Page 88 of Possession

A path to Grace’s heart would be nice, but tonight, I also wanted a roadmap to her brain. She knew more than she was letting on, perhaps even more than she realized.

Somewhere along the way, Annabelle had let something slip or Grace had seen an unusual visitor or an odd piece of art.

Something.

One way or another, I needed to trigger those lost memories without her discovering that I’d been digging into her as much as her grandmother’s files.

So…romance. That it would be taking place in a restaurant owned by a man in the mob was incidental.

I would never let any of that touch her. I’d vowed to protect her, and I would. No cost would be too steep.

Too bad she wasn’t responding to me again. So much for that flurry of messages.

Clearly, she was working too hard. I would’ve been tempted to fire her for that, but she’d definitely have a worker’s comp case for that one. Besides, I needed her far too much.

Professionally and personally. The damn woman.

Tired of playing message tag, I picked up the phone and dialed her extension. She answered on the fourth ring.

“Carson Covenant Inc. This is Grace Copeland, taking your call from the afterlife.”

Despite my irritation, I laughed. “Dare I ask why?”

“You should know. You said the words ‘date’ and ‘you’ aka me in the same sentence. I figured this must be what heaven was like, assuming I believed what I was reading.”

“What do you mean if you believed it? I asked you on a date.”

“No, you did not. You said you’d like to take me on one. There was no question. But that’s okay, since I immediately slid to the floor. Right now, I’m wearing Jack’s giant footprint on my cheek since I faceplanted right on the dirty floor.”

“His feet aren’t any bigger than mine,” I muttered. “Fine. Will you go out with me on a date?”

“Where?”

I shook my head, though I was well aware she couldn’t see me. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. I don’t want to go to a museum or on a walking historical tour or something equally significant and cold. A date should be a date, Blake.”

“How about dinner at an Italian restaurant and a movie?” As soon as the question was out, my guilt reared its head again.

Tell her the truth. She’ll still accompany you. You know she loves her Nancy Drew stuff.

But that was just the thing. I was campaigning to take her on a date, but I was lying about my true motivations. I always was.

Lying for what I saw as her own good didn’t make it the truth.

“And a cupcake,” I added, well aware the guilt now had control of both my wallet and my evening. “There’s a shop near the Italian restaurant I have in mind that has great ones. Killer Cupcakes.”

“Hmm. You’re getting warmer. What movie?”

“I don’t know. What’s playing? And don’t sayCaptain America, Ms. Copeland.”

“The new one isn’t for a bit yet, unfortunately.” Her giggle made my shoulders relax. We’d have a date—movie optional—and I’d talk to Dante, and we’d get closer to some answers.

“Our reservations are at nine-thirty. So, we’ll take off about eight.”

“Nine-thirty? What are we, in Europe?”

“I’d like not to advertise our personal relationship. Taking off from the roof in the helicopter with my assistant before the building is sufficiently empty is advertising.”

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