Crash and Burn (5 page)

“It’s not like that. Not really. I called you, remember? Let’s have a good time today. Forget Stone Adams.” She leaned back in the seat and massaged her temples. Maybe Richard could forget about Stone, but his hand imprint was still on her butt and she still felt the weight of his arm across her shoulder. She tried to shake off the unsettling feelings. At least there would be liquid refreshments when she and Richard arrived at their destination.

Richard drove to the first vineyard and winery. Long Island was considered wine country in the area, and by the multitude of vineyards, she knew why.

They spent the day tasting wine,
ohhing
and
ahhing
over the process, the architecture of the buildings on the premises and driving from one winery to another. Most of the tasters spit the wine out, like Richard, but not Grace.

She had never been one to get loaded, but today seemed like a good time to start. Dixie cup by Dixie cup, she drank her cares away. Richard kept a hand on her back most of the time, steering her in whatever direction they needed to go. From dark wine cellars to sweet vines loaded down with grapes, they spent the day in pleasant companionship. She wasn’t worried about Richard trying anything sexual. He was too much of a gentleman.

Stone would have taken advantage of her slightly inebriated state.

As she got more and more tipsy, Richard’s tone turned sharp and he scolded her like an errant child. “Grace, stop touching that. Grace, do you mind?”

At four, instead of driving to the next vineyard, the last vineyard on the tour, he drove her home.

She laughed. “Why are we here? I don’t want to go home.”

“I can’t babysit you anymore. If I leave you now I can watch the end of the race on television.”

“Race?”

He threw up his hands. “Race. Stone Adams. Fast cars. Checkered flag?”

“Oh. Silly, silly. Who cares about that?” She stumbled into the house. As soon as the door slammed behind her, Richard took off with squealing wheels. “What a dick!” She giggled at her joke. “Dick, Richard.” She laughed again and threw herself on to the couch.

“Oh good, you’re home,” Divina said, flipping on the television.

“Turn it off,” Grace groaned.

Divina stomped her foot. Her shrill voice broke through the drunken haze Grace had surrounded herself with most of the day.

“Look what you’ve done,” she whined.

Grace opened her eyes. “What have
I
done to
you
now?”

Divina pointed to the television set. It was some sports show.

“Racecar driver Stone Adams got married over the weekend to an unknown woman. We expected to see her here today, but she is noticeably absent. Some are speculating the marriage is a fictitious attempt to change Stone Adam’s image, which of late has been causing headaches for his car’s owner and sponsors.”

“Do you see what’s happening? Stone is probably freaking because his wife didn’t show up today. The media is going to dig into our marriage. It’s only a matter of time before they’re camped out on our doorstep, taking pictures of us. And do you think this will help you? I don’t think so. You’ll be implicated in this as well. Someone might suggest he’s keeping his wife and his lover under wraps in his love nest.”

“What are you blabbering on about?” Grace moaned.

“You’ve got to do something!”

Divina’s whiny, demanding tone got Grace’s attention and, with the amount of liquid courage she’d imbibed in today, she couldn’t stop her outrage. “Me?” She sat up. “I’ve got to do something? I didn’t marry the hunk of the western world. I didn’t get engaged to a pantywaist who can’t keep me under control.”

Divina’s jaw dropped.

“What? Do you want the truth? No. You want to hear exactly what you want to hear. Well, I’m done. I’ll stay here to play referee between the three of you, but I’m not doing you or anyone favors.”

Divina stomped off in a huff.

* * * *

Stone found Grace snoring at full volume on the living room couch. She was still in the same clothes she’d worn on her date, though they were a bit more rumpled. It was late when he arrived home after the race, interviews and some media coaching from Walt. The whole time he was being interviewed, he’d contemplated why Grace had agreed to go out with that goof. He was a fraction of an inch away from being a full-fledged nerd. He was only missing the pocket protector and tape around his glasses. And what was the deal with the flowers? What kind of a sap brought flowers anymore?

He thought about waking her, but with the option of having the guestroom to himself, he reconsidered.

He leaned over her on the couch and touched her cheek. Today had been a bitch of a day. The television stations called him everything but a liar. Everyone wanted to know where his new bride was. He couldn’t remember a day as mentally challenging as today had been.

Grace sighed and turned toward him, still sleeping. This was the type of day when Stone turned to the comfort of a good woman–or a bad woman. Blond, big-breasted and willing was how he liked them. Then he looked at his sleeping sister-in-law and felt a tug at his libido.

He cocked his head at Grace’s quiet sigh. Had she just said his name? On a moan?

Before he thought better of it, he dropped to his knees and inched toward her waiting lips. “Grace,” he whispered. “It’s me, Stone.”

She moaned again. “Stone.”

Her lips were so tempting, ripe and full, while she lay there. He lightly touched his lips to her parted ones. Her mouth moved under his and he looked at her closed eyes. She sighed in the back of her throat and put her arms around his neck. Then she kissed him back with a passion he never would have guessed she possessed. The thrill ran across his body, electrifying him everywhere. He’d never had that type of reaction to a simple meeting of lips. Succumbing to the kiss, he closed his eyes and stole more of her sweet kisses. Behind his eyelids he saw flashes.

Stars. He was seeing stars, all from kissing this woman. He pulled back and saw the flash again.

Shit.

He whirled around to the huge picture window and the group of three photographers standing in the bushes, smiling at him.

Son-of-a-bitch.

He stood and ran to the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’re news, man,” one of the photographers said. “I’ve got a contract for a lot of money to get the first picture of you and your wife.”

Stone looked back on the couch to where Grace lay sleeping. “You can’t publish those. This is my private residence.”

“Whatever. I’ll let the magazine deal with the consequences. See ya. Thanks for the shots.”

Those vultures had followed him home from the track. He thrust his hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. Letting them tail him home had been one thing, but Grace was going to kill him when those pictures hit the magazines and newspaper stands in the morning. Grace, his sister-in-law, was going to be portrayed as his wife whether she wanted it or not.

He felt his chest squeeze. How had he screwed up so badly? Even in his youth, he hadn’t messed up this bad. Marriage was supposed to make him less news, not more. He’d only decided to get married to prove he was worth more to his sponsors single with press than married without it. So much for that theory.

* * * *

Stone made sure he was the one to pick up the newspaper from the front porch the following morning. The headlines read,
Touching Moment Between Stone Adams and his Bride
. There weren’t enough four-letter words to describe his mood and attitude.

Grace had returned to her bed sometime in the night. He’d spent a restless night dreaming about his sister-in-law, tossing and turning with guilt.

“Good morning, jerk.” Divina scooted by him and reached for a coffee mug.

“Good morning, wife.” He slid the paper off the table and under his chair.

“Did you have a good race yesterday?”

“I didn’t crash, but that’s about the only good thing I can say.”

“That’s too bad,” she said, sitting across from him. “Where’s the paper?”

He shrugged.

“Give it to me,” she demanded.

“It didn’t come. I don’t know what to tell you.”

It was her turn to shrug. She sipped her coffee.

Hank was next to arrive in the kitchen. “You’re still here?” he sneered. “Not the way to spend a weekend. Are you leaving anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so.”

They started eating in silence. He shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He heard her moan before he saw her in the entrance to the kitchen. Grace’s hair was tousled, her eyes were puffy and she was still wearing her date outfit.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Stone greeted her with loud exuberance.

She moaned again, clutching her head. “Coffee,” she said, her voice rough and scratchy.

No one moved from the table.

“Must have been a good date,” Stone said. “You’re still wearing the same clothes.”

“Stop talking, please. My head.”

“What’s wrong, Grace? Can’t handle a good time? You looked happy enough and there was nothing wrong with your voice last night,” Divina said.

“What are you talking about?” Grace slid her feet on the floor to the cabinet, searched for a coffee mug and poured dark liquid into it.

“You’re unbelievable. You think you can say what you said to me last night and I’ll forget everything? Not going to happen, sis.”

Grace let out a groan.

“Give her a break,” Stone said. “She’s obviously hung over.”

Grace sat in the chair adjacent to him. She was hurting. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like she might heave at any second. This was not the time to come clean about what happened last night. Instead he looked at the faces of the people who only a few days ago had been strangers to him. Hank dribbled milk down the front of his shirt and swore.

Divina tsked and tried to wipe it up. How come she couldn’t help him the way she helped Hank? He was in need of a little cleaning up, but now there was the problem of the photographic evidence. Hank picked up the remote control from in front of him and turned on the TV.

Grace moaned.

“In sporting news, racecar driver Stone Adams, who reportedly got married this past weekend, finished his race at the Riverhead Raceway in tenth place. New pictures of his bride have surfaced.”

Divina reached for the remote and shut the TV off.

“What are you doing?” Hank said. “Don’t you want to see what picture they have of you?”

Divina gave Hank a stern look and shook her head once. Why was she being so secretive? She had nothing to do with the pictures of him and Grace kissing and she certainly couldn’t help it if they were on the news. He’d rather not see the pictures anyway. The longer he put off showing them to his sister-in-law, the better. Hank tried to get the remote from his fiancee.

“No, Hank,” Divina told him. Turning her attention to the rest of the table, she asked in a fake-sounding sweet voice, “What are you doing today, Gracie?”

Grace looked up, a vague expression on her face. “Me?”

“Sure. Are you spending the day in bed? Taking classes? Going to see Mom and Dad?”

“Aspirin is first on my list, then I have no idea. I’d like to work on getting a job. Eventually I’ll need a place to stay and a job to support myself. I’m not living with you characters forever.”

Stone huffed. She was so sweet and beautiful when she was asleep. Awake, she was a whole different animal. Grace didn’t mince words, pulled no punches, especially where her sister was concerned. Tough love had nothing on Grace.

“I’ve got to meet with my manager and the owner of the car,” Stone told the group. “I’ll see you guys later.”

He stooped over, picked up the paper and his cereal bowl and quickly went to the sink. No one caught on, and he made a clean escape with the newspaper.

* * * *

Grace was the next to leave the kitchen without a backward glance. She grabbed her purse and drove to her parents’ house. Her first choice had been moving home after grad school, but it hadn’t been an easy decision to make. Being a rebound adult, one who left for college and returned to the nest after college, hadn’t been in her future plans. However, without a job and a steady income, it was the best option. Plus, she could help her parents with the mundane chores of running a household.

She opened the front door without knocking. “Hello?”

She looked around the rooms she could see. The crucified Jesus hung in the entryway–her mother always said it was to let everyone entering her house know they believed in Jesus Christ, and it was the most important thing in this family’s life.

Divina and Grace’s names were a tribute to her mother’s beliefs. Divine grace. Her children were everything to her.

“We’re watching Kathie Lee and Hoda. Come on in, dear.”

“Hi, Mom, Dad,” Grace said, looking between them.

“We’ve been waiting to hear what’s been going on with you and your sister,” her mother said when the show went to a commercial. “It was so sudden–Divina and Hank decided to get married and without us and not in a church.” She crossed herself.