A woman walked toward us in no hurry—until her gaze landed on Taj.
“Wait here,” he ordered us, and he went to meet her in the middle of the room. They talked a few moments, and then with a curt nod, she gestured for him to proceed. He turned to us and jerked his head for us to follow him. Sophie grabbed Kevin’s hand, and feeling a little awkward, I joined up with Taj.
“We still have some time before the club opens, so let’s have a look at the gallery. Some of it’s interactive. I think you’ll like it,” he told me.
I read a small plaque next to the first display, a collage of kites, made from old newspapers, recycled brown paper, and scraps.
DIVERTIMENTO-NON-MATERIALISTICA
“Nonmaterialistic fun,” said Taj, and he guided me to the next piece, photos of people on a beach.
Summer would be here soon, and I … where would I be? New York, as Parker said, or back home in Cali, back to my “normal” life?
Taj stared at the photos, a contemplative look on his face.
“Did you ever go to the beach as a kid?” I asked.
He nodded.
“The Pacific Ocean isn’t too far from where I live. I’ve spent a lot of time there. What’s the beach like in India?”
He shook his head. “My favorite memories of the beach are in Alter do Chão.”
“Where is that? I never heard of it.”
“Not many people have. It’s in Brazil. At the edge of the rain forest.”
Sophie ran ahead to the next display, playfully dragging Kevin with her. It featured a lone guitar on a stand. Next to it was a box with a large red button and a placard, explaining the exhibit. She pushed the button and a lively salsa tuned blared out of hidden speakers.
“Let’s dance!”
Kevin shook his head, but he was smiling, and soon they were whirling around and around, laughing until I thought they’d fall over, dizzy.
Taj grabbed my hand, and pulled me close.
“I don’t dance—”
“Relax, follow my lead, and stay on the balls of your feet.” His arm around me, we spun and I crashed into his chest when I should have twirled away. The breath whooshed out of me, but before I could recover, he dipped me over backward. His face was close to mine, his eyes unfathomable, but they darted to my lips. I was suddenly nervous that he wanted to kiss me.
Would that be so bad?
But no kiss came. Taj’s smile only widened before he swung me back up and onto my feet. When I looked around, Sophie and Kevin were MIA.
“Where did they go?”
“We’ll catch up with them later. Why don’t we find out who’s playing tonight?” He guided me down another tunnel where the walls, ceiling, and floor were painted with intersecting lines of black and white, like a swirling giant Zen-doodle. “Your attempts to dig up information about me were entertaining,” he said when I paused to take a photo with my phone.
I tried to appear nonchalant even though the statement surprised me. How did he know? It was a challenge not to look at him and let my pulse run wicked. I kept my voice cool.
“Well, at least you’re entertained. Since I’m constantly reminded that I know nothing about fashion or style, who better to learn it from than you, the world famous fashionisto himself?”
“Actually, I think you’re much more fashion-savvy than the people here give you credit for. So many who work in the business are contrived.” He looked me up and down. “You have your own sense of style.”
I gave a demure, hopefully unreadable smile. Compliments were a signal to throw up the security net. We came to a large courtyard, the sky turning a darker blue as the sun went down. More graffiti decorated the walls, and sculptures made of car tires were tucked into the corners. At one end was a stage where three or four guys were busy setting up a drum kit and amps.
“No tablet today?” I asked casually. He quirked a dark brow. “I saw you at the Pantheon scribbling in a notebook.”
He smiled. “It’s never a good idea to rely on technology too much. Machines break. I like to be able to work things out myself. You know, math without calculators, being able to read a map and have a sense of direction instead of just blindly following a GPS.”
I nodded, understanding—but I liked my gadgets.
“And it’s a pain to haul all that stuff around sometimes. A notebook and pen weigh nothing. Did you bring all your gear up to the top of the Pantheon?”
Right. I’d seen him—and he’d seen me.
“I only had my phone,” I said. “And by the way, thanks for alerting the troops that I was up there.”
“Agent Ortiz?” he asked, incredulous. “I saw you come down with her. I don’t know how she found out where you were, but it wasn’t from me. I wouldn’t give you away to any of Candace’s security detail.”
I wanted to believe him.
But I didn’t. He was too close to her.
“Are you all right?” I asked, seeming to change the subject—but not really.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I mean, after what happened at the Pantheon. That biker nearly took you out.”
“Oh, that,” he laughed. “It was probably just some maniac messenger. Maybe he was watching the shoot, realized he was running late, and took off. He was going so fast I didn’t notice him until he was practically on top of me. That kind of thing happens all the time in cities.”
That was true. Maybe I was so jumpy that I was starting to read into everything. “I guess.…”
“Look, I’m fine,” he said, sliding his hand onto the small of my back. I felt a flush of warmth as goosebumps tickled my spine. His fingers curled around my side. Should I put my arm around him? Did I look afraid or stuck up? If I did put my arm around him, would he think I was like all the girls in the office, chasing him?
“When I’m working, I don’t lose focus. Since I got here I’ve been working on my blog nonstop. I have to be ready to interview Mrs. Jennings.”
His palm rubbed my waist, slowly up. And down. Our shoulders touched. His head tilted down as he watched me. For a moment, we stared at each other, I swear we both held our breaths.
The moment passed, and he let his arm fall. “Are you hungry? Or did messenger boy bring you some treats up on the dome?”
I didn’t like his tone “He’s a good guy. Be nice.” I hoped that didn’t sound sharp, but Taj didn’t know Dante’s story and I was protective of my friends.
“I’m starving. This place has food?” I said, my voice softer.
“They have antipasto. And a bar.”
We left the courtyard and entered a room with a vaulted ceiling. One wall was paneled with mottled and spotted mirrors, and in front of that was a huge ornately carved wooden bar with leather stools in front of it. Behind were shelves crammed with bottles. Round tables with pairs of chairs were scattered throughout the rest of the space.
“Drink?” he asked.
Why not? A sip of something might loosen his lips, and I’d find out more about him. Like how he managed to freeze Kevin’s accounts so quickly.
Taj exchanged a few words with the heavily tattooed bartender and slipped a euro note into the tip jar. A few seconds later, we were each holding a glass filled with something icy and red. I sniffed mine.
Whoa! Strawberry … and something strong.
“What is this?”
Taj lifted his glass like he was toasting me. “Stregato dolce. Sweet witch.”
I took a small sip—and was under the spell as a delicious heat spread through me. Wine was way overrated.
I took another taste. I liked this, but I was in a foreign country with someone I didn’t know at all, and Sophie and Kevin weren’t around. It was better to exercise caution and not suck it down like a mocha Frappuccino with extra whipped cream.
“How come you’re not in school?” he asked.
“How come you’re not?” I countered. It was becoming a sensitive subject.
“I was homeschooled for the past few years.
”
“By a British tutor,” I guessed.
“Very good. And you…” He stroked his chin. “You were kicked out of school. For hacking.”
I tried to hide my shock. Would someone please raise their hand if they did not know my history? “Guess you’ve been talking to Candace.”
He ran a long finger down the side of his glass, leaving a clear trail through the condensation. “No. Just a guess, but from what I’ve seen, you could really use some pointers.”
I frowned at him. “Not on the tech part, maybe on the execution.”
“When it comes to that kind of activity, you need the whole package if you’re not going to get caught.”
“True,” I said, taking a big sip of my drink. Now I felt warm and bold. “How come you can just travel anywhere in the world? No parents? No chaperones?”
“I’m staying with friends.”
Vague.
“What about you?”
“I was staying with a family friend while I sorted out my school situation.” I could do vague too. Just watch me.
“Parker Phillips.” He frowned and swirled his glass. “I heard what happened.” There was only ice left in it now. Its whirling movement was mesmerizing. “Is she okay?”
I hesitated a moment as I felt a fleeting flash of sadness—and determination. I had to get back on track finding out who hurt her. I didn’t know how much time I had left, and I’d made little progress. A waiter came and brought a heavy ceramic dish layered with sliced meats and cheeses. I was too hungry to be shy, and I plucked a chunk of soft, herbed cheese from the pile with my fingers.
“Will you be there when the First Lady comes in for her interview?” Taj asked, helping himself to a paper-thin slice of ham.
“Who knows where Candace’ll put me? She practically threatened a leash.”
He took a deep breath, swirling the dregs of his drink. “I don’t know where they’re going to do the interview. I’m guessing either the office or the hotel.”
I wished we could talk about something other than fashion and the First Lady. Besides, I’d made a promise to both Parker and Candace about keeping anything I knew about Theresa Jennings zipped. Even Ortiz told me as much. “No one tells me anything, not even when it’s quitting time.”
He nodded, a sympathetic glisten in his dark eyes. “I know Candace. It must be tough to work for her.” He drained his glass.
Enough about Candace, Edge, and haute couture.
“Got any brothers or sisters?” I asked hoping to take the conversation back to our cat and mouse game of “You tell me something, I tell you something.”
He paused for a moment, as if he was considering. “A brother.” he said. “You?”
“Only child.”
“My turn. What outfit will the First Lady be wearing for the pictures in St. Peter’s Square?”
This guy has a one-track mind.
Maybe it was the stregato talking, but I shot back, “You sure ask a lot of questions.”
He let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m nervous about this post with Mrs. Jennings.”
“Taj? Nervous?”
He laughed. “I’ve talked with plenty of celebrities, but never a head of state.”
I nodded, understanding his nerves. I felt them too. “You’ll be fine. Tell me why a blogger needs to be such a good hacker.”
Both dark brows arched up. “I wouldn’t call myself a hacker; too many bad connotations.”
Didn’t I know that! “How about ‘information retrieval manager’?”
“That’s better,” he agreed with a smile that brightened his face. “I can’t tell you how many people have tried to hijack my Web site and e-mail accounts. The last thing I need is to run into problems with people claiming to be me. I’ve worked very hard on my image. I don’t need someone stealing it—or destroying it.”
In a low voice, I asked, “Then why did you lock up all Kevin’s accounts? I was just going to put on a security alert and inconvenience him for a day or two.”
Taj rubbed his lips with a finger in a way that made me think he was deciding whether and how to answer. I’d bet those lips were soft. And could make my heart stand still if they touched mine.
Stop that! Pay attention! I scolded myself, moving my gaze up to his eyes.
He pushed the plate forward and crossed his arms, leaning on the table closer to me. “He shouldn’t have spoken to you the way he did. My parents taught me to always be a gentleman.”
I felt myself warm, and it wasn’t the cocktail. Taj didn’t like the way Kevin treated me—and he did something about it.
“Thank you. That was sweet. But,” I grimaced, “if it goes on too long, everyone in the office will suffer from his rotten mood. If Sophie or I so much as look at him wrong, we might get stuck cleaning the bathroom with a toothbrush.”
His laughter was lighthearted and appealing. “I doubt Kevin would make Sophie do anything like that.”
“You’re right. I’ll be doing the scrubbing.”
He raised his hand in oath. “I promise I won’t make him suffer too long.” His eyes sparkled with mischievous glee. “Only a day. Or maybe two.”
I smiled back, enjoying the shared moment of conspiracy. “I guess that sounds reasonable. So where’s home?”
A crocodile smile. “I travel a lot for my blog. I’ve learned to see wherever I am as home.”
His mouth was sexy and I wondered about those lips again. Mentally I shook myself to avoid staring at him like the models and all those other girls we passed everywhere. Music wafted in from the courtyard. The band was playing.
“What’s your favorite place in the whole world?”
“Right here, right now. I like the present. Before you know it, it’s gone.” He stood and held out a hand to me. “Want to dance?”
TRICKS AND TIPS FOR THE EDGE-Y GIRL
Not all shoes are made for dancing. Ditch the too-high platforms, wedges, and stilettos while you’re having fun. Take them off, but be sure to remember where you stash them!
19
Back in the courtyard, the band was playing a danceable techno song. Lights flashed from the stage, cutting into the sky overhead, now a deep, velvety blue. The grassy center was full of spinning, gyrating people. Some of the girls had taken their shoes off to dance.
Taj’s fingers found mine, and a tingling thrill raced up my arm that made me catch my breath as he pulled me into the writhing crush of people.
“That’s Taj,” I heard someone say. A girl in a dress that was probably meant to be a tank top stepped right up to him and boldly put her hand on his shoulder. He dodged her with a “Sorry, not interested” smile and skimmed around her, pulling me after him. I didn’t get to see her reaction; I wished I did. Other girls and guys looked him up and down—and at me with envy. Taj didn’t seem to notice any of them.
Part of me wanted to pull out a camera to document this on Facebook for all time. Another part wanted to take it slower, but I pushed that thought away and decided to enjoy the present. Just being here with a boy like Taj would have been impossible not more than a week ago. Funny how my life in Cali and at St. Xavier’s seemed so far away.
The dance area was crowded, pushing us together. With every move I couldn’t help but brush up against him, an arm, a thigh, his chest. It got hotter and hotter and beads of sweat dripped down my forehead.
He leaned in close to my ear. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
I pressed my cheek against his and whispered back, “I lied.”
He laughed, and grabbing my hand, whirled me around.
The music changed to something decidedly slower. Some of the people around us stood and swayed to the music, a slow rhythmic beat like a pulse. Others paired off. Taj pulled me so close that I was pressed against him, my head on his shoulder. Peering between the rippling bodies, I spotted Kevin and Sophie, dancing close. Kevin moved his head so that he looked into Sophie’s eyes. Then he moved closer.
I buri
ed my face in Taj’s neck, not wanting to spy on them. Breathing deep, the spice and woodsy scent of his cologne filled my head, and I ran my hand across his shoulder and down his back. He turned me around. Hoping I wouldn’t see Kevin and Sophie again, I opened my eyes and found I was facing the exit. Two men who looked like security guards stood to either side of the arched opening. Both were tall, one dark-haired, one silver-haired—
“It’s hot out here with all these people so close.” His lips barely brushed my neck but I felt like I had a fever.
We were on the move again. I let Taj lead me out of the courtyard and into one of the decidedly cooler and sparsely populated tunnels, unmanned by any guards.
In the center, built into the curved wall, was a large porcelain drinking fountain. It had been reworked into a piece of art with hundreds of iridescent shards of glass cemented to it like mosaic tile. Water shot up and fell back down into a pool that spilled onto the ground and disappeared into a drain in the floor. The basin was filled with coins.
“Here.” Taj pressed a coin into my palm. I looked at it: a silver center ringed with bronze. On one side, the number one, on the other, a relief of Leonardo’s Vitruvian Man. It glittered under the fluorescent lights like a diamond.
“What’s this for?”
He inclined his head at the fountain. “Make a wish. All fountains in Italy are magical.”
I didn’t do wishes. Wishes weren’t real.
Even so …
I want Parker to recover—and I want to know who hurt her, and how, and why.
Four wishes, technically, and real or not, it was what I wanted more than anything. I flipped the coin into the water and watched the ripples cross the surface. I was so intent on staring at the coins lying on the bottom that I didn’t notice Taj had moved closer to me. I felt the warm weight of his arm on my shoulders as he turned me, the pressure of his slim, soft fingers as they nudged my chin up.
I saw only his eyes, dark and glittering.
Blonde Ops Page 15
