Harry had looked at the older man and shook his head. “Nope, I didn’t bring any pictures with me.”
Yamada inclined his head slightly, the movement filled with respect. “I understand. I would also take great care of the woman I had come to love.”
Love? Harry had looked up sharply. Ain’t nobody up in this camp said nothin’ about love! When the older man smiled, Harry realized the expression that was probably on his face. He smoothed his features and licked his lips. Yes, Bianca was sweet, fun, and sexy. She was intelligent, and God knew she was a wonder in bed.
But love, loving, took more than that, didn’t it? She was thoughtful and earnest in everything they’d done together, and in time maybe they would find a way to make something of what they were becoming to each other, but for now…
“No, Taro, this is not the woman I love.”
Yamada Taro nodded and dropped his eyes to the blueprints spread on the table between them. “Yes, Haru. That is what they all say—at first.”
Harry’s cab pulled off the highway and onto International Boulevard. Making a sweeping turn along Piedmont, the driver flipped on a blinker and followed the stream of cars turning onto Baker Street. While the driver was making his turns, Harry was thinking—and hearing Yamada Taro’s words again. “That’s what they all say—at first.”
In front of Museum Tower, Harry stepped from the cab and handed the driver cash. The driver waved a hand out the window as he drove away, leaving Harry on the sidewalk. Looking up, he could still see the stars shining in that velvety sky and his sigh was more wistful than he wanted to admit as he counted the windows. Eight floors up, that’s where she was…
Eight floors up, in her bedroom, Bianca pulled at the sheet covering her body. Suddenly, it was as though someone called her name, pulling her from a sound sleep. Harry. His name was her first thought. Closing her eyes, she missed him and reached to cradle a pillow to her breast. It was a poor substitute, but at least she could dream of him. She hugged the pillow and pulled her knees high beneath the sheet and squeezed her eyes together tightly, but it didn’t help. Harry was in her head.
Her eyes opened to focus on the window across from her bed. From where she lay, she saw only the star-pointed night sky and thought of a Peabo Bryson song. Somewhere in the world, Harry was standing under that same sky. Humming the melody, she pushed herself up, her back resting against the headboard and her arms still cradling the pillow. She’d heard women say that it was the shared experiences that boosted the levels of connection in relationships. Huddled in the dark, she started a mental list. We both have same sex-siblings. Both oldest children. Both pretty independent.
We’re both pretty ambitious. She turned her cheek against her pillow and gave that one more thought. Harry’s ambitions were an exercise in intellect; hers were more basic, especially after meeting Kelvin Payne. She once thought she needed to succeed in business for the money and attention, but now she knew she needed to be more than a pretty face in the crowd, depending on some man to make her whole.
We both love sports. Sports ranked high among the things they both loved, and if she had to admit it, even here in the dark privacy of her bedroom, the similarity existed mostly because of their differences. He used to play the game and I was a game player. I’m a woman with a past, but he’s the man I want in my future.
She tried to remember the words he’d whispered at the airport and failed to come up with much more than the sound of his voice, but she remembered the translation: He said he was crazy about me. A warming vision of breakfast, moved through her. Harry in the kitchen.
Bianca pushed the pillow between her breasts and her knees and wrapped her arms around them. She’d never had a real reason to think of a man and the word forever in the same sentence. She’d never really gone looking for a man for forever. Oh, sure, she’d gone looking for love in all the wrong places, mostly for all the wrong reasons, with all the wrong people, and she’d used her physical assets to take advantage whenever it seemed useful. And the end result was that she was left feeling hollow and unnecessary, with no thought of forever.
But what she was finding with Harry was different. He wasn’t a reason to be a better person, he was just Harry. He wasn’t a means to an end, but he made the journey more interesting. With Harry, there were no games or reasons for pretense. He didn’t need her as an accessory, or a toy. He didn’t want her as a convenience, either. And she didn’t feel a need to be any of those things to hold onto him, either.
Okay. There. I’ve confessed it; put it out there in the Universe.
Julia would like that, the confession part. Like I’m ever going to tell her!
Laying her cheek on her knees, Bianca hoped that this time she knew a good man for his worth and that he would find her worthy of…Afraid of jinxing everything, she released the word on a whisper. “Forever.”
On the sidewalk, eight floors beneath Bianca’s bedroom windows, Harry pulled his eyes away from the building. He let himself into the lobby. Elevator traffic at three in the morning was light, and the elevator arrived quickly. Scanning the rows of buttons, he pressed the penthouse button.
We’ll talk in the morning.
Letting himself in, he was sure she was asleep. It had been a long time since he’d known a woman well enough to know her sleeping habits. Maybe that was one of those things that went into building a love for a lifetime, something like his parents had. He walked through his home, stopping in his office. Passing a hand over the wall panel, he smiled when the room came alive. On the desktop computer’s flat screen, a picture of Bianca resolved itself, welcoming him. It was one of the ones he’d taken at the airport when she wasn’t looking.
He’d passed a lot of time on his return trip getting this picture to look just the way he wanted it, then sending it here. Maybe transmitting the picture hadn’t taken a genius, but Harry was glad he’d done it. Hers was a nice face to come home to. He walked closer to his desk and let his luggage slide to the floor. Setting his laptop on the desk, he couldn’t help reaching out and touching her. Even though it was only a digital photo, he felt closer to her.
I really do owe Akemi a big thank-you for introducing me to you.
Shedding his shirt, Harry moved to his telephone and keyed in the voicemail code. He listened to the phone go through the prompts until it came to the first message. It was from his office. Deb’s voice was clear and her tone clipped when she reported that he’d gotten several calls from a woman who refused to identify herself.
“She was fairly aggressive in her attempt to contact you,” Deb reported. “Naturally, we provided no detailed or personal information.” She paused and her attempt at laughter sounded like the bark of a small dog. “You’re not the Baby Mama type, Haru, but this one could be a stalker, and I don’t think your new girlfriend will be willing to play nice and share.”
Frowning, Harry replayed the message and tried to think of an aggressive woman who would need to contact him. Deb knew both his grandmothers and his mother well enough to recognize their voices; she would have said something if the calls had been from them. She’d met Bianca, but why would Bianca call his office? She had direct numbers for him; there was no reason for her to call his office.
Still frowning, Harry decided that four in the morning was no time to be worried about strange phone calls from unidentified women and moved to the next message. It was Bianca. Smiling at the sound of her voice, he could almost hear the words his mother whispered when he bent to kiss her cheek at the airport. Trust lightning to strike once, my son.
Trust his mother to get that final pitch in. She wanted grandchildren and was disappointed when he said he hadn’t brought a single photo of Bianca with him. He still felt kind of guilty—it wasn’t even a white lie. He could have shown her the pictures on his cellphone, but…
He moved to the next call.
“Hey, stranger! This is AJ. Dench and I heard you were in town and we thought we could try to hook up.”
H
arry stopped the message. Replaying it brought back memories, some good, and some really great. Having the chance to hear an old friend’s voice, even recorded, was another reason to thank his brother. AJ said he and Dench had been trying to avoid holding their wives’ purses while they were shopping at Phipps Plaza, and they ran into Kemi.
“Man, your brother had so many bags that we were looking for his purse!”
Yeah, Harry laughed, that would be about right for his shopaholic brother.
“He was the one who recognized us, and we got your number from him. So we were thinking that we need to get together while you’re around. You know Dench is with the Falcons these days; how about hanging out with us at the training camp? You know, run up to Flowery Branch, watch the new guys get ready for the season, then have dinner and drinks afterward.”
Harry stopped the recording and considered. The offer sounded good, and now that Roppongi was running smoothly again, it might be nice to spend some time out with the guys, get to watch some real football. Sitting on the sidelines would be a bonus for Harry—the closest he’d come to American football in the past couple of years, aside from time-delayed televised games, was soccer. And it wasn’t the same.
Besides, when was the last time he’d hung out with the fellas, talking about the good ol’ days? Harry remembered AJ and Dench as kids, growing up on the same block. Older, they’d always treated him well, never teased or bullied him, and he’d idolized them both. Fun and funny, they had grown into smart men, destined for good lives. Now they were both happily married family men.
As he recalled, it hadn’t been easy for AJ, not at first. He was engaged to a woman before he met his wife, and she broke his heart. And now that he thought about it, hadn’t her name been Bianca, too? Maybe, but from what I heard, she was nothing like my Bianca.
My Bianca? Where the heck did that come from?
Determined not to dwell on a question he wished had never occurred to him, Harry checked the next call.
It was Bianca again, her voice soft and wistful. “Your brother is mean and rotten. He stuck me with finishing inventory this evening. I told him you were coming back and how much I was looking forward to seeing you. Do you know he had the nerve to tell me that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’? I guess this means we’ll be talking later.” Her sigh carried over the line. “I miss you, Harry; I really do.”
What was it about the words “I miss you” that tore through him and nearly sent him running to her? The three little words, cut through his exhaustion like a knife and had him missing her like a vital organ.
The thought made him dizzy and suddenly hungry, he headed for his kitchen.
Letting his hunger take precedence, he opened the refrigerator and thanked goodness for interns and housekeepers. Because of their efforts, the refrigerator was filled with labeled containers. Selecting a meal, he didn’t bother microwaving it. Finding a fork, he leaned against the counter and picked at the pasta and chicken.
Chewing mechanically, he thought about the call from AJ. Too bad everybody didn’t have Dench Traylor’s luck—wake up one day and stumble across a beautiful woman who only has eyes for you. Or, the blessings of AJ Yarborough—walk away from the one who wasn’t meant to be and into the arms of the only woman God made for you.
And then Harry’s memory flipped Bianca Coltrane’s face forward.
Was she the lightning strike his mother warned him about? Clearly there was more to what was happening between them than her just being a conveniently lonely damsel in distress. Harry wondered about this woman who admitted to being willful, and self-centered, and her confessed tendency to stray from the straight and narrow path of conventional right.
Hot trouble in stiletto heels. Harry couldn’t help smiling at the thought. She might have issues, and she might be complicated, but she’s…He let the thought drift, not quite ready to voice that final word. What if he actually used the word mine?
He left the kitchen and headed for a shower.
Settling for the vanity lights, he left the wide bathroom mostly shadowed when he stripped down and found he couldn’t keep thoughts of Bianca Coltrane at bay. Yes, she was every bit as complicated as she’d claimed on their first meeting. And she had a problem that intrigued him—the security of her business.
What’s it called? He reached into the shower to turn on the water. Dialing down the needle-fine spray to a more gentle massage, Harry stepped into the tiled enclosure. Vive la Reine, that’s it. He turned beneath the water and let it run fast and steady over the spread of his shoulders, drumming against the tension in his neck. The warm steady pour of water should have soothed him, but Harry’s mind was restless, dwelling on Bianca and her concerns.
He remembered their visit to the Winston sisters’ building. She had looked so sincere and happy, sharing that bit of her life with him. But even before the Roppongi call came through, she had seemed troubled about the safety of Vive la Reine. She was determined to handle the snatch-and-grab problem on her own, and he admired her independence and her willingness to take a stand. Harry couldn’t help feeling there was something distinctly funny about her case.
She said the broken glass was outside, so someone broke it from the inside. How did ‘someone’ get inside? She said all the keys were accounted for. So, was there a key she’d forgotten or didn’t know about? She said the security had been disarmed using her codes. Who else would know them? She said her accounting records were in the computer that was destroyed in the robbery. And they trashed her stock. Somebody wanted her out of business for good and at a loss. Somebody wanted her scared.
Harry wondered what the police report would show. Right now, everything he had to go on was based on what she had said, but Bianca’s robbery had been thought through and carried out by someone who knew how to steal, and nobody knew how to steal like a thief. Bianca might be clever and even a shade manipulative, but she wasn’t a thief, and she hadn’t bothered to lie about her situation.
So who would gain from her loss?
Harry thought of running into the ex-boyfriend at No Mas Café. He wasn’t above intimidation that day; what else would he be willing to do to hurt her?
Harry’s stomach curled a little when he wondered what the man would really be willing to do to hurt Bianca. The man is a coward. He wouldn’t have the nerve to hurt her. But cowards were also foolish—and they made mistakes. Figuring out the patterns layered through those mistakes had made millions of dollars for Harry. And if I can figure it out for money, I can sure as hell do it for Bianca.
What did she say his name was? Caught up in the mystery and actively searching his memory, Harry knew sleep was going to wait. The challenge of a mystery was like catnip to a cat for him, and he put some of his fears for Bianca aside. Calvin? Kevin? Maybe it was Corbin? Then he remembered. Pane? The last name was Pane, but how was it spelled?
Stepping from the shower, he grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his hips and made a brief stop in his bedroom for sweatpants. His mind traveling a million miles an hour, he headed for his office to boot up his computer. Hands on the keyboard, he tried not to call what he was about to do fun, but he expected to enjoy it. This wouldn’t take long, and it was for Bianca.
Harry’s hands moved effortlessly through a series of codes, opening confidential files and tracking similarities through international crime statistics, seeking a pattern. And hours later, with the sun rising hot and full over Atlanta’s horizon and the indigo print silk kimono he’d brought for her still folded in his bag, Harry Jordan watched the fragmented beginnings of the pattern surface on his computer.
CHAPTER 15
Harry leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed and his fingers locked behind his head. There were still some other strings to pull, and he would find them. Kelvin Michael Payne was either not very good at covering his footprints, or he didn’t care.
It was just past nine in the morning and there was no point in thinking he was going to get any sleep now. Outside his win
dows, day was in full swing, and he was fairly certain Bianca was gone for the day, noting she hadn’t called to see if he was back. Okay, that’s crazy, he thought, reminding himself he could just as easily call her.
He reached for the phone and keyed in her number. When she answered, her voice grabbed his heart and squeezed. “Hi.”
He heard the breath go out of her. “Please tell me you’re back.”
“I’m back.”
“Should I tell them I’m sick and come home now?”
Harry smiled. “You don’t have to do that, but can you take tomorrow off?”
“Definitely. And, Harry? I can’t wait to see you again.”
The small kiss she sent between them before disconnecting the call was going to have to do for the moment, but he started making plans.
A nap first, then I’ll do the whole dinner and rose petals thing for her. He could see it all: Leave the door open, she’ll come in and follow the path of rose petals. I’ll lay two paths, one to the dining room, the other to the bedroom. The choice will be hers—dinner with all of her favorites or me, with dinner to follow. Her immediate choice didn’t matter as much as knowing that he would sleep that night with her in his arms.
He felt his mind gearing up again. Between his findings and his plans, the possibility of sleep was slipping away. And when I do fall asleep, I’m going to be out for the count…He wandered back to his desk.
I could return a few phone calls. Remembering the call from AJ, he reached for the phone and punched in the number. Harry looked at the time again. It was almost ten in the morning and the man had kids—he’d be up and about by now.
“Hello?”
“Hey, AJ?”
“Harry!”
Harry heard muffled conversation, then the excited shout of another man. Seconds later, he heard a click, then two men laughing on the other end of the line.
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