by Lee McKenzie
“What’s the holdup, I wonder? Do you think it’s the plumbing? Maybe they won’t issue a permit until you’ve been cleared by the health department.”
Hmm. She hadn’t considered that. “I told them I need the building permit to get the loan, and I need the loan to fix the plumbing.” How much simpler could it be?
“Then you’d better get going. It’s harder for them to say no in person than it is over the phone. I’ll hold down the fort.”
She hugged him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll see you after lunch. I don’t know how long this will take. If Michael calls, can you tell him where I am and that I’ll be there as quick as I can?”
“Of course.” He gave her a gentle shove toward the door and a playful swat on the rear. “Now, get out of here. And don’t take no for an answer.”
JESS HADN’T TAKEN no for an answer, but she still hadn’t heard yes, either. What was that old saying? You can’t fight city hall? No kidding. She now had proof that you couldn’t even reason with it. She had eventually left with the knowledge that her permit was still under consideration, but no one could tell her when it might be issued. Michael had a lot more experience with this sort of thing—maybe he’d have some advice.
She still had plenty of time before she met him for lunch, so she took a somewhat circuitous route to the wine bar on Nob Hill. The Vespa was great in the city, just not on the really steep hills. She arrived with fifteen minutes to spare, which was a lucky thing because finding a parking spot proved challenging, even for a small bike. She finally tucked it into a space for passenger drop-off only and hoped there wouldn’t be a ticket waiting for her when lunch was over. She pulled off her helmet, took a quick look at her hair in the little sideview mirror, then smoothed it out and walked down the block.
The plate-glass doors at the entrance to Morgan’s on Nob Hill were identical to those at Morgan’s at the Wharf, and the name arched across the two doors was in the same gold lettering. She pulled one open and stepped into the marble-floored foyer. A young woman in a subdued black dress welcomed her from the hostess station.
“Hi,” Jess said. “I’m meeting Michael for lunch.”
The young woman smiled graciously. “Of course. He called to say he was running a little late, but he’ll be here as soon as he can and that if you arrived before he did, I should show you to your table.”
She glanced at Jess’s windbreaker and the helmet tucked under her arm. “Would you like me to take those for you?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll hang on to them.” She followed the woman to a table in a secluded alcove, separated from the hostess station by a wood-paneled planter filled with potted palms.
“Would you like a glass of wine while you wait?”
“Thanks, but I’ll wait for Michael.” She had no idea what to order and he most likely had something in mind.
“Of course. I’ll get you some ice water.”
“Thanks.” She hung her jacket on the back of her chair, tucked her helmet under her seat and took in her surroundings. There were lots of similarities between this place and the one at the wharf—the rich, dark wood, the cream-colored table linens, even the bud vases on each table. The artwork was by a different artist, more traditional in style, but she had no doubt the paintings were originals. But where the view from Morgan’s at the Wharf incorporated all the hustle and bustle of the waterfront, Morgan’s on Nob Hill had a hushed atmosphere, like a library, further emphasized by one long wall lined with book-laden shelves. It would be interesting to see how Michael would integrate the “signature Morgan experience” with the new place in SoMa.
She could see the entrance through the palm fronds, which meant that when he came in, she would see him before he noticed her. And there was no question that she was looking forward to seeing him. Now that she had convinced herself that he wasn’t trying to buy the Whiskey Sour, it seemed that he really was interested in her. Her! As unbelievable as it was, Jess Bennett had caught the attention of a deliciously handsome, successful family man, and she was already a little bit in love with him.
Her ice water arrived and she took a few sips while watching the entrance. Several more minutes ticked by, and then a tall woman in a business suit came in. She looked familiar, but it took a few seconds for Jess to remember why. It was the mystery woman who’d come into the Whiskey Sour a few weeks ago and ordered a beer and a panini for lunch. This place seemed much more her style.
“Hi, Lexi,” the hostess said. “I thought you were meeting with Michael later this afternoon.”
Lexi? Michael’s sister? What a bizarre coincidence.
She set her briefcase on the floor. “I was supposed to, but my flight from L.A. was late and now something’s come up with another project. I have to do a site visit not far from here, so I thought I’d drop this off on my way.” She handed a large, sturdy-looking cardboard tube to the hostess. “These are the plans for the winery expansion. Can you please make sure he gets them?”
“Of course. Would you like to have lunch while you’re here?”
“Not today, thanks. I have to get going.” The tinny sound of classical music grabbed her attention. “That’s my phone. I’ll just take this call, then I have to go.”
Jess watched her pick up her briefcase and fish her phone from an exterior pocket. “Lexi Morgan.” She cast a furtive glance around the foyer and moved away from the front desk, obviously seeking privacy while being completely unaware that Jess was sitting on the opposite side of the potted palms.
“Yes, that’s right,” she said, her voice now hushed. “It’s a little bar called the Whiskey Sour.”
For a second, maybe two, Jess thought she must be mistaken. Lexi had no reason to be talking about her bar with anyone. But then Jess heard her give the address. No mistake about it.
“She applied for a building permit last week and I’m wondering if you could do me a favor…yes, of course, just between you and me…no, I’m not asking you to lose the application, but if you could move it to the bottom of the pile…yeah, keep stalling it as long as you can…sure, okay, thanks. I owe you one.”
Jess’s heartbeat pounded in her ears, making her dizzy and slightly nauseated, and she had to struggle to take a breath. Oh, God. All the horrible things that had happened in her past suddenly paled compared to the betrayal she felt at that moment.
Lexi tucked her phone back into her bag.
Jess ducked behind the menu. She could confront Lexi right then and there, but it was clear that Michael’s sister wasn’t acting on her own. She was using her connections to do her brother’s dirty work. The phone call about the expired business license, the health inspector showing up to inspect the washrooms, right after Lexi had been there—it all made sense.
Michael’s sister waved at the hostess and left.
Jess felt as if she was frozen to her chair. The son of a bitch had really played her. How dare he? What gave him the right to interfere with her business? To lie about being interested in her? Wanting to buy the building was one thing, but the phony seduction routine? That was beyond despicable.
You have to get out of here, she told herself. He would be here any minute and she couldn’t face him. Not right now. She grabbed her jacket and picked up her helmet, knocking her ice water all over the table in the process. That immediately got the hostess’s attention. Jess ignored the startled woman and rushed past her.
All his shmarmy sweet talk about waiting to make love to her until she was ready and…oh, God! She had fallen for it. The other night she had curled up in bed in his mother’s guest room and dared to dream that someday she might actually be part of a real family. His family. She had let herself believe she was the kind of woman he was genuinely interested in, and had imagined what being in his bed would be like. Worst of all, she had acknowledged that she might even be falling in love with him, and that the feeling was mutual.
She shoved the heavy plate-glass door open and stormed out onto the sidewalk, wish
ing she had a cell phone so she could call Mr. Hotshot Morgan and tell him to go to hell and take his money with him. Then she’d hang up and never speak to him again.
You are such an idiot! She wanted to scream. And then she wanted to smash something. Something really, really expensive. No, something fragile, like a king-size, arrogant male ego. And then she wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry her eyes out. But first she had to get back to the Whiskey Sour. She ran up the sidewalk, her vision blurred by tears, strapped on her helmet and climbed onto her Vespa. She wished it was a Harley-Davidson, because she was ready to rumble. Instead, she scooted away from the curb as fast as fifty ccs allowed.
MICHAEL WALKED the five blocks from his apartment building to the wine bar. After his morning meetings with the Realtor, the bank and his lawyer, Jonathan, he was looking forward to having lunch with Jess and celebrating the acquisition of his newest property—the building on Folsom Street. He also had ideas for the Whiskey Sour that he wanted to share with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this excited about a project, and it wasn’t even his. He wished he’d been able to track Lexi down, tell her the plan had changed and run his ideas by her first, but that could wait till they met later that afternoon.
A block and half from the restaurant he spotted Jess on her little red scooter. Vespa, he corrected. They looked as cute together as he’d known they would. She didn’t look as though she was arriving, though. More as if she was leaving. That was strange. He was only a few minutes late and he had called and asked Cindy, the hostess, to be sure to let Jess know he was on his way. He picked up his pace, but by the time he got to the entrance to Morgan’s, she had disappeared.
Inside, Cindy and one of the servers were clearing the table he’d asked them to reserve for him. “Was Jess Bennett here?” he asked.
“She was, but she left a couple of minutes ago. She must’ve been in a hurry, because she spilled a glass of water all over the table and ran out the door.”
Michael tried to process that information and failed. “Did she say where she was going?”
Cindy bundled the table linens under her arm and walked back to the hostess station with him, leaving the server to reset the table. “No, she didn’t say. I thought maybe she got a phone call or something.”
That wasn’t it. Jess didn’t have a cell phone.
“Oh, Lexi was here and left this for you.” She handed him an architect’s drawing tube. “I think she said it’s for the winery.”
He knew exactly what it was. What he didn’t know was why she’d dropped it off when they had a meeting scheduled for this afternoon.
“She said she has to do a site visit and couldn’t meet with you after all.”
Okay, that didn’t surprise him. With Lexi, things like this happened all the time. But it didn’t explain why Jess had rushed out. Unless…damn it…maybe it did. “Was Jess here when Lexi arrived.”
“Yes, she was. She was already at your table.”
“Did they see each other? Talk to each other?”
Cindy shook her head. “Lexi was only here for a couple of minutes. She gave me the drawings, then she took a call on her cell and then she left.”
“And Jess was still here?”
“Yes, but she left right after Lexi did.”
That had to be it. Jess had recognized his sister from her visit to the Whiskey Sour and jumped to conclusions. The wrong ones. Now the million-dollar question—had she talked to Lexi after she left? He sure as hell hoped not, because he hadn’t told Lexi about the change of plans. Damn it. He hadn’t been able to reach her by phone and he hadn’t wanted to put it in an email or text message. Not that they’d been doing anything wrong. Technically.
“Thanks, Cindy.” He carried the drawing tube and his briefcase into his office and closed the door. The first thing he needed to do was get in touch with his sister. While he counted the rings, he slid his laptop out of his bag and turned it on. “Come on, Lex. Pick up.”
“Lexi Morgan.”
“Lex, hi. It’s Michael.”
“Hi, did you get the drawings?”
“Yes. Did you talk to Jess when you were here?”
“No, I didn’t even know she was there.”
He explained Jess’s hasty departure.
“Shit,” she said. “Excuse me?”
“She probably heard me talking on the phone.”
“Talking to…?”
“Someone I know in the planning department about, um…” She lowered her voice. “Stalling her building permit application.”
And all she could say was shit? He could think of any of number of expletives that were more apt than that. This was a million times worse than Jess simply recognizing his sister. Damn it. She had overheard Lexi on the phone.
“Listen, Michael. I told you from the get-go that this could end badly and you wouldn’t listen.”
She had, and he hadn’t. Now what?
“I’m sorry, Michael, I really am, but you can’t put this all on me. You wanted that building and you kept saying this was just business. How was I supposed to know you were going to fall in love with her?”
“I am not in love with her.” That was not what this was about.
“Of course you are. You’ve already taken her home to meet Mom.”
He slumped into the chair behind his desk. “To meet Ben, actually. I wanted to see how she was with him.”
“And?”
“She was amazing, and he took to her right away. It was…” He couldn’t say it out loud, but it was perfect.
“Like it was meant to be?” Lexi’s soft laugh wafted into his ear. “Okay, here’s the thing. I put my ass on the line at city hall over this. When you decided to go after her instead of the bar, why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to talk to you when we met this afternoon. I shouldn’t have waited.”
“No kidding.”
“Is there a way to fix this?”
He heard her sigh. “I’m sure there is. What do you want me to do?”
“I talked to people at the bank this morning about arranging financing for her—”
“You’re giving her money?”
“I’m helping her get a loan and I was going to ask you if there’s a way to fast-track her application for a building permit.”
“Does she know about this?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh. My. God. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and you don’t have a clue how this works.”
“What are you talking about?” He knew exactly what he was doing. He could have Jess’s bank loan lined up by the end of the day if necessary.
“I’m talking about you and women. First you decide the best thing for her is to sell the bar and you set out to make that happen. Then you decide the best thing for her is to keep the bar, so you come up with a plan to make that happen. Do you see the flaw in this?”
He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t dare say no.
“Yep, clueless,” she said. “You can offer to help and let her make a decision. You can’t just do these things and expect her to go along with them.”
Oh, hell. She was right. He thought he’d given this a lot of consideration, but he hadn’t. At least, he hadn’t considered what Jess’s reaction might be. Did he always do this? He thought that most of his trouble with women had stemmed from what they did or didn’t do. Maybe not. May it was time he did a little soul-searching. Right now Lexi was waiting for his response. “Fine. You’re right. I’m clueless. How do I fix this?”
“Have you talked to her? Tried to explain?”
“No. I wanted to know if she had talked to you.”
He heard Lexi sigh. “There’s no point in calling her. There’s no way she’ll talk to either of us on the phone. I’ll be tied up here for an hour or two, then I can run over there.”
“I can do that.”
“Honestly, bro. There’s a good possibility you’ve b
lown it with her. If you let me be the bad guy, maybe she’ll give you a second chance.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I’m not doing this for you—I’m doing it for her.”
“Call me after you’ve seen her?”
“Sure. And you do owe me, you know. Big-time.”
“What? You want me to take your car to the car wash?” Lexi had found it impossible to stay out of trouble when she was a teenager, and he had usually been the one to smooth things over with their parents. You owe me, he used to tell her. Big-time. In those days the payoff had been having a car that was always washed, waxed and detailed.
“This is way bigger than helping me cook up an excuse for breaking curfew,” she said. “I think you might actually have to buy me a car wash.”
She laughed, but part of him was thinking that if she could convince Jess to give him another chance, the car wash was hers.
Right after he ended the call, his phone rang and Ginny’s number came up on the display.
“Hi, Ginny. What’s happening?”
“Well, I have some good news and I have some bad news.”
His thoughts immediately went to the last time he’d got one of these calls from her. “Are you okay? Is Paul there with you?”
“It’s not me—I’m fine. It’s Mom.”
Oh, no. “What happened?”
“She called this morning and said she wasn’t feeling well, so I drove over to see her. She looked terrible and she was in a lot of pain, so I called an ambulance. She has a ruptured appendix and she’s having surgery this afternoon.”
Just what he needed. One more thing to feel guilty about. “I thought she looked tired when we were there on the weekend. I should have said something.”
“The doctor says there’s nothing anyone could have done to prevent this. They’ll keep her in the hospital for a couple of days…maybe just overnight if the surgery goes well…and then she’ll need to take it easy for about six weeks.”
