cup filled with water. It did the job tonight but Grant made a mental note to bring her flowers in a vase so she would have one for future flowers.
That was interesting, he thought. He intended to buy her more flowers. That meant more dates. That was a pretty serious thought to just leap into his head. The thoughts disappeared as Pepper walked back to the front door with her purse clutched under her arm. With every step, the red lace seemed to creep higher up her legs. It would be either completely impossible, or just vulgar, for her to ride his Harley in that dress.
She noticed Grant watching her every step. “What is it?” she asked.
“I was just thinking about how grateful I am that Whittaker’s is right across the street.”
“Why, so we can run home when we’re done eating and have sex?”
Grant chuckled. “That’s not a bad idea. But no, I was just trying to figure out how you’d get onto the back of my motorcycle in that dress.”
That made her smile. “For future reference, if you intend to take me anywhere on the back of your bike, I require either advanced warning or the ability to change my outfit before we leave. Otherwise . . . we’re driving my SUV.”
“Fair enough.”
Pepper locked her front door and they strolled together to Whittaker’s. The restaurant was the best Rosewood had to offer. It was the only place for thirty miles that had tablecloths and multiple forks at the place settings. For some reason, his mother seemed to find value in that. On the days Grant hopped on his bike and rode wherever the highway led him, he’d come across plenty of holes-in-the-wall with amazing food. No tablecloths, but amazing food.
Whittaker’s was nice enough. It was decorated with dark wood paneling and the tables and booths were upholstered in a deep burgundy leather with brass brads. There was a fireplace roaring in the center of the restaurant, and a far wall behind the bar was covered with their massive wine collection. At the moment, the restaurant and lobby were packed with wall-to-wall people.
They checked in at the hostess stand and were escorted to a private table for two just a few moments later.
“And you thought you couldn’t score a reservation that late,” Pepper noted as they walked through the restaurant.
“Well, it’s obnoxious, I know, but my last name does tend to open doors. Especially since the owners are friends with my parents.”
“Ahh . . .” Pepper said, taking her seat and letting Grant push in her chair. “So this is what it’s like to be a Chamberlain, huh?”
He shrugged. “It’s all I know, so I can’t really compare it to anything else.”
“It’s different for others,” she said. “I assure you.” The waiter arrived, taking their drink orders and telling them about the special prix fixe menu they were offering for the holiday. Grant ordered them a bottle of a recommended wine for the meal. The waiter returned only a moment later, pouring him a small amount for his approval, then pouring them both a healthy goblet of pinot noir. They made their dinner selections and the server disappeared to fetch their first course.
