Souvenirs Read online

  “Seriously, Grace.” The growl had been diffused, but his muscles were still tense.

  She’d worked out what to tell him before she left the kitchen. Her main character was a spy, after all. “He wanted to talk about menu changes.”

  “He could have asked you at the table,” he grumbled as they walked away.

  This section of Vienna was much quieter than the district from last night. The shops boasted unique, artisanal works. Soon the women had abandoned Ben against another planter while they browsed inside a boutique.

  Grace’s glee bubbled over. Her books sat on the shelves next to Hapsburg treasures under that beautiful mural. It was one thing to see them on a shelf at her home library or at Barnes and Noble. She’d been excited then, but knowing they were here transformed them to art.

  I made art.

  As she chattered with her mother and Camille, her eventful day rattled through her head. Ben at breakfast, reading Goethe in a whisper, holding her hand, translating the bar chatter, worrying about her . . . She lifted her gaze to the window and the man lounging under a tree. He smiled and waved.

  “Miss?”

  Grace shook her head to clear the static from her brain. He did that to her every time. How was it possible after only a day? Maybe I’m not used to it. Perhaps by the time the trip is over, I’ll be immune.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “What?”

  The shop girl looked over her shoulder at Ben. “He’d do the same to me. Let me show you something that will look wonderful with your coloring.”

  While the girl went in back, Grace joined her mother and Camille. She glanced at her watch and then out the window.

  “Don’t fret,” Camille reassured her. “He’s fine.”

  Sunny walked to the next rack, and Grace took advantage of the rare privacy. “Camille, I need to ask—I don’t want to intrude on your vacation.”

  The older woman turned, and Grace realized Ben had inherited her eyes. “My son has laughed more in the last two days than he has in years. For however long it lasts, I’m happy. If all it leaves him is happy memories, then that’s all right as well.” Her eyes hardened to ice. “But don’t hurt him.”

  “I would never—”

  “I know, dear. Now, relax and try something on.” She eyed the green dress in the clerk’s hands. “That will look lovely on you.”

  Ben used the time alone to assess his overreaction. Grace was a grown woman and a relative stranger, despite their time in the library. Just because he was holding her hand didn’t mean he could prevent her from doing something she enjoyed. And she’d clearly enjoyed her meeting with the waiter.

  As the women emerged from the shop, he focused on her shy smile and her shopping bag, wondering what made her happy, what she’d bought, what she was thinking. He joined the group and took their purchases. Shifting the bags to one hand, he grasped Grace’s fingers with the other. They walked in silence.

  Grace broke it first. “I’m sorry if I ruined—”

  “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m sorry I was a codger. Every Liam Neeson movie played through my head at once.”

  “It’s all right.” She stifled a yawn with the back of her other hand. “It’s actually kind of sweet.”

  Sweet? She wouldn’t have thought it was sweet if he’d put that boy into a wall. Ben gulped. Get hold of yourself. She’s not yours.

  Her arm brushed his, their steps fell into time, and his chest expanded. The hell she isn’t.

  “The trip starts in earnest tomorrow,” he muttered, floundering for something to say.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing more places, but I’m dreading the hustle,” she sighed. “On the other hand, Mom can’t wait to meet everyone.”

  “She’ll have an entourage by the time this is over, won’t she?” Ben asked.

  “Probably. She’ll want your mother to be part of it. You’ll need to tell her if she gets too pushy.”

  “Mum’s enjoying it, and she’s quite capable of standing up for herself.” Ahead of them, the two women bent their heads in some sort of plot. “It’s nice for her to have someone pull her out of her shell. Andrew used to do that.”

  The hotel came into view, and he slowed his steps. Groups had spilled from the lobby into the circle drive. Taxis were queued up, and passengers alighted from one side and boarded from another. Bellman bustled with bag carts. It was like watching ants build their hill.

  A shrill whistle split the air, and Ben looked over his shoulder, expecting to see a horde of photographers trying to get his attention. Instead, he saw Grace’s sheepish expression.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  Their mothers reversed their path, and Sunny rolled her eyes.

  “I’m not a retriever, Idgie,” she grumbled.

  Grace freed the bags from his unresisting fingers. “We’re going to stay out here. Can you get those in without a problem?”

  “Ben has been carrying them in one hand. I think we can manage with four,” Sunny chided. “G’nite, kids.”

  Ben watched his mother disappear into the crowd before he turned to Grace. “I’ve never seen a woman whistle like that.”

  “I grew up in the country. You learn a completely different set of skills. Mom hates it, but sometimes it’s the best way to get her attention.” She took his hand. “Why don’t we stay away from the noise for a while longer?”

  They wandered the streets and watched Vienna light up at night. Ben had seen it before, but Grace somehow made it new.

  She preferred quiet, charming streets and people watching rather than tourist sites. Instead of shopping, they took turns guessing what people were saying and where they were going.

  At an intersection, they spotted a couple taking turns snapping pictures of each other—first her, then him. Grace stopped in mid-walk.

  “Excuse me. English?”

  The young man looked at her warily. “Nein.”

  Grace turned to Ben with a silent plea for translation. “They need a picture together, Ben.”

  Smiling, he repeated her request in German. Nodding eagerly, the man surrendered the camera in a flurry of explanations. Then he kept talking as the couple posed.

  “They’re on their honeymoon,” Ben said.

  “Really?” Grace snapped a picture. “How do you say best wishes?”

  “Herzlichen glückwunsch.”

  Her lips twitched. “You’re making that up.”

  “Gratulation will work.”

  She repeated the sentiment as she returned their camera.

  “Danke,” the new husband said.

  “That means—”

  “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.”