by Claire Adams
His words chafed at me all the way up the steps and out the front doors of the mansion. Corsica eased up her protective hold on me, and I felt the chill of the bay breeze as we crossed the driveway. I wanted to pull her back against me, feel her warmth and comfort, but I resisted. The worst part was that my father was right. I was taking advantage of Corsica, but her comfort suddenly far outweighed avoiding my father.
I ran up the steps to the garage apartment ahead of her. It gave me just enough time to fight my conscience. I wanted her to stay; I almost needed her to spend the night. The only problem was she deserved more. Corsica deserved a man who would charm her, lavish gifts on her, and tell her how he felt. Those were things I had never managed to do, even if I wanted to.
"You don't have to stay," I said as I opened the apartment door. "I can call a cab or my driver, and they'll be here in five minutes. I understand if this all seems a little too crazy."
"What kind of savior would I be if I let your boss fire you in the morning?" Corsica asked. She laid a hand on my chest as she slipped by me into the darkened apartment.
"I know, I know, he's a charming guy. Next to him, I look and sound like an ungrateful Neanderthal."
Corsica squinted at me as I turned on the soft glow of a lamp. "I don't know. Maybe in the right light you could look a little bit like Mr. Templeton. Though, you could be hiding any number of things under that beard."
"I'll have you know my beard is very well maintained, and I've never had a woman complain. In fact, lots of women like the feel of it."
Corsica tipped her head and gave my beard a doubtful glance. "I guess it looks soft. What does the rest of you do while your beard is charming women?"
I laughed. "Obviously repelling them with my sub-par conversation."
Corsica followed me to the bedroom and lingered in the hallway as I flipped on the lights for her. When I stepped back into the hallway, we bumped into each other and got caught in the doorframe.
"The sheets are fresh, there's an en suite bathroom through that door, and extra blankets in the closet if you get cold."
"Your beard won't be keeping me warm?" She put both hands on my chest as we both eased out of the tight doorway.
I caught one hand and kissed the back of it. "Thank you for saving me. Goodnight."
It wasn't until I flipped off the living room lights and settled down on the couch that I realized she had been hitting on me. She had wanted me to keep her warm. After everything, after seeing me in direct contrast to Xavier Templeton, Corsica still wanted me.
The effect was more than warming. I tossed off my blanket and sat up to punch my pillows. I leaned forward and glanced down the hallway just in time to see Corsica's light turn off. If it had stayed on just seconds longer, I would have found a reason to walk back down that hallway. Now, in the dark, all I could do was toss and turn all night, thinking about what I had missed.
Chapter Five
Corsica
I hesitated to open my eyes. If I woke up in Santa Cruz, in the small apartment that Ginny and I rented together, I would be crushed. The views I had seen last night of golden lights across the shimmering San Francisco Bay could have been a dream. And a dream was the only explanation for meeting Xavier Templeton and singing while he accompanied me on piano.
I squeezed my eyes shut and thought back to what had really happened. I met Penn. He was tall, dark, bushy-bearded, and tattooed. And handsome.
I didn't want to admit it, but Penn attracted me with a magnetism I had never felt before. I should have been repelled, but instead, I had been drawn into his arms more times than I could count. I buried my blushing face in the soft pillow and remembered throwing myself at him.
He'd been nothing but polite, and I had misread the entire situation—except for when he lied and let his employer think we'd been dating for a while.
My eyes popped open. Why would Penn do that unless he actually felt something for me?
I felt a wave of dizziness crash over me as I sat up. I hadn't dreamt up the views or the mansion.
What I hadn't seen last night and now blinked at in shock was the garage apartment. It was a simple A-frame loft with a wall of windows dedicated to the bay views. The master bedroom shared a section of that window. The ceiling sloped down to a clever built-in closet. Everything was custom-framed redwood. The apartment exuded elegant simplicity. It must have cost a fortune.
This was where Penn lived?
I scrambled out of bed and realized the simple but high-quality furnishings all spoke to Penn's rugged, outdoors style. Every book on the custom-made shelves, every photograph on the wood-paneled walls, and every treasure displayed spoke of adventure, minimalism, and rebellion against the opulent luxury that resided directly across the driveway.
Standing in Penn's apartment, I felt an affinity for the man I hardly knew. I knew I had expensive taste, but I wanted to earn everything for myself. The only problem was the sudden stone wall that stood between me and the job I had so carefully planned to have.
There was definitely an uncompromising way about Penn, and I wished I could be the same. I wanted to sing and settle for nothing less than the joy it brought me, but I had a dwindling bank account to consider.
Just a quick cup of coffee, I'll leave, and I'll send that resume over for Joshua to edit, I promised myself.
Last night hadn't been a dream, but I had to treat it like one. Now that it was morning, it was time to get back to real life. With my shoulders squared, I dragged on my little black dress, smoothed it down as best I could, and wandered into the main room.
I half-expected Penn to be gone to an early morning meeting with his employer, so when I spotted him still sprawled out on the couch, I froze. My heart thumped hard in my chest, and I pressed a hand against it, worried that my galloping pulse would wake him. How was it possible for him to look better in the bright sunlight?
I had been certain that by the sober light of day, I would be horrified. The magnetic attraction had to be a heady mix of alcohol and rebellion. The night before, in a fit of childish refusal, I had ignored my ex-boyfriend's practical suggestions and purposefully made a bad choice. Just for fun; just to get it out of my system. Except the effect had not worn off; it had grown stronger.
Penn's long, strong legs dangled over the end of the couch. The blanket was tangled around his waist and revealed the hard contours of his washboard stomach and wide chest. One muscled arm was thrown carelessly over his head, and I could not help but study the intricate tattoos that covered his tan skin. They continued up his arm to encase his shoulder and reach heavily designed tendrils over his chest. Where the tattoos ended, a mat of dark hair began.
The thought of running my hands over his chest hair and feeling the taut strength of him sent a bolt of heat straight through me.
Shock knocked me back a step, and I hit the light switch on the wall. Penn blinked under the sudden glare and sat up. His dark, wavy hair was more rumpled than last night, but it didn't detract from the chiseled features of his face. Not even the beard could hide his wide, sensuous lips or the square, masculine line of his jaw. I remembered those lips whispering against my neck, asking me to save him, and my whole body shivered with pleasure.
Then his dark eyes caught on me, and I lost my breath completely.
"Good morning," Penn said. "I thought maybe I had dreamed you up."
My laugh started as a nervous squeak. "Sorry to wake you up. I'll get out of your way."
"No, no, the least I can do is make you coffee." He stood up, oblivious to his near-naked state. "You saved me from a one-on-one conversation with my, ah, my employer. Now that I think about it, you deserve breakfast, too."
I tore my gaze from him and turned sharply towards the kitchen. "I make a killer omelet," I stammered.
Penn nodded and gave his belly a sleepy scratch. Then, he blinked and changed directions. "That sounds good. I'll be right back. Could you put the kettle on?"
I nodded and couldn't clear my thro
at until he was behind the closed door of the bathroom. I hadn't even turned on the stove and my body was already flooded with heat. I had to pull myself together.
I opened the refrigerator and was surprised to find it well stocked. I grabbed the eggs and refused to think about the tan width of Penn's naked shoulders.
"What's that you're singing?" Penn asked. He had pulled on a clean T-shirt but was still barefoot.
"I was singing? Oh, um, just something I made up, I guess."
His dark eyes locked on mine, and I saw the golden flecks in the morning light. "Must be nice to have talent. You know, I could really see you making it as a singer. You've got the talent and the looks. Now you just need the passion."
I'm drowning in passion, I thought and gave my head a rueful shake. "I can't," I said. "I have to work."
Penn smiled. "I bet becoming a singer is work. Hard work. Is that what you're afraid of?"
"I love hard work," I snapped. He still saw me as a feckless girl who would choose easy, instant gratification. "I plan to work for everything I want."
"Good." He brushed by me to plug in an expensive coffee grinder. "I bet you could start at a few open mic nights, get a little buzz going, and then try out for a few bands. In San Francisco, it can't be hard to find a jazz trio that's looking for a frontwoman like you. You'll join up with the right combo and be the toast of the town, everyone falling at your feet while you carry on a steamy, music-inspired affair with the bassist."
His speculation trailed off as he punched the grind button harder than needed.
When he was done, I laughed. "Oh, it’s that easy, huh?"
He shrugged. "No, not really, but you're already a step ahead of everyone else because you know what your talent is. You don't have to hope for it or search for it."
"Did you?"
He tugged at his beard. "I was raised to do one thing, and when I broke away from that, it took me a long time to find the right direction. I was like you, thinking I needed to do what was practical first."
"That seems like the right decision if it got you here," I said.
Penn's eyes hardened into unfathomable agates. "This isn't what I want."
I shook my head. "Easy to say when you have it."
He tossed tablespoons of fresh coffee grounds into a French press and poured the hot water. Even though the process took a delicate touch, I could see the restrained anger in his movements. He wrenched open a kitchen cabinet, pulled out two fancy coffee mugs, and clattered them onto the counter.
I glanced towards the door. "Your omelet's ready. Thanks for the coffee, but I really should get going."
"No, don’t go. I’m sorry. I'm just annoyed with myself," Penn said.
"It's okay. I've got to jump online and revamp my resume, get everything ready to apply for this big job. I really shouldn't be dragging my feet like this."
Penn scowled, but it was at his ringing phone instead of me. "Please don't rush off. I have to take this. There's a laptop in that drawer if you want to work over breakfast."
The relief I felt at hearing his words bowled me over. He wanted me to stay.
I took my coffee cup, careful not to slosh any, and sat down in one of the high stools on the other side of the kitchen island. Penn answered his phone and handed me the laptop with his free hand.
"Yes, I'm still here. No, it's not a good time."
I opened up my email, found my old resume, and pretended to pore over it as Penn talked. It was clearly his boss, but I still didn't understand the sharp, opposing tone he took every time they talked directly. I wondered if maybe Penn was a prodigy that Xavier Templeton had saved from some free-range, survivalist life.
"Maybe next time you won't cancel at the last minute and still expect me to show up," Penn snapped. He hung up the phone and slid it away across the granite kitchen island.
"Um, I think your computer needs an update. I can't download my resume," I said.
His dark eyebrows furrowed together. "Sure, go ahead. Do whatever you need to."
"You don't want to do it?"
He shook his head and devoured his omelet while casting irritated glances out the window at the mansion. "I'm glad you stayed for breakfast," he said.
I studied him from under my lashes as I ran the updates software on his laptop. Clearly, Penn was no technology prodigy. The administrative password had been 1234. What on earth did he do for Xavier Templeton?
"Are you really in such a hurry to get a job at a hotel?" Penn asked.
I jumped and had to gather my thoughts. "No. I mean, yes. It's not just any hotel—it's the Ritz-Carlton. It's a huge opportunity that could set the whole trajectory for my career."
"And you have to start right away?" Penn studied me over the edge of his coffee cup.
"Well, the job doesn't actually start until September, and the application deadline isn’t until the end of this month."
"So, your friend was right? You could take the summer off?" Penn set down his cup and leaned on the kitchen island. "Why not spend the summer doing something you love before you settle for the practical choice?"
The probing warmth of his dark-brown eyes made me squirm in my seat. "Why do you care what I do with my summer?"
He stood up with a baffled laugh. "I don't know. I like this. I like you."
"You think I'm a silly college graduate who's chasing pretty, shiny things and knows nothing about the real world or regrets," I snapped.
"Is that what you think people see when they look at you?"
Tears stung my eyes. "I know about regrets."
Penn caught my hand and kissed the back of it. "I'm an ass. I went about this all wrong. All I was trying to say is that, if you want, you can have this apartment rent-free for the summer. You can stay and try out singing; do whatever you want."
"I couldn't do that." I shook my head and then jumped as a figure appeared in the apartment door.
Xavier Templeton met my surprised gaze with a quiet look. "I think you owe it to that voice I heard last night to take Penn up on his offer."
I tipped my chin up. "I can make my own way. I pay my rent."
"Never turn down the right generosity," Xavier said. "It almost always becomes a regret. And, again, I agree with Penn. Why not spend the summer making sure you don't have any regrets?"
My chin slipped. When he phrased it that way, the whole thing made more sense. I would be able to concentrate more fully on my career once I had spent a little time clearing my head.
"It's too generous." I gestured to the view of the Golden Gate Bridge. "I can't stay here."
"I tried," Xavier said. He sauntered into the living room and took a seat on the longer, leather couch. "The rest is up to you, son."
"Don't call me that," Penn snapped. "Excuse me."
I pretended not to listen as I texted my dilemma to Ginny. There were strange undercurrents in the room, but I wanted to take the rent-free deal at face value. Ginny always knew if something was crazy good or just plain crazy.
Penn stalked across the room to confront his employer. "I told you that now wasn't a good time."
"There is never going to be a good time for this," Xavier said. "How about we let Corsica make a few phone calls while we get this out of the way?"
Penn looked at me, and I saw his meaning clear as day. Save me, he mouthed.
I set down my phone and stood just as the screen lit up. Ginny's answer was easy to read: Yes, yes, yes!
I didn't stop to think, I just trotted across the room and threw myself into Penn's arms. His dark eyes went wide, but he caught me with a surprised smile.
"Thank you!" I squealed and kissed him full on the mouth.
Once I was there, suspended in his arms with my lips pressed against his, I lingered longer than needed. Xavier was hiding a smile as he politely appreciated the view out the windows. Penn, on the other hand, regarded me with a lax-mouthed look of shock.
"I knew under that cynical bachelor exterior, you were really a knight in shining armor
. This is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me, Penn." I winked theatrically at him, and his mouth popped shut.
A gleam warmed Penn's eyes as he dragged me back against him. "I'm still feeling pretty cynical. Could you do that again?" he asked.
My eyes shifted nervously to Xavier Templeton, but it was too late. Penn erased my worried frown with a melting kiss. I gasped against his mouth as my knees wobbled and I had to cling to his rock hard arms. His dark eyes fluttered open then closed as he deepened the kiss.
When he pulled back, I was limp in his arms. "There might be something to this romance thing, after all," Penn said with a smile.
That grin was enough to get me back on my feet with a sharp stomp to the arch of his foot. "Stop being rude to Mr. Templeton," I hissed.
Xavier cleared his throat. "As encouraging as I'm finding all of this, I'd really like to tell you some important news."
Penn caught me and tucked me under his arm where I had no choice but to contour to the side of his hard body. My mind was still reeling from the memory of his kiss while my body almost purred at the pleasure of being against him. I didn't hear Penn's smart-ass comments, but I felt Xavier's news like an earthquake.
"Your mother is very ill. Stage-three breast cancer. She did not want me to burden you with this, but, as she is now refusing traditional treatment, I need you to talk to her about it."
Penn's weight shifted against me, and I wrapped my arms around his waist for support. His beard brushed my cheek as his jaw worked, but no sound came out. Xavier stood up and moved towards us, but Penn reeled back. I steadied him as best I could and squeezed him tight.
He brushed a shaken hand down my bare arm. "You're lying. Why didn't she tell me? How long have you known?"
I felt the emotions raging through him. He was angry and directed it at his employer. Somewhere in there, a bond of trust had been broken. Then, Penn was hit by hurt and betrayal. His mother had not trusted him enough to tell him.
"Almost two years last March," Xavier said.
