Falling for Grace (2 page)

Obviously. She ruled the roost there. Carson
had to chuckle to himself. Izzie did have quite a following for a
six-year-old tomboy.

“
I’m sure you’ll adjust,
Iz.”

“
Maybe I could just stay
with Kate.”

Carson frowned. “Kate is your babysitter,
honey, not your parent. You’ll go where I go.”

“
But it’s not fair!” The
whining started.

“
Of course it is. I feed
you and cloth you and you and I are a team, remember sport?” He
reached over to chuck her arm and made a funny face, trying to get
her to laugh. Izzie sat silent for a moment and stared straight
ahead. She didn’t return the funny face or laugh with him. Carson
just let the subject drop and kept heading toward
Franklinville.

“
Can I at least wear my
ball cap?” she said after a few minutes. “It keeps the hair out of
my face.”

“
No!”

Carson glanced at this
daughter and immediately wished he could retract that stern
no.
He reached out and
touched the child’s freckled face, then threaded his fingers
through a thin tendril of curls. “Izzie, your hair is so beautiful,
I want you to keep it down. Okay?”

She thought about that for a minute. “Is my
hair like my Mom’s?”

Funny, Carson didn’t prickle at those
questions much anymore. “Honey, your hair is lighter, remember? But
long like your Mom’s.”

“
Did you like her
hair?”

“
I loved her
hair.”

“
Did you love my
Mom?”

Carson looked ahead and sighed. “Yes, Izzie,
I loved your Mom very much.”

“
Then why did she leave
us?”

Why, of all days, this conversation? Carson
thought a moment, glanced at his watch, and then pulled over to the
side of the road. He looked Izzie straight in the eyes and touched
her cheek again and spoke softly. “Isabella, your mother didn’t
leave because I didn’t love her enough or because you didn’t love
her enough. And she didn’t leave because she didn’t love you. In
fact, she loved you so much that she had to leave, she felt, in
order for you and I to be happy. She wasn’t happy and she needed to
go...”

“
I know, I know,” Izzie
sing-songed. “I’ve heard it before. My Mom had to go off and find
herself and become an actress and be happy. Well, is she happy,
Daddy? How do we know? She never talks to us anymore.”

Carson bit his lip and tried not to damn his
ex-wife to hell and back. “I know that, honey. But you got a
present from her at Christmas, right?”

Izzie huffed. “A stupid doll. Doesn’t she
know I don’t like dolls? I wanted a football. And a card and
present is not talking.”

Carson closed his eyes and tilted his head
back against the headrest. No, Marci wouldn’t know that Izzie
didn’t like dolls because Marci didn’t know her daughter. And Marci
wouldn’t understand that Izzie needed to talk to her mother because
Marci was too obsessed with herself. But how could he tell his
beautiful daughter that?

He couldn’t.

Glancing at his watch again, he told her,
“Honey, we need to get to Franklinville, can we talk about this
later?” He was avoiding the obvious and knew it. Thing was, he just
didn’t know how to respond.

Izzie turned toward the window and curled up
into the corner. She was shutting him off. Oh God, he hated when
she did that. There would be hell to pay later on. But there was
nothing he could do about it now.

Dammit, Marci! How could you do this to
her?

Enough, Carson told himself. Damning Marci
and her acting career was not a priority at the moment. His
daughter and her future—their future—was. Izzie was the reason he
wanted to move to the small town of Franklinville and Izzie was the
reason he was quitting his law practice—well, partially the reason,
anyway. He was burned out beyond any hope of getting back the
thrill of practicing law again. He was gone way too much of the
time and Izzie was, to put it mildly, quite a handful. He’d been
thinking for months about changing careers, changing lifestyles,
and then his brother Joe had suggested an out that he damned near
couldn’t refuse.

His younger brother regularly traveled
through Franklinville on his daily commute to work, and had kept
telling Carson about the shop for rent downtown. Joe had even
stopped and looked in the windows one evening. He’d known that
since they were kids, Carson had wanted to own his own business,
and kept telling him to think about it.

Carson knew he had enough of a nest egg put
away to get started, money wasn’t a problem. For years he’d thought
he had to continue in the profession he’d worked so hard to attain.
It was damned hard to let the legal profession go.

Then he realized he had to do it for Izzie.
She needed him. And way too often, he wasn’t there for her. Kate
was more of a parent to her than he was.

Joe’s suggestion kept nagging at him, day
after day.

At the very least, he couldn’t refuse
looking into it.

Hence, the meeting today with Grace Hart.
And it was imperative that Izzie cooperate, because he’s already
made up his mind.

They were getting a new life in
Franklinville. Come hell or high water.

“
Things are going to be
all right, Izzie. I promise you,” he said softly.

“
Yeah, right,” he heard
her mutter back.

* * * *

It was ten minutes after nine and Carson
Price was late.

Gracie scowled as she glanced from her watch
to the front door then back to her watch again. Punctuality. It was
important to her. And she thought she’d made it perfectly clear to
Mr. Price that they needed to meet at nine o’clock, or even before,
so they could take care of business before her shop opened at
ten.

And he had agreed. She was certain of
it.

But it seemed he didn’t think it was
important.

One strike against Mr. Carson Price.

Turning, she stepped to the counter and
counted the money in her cash register drawer, her foot tapping at
the polished hardwood floor. “It doesn’t matter, Gracie,” she told
herself. “What’s a few minutes? Relax.”

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled. Long.

“
And besides, he could be
money in the bank.”

She really had to get out of this
perfectionist thing. It was going to drive her nuts.

Her head jerked up when the tapping sounded
at her front door. “Thank goodness,” she said under her breath. She
could see a figure standing behind the mottled, stained-glass
window in the door and could only assume it Carson Price. As she
crossed the shop, she smoothed a hand over her skirt and
straightened the sweater on her shoulders, then tipped her chin up
and straightened her back to achieve her power posture.

Actually, it was her dancer’s posture but
since she hadn’t danced in years, she now called it her power
posture.

“
Please let this work
out,” she whispered and sent up a small prayer. “I need this to
work out.”

Stopping briefly in front of the door,
Gracie inhaled deep then exhaled long, twisted the dead-bolt, and
opened the door fully.

She extended her hand without even really
looking. “Mr. Price, I assume?”

Then she did look. Up. And up some more. My,
he was a tall man. She gulped. He had to be tall for her to look up
to him. She was nearly five foot ten, herself. Her mouth and lips
went incredibly dry.

Her eyes met the most unbelievable sea-blue
eyes she’d ever seen. Finally she felt something touch her
palm.

“
Oh!” She dragged her gaze
away from his and glanced downward to her hand, now in his. His
hand was warm, his handshake firm.

“
Grace Hart?”

“
Oh, yes.” She looked back
into his face. “Yes, I’m Grace Hart. Mr. Price?”

He nodded and she took in more of his
features. Dark brown hair, chiseled, high cheekbones, and those
eyes...

“
Yes,” he
answered.

“
Please come in,” she
returned politely.

He stepped inside and she closed the door
behind her, then felt it push open again against her rear.

“
Forget something,
Dad?”

Carson Price turned and so did Gracie. An
imp of a child stood in the doorway, staring past her. Gracie
guessed her to be about six or seven years of age. There was a
frown on her face as she eyed her father, the doorway still framing
her. Slowly, she crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her
chin to look at Carson, a small look of defiance on her face. Her
right foot repeatedly tapped the floor.

Gracie was not quite sure what to make of
the child. She glanced quickly to Carson, who returned a hesitant
smile, then to the child.

The little girl’s head held a mass of light
brown curls which, if left loose, would most likely tumble halfway
down her back, Gracie thought. Oh my, what she would have given, as
a young girl, for curls like that. Oddly enough though, this
child’s locks were caught up in a dusty, Louisville Cardinals
baseball cap, which contrasted sharply with the Sunday-best frill
she wore.

Gracie bent slightly to look the girl more
closely in the face. “Well,” she finally said, pushing out her
hand, “I’m Grace. What’s your name?”

“
I’m Iz—”

Carson Price bolted forward. “Isabella,” he
returned, grasping the child’s hand.

Gracie stood tall again and looked Carson in
the eyes. It was nice looking directly into a man’s eyes and not
looking down at him for once. “What a beautiful name.”

“
Thank you. Isabella is my
daughter. There was no school today. I hope you don’t mind. My
babysitter is out of town.”

Gracie shook her head. “Oh, my no. It’s not
a problem.”

She dismissed the issue of the child for a
moment, then headed for the cash register. “Just give me a second
to grab the keys and I’ll take you next door.”

An awkward silence filled the shop as Grace
fumbled with the cash register drawer, her thoughts nowhere near
where they should be.

Carson Price was not the kind of man she
expected. No indeedy. He was much too—

No, she refused to think about it. After
all, the man had a child. Most likely there was a wife in the
picture somewhere.

Gracie sighed deeply.

With that thought, she retrieved the key
from the secret drawer inside the old cash register. Gracie glanced
up to see Carson crouched down on eye-level with the child, faint
mutterings of conversation going on between father and
daughter.

“
Ready?” She stepped up
behind them and Carson rose quickly to his feet, snatching the ball
cap off his Isabella’s head on his ascent. Gracie registered a
sharp glance of annoyance from the child and the stern, warning
stare back from the parent as he quickly stuffed the ball cap into
the back pocket of his khaki pants. “We’ll take a look at the shop
first, then the apartment,” she continued.

“
That’s fine,” Carson
Price replied.

“
Unless, of course, you’d
rather wait until your wife could come to look at the
apartment.”

He shook his head. “No wife, just us.”

Gracie nodded. “Oh. Well, right this way
then.” She extended a hand toward the front door.

Carson Price led the way, daughter in tow,
and Gracie found herself watching those nicely fitting khaki’s from
the rear until he opened the door and held it for her to pass
through.

No wife. This wasn’t a good sign.

No indeedy.

There was a brief tingle as she brushed
passed him and Gracie wondered from just where that tingle sprang.
She’d not felt anything like that in—oh, in quite some time. Years,
if she cared to admit it.

And she didn’t want to admit it.

She decided right then and there, that
renting to Carson Price was probably a bad idea. A very bad
idea.

He was much too handsome and much too
charismatic for her own good. He had an adorable little child. And
no wife.

Two strikes against Mr. Carson Price.

No. Strikes two, three, and four.

Chapter Two

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Carson lifted one eyebrow and glared another
warning at his daughter. Her tilted chin and shining eyes flared a
defiant challenge right back.

Be good
, he mouthed behind Grace Hart’s back.

Izzie grinned sweetly—a grin he knew meant
anything but sweetness—and followed along beside her father,
desperately trying to keep in his stride.

Big, tough, little girl, he thought. What in
the world made her that way? Was it him? Marci’s leaving? What?

He tried not to think about it. Surely Izzie
wouldn’t turn on her shenanigans this morning. Of course, if that
ball cap trick was a precursor of things to come, he wanted to be
prepared. Sometimes Izzie turned on without warning. Other times
she worked herself up to it. And her moody behavior in the car
earlier was probably the first subtle warning that things might go
terribly, terribly wrong today.

Oh hell. Not today. He was counting on today
working out.

Pull it together, Price, he told himself.
Trust that Izzie will be okay. Concentrate on the thing at
hand.

And remember. This
is
for
Izzie,
even if she doesn’t know it or understand it.

Yet.

He forced himself to focus on the tall,
willowy female in front of him. Perhaps force wasn’t the right
word. Grace Hart was very easy on the eyes and nothing like he’d
pictured. Of course, he’d only spoken to her on the phone, and
briefly at that, a few days earlier. Her voice was pleasant and
young-sounding and he’d be a liar if he hadn’t conjured up thoughts
about what the face behind that voice might look like.