Souvenirs (4 page)

“Even I can figure
that
out.” She rolled her eyes. “How do I—”

“
Willkommen
.”

Ben stood a little taller. It was silly—he had nothing to do with her kindness. Yet she made him proud as he taught her conversational German.

“
Würden Sie gerne ein Foto
?”

Considering the man’s question, Ben watched the lights from the garlands sparkle in Grace’s eyes and gild her skin. “
Ja, danke
.”

He smiled as her brow furrowed. “He’d like to return the favor if you’ll hand him your camera.”

Grace retrieved it from her purse. “Are you sure?”

“I think I can catch him.”

“About the picture,” she sighed.

He pulled her into his arms and channeled Cagney once again. “Smile, doll.”

Her laughter bubbled around them as the shutter snapped. The man returned the camera, and Grace said her thanks in German as she accepted embraces from the couple. The groom shook his hand while the bride hugged him.

“Bennett Oliver,
ja
?” she whispered.

Panic danced along his skin as he looked into the girl’s eyes.
Damn.
He managed to strangle a whispered, “
Im Geheimen, bitte
.” He stole a look at Grace and then back to his fan, sneaking a finger to his lips. “Shh,
bitte
.”

One autograph will make people stare, there’ll be a crowd, a pap will show up, and it’ll be a dash for the hotel. I want to be a regular guy.

“Ahh,
ja
,” the bride said, nodding. She took her new husband’s hand as they walked away. “
Gute Nacht
.”

Ben guided Grace in a different direction. Once they were safe, he slowed their pace. “You gave them a chance to save a memory.”

“Anyone would have done it.”

He stopped her under a tree. “Several people had walked past them. They’d probably spent the day taking photos, wandering Vienna, and I’d wager very few people stopped their routine. How do you see things, people, like that?”

“It’s how I learned to handle my shyness.”

“Rubbish.” She talked to everyone—shop girls, waiters, people on the street, strangers in taxis.

“You think I’m exaggerating?” When he nodded, she crossed her eyes. “If I make everyone else the center of attention, it puts them at ease and soon the conversation flows around me. I get to disappear and listen to their stories.”

Dear God, no wonder their waiter had wanted her to himself for a few minutes.

He brushed the hair from her face, and the shadows alternated with moonlight across her skin. His breath caught as she leaned into his palm and a shiver resonated through her fingers into his.

“Are you cold? We could go back.” In spite of his offer, he couldn’t move.

“I’m not cold.” In confirmation, she slipped a hand to his waist.

Ben took his time leaning toward her, giving her a chance to change her mind. When she held her breath, he stopped and waited. She closed the space between them.

He’d intended the kiss to be a brief introduction, but he hadn’t counted on the way her warm lips clung to his, echoing her fingers shaping to his waist. He hadn’t been prepared for the taste of her. Sugary sweetness tempted his tongue from behind his teeth, encouraging a sweep along her soft bottom lip.

Her hand left his, giving him the freedom to pull her closer as his tongue sought and found hers. She explored his back, tickling up his spine until she reached his hairline. He angled his head to give her access to bare skin and groaned when she traced the tendon in his neck.

A blaring horn was followed by unintelligible catcalls. Ben dragged his mouth from hers with a muttered curse and pressed her face into his shoulder.

Grace’s laughter shook them both. “I guess teenage boys are the same all over the world.”

His scowl morphed into a chuckle as he smoothed his hair and urged her to continue their walk. “I suppose so, but I should apologize.”

“I wasn’t protesting.”

The hotel came into view. “I’m sticking to your side for the next two weeks,” Ben blurted. “But if you tell me to sod off, I promise to listen. Okay?”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, light but square on the lips. “Okay.”

They walked through the silent lobby under the watchful eye of a drowsy, disheveled clerk. Their echoing footfalls marked an ever-slowing pace.

“I’ve kept you out too late.” When the lift closed, he pulled her into his arms and she snuggled against his chest. “Sleep well, doll.”

The doors opened, and she shuffled onto her floor. “You too, sweetheart.” She turned back and clapped her hand over her mouth. Pink bloomed across her skin.

The doors closed, and his delighted laughter filled the space. He was still chuckling as he entered his room.

The amusement died when he climbed into bed. Unable to sleep, he propped himself against the pillows with a book, his reading light, and his glasses.

After five pages, he looked up to see his mother staring at him from her bed.

“You’ll ruin your eyes.”

“I believe they’re already ruined.” He softened the rebuttal with a smile and removed his glasses.

“How was your evening?” she asked.

“Someone recognized me. But Grace had already charmed them, so they were willing to keep my secret.”

“Grace didn’t hear?”

“No.” Ben rested his head against his pillow. “I feel guilty not telling her.”

“Why don’t you?”

He replayed the day. The kiss had been unplanned, unexpected, and unbelievable. But what resonated most was the feeling of her hand in his.

Before headlines, before movies, before Uni, his mother had dropped him off on the corner to meet a girl and wander through the shops. At the end of the day, his hand had still been curved to the shape of someone else’s and the echo of another pulse had been tangible.

As an adult he’d lost that simple connection. The women he’d dated had blown past simple gestures, preferring the grander, adult, ones. With Grace it was different.

He’d known her for two days and he was calling her pet names in public and kissing her senseless on street corners. He was losing his mind.

“She likes me as Ben Brady. She likes me for
me
.” He chose to ignore that Ben Brady was a lie. By omission, but still a lie.

“You’re the same person,” his mother yawned.

“We’re like chalk and cheese. I think she’d run like bloody hell from Bennett Oliver and my crazy, nomadic life.” Ben sighed. “And that would hurt more than I can say.”

“So soon?”

“She’s worked her way under my skin just like she did that waiter. I can’t help but stay close to her. It’s like a contact high.”

“I won’t
even
ask how you know what that feels like.”

Ben set his glasses on top of his book. “Two weeks. After that I’ll figure out what to do.”

Chapter 4

The next morning, Grace hurried through her routine, trying to keep up with her mother, who’d been awake for hours.

“What would it hurt to tell him?” Sunny asked as she closed her suitcase. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

“He’d hate the fuss. We didn’t even get to have an uninterrupted dinner.”

“He wasn’t upset. He was more worried you’d come to some harm.”

They stepped into the hallway, and Grace dodged other guests as she kept her voice low. “I don’t want to have to avoid him on the train for the next two weeks.”

“Idgie.” Her mother scolded her selfishness.

“Mama, I like him,” Grace managed to whisper as they got on the elevator. “I’ll end up staring across the aisle like some creepy girl from homeroom. After Paris, what will it matter?”

“Just be careful. Don’t set yourself up to get hurt.”

Too late
, Grace thought.
I should have told him before he kissed me. It shouldn’t bother me to think about traveling without him.
As they walked to the dining room, Sunny homed in on two vacant seats at a table full of the women who’d checked in last night. Grace stood next to her and met Alice and Ava Greer, bird-like cousins who looked more like twins. Sandra Block was a pretty redhead with glasses, and Dee Armstrong had a tinkling laugh and platinum blonde hair shot through with gray. Across the room, Camille was chatting with a younger couple. “Mom, I’m going to go say hello to Camille.”

Sunny absently patted her arm. “Okay. Let her know I’m saving her a chair.”

As Grace approached, Camille looked up and grinned. “Good morning. This is Nora Cain and her husband, Adam.” She glanced at the other couple. “Grace Ward is traveling with her mother, Sunny, for the next few weeks.” She stood. “I think I’ll join the group. Ben will be along in a minute. He had something to resolve.”

“Do you mind?” Grace asked the couple.

“No, please,” Adam said as he indicated a chair. “It’s nice to know we won’t be the only people under sixty on this trip.”

The Cains were a study in contrasts. Large, blonde, and tan Adam reminded Grace of a professional surfer or ski bum. Nora was small with quick, dark eyes and short, black hair. She had a warm smile and pale skin covered by a tattoo climbing her right arm and disappearing under her shirtsleeve.

Grace stopped the waitress and ordered tea for Ben before she accepted Nora’s offer of coffee. “Do you travel much?”

“It’s our honeymoon,” Nora explained. “My aunt bought us the trip without considering the travelers would probably be more her age than ours. She never thinks of herself as old.”

“Ben. Come meet some new people.”

Her mother’s voice drew Grace’s attention to Ben’s arrival. He detoured to their mothers and their table of new friends.

“My mother is the same way,” Grace stated as she turned back to the Cains. “How did you two meet?”

“Nora was housesitting while her aunt Naomi traveled around the world. It took me months to convince her go out with me.”

“Adam, honey, breakfast first.” Nora nudged him with her elbow. “We’ll have two weeks to bore everyone with our stories.”

“It’s not boring, honestly,” Grace contradicted.

Ben claimed his seat and poured his tea. “All right?”

She blinked.
Was what all right?

He sipped his tea, staring over the rim. His twinkling eyes stayed her fears. “How about ‘hi?’”

Oh
. Learning British slang was like learning a new language. She could do that. “All right?” she said, arching her eyebrows. Had she done it correctly?

He nodded, and his approval meant more than it should this soon.

“Ben, this is Adam Cain and his new wife, Nora. They’re touring with us on their honeymoon. Adam and Nora, this is Camille’s son, Ben Brady.”

“It’s a pleasure.” His voice was as warm as his hand in hers under the table and the smile he turned back to her. “I thought I’d run into you at the gym this morning.”

“Mom got up at the butt crack of dawn.” She blushed as he choked on his tea. “Sorry. Family expression. I had to get out of the room early to avoid the gleeful drill instructor she turns into when she’s packing.”

Nora stood and pulled Adam’s elbow. “I’m starving, Adam.”

Grace went in the opposite direction, gazing into Ben’s confused frown. “I need to take care of something,” she explained as she squeezed his fingers. “Don’t eat all the bacon.”

Certain he was at the buffet, Grace hurried to the tour office. Knocking on the door, she entered to face a friendly young woman behind a clean desk with everything at right angles.
She’d have a heart attack in my office.

Grace sat and pulled her passport from her purse. “I’m Ella Grace Donnelley, and I have a favor to ask.”

A few minutes later, after going through a much shorter buffet line and winking at her mother, Grace carried her full plate to the table where Ben was holding her chair. She could relax and enjoy the rest of her vacation.

After breakfast, they boarded the bus in a gaggle, following their tour guide and her little white flag. Sunny and Camille surrounded themselves with the Greer cousins and the rest of their group, gaily waving at their children and not leaving empty seats.

Ben took the seat next to her, one row behind the Cains. “It’s a good thing we get on,” he teased as he stretched his legs into the aisle.

“If I can have your attention, please?” The announcement over the loudspeaker indicated their tour of the
Ringstrasse
had begun in earnest.

A few hours later, they descended into the
Hofburg
plaza and followed the crowd toward the Spanish Riding School. Adam and Nora took in the sights. Grace stared at the library.

“You want to go back in there, don’t you?” Ben teased.

She nodded. It would be great to find her books on the shelves, their spines cracked and pliable from being opened and read often. Hopefully they were cracked. She’d enjoy seeing them rubbed soft with creased spines, loved to pieces.

He lifted her face for his kiss. It was brief, but warm and firm. “I have wanted to do that all morning,” he murmured.

“Next time don’t wait so long.”

His lashes dropped, shading his eyes, while he darted his tongue across his bottom lip. She wanted him to kiss her again.

The breeze caught her hair and he combed it out of her face, his fingers stroking her skin and tugging the strands.

The people behind them cleared their throats in a pointed hint that the line was moving. Grace ducked her head and faced forward.

“Why does your mother call you Idgie?” he asked.

They crossed the threshold of the Riding School. Sawdust tickled her nose and the mammoth arena spread out before them. Her fuzzy brain kicked into gear. One innocent answer, in this crowd, risked more than she was willing to lose.

“It’s a long story. Let’s find a good place to watch. I read about the Lipizzaner Stallions in grade school, and I never thought I’d get to see them live.”

When they reached the rail, Ben stood behind her so as to not block anyone else’s view. He’d ridden for several roles, and he knew the skill required for displays such as this. It was like a ballet, with nearly half-ton ballerinas. Watching Grace’s enthusiastic response was more fun. She bounced on her toes and stretched to see every movement in the arena. Every time she turned her head, her wide smile was dazzling.

As she leaned forward to snap a picture, her foot slipped and she flailed for a handhold. He grabbed her hips, pulling her back against him as his heart hammered.

“Mind your feet, bampot.” He freed the camera from her tight grip. “Let me. I’ve got to be this tall for some reason.”

She stayed close to him, making it difficult to pay attention to the camera. She was curvy in all the right spots and the musk from her perfume filled his senses. But she wasn’t talking. She might not have been breathing.

The performance ended to wild applause, but Grace stayed still and quiet. When everyone descended into the arena to meet the horses and their riders, she dithered at the back of the line.

Ben put a hand on her waist, turning her to him. “Are you okay?”

She met his gaze and blinked. “No.”

“Me neither.” He stroked her hip. They fit together in the most tantalizing places, and he wished they were anywhere but in public.

She gulped and then whispered, “What the hell are we doing?”

God, no. Not already.
Out of self-preservation, he guided her down the stairs and into the arena. Horses and riders were queued in a parade, and admirers surrounded each pair. As they passed their mothers, Grace slowed.

“Ben . . .”

No. I know I promised, but please don’t exile me to the other side of the train. I’ll go mad before we reach Rome.

He tucked her under his arm and kept walking. Grace continued staring until she was looking over her shoulder.

“Don’t panic,” he whispered as he strode toward Adam and Nora, alone with the last horse in the row. “We’ll be out of here in a few minutes, and we’ll get it sorted. Please?”

Realizing she was almost running to keep up with him, he slowed and finally stopped. He stared into her eyes.
They were full of apprehension, doubt, regret. Secrets.

What was she hiding? Part of him wanted to know, but a larger part shrank away. If it took her from him, he didn’t want to hear it.

Please give me a chance.

Her breath was shaky and her nod wobbled, but she squeezed his fingers before she left him in favor of the horse. The regal white animal dwarfed the women, but Grace stroked his nose while she and Nora talked in a whisper. Within minutes, the horse dropped his head, begging for Grace’s attention.

Ben knew the feeling. He wanted nothing more than to sweep her out of here, but he was stuck listening to Adam and Hans, the rider.

“Don’t you agree, Ben?” Adam asked.

“Sorry, what?”

“That the talent of the team lies mostly with the rider?”

He blinked at the other man and then looked across at Hans, whose lips were thin and his color high.

“No, actually. I’ve ridden some incredibly uncoordinated horses, and then there are a few that saved my clumsy arse.”

Hans relaxed. Together, he and Ben educated Adam about the difference between animals who performed versus those who worked. Ben let Hans tell stories from sets or discuss the skill of stunt riders.

Before he realized, Grace had walked back to him and taken his hand. Her eyes were clear and her smile was stronger. Together, they joined the conversation until their time at the Riding School ended.

Back in the plaza, their mothers were knotted amongst their new friends. Sunny looked up. “We’re going for coffee at the Palm House. Do you want to join us?”

Ben searched for his mother and found her entrenched in a conversation about Jane Austen, clearly having an excellent time without him. He turned to Grace.

“No. I think we’ll go . . .”

“To the
Volksgarten.
” Grace finished the sentence. “We missed that yesterday.”

Sunny bustled off with the group. “Be careful. It looks like rain. Keep her out of the library if you can.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ben promised, laughing.

The clouds darkened, but the rain held back as he and Grace wandered through the garden.

“Are you going to tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you what?”

“‘Idgie?’”

“It’s from
Fried Green Tomatoes
. Fannie Flagg is Mom’s favorite author, and it’s a play on my name.”

“You can get ‘Idgie’ from Grace?”

Her eyes went wide as all the color drained from her face. She sounded like she was talking through a straw. “Grace is my middle name.”

“Really? What’s your Christian name?”

It took her a moment to speak. “Something I like less than Grace.”

“You don’t like Grace? I think it’s pretty.”
Oh dear God, I sound like some adolescent boy.

At least it made her laugh. He linked her arm through his and continued on their walk, content to drop the subject for now. They fell into easy conversation, discussing everything, yet nothing in particular.

The rain came without warning. One minute they were walking along enjoying the breeze, the next they were staring open mouthed in shock as cold buckets of water poured from the heavens. They ran for the trees at the edge of the garden and reached relative dryness as they lost their breath.

“Ben!” Grace squealed as he shook the water from his hair.

“Sorry.” He grinned, not the least bit repentant.

“Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what y’all do in Britain, but at home a tree isn’t the safest place to be in a storm.”

“Your accent has slipped, doll.” He winked as he tried his best imitation. “I like it.” He assessed their location. “This isn’t the only tree, and we’re not on a hill.” To be safe, he pulled her from the edge of the tree line.

With a disgusted sigh, she wrung the water from her hair and tied it in a knot at her nape. “I look like a drowned rat.”

Ben disagreed. She’d exposed the long column of her throat and the sweep of her jaw. Her shirt clung to her in all the right spots and emphasized her figure, especially her pebbled nipples. She shivered, and he kicked himself.
Of course her nipples are stiff, you daft git. She’s freezing.

“Here.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped her face while he moved close enough to lend her his body heat. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tugged him close.

“I h-hope you don’t mind. I’m c-cold.”

He chafed both hands on her arms and back but, with her wet clothes, it wasn’t helping. Instead, he held her and listened to the thunder and the rain.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said, her words muffled against his chest. “I got scared that things are going too fast, but I don’t want to slow them down.”