Except, she wasn’t sure that was what she wanted anymore.
Not that she liked him. She wasn’t willing to go that far. But she couldn’t deny that there was a certain thrill that ran through her when she talked with James. A certain sizzle that she didn’t get with anyone else. Maybe it was the way he effortlessly matched her line for line. Or maybe it was the way he looked at her as they spoke.
Hell, maybe it was just the way he looked.
There was no denying how attractive the man was. Mercy pursed her lips together and gave herself a moment to openly study him. His body was fit. His skin tanned, but not overly so. The sun gleamed off his tousled, dirty blond hair.
But there was more to James’ allure than just the sum of his handsome parts. There was something else. Something almost otherworldly. Something almost magical. Why else would she still be sitting here, giving this overbearing jerk the time of day?
Whatever it was, apparently there was no fighting it.
And maybe that was Plan C.
If she couldn’t beat him, she could join him…and turn this no-win situation into one that was beneficial to both of them.
Mercy narrowed her eyes as a real plan cemented in her head. She leaned forward in her seat.
“Why is this bet so important to you?” she asked. “Is it the money?”
The corners of his eyes narrowed slightly. “There are more important currencies than money.”
“So, pride?” she asked. “You don’t want to lose face in front of your idiot friends.”
He took another bite of the breadstick. “Something like that.”
Pride. Mercy understood that.
She pushed her chair back and stood up. She looked down at his questioning face. “All right. Come on.”
“We’re going now?” he asked.
“Not quite,” she laughed. “You may be able to waste your day hoping from bistro to bistro, but I still have a lot to get done today. I’m meeting a friend up the street in a few minutes, but you can walk with me if you’re interested in making a deal.”
“A deal?” he said, smoothing down the jacket of his suit as he rose from the table. “A woman after my own heart.”
“Please, don’t make me regret this.” Mercy let out a groan as she started walking up Columbus Avenue. She didn’t look behind her to see if James was following. As if she would ever be so lucky.
“Regret what exactly?” he asked, quickly coming up to her side as she strode down the sidewalk.
Mercy kept her head forward, watching the street ahead instead of looking at him. She hoped it would make it easier to get the words out. Less emotional. More businesslike.
The truth was she didn’t like the way her heart started to hammer when she looked him in the eye.
“So, first things first,” she said. “I need to know if money really is no object with you, or if it’s all a front.”
“I can promise you money isn’t a problem.”
Mercy didn’t have to look over at him to see his smug smile. She heard it clear as day in his laughter.
“Good,” she said. “Because I’m going to be asking you to drop a lot of it.”
She figured he was telling the truth when his stride didn’t falter.
“And here I thought you weren’t for sale,” he said.
“It’s not for me.” Mercy couldn’t resist the urge to glare at him. His eyes twinkled with amusement. “It’s for the Valencia House.”
“The what now?” he asked.
“The Valencia House,” she repeated. “It’s a youth center that I volunteer with in the Mission District. We’re having our Annual Charity Ball and Auction this weekend. It’s our biggest fundraiser of the year.”
“Ah,” he said. “And you would like me to go with you and show the depths of my generosity.”
“Exactly.”
“And in return?” he prompted her.
“In return, I will go out on a single date with you.” Mercy stopped short in front of a blue and gold storefront with wide windows. She extended her hand out to him. “Deal?”
“How could I possibly say no to such a perfect arrangement?” His voice dropped down low.
James slid his palm against hers and Mercy’s breath caught in her throat at the contact. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes as he inched closer. She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was suddenly the open city sidewalk felt very small and intimate.
Her lips trembled as she broke contact with his hand and stumbled back a step…right into the glass door of the shop behind her. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“Ah, Stella Pastry,” he said, looking at the sign hanging above her head. “You should have told me this was where you were headed. We should seal our deal with something sweet.”
James brushed past Mercedes as he pushed open the glass door of Stella Pastry. The bell above the door gave a cheerful ring as he stepped inside. He held the door open for Mercedes who took an extra second to follow him inside.
She was a hard nut. He had to give her that. He’d spent the week catching glimpses of her in the reflection of car windows parked along the street. That’s where he’d discovered she’d been looking at him too. As the week wore on, those looks of hers grew longer.
But she still never came out to talk to him. Not for five whole days. Strange. No one had ever resisted him that long.
Stranger still was how much he missed talking with her, how much he missed the sound of her voice. She was the first person he’d found on Earth who gave as good as she got. The first who didn’t get enraged or flustered at a little verbal play. If anything, she enjoyed their sparring.
Maybe more than she was willing to admit.
He hadn’t missed the blush that had lit up her cheeks a moment ago, or the wanting look that had flashed in those big, brown eyes. He’d spent the last week worrying for nothing.
The way she nervously wet her lips as she hurried past him let him know there was no chance he’d lose this bet to Geoffrey Merlin. No chance at all.
Confidence flowed through James’ veins as he started toward the counter. He didn’t get far before realizing that Mercedes wasn’t by his side. She was slipping into a seat at a table a few feet away, whispering something to a blonde woman about her age.
As if on cue, the woman glanced James’ way and gave him a critical once over. Her expression made it obvious she didn’t find much fault with what she saw. Whoever she was, she had good taste.
“So that’s him?” the woman said, not bothering to keep her voice down. “Well, you’ve got to admit, Mercy, he’s easy on the eyes.”
“Mercy?” James asked as he stepped over to their table. There was a cannoli and coffee already waiting for her. It looked like he wouldn’t be buying her anything after all.
Mercedes waved her hand. “It’s what my friends call me.”
“It’s what everyone, except creepy strangers, get to call her,” her friend added without apology.
James’ smile grew. He liked this woman. She had a backbone. Just like Mercedes.
Mercy.
It was obvious that the two were close friends, though they were near physical opposites. Where Mercy was long, dark and slim, her friend was short, fair, and round.
“I’m James,” he said, extending his hand out to her.
She hesitated for a second, her critical gaze sharpening, before taking it.
“Emily,” she said.
“And I’m not a creepy stranger anymore,” he said. “Now I’m a generous benefactor of the Valencia House.”
Emily’s brows rose as she looked over at Mercy. “Is that right?”
“Yeah,” Mercy admitted with a sigh. She ripped open two packets of sugar and sprinkled them into her coffee. A splash of milk followed shortly after. “Though I’m still not convinced it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”
“It is,” he assured her.
“I say take the win where you can get it,” Emily said, lifting her
cannoli and taking a bite. “Hell, I’d jump at the opportunity to have a generous benefactor.”
“It’s not for me,” Mercy was quick to cut in. “It’s for the center.”
“Of course,” Emily said. “You wouldn’t hear me complain if the Anthropology Department got a mysterious new donor. The way the budget cutbacks have been going, I’ll probably be forced to live out of my office in a couple of months anyway.”
“What do you do?” James asked.
“I’m an assistant professor of Folklore at the university,” Emily said.
“Folklore?” he asked.
“You know, myths, legends, fairy tales,” she said.
This had to be a sign that the Fates were on his side after all. Meeting Mercy hadn’t just brought him the means of convincing the exiles that they could break the bonds of their curse, but it had also given him access to another valuable tool.
“You study old stories?” he asked.
“I do,” she said, her brows shooting up as James pulled over a chair and sat down.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “And you can trace these legends back to their source?”
“Some of them,” Emily said. “You seem a little too excited by my job. Don’t get me wrong, I love my work, but it’s not that thrilling.”
“It is to me.” This woman could be the key to finding the location of relics that eluded him for months. “Do you have a card? Your work could be very valuable to me.”
“Sure,” Emily said, digging around in her purse.
“Valuable how?” Mercy asked with a hefty dose of suspicion as her friend handed over her information. “What exactly do you do for a living?”
“I’m in the business of locating rare artifacts, some of them with ancient and storied histories,” he said.
“So…antiques,” Emily said plainly. “You work in antiques.”
“Exactly,” James said with a smile. “And there might be times that your area of expertise would be incredibly helpful.”
“Really?” Deep wrinkles creased Emily’s brow. “Because that seems pretty unlikely.”
“I would, of course, be more than happy to compensate you for your expert opinion,” he said. “Generously.”
“Well, you have my attention,” Emily said. “But just to be clear, exactly how generous are you talking about?”
“Wait,” Mercy cut in, crossing her arms. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Em?”
“To get paid for using my degree?” Emily asked. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s a great idea. We don’t all have the option of living with our grandma, Mercy. Some of us need to make rent in this market.”
“Good,” James said, ready to seal the deal before Mercy had a chance to talk her friend out of it. “Is five thousand a month enough?”
Both Mercy and Emily’s heads snapped toward him, mouths hanging open.
“F-five thousand?” Emily sputtered.
“You want to put her on retainer?” Mercy asked.
“Yes,” James answered to both.
“Who the hell puts a folklorist on retainer?”
“Let the good man talk, Mercy,” Emily said, placing her hand over her friend’s before looking back to him. “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right. You did say five thousand a month, right?”
“I did.”
“Well, then hot damn,” Emily said. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
James crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair as Mercy let out a groan.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Em,” she said. “You don’t even know his terms. They could be…weird.”
“I can live with a whole lot of weird for an extra five grand a month,” she said. “But sure, let’s talk terms. I can get mouthy sometimes. I hope that’s not a deal breaker.”
“It’s not,” he answered.
“Good,” she said. “Just to be clear, you’re not expecting me to wear some skimpy maid outfit, are you?”
“Not unless you really want to.”
“And you don’t need my help hiding any bodies?”
“I usually leave them where they fall.”
“Well, it all sounds fine to me,” Emily said, turning her wide smile back on her friend. “Besides, I don’t get why you’re so upset, Mercy, since you just made a similar deal with him not ten minutes ago.”
“That was different,” Mercy said with a guilty look. “That was for charity.”
“Yeah, well,” Emily said, popping the last bite of her cannoli in her mouth. “When the first of the month rolls around my favorite charity is named Emily Kaplan.”
“We can talk about this later, Em,” Mercy said in a sharp tone.
Later. Right. When he wasn’t around to be a bad influence on her friend.
Mercy grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
“Going so soon?” James asked.
“We have places to be,” she said. “Like I said, my day is just getting started.”
“Anything fun?” he asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
“Nothing we’re inviting you to tag along on,” she answered plainly.
“Fair enough.” He glanced down at her untouched cannoli. “But if you’re not going to finish that, would you mind if I…”
“Knock yourself out.” She pushed the plate his way as she stood up. “Come on, Emily.”
“Just a sec,” she said, rushing to finish her coffee. “I didn’t know we were in that big of a rush.”
“We are now,” Mercy said, before reluctantly looking at him. “The gala is Friday night at seven.”
“Day after tomorrow?” he said.
“Is that going to be a problem? You have another date planned?”
“Not at all,” James said, shaking his head. “Just disappointed I have to go a full day without seeing you.”
Mercy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. The doors open at six at the center’s main building off Valencia Street. I take it you can find your own way there.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Good,” she said, giving him a nod as Emily fit her porcelain cup back into its saucer and stood up from the table. “Oh, and I need your name for Will Call.”
“You have it,” he said. “James.”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “I need your full name.”
James hesitated. He hadn’t given his name once since arriving on Earth. Not to anyone.
But where was the harm now. After today, he was halfway home already.
“Hook,” he said.
“James Hook?” Emily asked. “Like Captain Hook from Peter Pan?”
“Exactly like him,” James answered. “Except without the annoying man-child nemesis.”
“Whatever,” Mercy muttered as she stepped away from the table. “At least it will be easy to remember.”
“And yours?” he asked.
She glanced down at him with confusion in her eyes. “My what?”
“What’s your last name?” he said.” You can’t expect me to risk both my heart and my wallet on a woman I don’t even know.”
She shot him a glare. “Herrera. My name is Mercy Herrera.”
“A name as lovely as you are, Mercy.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you at the center on Friday, James.”
She took two whole steps away from the table before stopping and turning back toward him. Her eyes narrowed as doubt showed clearly on her face.
“I will see you there, right?” she asked.
Apparently, Mercy Herrera was a woman who was used to being disappointed.
James leaned back in his chair as he lifted her cannoli off the plate.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Chapter Four
He wasn’t there.
Mercy straightened the tie on her catering uniform as she picked up another tray of champagne and headed out the kitchen door.
She’d been keeping an eye out for
him ever since the doors opened over an hour ago, peeking through the windows and scanning the crowd. She’d even popped down to the reception table a little while ago to see if his name tag had been claimed.
It hadn’t.
And now, only ten minutes remained until the auction started. Mercy didn’t need to be told what that meant. If he wasn’t here by now, chances were he wasn’t coming.
She’d been an idiot to think that he would. Honestly, what did she know about the guy? Besides the fact he liked to talk big and had a lot of time on his hands…and that he made her heart pitter-pat when he leaned too close.
Mercy shook her head. No, her attraction to him was irrelevant. It didn’t mean a thing. It certainly didn’t mean that she was looking around because she’d been hoping to spend a little more time with him. That would be crazy.
She was just disappointed for the center, that was all. She’d had high hopes that she’d managed to reel in another big spender to drive up the prices at the auction. But apparently she wasn’t going to be landing that whale after all.
Maybe this meant he’d be too ashamed to show his face at the restaurant again. That was all she really wanted, wasn’t it? The reason she had agreed to this ridiculous deal in the first place.
At least now she wouldn’t have to keep her part of the bargain and go out on a date with him. If that wasn’t a win, Mercy didn’t know what was.
She only hoped that Emily hadn’t started spending any of that retainer money James had promised her. Mercy would have to call and warn her soon. The sooner the better. She’d probably be able to squeeze in a small break once the auction started rolling.
But before then, she should be able to get in a couple more rounds through the crowd with a refilled champagne tray. The bidding always went better in years when the crowd was nice and loose, and this one still seemed a little stiff. At least the auction had a big turnout.
Mercy squeezed her way through the maze of bodies. She’d just turned back around, with one flute left on her tray when a hand reached out from behind, intimately brushing against her arm before snatching the glass.
“When you told me tonight was a black tie event, I didn’t realize that you’d be the one wearing the tie.”
Hook: Exiles of the Realm Page 5
