Odd. She should be enjoying her honeymoon, not thinking about work.
She opened the document, first squinting, then widening her eyes to be sure she read it correctly. Her boss apologized for slamming her with so much work at the last minute, but it was vital that she complete the task before twelve that night. Katrina needed a proposal for a museum in Torino, Italy. They were planning an upcoming exhibit of Italian jewelry from the sixteenth century through the twentieth, and wanted the input of Violet Sparks. It could prove lucrative. Ireland needed to research the different styles of ornaments common in those eras and put together a plan of how the collection should be shown to the public. Kate included the layout of the display room as an attachment and asked that the completed design be returned to her before midnight, California time. She would present it to the museum the next day.
Ireland grimaced and rubbed her forehead. This was the biggest project she'd ever been given, and she didn't want to let her boss down. She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
"What's wrong?" James asked.
"Nothing. Your sister just gave me an enormous project, and I don't know how I can meet the deadline," she said, frowning.
"Anything I can help with?" He raised his eyebrows and looked sincere.
"Maybe. I'll let you know," she said, heading for the living room and its telephone.
He listened in as Landi broke her date with Douglas, explaining the situation to her would-be suitor. Jim put all his mental efforts into not smiling. So much for the swing dancer's attempt at romancing the girl. He slipped from the apartment before she hung up.
Forty minutes later, James returned with Mexican food from a mom and pop place a few miles away on Venice Boulevard. He popped a Styrofoam container open in front of Landi. She glanced at the burrito, rice, beans, and guacamole.
"I can't eat all that," she said, exasperated, glaring up at him.
She saw his irises had returned to their normal shade of deep blue and breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes, his gaze troubled her. He flashed his devastating grin.
"Yes, you can, Kumquat. You've got to keep your strength up. I've got flan for later," he added.
"I'm sure you do," she said absentmindedly, looking back at her computer screen.
They ate at the table, both attending to their work between bites. Every so often, she felt his eyes on her, but she chose to ignore the man. His stare made her nervous, as did his masculine presence, or aura, and she couldn't afford the distraction today. Around five o'clock, he suggested they stop for dessert.
"You've been hunched over that thing all afternoon. Let's take a short break," he urged.
She agreed, and he ordered her to retreat to the living room for coffee and flan. She complied, cracking her neck and giving her back a good, long stretch, arms over her head. Jim couldn't help but watch the girl as she lengthened her lithe torso and rolled her neck forward and backward. He forced himself into the kitchen to retrieve their desserts and brew coffee.
"James?" she said after he'd sat down.
"Yes."
"What do I owe you for lunch? You've been providing me meals all week, and I haven't paid you a cent," she said.
"Oh, that's how it is, huh? I'm hurt."
"What?"
"Here I've been thinking of it as a lunch date each day, but it's been all business for you," he joked.
"Really, James, I feel bad. What do I owe you?"
"Let's worry about that later. When I think of a way you can pay me back, I'll let you know." He waggled an eyebrow suggestively. "Now, it's your turn to spill a secret," he said, switching the subject.
Ireland had already decided she'd confess her darkest secrets to him first. She formed a strategy that would scare him away—the sooner, the better. If he failed to run, maybe she'd gain a real friend. She doubted he'd be able to handle her truth, though.
"Someone tried to kill me," she stated with a deadpan tone.
She watched Jim's face twitch, then cement into a blank expression—except for his eyes. They turned a steely grey almost instantaneously. She longed to see them blue again.
"Who?" he commanded more than asked.
She felt her lower lip quiver before the words tumbled from her. "My boyfriend."
"When?"
His countenance never changed after that first quick spasm, although a light akin to rage sparked from his eyes. She'd seen something similar burn in Rick the last time she refused him. She instinctively drew back.
"Nine months ago, before I came to LA. That's why I left Cadiz when I did."
Ireland averted her eyes from his stare and hung her head. Even though it wasn't her fault, the attack left her ashamed. She could hear Jim's breathing even though she'd inched away from him.
"Has he bothered you again?" he growled.
"No. I haven't seen him since. I don't think he knows where I am, but sometimes, I worry that . . ." her voice trailed off, her head still down.
They remained silent for several minutes. With each passing second, she figured he was trying to figure out an exit strategy—a way to leave politely.
"Did he do anything else to you?" he asked in a whisper so low, she almost couldn't hear him.
"Isn't trying to take my life enough?" she asked, incredulous.
Landi's spine straightened, and she shot James a withering glare before she realized what he was getting at. His expression remained hard as granite, and he focused his stare on her shoulder instead of her face.
"No, he only choked me," she said in a barely audible tone, ignoring how Rick had roamed his hands over her body before she'd convinced him she'd run away with him. The memory made her wince. They agreed he'd return for her the next morning after she'd had a chance to break the news to Hatti. Instead, she'd made it to Needles, then taken the bus to Los Angeles before disappearing into the metropolis.
Jim placed his hand over hers.
"I'm sorry, Landi," he said, shifting his eyes to meet hers.
His expression softened as he rubbed the fleshy part of his thumb over the back of her hand and wrist. She enjoyed how his rough fingers felt against her skin. Somehow, he managed to make her feel safe.
"I am too. Rick wasn't always like that. He'd been my friend for years, and we did talk about marrying someday. He's a couple of years older than me, and when he got out of high school, he started hanging around the wrong crowd. He changed."
"I don't think you have any reason to be sorry, Ireland. I've dealt with bad people in my line of work, and their victims are never at fault. I'm just glad you survived." He lowered his voice to a deep, husky tone and continued, "And that I met you."
She didn't recoil when he reached for her and pulled her under his arm. He gave her several good squeezes, jostling her considerably. She didn't mind.
"Your turn," she said.
He chuckled.
"Hmm, there was this blonde beauty who tried to drown me—"
His cheerful tone revealed that he joked.
"The truth! A real secret," she insisted.
"Demanding, aren't you?" he said between laughs.
"I'm only following your rules."
"All right. I find I've got a thing for redheads," he said in his most serious voice.
She let his comment hang in the air without replying and finished her flan, savoring the caramel sauce, before returning to her project. After several more hours of work, Jim punched a key on his computer and stood to leave.
"That's about it for me. How's it coming?" he said, walking around the table.
"Fine," Landi replied, too engrossed to look up. A second later she yelled, "Oh, no!"
"What? What's wrong?" he said, glancing over her shoulder.
"My computer just crashed! Oh, what am I going to do? I think I lost my work," she cried, frantically punching keys.
"Stay calm," he said, laying a large hand on each of her shoulders. He gently kneaded his fingers into her muscles until he felt the knots dissolving. Then, he grasped the n
ape of her neck and tenderly forced her head from right to left, running a thumb up and down the side of her neck, relieving more tension. He returned his hands to her shoulders and grazed her back with his thumbs while his fingers caressed her clavicle bones.
"I might be able to help. What program were you using?" he asked, pulling a chair beside her and taking a seat.
She mentioned her word processing application while James took over the keyboard. To her surprise, he recovered a portion of her progress and produced a memory stick to safeguard her efforts. He continued laboring at the computer for another hour before retrieving and saving all of Landi's handiwork. She'd put together an impressive presentation, but only completed about three-quarters of her assignment. She still had part of the nineteenth century and the twentieth century to cover.
"Thank you, Jim. I don't know what happened."
"I don't either, but I'd better stick around until you finish. In case it happens again. Let's save your work on the memory stick every half-hour, okay?"
"I'd appreciate that," she said, returning to her project
"I'll brew more coffee. It may be a long night."
"What about your baseball game?" she asked.
Chapter 9
-Getting To Know You-
Landi raced across town, late for class. She didn't finish the proposal for Katrina until a few minutes after midnight. Explaining that he didn't mind missing a Dodgers game since she found herself in such a bind, James had stayed at her side until she hit the send button, forwarding her work to her boss. Then, he insisted on following her home to ensure she made it there safely. He'd come up to be certain the place didn't harbor any assailants, and truth be told, she appreciated it. Speaking about Rick brought back unpleasant memories and made her feel uneasy.
She'd slept through her alarm and now battled heavy traffic on what the locals affectionately called the Venice Expressway. Venice Boulevard ran for miles from the beach towards downtown LA. In most spots, it was a wide road with two lanes in each direction. If one hit the traffic lights right, it sometimes proved faster than the interstate. Landi stayed on the thoroughfare for as long as possible, eventually switching to the Ten Freeway. Even with her creative route, she ended up missing her first class. Still, it felt good for once to not budge before the crack of dawn.
James took another turn around the block, waiting for Ireland to leave her apartment. He'd brought his tools, and the marine layer provided ample cover. However, the girl's beat up compact car, which he now referred to as the filthy beast, remained parked outside her home. He got the lay of the land last night when he'd entered the place and knew in what order he'd search her unit. Now, as he jogged past her corner, he caught sight of her. He fought the urge to stop and gawk—she looked so adorable.
The girl wore a boat neck dress that appeared to be from the 1950s. Broad cream and navy horizontal stripes crossed the snug bodice while a full pleated skirt flared from her tiny waist, encircled by a thin, red belt. As she dashed to her vehicle, her skirt swirled about her knees, and he noticed the cream ballerina flats on her small feet before her bouncing, shiny locks drew his attention. When she opened the car door, he saw that the neckline formed a V in the back, revealing her milky, bare skin. He put his head down and continued running, reflecting on how those stripes gave her figure a more grown-up appearance.
By the time he circled the block, she'd left. He breathed a sigh of relief, looked around, and headed for her door. In less than a minute, the knob turned and he climbed the stairs to her unit, locking the door behind himself.
James inhaled the girl's scent, something like orange blossoms and citrus with a hint of lavender. He found it intoxicating. He shook his head.
You've got a job to do, idiot.
To begin with, he attacked the closet. His training told him exactly where to look first. He removed the rods, one by one, and checked the hollow poles for any contents—nothing there. He looked through each item on the shelves around the top of the tiny wardrobe, finding nothing unusual. He explored every garment, rummaging through pockets and patting down hems. He gave the shower curtain rod the same treatment as those in the closet, then riffled through the drawers, even checking the inside of the water closet's tank.
Next, he grabbed a kitchen chair and positioned it next to the bathroom door, which he left ajar. He stood on the seat and removed a tiny saw from his sweatshirt pocket. He cut away a section from the top of the door, shining a small flashlight inside the hollow core as he shook the cheaply paneled unit slightly. He found nothing. He repeated this for all the interior doors.
He checked behind mirrors and picture frames and tapped the baseboards to see if they were solid. He ensured the carpeting was properly tacked down, running his hands over its surface to detect anything hidden beneath, before searching the kitchen. All the while, he took care to return everything to its proper place.
More than an hour passed before he entered the bedroom. Hunting through her drawers, he retrieved a white garment with pin tucks, holding it up to the light. He smiled at the simple cotton night dress.
So this is what she wears under that bulky chenille robe.
The thought of Landi clad only in the light material sent a jolt through him as his muscles tightened then relaxed. His eyes roamed around the room, landing on the bed. James could imagine waking up next to the girl each morning. Before his thoughts ran away with him, he carefully folded the gown and returned it to the drawer, but not before putting it to his face and inhaling more of her perfume. Then, he spotted an old sewing machine on a small table in a corner and realized she probably made most of her own clothing. The little minx had talent as well as brains. He needed to be careful.
A desk under a window held a computer. James turned the device on and waited for it to boot. He chuckled at the outdated technology—no doubt, all she could afford. He tapped away on the keyboard after removing a memory stick from his pocket. When he had downloaded everything from the old machine, he removed the flash drive and turned the computer off.
As soon as he'd searched the entire apartment, he plopped down on one of the thrift-store living room chairs and made himself comfortable. The upholstery appeared new, although the style of the piece was 1940s or '50s. He admired the floral fabric and wondered if she'd replaced the material herself. A bit feminine for him, he still appreciated the girl's taste—refined compared to the trailer she'd grown up in at Cadiz.
Satisfied he'd found nothing incriminating, but still needing to review the computer data, he leaned back and pondered his next move. The agency would want an update, and his theory still had holes. He needed to find the missing pieces before he could get on with his life. He felt his stomach growl and realized he should get back to the apartment.
When he arrived at Katrina's, Ireland was already hard at work. Hundreds of comments had hit the website during the night. She'd never seen such a response to a blog, and each needed to be answered.
"Did my sister appreciate your efforts last night?" he asked, setting down bags of food from Hu's, his favorite West side Chinese restaurant.
"Yes, she sent me a very kind email thanking me for the proposal," she said, sniffing the air. "That smells good," she added.
He smiled at the adorable way she titled her chin and lifted her small nose in the air.
"Oh, yeah. You're gonna really like this, M—Kumquat." He'd almost called her minx. "You hungry?"
"Uh huh." She nodded, then continued, "I didn't have time for breakfast. Slept right through my alarm, thanks to the late night. I've never done that before," she added.
"Well, this is the best Chinese on the West side. Dig in," he instructed, placing a mixture of small and large boxes on the table while removing the laptops to the kitchen counter.
Landi began piling sweet and sour chicken on the foam plate he'd given her, along with green beans, noodles, tofu, spicy eggplant, beef and broccoli. She'd become accustomed to eating bigger portions since James came into her lif
e. She didn't even need dinner after he stuffed her with delicious food each day at lunch. Today, he'd shown up late, and she was starving after skipping the morning meal.
"Thank you so much for helping me last night, James. I couldn't have done it without you. I still can't figure out what happened. You know, I researched why the program might have crashed on the internet last night after you left my place."
"Oh?" he said, munching on an eggroll.
"Yep. Came up with nada. It's weird."
"Well, you know how computers can be," he said, attacking some rice with a packet of soy sauce.
"I'm not very good with technology, I'm afraid," she admitted.
"Nothing to fear. I'm here to help," he said with a mouth full of food.
"You seem very good with it," she said, slurping down the sweet Thai coffee he'd brought from the restaurant. "This drink is fabulous. I'm surprised a Chinese place serves it."
Something in her casual tone set off warning bells inside Jim's head. If it were anyone besides Landi, he'd suspect she might be on to him. He shot her a look and found her eyes grazing over his features, finally settling on his own eyes. He held her gaze for several seconds as her smile grew wide.
"Your eyes are the brightest blue today," she observed. "You must be very happy," she added, cleaning the last bite of food from her plate.
"What do you think of Hu's?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Delicious!"
"I'll have to take you there for dinner. It sits in this little residential neighborhood. The customers fill up the street with their cars. Parking's a bear, but worth it."
"What's for dessert?" she asked, a silly grin playing across her face.
"Getting greedy, are we, Kumquat?"
He saw the corners of her mouth twitch downwards. She obviously didn't appreciate the nickname, but he felt the more he teased her, the sooner she'd see she had nothing to be sensitive about. After all, he believed the motto of his buddies in the Marines: Pain is just weakness leaving the body. The same could be said for emotional discomfort.
A Calculated Romance Page 9
