by Joanna Scott
After the men had finished their drinks, they all left the apartment and walked to the corner, where they caught the cable car to Fisherman's Wharf. They laughed as they hung onto the poles outside the car while it chugged up toward Nob Hill. Laura thought that the joy of riding the cable cars was one of the things she would always love about San Francisco. It gave the city a unique ambience that made it seem more European than American.
The cable car finally clanged to a halt across from Ghirardelli Square and the two couples swung down from the outside ramps. Then they watched as a horde of new riders turned the cable car around before boarding it for a trip in the opposite direction.
Laura sighed as she watched it move away. "San Francisco is such an exciting city; I'm glad we moved here, Midge."
Midge smiled as she hooked her arm into Steven's. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Laura. I often feel that you're homesick for the open spaces of Carmel."
"I often am," Laura said. "Sometimes, when I'm on Montgomery Street, surrounded by those dreary skyscrapers, I feel like I'm suffocating. But when I'm down here by the water, with the cable cars clanging, I feel that San Francisco is paradise."
The two couples started to walk toward Fisherman's Wharf where Steven and Midge had a favorite Italian restaurant. Roger put his arm around Laura's shoulder to shield her from the strong evening breezes that were blowing in from the bay and she relaxed, enjoying the cozy warmth of his heavy tweed jacket. Still, she couldn't keep from comparing him to the mysterious David, who was definitely the most exciting man she'd ever met.
The tantalizing odor of garlic and tomatoes teased Laura's nose as Roger led her through the restaurant door. The melodious tones of a lively tarantella drifted between the pungent scents of the food, creating a friendly atmosphere of Mediterranean warmth. Mario, the owner, greeted them pleasantly and led them to a quiet booth at the back of the room.
When they left the restaurant, more than an hour later, the fog had become so thick that it was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Laura shivered against Roger as they hurried through the misty haze to the cable car station.
The trip back home on the cable car was fun, although it had gotten too cold to ride on the outside and they huddled together, sharing the front cubicle with the conductor. Laura said goodnight to Roger, and she honestly meant it when she thanked him for a very pleasant evening. Midge is right, she thought, I should try to go out on dates more often. This evening had been more fun than she had experienced in a long time. Roger didn't make her blood tingle the way David had done, but she really hoped that he would call her and invite her out again.
Sunday was a quiet day and she was truly pleased when Roger phoned and invited her to join him for dinner.
She showered quickly and changed into a simple black knit jersey dress. The simple gold chain around her neck emphasized her glowing tan and her high-heeled sandals made her legs look long and slender beneath the clinging softness of her dress. Laura could see the approval shining in Roger's eyes as she opened the door.
He wore a dark blue business suit and a striped tie, and Laura had the feeling that he was probably the kind of man who wore a suit and tie whenever he left the house.
They walked to the corner and hailed a cab. Roger, like many other residents of San Francisco, found it impractical to own a car in the city and relied on taxis and cable cars for transportation.
Laura relaxed as the taxi moved through the city toward the Embarcadero, an area of old warehouses which had been renovated and turned into small restaurants and shops. Now it was a favorite attraction for natives as well as tourists and there were always crowds of people moving through its picturesque streets.
The taxi left them off at the entrance to one of the city's newer hotels. Roger and Laura rode the outdoor, all-glass elevator to the penthouse floor where the restaurant was situated. Roger had made reservations and they were immediately shown to a table by the window. The scene below changed constantly because the entire top floor of the hotel revolved slowly while the diners sat at their table.
"Would you like a drink before dinner?" Roger asked as the waiter approached their table.
"No, thanks. Alcohol makes me sleepy. If I were to order a before dinner cocktail, there's a good possibility that I'd fall asleep during dinner and you'd have to carry me home."
Roger chuckled, "Well, since the restaurant is famous for its food as well as its view, we wouldn't want that. However, the idea of carrying you home intrigues me."
They were both laughing by the time the waiter approached the table to take their order. While they were waiting for their dinner to arrive, Roger asked Laura if she wanted to dance. The music was soft and low, exactly the right type for the dimly lit restaurant. Laura glided about the dance floor, enjoying herself more than she had in a long time. Roger wasn't a spectacular dancer, but neither did she need to feel embarrassed at her choice of partner.
The music stopped and the couples on the dance floor moved apart to applaud the musicians before returning to their tables. Laura turned toward the bandstand and found herself staring into a pair of wickedly dark eyes. Before her stood David, looking at her with that maddening smile on his lips. He gave her a short wave and let his eyes casually roam the length of her body. Neither of them spoke, but Laura could feel herself trembling at the passionate desire his eyes were communicating to her.
Laura quickly shifted her eyes and glanced at the girl standing next to David. His arm circled the waist of a stunning blonde, tall and with the most perfect features imaginable. Every hair was in place and her clothing was obviously expensive and so perfectly fitted that the woman looked as if she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Laura's brown hair was falling loosely about her face and her mental comparison of herself with David's companion made her feel small and dowdy, even though she was wearing her most sophisticated outfit.
Happily, Roger didn't notice David's silent greeting or Laura's simmering discomfort and his arm went about her shoulders to guide her toward their table. Dinner was served and Laura tried to put all thoughts of David out of her mind. The food was too good and the view too exciting to be spoiled by the appearance of someone she hardly knew.
Laura gazed with fascination at the constantly changing view. As she sat quietly at the table, the lights of tall city skyscrapers gave way to the twinkling masts of ships gliding about the bay, making the scene seem like the panorama of an enchanted fairyland. But always in the front of her mind was a picture she could not erase, the picture of a face with deep brown eyes and a devilish grin.
Her reverie was broken by the appearance of the waiter. He spoke softly. "Excuse me, madam, but we have a telephone call for Mr. Addison. Would you care to take it at one of the booths in the lobby, sir?"
"I can't imagine who it could be," Roger said. "No one knows that I'm here. Well, it might be important, so I'd best take the call. Please excuse me, Laura; I'll be right back."
"Don't worry about me, Roger. I'll be here enjoying this marvelous view." She smiled at him as he followed the waiter to the lobby.
Laura was watching the slow, lazy movement of a luxury yacht in the bay when she felt her hand being grasped with vigorous, masculine strength.
"That was a short phone call," she said, expecting to look up into Roger's cool gray eyes. Instead, she found herself staring into the turbulent depths of those eyes which had invaded her thoughts all evening. "David, what are you doing here?"
"Dance with me," he said, pulling her to her feet.
"I can't. Roger just went out to take a phone call. He'll be right back. Besides, I don't want to dance with you." She looked wildly above his head. "Where's your date? Why don't you dance with her?"
"She's gone to powder her nose. And, I don't want to dance with her, I want to dance with you."
"Well, I don't want to dance with you. Please go away and leave me alone."
"Laura, you're making a scene. People are beginning to stare at us. Wouldn
't it be a lot simpler just to give me this one little dance? I promise to have you back at the table before Roger returns from his phone call." As he spoke, David's grasp on Laura's hand tightened and he pulled her toward him. Shifting her in front of him, he steered her onto the dance floor before she realized what was happening. Effortlessly, he moved her into his arms. Laura felt her cheek press into the scratchy softness of his mohair jacket as he released her hand and crushed her against his muscular chest. His free hand traveled up and down her spine, stroking the nape of her neck with his fingertips, while his lips lightly teased the hair at the top of her head.
"You feel nicer in this than you do in denim. Why don't you give up your plants and run away with me? Then we won't have to go on meeting like this."
Laura looked up into his smiling eyes and spoke stiffly. "Stop teasing me. I wish you'd try to forget what happened yesterday morning; I told you it was an accident. I've never done anything like that before."
"I'm flattered," David said. "It must have been my irresistible charm that made you fall into my arms. And now, here you are again this evening. It's kismet. We were made for each other. Come home with me, so we can really get acquainted with each other."
Laura tried to move away from him, but his grip tightened and he drew her sharply back against his chest.
"Please, let me go. Roger will be returning to the table and I don't want to have to explain about you."
"Don't worry about Roger. He won't be back at the table until I give the word."
Laura glared at him. "What do you mean?"
"The headwaiter is a friend of mine. I arranged for Roger to get that phone call just so I could hold you in my arms again. You look utterly delectable in this black piece of froth you're wearing, and I just had to feel you against me again."
"You are the most arrogant man I have ever laid eyes on. You don't even care that I don't want to dance with you. All that matters to you are your own desires. Well, I meant what I said. I'm not in the habit of kissing strangers, so just forget about me going home with you, now or ever."
"I know you don't really mean that, and I intend to get you into my home sooner than you think. However, I can see that you're too argumentative for us to accomplish much tonight, so I'll return you to Roger, You can vent your hostilities on him. I like you much better when you're warm and willing, so I'll just have to choose the proper time and place. Never fear, you'll kiss me again the way you did yesterday, and you'll enjoy it, too."
Laura wrenched herself out of his arms and walked across the dance floor, back to her table. She could feel David's laughing eyes following her and burning into her back as she sat down.
In a few minutes, Roger returned to the table. "That phone call was the strangest thing. First they had me on hold with a long distance operator, then they switched back and forth trying to clear the connection, and when it was finally cleared, I found that they wanted to speak to Roger Attenboro. Can you imagine that? I'm really sorry to have left you alone for so long. Will you forgive me?"
"Of course, Roger. These things do happen. It certainly wasn't your fault. I'm sure my anger would be toward whoever was responsible for this little mix-up and not toward you." And I know just who to blame, she added silently.
"Well, let's not allow it to spoil our evening. You have been enjoying yourself, haven't you, Laura?"
"Very much, Roger. I've never been here before, and I'm loving every minute." Almost every minute, anyway, she told herself.
"Would you like to dance again, or are you ready to go home?"
"Tomorrow is a work day, so I suppose we'd better go, much as I'd love to stay in this fairyland forever."
As Laura walked toward the exit, her eyes met David's. His amused expression made her toss her head petulantly as she quickly looked away. Then, taking Roger's arm in a possessive grasp, she walked back to the elevator.
During the ride home Laura and Roger discussed Steven and Midge's upcoming marriage, which was less than a month away. When Roger left Laura at her front door, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I'm going to be out of town on an audit this week. I don't know how long it will take, but I'll call you as soon as I get back." He smiled, and then hurried away, careful not to let the meter of the waiting taxi run too long.
Laura undressed quickly and slipped between the covers, but when she fell alseep, her dreams were of David and not Roger. The man was so arrogantly sure of himself, and of his power over her, and all because she had returned his kiss at their first meeting. Laura knew that she would have to exert very careful control over herself to avoid becoming his easy prey, if they ever met again.
Chapter 2
Monday morning, Laura was watering the plants in the shop when the telephone rang.
"It's for you," Midge said, in a puzzled tone. "Lattimer Corporation."
Laura took the receiver and shrugged her shoulders at Midge as if to say, I don't know what it could be about, either. She said, "Hello" and listened to the voice at the other end of the line. Then she took one of the sheets of memo paper that were always near the phone and began to write down some information. When she had finished, she said "thank you" and hung up the receiver. Her face wore an expression of surprise and she leaned against the counter for support.
Midge was looking at her with unabashed interest and curiosity. "Well, don't keep me in suspense. Tell me what that was all about. You look as if you've just been struck by lightning."
Laura looked blankly at Midge. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded as if she didn't believe what she was saying. "Mr. D. Jonathan Lattimer is very pleased with the way the plants in the lobby of the Lattimer Building look. In fact, he's so pleased that he wants me to work with his interior designer to help decorate the new home he's just built in Hillsborough."
Midge was bubbling with excitement. "Oh, Laura, this is the chance you've been waiting for. Once Mr. Lattimer's wealthy friends see your work, they'll all want you to decorate their homes with plants. This is too good to be true."
Laura looked at her watch. "Well, it is true and I've got to get going. They want me to meet the designer in Hillsborough at two o'clock, and I have a feeling that I'd better go home and change out of these jeans before I meet Ms. Janine Hartmann."
Laura grabbed her large leather shoulder bag and ran out the door, waving goodbye to a stunned Midge as the door closed behind her. When she got home, she ran into the bedroom and flung open the door of her closet. The panorama before her was very disappointing. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of jeans and assorted cotton trousers. She had a few dresses and pantsuits for the rare occasions when she went out in the evening, but somehow they didn't seem appropriate for a daytime business meeting. She was just about to give up in despair, when she remembered the outfit she had worn when Midge and she had gone to the bank to secure financing for the flower shop. It was a suit of navy blue polished cotton, with a softly pleated skirt and short blazer. The flowing bow at the neck of the accompanying white silk blouse contrasted dramatically with her beautifully tanned skin. She twisted her hair into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and slid her feet into a pair of low-heeled shoes. Then she stepped back to check her appearance in the mirror.
That's about as businesslike as I can ever get myself to look, she thought, as she moved toward the outer door of the apartment. At the last minute, she remembered to switch the assorted paraphernalia from her heavy cowhide shoulder bag to a smooth navy calfskin handbag with a gold metal chain for a handle.
She wrinkled her nose as she climbed into the boldly painted van that was used primarily to deliver plants, not as a pleasure vehicle. She was sure that a bright blue van, decorated with yellow flowers and the words PLANT LADY painted boldly on its side, would do little to enhance her status with Ms. Janine Hartmann. However, since it was the only means of transportation she possessed, she decided that Janine Hartmann would just have to accept the fact that Laura was a gardener and not a society decorator.
Laura dro
ve along the freeway, through the grassy acreage of Millbrae and into the rolling greenery of Hillsborough. This was the sort of area where she would like to live, with its vast open spaces and huge old oak trees. Each house was set on at least three acres of land because of the strict zoning and building code requirements. Most of the homeowners had stables where they kept their own horses and several horses trotted down to the white split-rail fences to watch Laura's van as it moved slowly down the quiet country road. She wished that she had more time, because she would have loved to stop and pet the horses. Midge and she had enjoyed riding their own horses along the scrubby sands of Carmel, but it was all too difficult to maintain a horse in the crowded bay area, unless you were extremely wealthy. So now she only went horseback riding when she visited her aunt in Carmel. And she had no time to stop and admire horses now; she didn't dare be late for her appointment with Janine Hartmann. It was her big chance and she wanted to make the best impression possible.
Following the directions she'd been given, Laura turned off the main highway onto Cottingham Lane and drove about a half mile down this winding side road until she saw two large, square, brick posts. Between the posts was a white wrought iron, electronically controlled gate. A shiny brass plate embedded in one of the brick posts proclaimed that this was the entrance to Lattimer Lodge. Laura pressed the buzzer and spoke carefully into the intercom, which was built into one of the posts.
After she had identified herself, the gates swung open and she drove slowly through them onto the grounds of a spacious estate. Tall, stately cypress trees lined the brick paved circular driveway leading to the majestic white house. Off to the side, in the distance, she saw the steely shimmer of a helicopter, parked on a newly constructed private landing pad. Laura thought that this was an appropriate indication of the type of man that Jonathan Lattimer was, someone who brought all the harsh conveniences of the business world into a sylvan atmosphere like this.
