by Cara Summers
Cilla couldn’t help but think how closely Carmen’s story echoed Jonah’s and his mother’s experience. Except that Jonah had lost his mother as well as his father. Both of his parents had abandoned him. But Jonah didn’t abandon people. “Were you surprised when he asked you to move here and manage Interludes?”
“I was stunned.” Carmen met her eyes, and Cilla saw a glint of tears. “It meant I had to uproot the kids, but they were older, close to making me an empty nester. And Jonah made everything so easy for me. It’s the best decision I ever made.”
The skinny kid with the mop of curls came racing up to Carmen at the bar. “Jonah needs fuel.”
Carmen’s brows shot up. “Well, load a plate up for him. We can’t have the boss going hungry.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The boy shot off to the buffet.
“This is a very different place than Pleasures,” Cilla commented.
“Well, you’re seeing us on a special day. But if I were to use some of that fancy business school mumbo jumbo that my oldest son, Jack, uses, I’d say that the mission statements of the two clubs are the same. Basically, Jonah’s goal is to create places for people to shed their cares and worries for a short time. Places that they can enter into for a while and just play. And people have different price points and different images of their escape spaces.”
“Fantasy worlds,” Cilla murmured.
“You could call them that. But for a short time, they’re reality. It’s not a whole lot different from what Father Mike did when he started the St. Francis Center. He created a safe space for kids to play and learn and grow, a place that sheltered them and helped them deal better with the reality outside.”
“It’s like what a home should do,” Cilla commented.
“Yeah,” Carmen agreed. “When everything’s ideal. But that can be a hard thing to pull off. I know.”
Cilla thought of her own home—her father working, her mother unhappy. She might not have liked it; her mother certainly hadn’t. But it had been there. Her parents, as imperfect as they might be, were still there.
She glanced up at the big screen again and saw that Jonah had set his pool stick aside to eat the pizza the skinny boy had brought him. As she watched, the kid burst into laughter and Jonah joined him. She felt her heart take a tumble. He looked so right standing there.
He claimed that he’d created these clubs to provide customers with an escape, but she wondered if he hadn’t really built them as a way of establishing a home for himself.
And she was letting him distract her again. Turning to Carmen, she said, “You were volunteering at the St. Francis Center six years ago, right? That would have been Christmastime, 2005.”
“Sure. My boys were still in high school—sixteen and fourteen. Tough ages. I was there when I could be. Why?”
“I want you to think about that year at Christmastime. Jonah wasn’t in Denver. He was here in San Francisco checking out possible places for Pleasures.”
She frowned, thinking. “What happens at my age is that the years begin to blur.”
“That year, 2005, might be important. Think about it.” She passed a card to Carmen. “And let me know.”
Carmen met her eyes. “I’ll do more than think about it, I’ll ask my sons. The younger one will have pictures. Father Mike got him his first camera, put him in charge of making a pictorial history of the center. Ben fell in love with photography. That’s his major in college, and he kept pictures that he took at the center. What are we looking for?”
Cilla shook her head. “I wish I knew. The notes he’s receiving are telling him he has to pay for something. And they mention Christmases past.”
“The Dickens’s Christmas Carol thing,” Carmen murmured.
“If you can remember anyone he offended that year. Any feathers that got ruffled around the center. Maybe somebody took it wrong that he went off to San Francisco on business.” Cilla remembered the Christmases that her father had been away on business and how much she’d resented it.
“I’ll have Ben find the photos,” Carmen said.
A cheer went up from the kids in the bar. Cilla glanced up at the screen to see that Jonah’s pool table was clear of balls except for the cue ball. “He is really good.”
“Yeah.” Carmen put a hand over hers. “Jonah’s like a kid brother to me. Virgil feels the same way. And he says that Jonah’s more than a case to you.”
“Yes.” No use denying it. A man with Virgil’s eagle eye hadn’t missed their kiss in the bar last night. And she’d spent most of her time here staring at Jonah on the big screen like a teenager.
Carmen’s gaze turned assessing and some of the warmth faded. “You’re not his type.”
She lifted her chin. “I don’t want to be his type. I didn’t want him to be more than a case to me.”
The warmth returned to Carmen’s eyes and her lips curved into a smile. “Sometimes it happens that way. Just don’t let him get hurt.”
Carmen was the third person who’d said those words to her in just that tone. Jonah seemed to have quite a loyal following, and that didn’t surprise her. He wasn’t the career-minded businessman she’d first thought him to be.
Over Carmen’s shoulder, she watched him striding toward her, one arm around the skinny kid, the other around a chubby redheaded girl with freckles. When she met his eyes, absorbed the smile, something moved through her. Even though her toes curled, it wasn’t merely the pull she always felt. Or the fire in her belly she was almost getting used to. What she felt was that warmer, softer feeling she’d experienced when he’d kissed her so tenderly in the garage. As it spread, she all but heard a click inside her as something unlocked.
She pressed a hand to her stomach as fear bubbled up brightly. How had it come to this? How had she fallen in love with him?
And those weren’t questions she could afford to think about now. She had to focus on keeping him safe. Her gut told her that the clock was ticking on that one.
IT WAS NEARLY FOUR BEFORE Jonah hung his pool stick on the rack and watched the last of the kids reluctantly exit through the front door of Interludes. There was a part of him that looked forward to this party every year. But he was also aware there was a part of him that had wanted very much for the party to end.
And that was because of Cilla.
Usually, he could completely lose himself in a game of pool. Playing allowed him to clear his mind for a while. Today, there hadn’t been one moment when he’d been able to totally focus on the position of the balls or to imagine the possible angles for a shot.
Because she’d been watching him. Sometimes, he would look up and catch her doing just that. Other times he was pretty sure he’d felt her watching him on the TV screens.
How in the hell was that possible? He ran a hand through his hair.
He studied her now as she paced in the dining room, the phone pressed to her ear. She was in Priscilla mode, jotting down notes, figuring the angles.
But there was that moment earlier when he’d walked into the dining room and his eyes had met hers—she’d been Cilla then. Something in her look had slammed into him like a Mack truck, triggering so many emotions, so many needs.
He’d been outrageously tempted to just go to her, grab her off that stool, and carry her off somewhere. Only the fact that he’d been surrounded by kids and someone was trying to kill her had stopped him. Caveman tactics had never been his style, but as he watched her pace, he was beginning to see their value.
It had been hours since he’d touched her, kissed her. It might as well have been years. And it was going to be far too long until he could get her back to Pleasures and into his bed.
A quick glance at his watch told him that they were due at the St. Francis Hotel in half an hour. And he’d never been more tempted in his life to blow off a business meeting. Carl would understand. But Stanley Rubin had called the meeting as a favor. Jonah couldn’t let him down.
One thing he was sure of, the two quick kisses he’d sto
len during the endless day hadn’t been enough. But they’d certainly tapped out his self-control. He’d better keep his distance and play by her ground rules until they were safely in his apartment.
Pushing himself away from the pool table, he strode into the entrance hall.
“I’ll lock the door,” Mark Gibbons said.
Jonah turned to the man, who hadn’t left his post at the hostess desk all afternoon. Carmen had brought him a plate of food at one point, but he’d remained where he could check out anyone who came through the door.
“Boss wants to have a brief meeting before we leave for your business appointment at the hotel,” Gibbons said.
Turning, Jonah saw that Cilla now sat at a table with Santos, out of the way of the waitstaff that was whisking away the debris of the party.
Jonah turned to Gibbons. “I have a couple of questions for you. Why did you leave the Denver office?”
“Gabe asked me to come here temporarily.” Gibbons studied him for a moment. “If you’re wondering if I wanted her job, if I’m carrying some kind of grudge because Gabe put her in charge of the office instead of me, I’m not. And I didn’t plant a bomb under her car.”
“Why didn’t you want the job?”
“Because I’ve got a girlfriend back in Denver who is not happy about the situation. I go back there on my weekends off. She comes here on the others. If I took a permanent job here, she’d send me packing.”
“So Gabe asked you to play what—big brother-slash-mentor until Cilla is comfortable?”
“Gabe is less concerned about her than the rest of the staff. Santos is new, both to the business and to G.W. He’s great with the electronic security. He got some training in the military and then he worked for a casino in Vegas. I’ve been training him in the personal security side. Cilla’s only new to G.W., but she’s smart, she has good contacts here in the police department. Plus, her political instincts are good. Her instincts are good, period. She’s got a mind that’s always figuring the angles.”
“Do you know why she left her personal security job in L.A.?”
“Sure. She told all of us at our first staff meeting. One of the teen idols she’d been assigned to got a little high and made some advances. She defended herself and as a result the production on his movie was delayed. The producers made a stink.”
“But you dug a little deeper than that,” Jonah guessed.
“Sure.” His expression turned grim. “According to my sources, the guy tried to rape her. She knocked two of his teeth out and gave him a black eye. No charges were filed, but pretty boy couldn’t film for nearly a week and the firm she worked for was being pressured to fire her. She quit first.”
As Jonah studied Cilla, anger mixed with admiration. “She’s one tough cookie.”
“I’d say so.” Mark patted him on the shoulder. “And in one more minute she’s going to come over here and read us the riot act because we’re delaying her strategy meeting. I’d like to keep my teeth.”
“Me, too.” Jonah walked with Mark to join her.
10
A HALF HOUR LATER, CILLA stepped out of a taxi in front of the St. Francis Hotel. After a quick scan of the area, she signaled Jonah to follow her. The late-afternoon sun was low in the sky and the air was cold and crisp.
The plan had been to take three taxis again—she and Jonah in the first, David Santos in a second and Mark Gibbons in the third. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted David’s taxi had stopped across the street. He was already mixing into passengers disembarking from a cable car.
Pedestrians loaded down with packages milled along the sidewalk in front of the hotel. She steered Jonah through them. She hadn’t spotted a tail, but if someone had followed them, they’d have to deal with the parking issue. She and Jonah wouldn’t.
They were halfway up the steps when Mark strode past them and into the hotel. The lobby was aglow with Christmas. Tired shoppers with packages stacked on the floor had filled the bar to overflowing. Above the laughter and conversation, she caught the sounds of a string quartet playing “White Christmas.”
They moved toward the elevators where Mark was already waiting for a car. Everything was going smoothly. The ride over had been short. And Jonah had played the role of good client perfectly. He hadn’t touched her. She’d been so sure that he would kiss her. An afternoon of watching him on the big screen and not being able to touch him had been nearly as frustrating as the three-and-a-half weeks she’d spent avoiding her bed because he wasn’t in it.
By the time she’d decided that she should play bad security agent, the taxi had stopped in front of the St. Francis.
On the bright side, she’d been able to fill him in on what she’d discussed with Carmen. He’d filled her in on the Rubins.
One of the elevator doors opened. Quickly, she moved into the car with Jonah, then shifted so that she stood in front of him as she scanned the lobby. Mark followed a crowd of shoppers into the same car. She spotted David Santos leaning against one of the walls, reading a newspaper as the elevator doors closed. His job was to keep watch in the lobby. If there was any sign of the driver of the backfiring van, he would notify them.
Everything was going smoothly, like clockwork. And it wasn’t disappointment she was feeling because Jonah had finally decided to stick to her ground rules. She should be worrying about why she had an itchy sensation at the back of her neck. There was no reason for it—unless it was connected to the sexual frustration she was feeling.
Focus, she told herself. As the elevator crept slowly upward, she reviewed the information Jonah had given her on Stanley Rubin, who’d amassed a fortune building condos and upscale apartment complexes in San Diego.
Just as he’d promised, Jonah had notified Stan that he was bringing a personal security agent with him because of the attempted mugging last night. According to Jonah, Stan’s reaction had been concern and then approval that Jonah was taking precautions.
Joining Stan and Carl at the meeting would be Rubin’s wife, Glenda, and his young associate, Dean Norris. When she’d asked Jonah who had initiated the meeting, he’d said, “Stan. We’re due to start renovating the property for our new club right after the first of the year. Norris has some new design ideas that Stan wants Carl and me to see. My understanding is that they conflict with the vision I originally presented them for the club. Both he and Glenda are coming to the party at Pleasures tomorrow evening. And since Stan loves to mix business with pleasure—his words—he asked for a meeting.”
“And what about this Dean Norris?” she’d asked. “What do you know about him?”
“Norris joined Rubin Enterprises a year ago when he left the army. Stan believes he’s got a bright future with the company.”
When they finally reached the top floor, Mark stepped out of the elevator ahead of them and led the way down the hall. He’d keep watch on the door to the Rubins’ suite until they left.
But as they approached the suite, Cilla felt the itchy feeling at the back of her neck intensify. Turning, she glanced back down the hallway.
Empty except for a woman in a cap and down jacket inserting her key into a lock.
“You can relax.” Jonah spoke softly as they reached the door. “Gabe vetted Stan thoroughly. I don’t go into business with anyone I have questions about. You’re going to like him.”
Like him or not, Cilla glanced down the hall in the other direction as they waited. But she spotted no one other than Mark, and he was turning a corner to check out the rest of the floor. For a moment the hall was empty.
But the itchy feeling remained. Maybe it was due to sexual frustration. When Jonah raised his hand to knock, she grabbed his wrist.
“What’s wrong?” He gave the hallway a quick scan.
“You didn’t kiss me in the taxi.”
She saw surprise in the look he gave her, but it didn’t come close to matching her own surprise at what she’d said. Then she saw the heat and the hint of recklessness flash into his eyes, and he
r bones began to melt.
“I’ve just spent a whole afternoon wanting you and not being able to so much as touch you. If I’d kissed you in the taxi, I wouldn’t have stopped with a kiss.” He picked up a piece of her hair and twisted it around his finger. “Have you ever made love in the backseat of a taxi?”
“No.” But she had a quick flash of what it might be like with Jonah, and she couldn’t feel her legs anymore. Leaning against the door of the Rubins’ suite didn’t help one bit. Because then all she could think of was the door in that hotel room and what he’d done to her. What she very much wanted him to do again.
“I decided that I wanted a little more space and some privacy the next time we make love.” He released her hair to run a finger slowly over her lips. “The next time I kiss you, I’m not going to stop until I’m inside you making you come.”
Everything inside of her clenched at the image. For a moment, she thought she might come right then.
Jonah tore his gaze away from her and knocked on the door. Glenda Rubin answered the summons almost immediately. If she hadn’t, Jonah wasn’t quite sure he could have kept from taking Cilla right there in the hallway.
And if he had? Well, he’d spoken nothing less than the truth about the reason he’d kept his hands to himself in the taxi. But saying the words out loud had badly weakened his self-control. And it hadn’t been in good shape on the ride over. Each time the cab took a corner and her shoulder brushed against his, he’d nearly been a goner.
A hallway provided more space and at least the possibility of greater privacy than the backseat of a taxi with hundreds of pedestrians out Christmas shopping. But he wanted more than that the next time he touched Cilla.
And he intended to touch her soon.
Glenda enveloped him in a hug. “Merry Christmas. Carl’s already here and Dean is on his way.” She grasped Cilla’s hand when Jonah made the introductions. “Welcome.”
The suite she led them into was large and airy. Windows along one wall offered a stunning view of the Golden Gate Bridge, where the late-afternoon sun was moving closer to the horizon.
