Yes, that Derek Stone. Was there any other?
God, he looked good. He appeared even taller than I remembered and his dark hair had grown a bit in the last four weeks. Four weeks and three days, to be exact. That’s how long it had been since I’d seen him at the Edinburgh Book Fair.
Despite our best intentions, nothing of a physically romantic nature had happened between us that last night in Edinburgh. There was simply too much else going on. My parents were there, along with my best friend, Robin. I’d just won a prestigious award. And I’d been held hostage by a vicious killer earlier that afternoon. The police had wrapped up a double-murder investigation. Talk about distractions.
The next morning, Derek and I met for coffee; then he was called to Holyroodhouse Palace and I took off for the airport.
That was the last I saw of him. I’d thought at the time it was all for the best. Yes, he was far and away the most appealing man I’d ever met, but why would I get involved with someone I might never see again? It was a good question, one I spent many long nights arguing over once I was home. The plain fact was, I’d missed him every day. I missed his dry sense of humor and his intelligence, and I missed the way I felt with his arms wrapped around me. Would it have been so wrong to spend one night together, even if we never saw each other again?
And now, here he was in San Francisco, without any advanced warning. He couldn’t call? He couldn’t write? His e-mail wasn’t working? Not that he owed me anything, but I thought we’d become… close. Close what? I couldn’t say. Friends? Buddies? Lovers? No, unfortunately, not lovers. Not yet anyway. And seeing him snuggled up next to Layla just now, I was pretty darned sure we never would be.
I buried my head in my hands. I refused to cry, but I was sad, really sad. And I could feel another headache blooming.
What was he doing here? Besides being fondled and rubbed and drooled over by Layla Fontaine, of course?
Derek Stone and Layla Fontaine?
“Oh, God, no.” My insides did a loop de loop and I groaned out loud. Just saying their names together made me want to hurl my lunch. They obviously knew each other. So what was my favorite British security agent doing with someone like Layla? She was poison; couldn’t he see it?
I didn’t want to think about it. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t get the picture out of my head, of her pressing up against him.
Now I knew how Alice felt with her sensitive nerves. I wasn’t sure if my own would survive the night. And my heart wasn’t doing so well, either.
I stood and paced. I knew I’d have to confront Derek eventually. I mean, he was here. At BABA. And the thought of him being here with Layla was more than I could bear. I would have to quit my class. It was completely depressing. And confusing. And infuriating.
“Damn it.” I slammed my fist against the counter. Yes, I was furious. I was also in pain. It hurt to slam body parts against hard surfaces. But I was so angry. Angry at Derek, who hadn’t had the decency to call me, not once, since I had left Edinburgh. And angry at Layla, who even on a good day was not exactly on my list of favorite people.
I let out a little shriek and perused the room. This was an impossible situation. My students would be here shortly. I had to get ready for class.
I gripped the edge of the worktable and tried to steady myself. I refused to panic, but it had been a long time since I’d felt this edgy and desperate.
No, I had to take that back. I’d felt almost exactly this way a few brief weeks ago, when I was accused of murder. For the second time.
Frankly, this felt worse. Last time, I knew I hadn’t murdered anyone, so I was confident the truth would be revealed eventually. This was different. This was hideous. This was jealousy. And it sucked. It hurt. It made me feel stupid. It made me want to find that hole in the ozone and crawl through it and disappear. Or better yet, I could shove Derek through it and solve all my problems.
The door opened and I whipped around, half expecting Derek to walk in. But thank God, it was only Cynthia, Gina, and Whitney. I was ridiculously disappointed. Idiot.
“Hi, Brooklyn,” Gina said merrily. “Cool party, isn’t it?”
“I thought I saw you come in,” Cynthia said, dropping her bag and jacket on her seat. Her hair was askew and her sweater and shirt were pulled up in back. I wondered if she’d gone a few rounds with her husband in the other classroom.
“I was going to run out and grab a glass of wine,” Whitney said. “But if you’re ready to start class, we’re ready, too.”
As Cynthia rearranged her clothing, she took a good look at me and frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, sure,” I said lightly. “I felt a little sick to my stomach but I’m fine. Probably something I ate.”
“Wow,” Gina said, taking notice for the first time. “You really don’t look good.”
“What every woman longs to hear,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. I should go wash my hands.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. I’ll go in a minute. I just want to make sure everyone gets here.”
“Honey, we’re all big kids,” Cynthia said. “We’ll be fine on our own for a few minutes.”
“Yes, Brooklyn,” Gina said. “Go wash your face.”
The truth was, I didn’t want to leave the room for fear of running into Derek. But they were all watching me, so I threw them a grateful smile and escaped, racing to the ladies’ room without seeing anyone.
As I washed my hands, I stared at myself in the mirror. Except for being a little pale, I looked fine. A little shell-shocked, maybe, but if you looked beyond the blank-eyed stare and the deathly pallor, I looked the same as always. That was my story, anyway. I pinched my cheeks a few times to get some color back. It wasn’t working.
I placed a cold paper towel on my forehead and closed my eyes. I would get through this. Hell, there was a good chance I might not run into Derek at all. He didn’t know I was working here, although he’d be pretty stupid not to. And he wasn’t a stupid man. Except when it came to his taste in women, apparently. Layla was a stupid choice, just my opinion.
But that didn’t matter. The point was, he hadn’t cared enough to call me and say he was coming to town.
“So, it was nice while it lasted,” I whispered. But it was over now. If I was being perfectly honest, it had never started, not really. Yes, we’d had a flirtation, a few kisses. A lot of kisses, actually, and some intense moments. He was a really great kisser. Lucky me. But now he was with Layla, and lucky her. If she was what he wanted, then who needed him? Not me. No way.
Oh, that was such a lie.
As I dried my hands, I tried my mother’s old trick of smiling at myself in the mirror. If you stared long enough at yourself grinning like a loon, you could make yourself laugh. It always worked to cheer me up.
I wasn’t cheered. I could barely manage more than a trembling sneer. When my eyes began to tear, I looked away and carefully blinked until the moisture evaporated. Then I tried on a neutral smile.
“That’ll have to do,” I muttered philosophically. In a year or so, I’d look back on this time and laugh at myself for making yet another horrible choice in men.
I tossed the paper towel in the trash and shoved the door open.
“Hello, Brooklyn.”
Derek leaned casually against the wall directly opposite the restroom. He looked like an advertisement for tall, dark, and dangerous men. Oh, and dashing. I couldn’t forget dashing.
I lost my breath for just a second, but I refused to faint. Refused to look even more stupid than I felt.
“Oh, hello, Derek,” I said, marveling that my voice was so steady. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”
He pushed away from the wall and pulled me into his arms. I almost groaned.
“I was hoping I’d be lucky enough to see you here tonight.” His breath played havoc with the sensitive skin under my ear. “Then I saw you in the crowd and knew I must be lucky indeed.”
So much for avoiding him.
I shuddered; I couldn’t help it. The sound of his deep voice combined with his languid British accent caused chaos to run unchecked through my body. His unique musky scent of leather with hints of citrus and rain forest was intoxicating. The slight brush of his lips against my ear was nearly orgasmic.
And I was pathetic.
I carefully backed away from him and plastered a smile on my face. “Yes, aren’t we lucky? What a pleasant surprise. How are you, Derek?”
He winced. “I should’ve called, but I-”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, waving his words away. “You don’t owe me any-”
He gripped my arms. “Brooklyn, I honestly didn’t know I’d be coming until I got on the plane.”
“Well, there you go,” I said. “It couldn’t be helped.”
“You’re angry,” he said, studying me. “I don’t blame you.”
“Me? Angry?” Did I sound as shrill as I felt? “Just because you came to town without calling me? That’s ridiculous. It’s nothing.”
“It’s everything,” he said, gently brushing my hair back from my face. “I’ve hurt you. I’m a damned fool.”
I tried to laugh. “No way. It’s all-”
“It’s not all right.” He frowned. “How can I make it up to you?”
“It’s not necessary.” I straightened my shoulders and smiled with purpose. “So, how are you? I didn’t realize you knew Layla.”
Oh, God, I didn’t really say that. I just prayed I sounded nonchalant.
“We’ve met,” he said flatly. “But I don’t know her.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. I hardly know the woman.”
“Huh. It didn’t look that way from where I was standing.” Ack! What was wrong with me?
“Ah,” he said, and a slow smile appeared.
“Ah?” So much for nonchalance. I was livid. “What’s ‘ah’ supposed to mean?”
As his grin widened, I wanted to bite my own tongue off. And smack him. Hard. And maybe punch him in the nose.
“It means, my darling, that-”
“Excuse me, please,” a woman cried.
I turned and saw Alice running down the hall toward us. Derek yanked me out of her path just in time. She whipped past and disappeared behind the ladies’ room door. Whatever was wrong with her, I could relate.
“Well, it’s been great running into you, Derek.” I patted his chest, a tad more forcefully than necessary as I tried really hard to be affable. “But I have a class to teach, so-”
He grabbed my hand. “Easy, darling.”
“Sorry.” I pulled my hand away.
“I want to see you.”
“That would be nice,” I said in a vague, noncommittal way. Damn, I was good. “I’m pretty busy, but if you’re hanging around BABA some evening, we might-”
“Brooklyn, please,” he said, his voice edgy with frustration. “Look, I didn’t expect to include myself in this assignment.”
I paused. “You’re here on assignment?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the assignment?”
He paused as well, then finally said, “I trust you to keep this to yourself.”
“Of course I will.”
He waved away the statement. “Yes, of course you will. You’re as trustworthy as anyone I know.” He took a step closer and bent to whisper in my ear. “Gunther Schnaubel has received death threats. My team is guarding him.”
“He’s in danger? Here?”
“Yes.”
I looked around, instantly on guard. Then I remembered Minka. “Are we all in danger?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” I gave him a brief rundown of the attack on Minka. Although, I thought, there were any number of reasons someone might want to take Minka out, none of which had anything to do with Gunther. “The police warned us to be alert and not walk outside alone.”
“That’s always a good idea,” he said, ever the security expert. “But Gunther’s threats came from an extremely jealous husband. I doubt the man would come here and start attacking women.”
“So much for that theory,” I said, disappointed that we still had no clue as to who had attacked Minka. “But I can’t believe you brought an entire team here just to guard one artist.”
“Unfortunately, that one artist was caught in flagrante delicto with the daughter of the prime minister of a small European nation that I’m not at liberty to name. It’s grown quite political and sordid and I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent one of their army battalions to do him in.”
“Oh, I see.” I didn’t, but I also didn’t have time to force the issue. I was late for class. Besides, I was still angry. Yes, he hadn’t known he was coming to San Francisco until he was on the plane. But what was his excuse for not calling during the rest of the four weeks? And didn’t that make me sound like a shrew? “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait.” His jaw clenched. “Damn it, Brooklyn, I wasn’t going to come to San Francisco.”
I frowned. “You said that already.”
“Yes, I guess I did.” He began to pace in front of me, gesticulating as he explained in a loud whisper, “Gunther Schnaubel is a royal pain. He doesn’t follow the rules. He’s asking for trouble and he’s going to get himself killed if he’s not more careful.”
“So you needed all your men here.”
“Exactly.” He looked relieved. “I knew you’d understand.”
“Of course.” Even though I didn’t. I mean, I understood why he was here, but I didn’t understand why he hadn’t called. Oh, I suppose I could’ve called him, but the strategy of calling men never seemed to work for me. I guess I was an old-fashioned girl when it came to that sort of thing. But none of it mattered right now. I had a class to teach.
“I’m glad we talked.” I checked my watch. “Now I really have to get back to my class.”
“We’re not finished here.”
“No, of course not. But I do have to go.”
The bathroom door flew open, and Alice stepped out into the hall. “Oh,” she said, and looked from me to Derek, then back to me. “You’re still here.”
“I’ll just be another minute,” I said, feeling my cheeks redden. “Can you tell everyone?”
“Sure can,” she said, smiling as she walked away.
“What time is your class over?” Derek asked.
“Ten o’clock.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“You don’t-”
“I do.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. That first rush of fury was draining away as I looked at him. After all, we weren’t a couple. We were kissing buddies. Occasionally. Not exactly a declaration of couplehood. “This is crazy, Derek. You don’t owe me an explanation. We’re not-”
“Christ.” He raked his hand through his hair in aggravation. “I hate this.”
“Oo-kay.” I wasn’t clear on what it was he hated.
“I don’t apologize,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Why should you?”
“There,” he said, pointing at me. “Right there. You’re doing it again.”
I looked at him sideways. “Doing what?”
“Making me feel like I ran over your dog.”
“I don’t have a dog.” I was completely lost now. “What are you talking about?”
He laughed. “You’re right. I’ve gone insane. But it’s your fault.”
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t drag me into this,” I protested.
He laughed again. “Damn it, I’ve missed you. I didn’t want to. I was determined not to see you again.”
“Well, thank you. That’s really flattering. I’m so happy we had this conversation.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And guess what? You don’t have to see me again.”
“Ah, but it seems I do.” He urged me back into his arms and I almost whimpered. It wasn’t fair. He kissed my neck, kissed my shoulder. “Damn it, you’re even more lovely than I remembered. What was I thinking?”
“I have no idea.”
He laughed, and the sound went a long way to refresh my spirit. “God, you’ll be the death of me. Go teach your class. I’ll be waiting.”
Breathless, I rushed off, but made the mistake of turning around. He stood in the same spot, watching me, his eyes as dark as cobalt, his lips twisting sardonically. It was disconcerting and a complete turn-on. Part of me wanted to rush back and kiss him and another part of me wanted to slap him silly.
I couldn’t believe I’d mentioned Layla to him. For one thing, I sounded like a jealous cat. But also, I was annoyed with myself for revealing what I was angry about. Women were never supposed to tell a guy what was actually bothering them, right? It was in the Official Rule Book. If a guy doesn’t know what’s bothering you, then why should you tell him?
I jogged down the hall but slowed when I heard two women arguing in one of the empty classrooms near mine.
“Keep your hands off my husband.”
“Honey, it’s not my hands you have to worry about.”
“I know what you’re doing, and it stops now.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, really,” she said, then lowered her voice to add, “Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Oh, threats?” The woman laughed and I realized it was Layla. Her voice dripped with cynical delight.
“Yeah. Hands off, or you’re a dead woman.”
The door was thrown open and I pressed myself back against the wall. It was my ridiculous attempt to hide in plain sight, but it didn’t matter because Cynthia Hardesty never looked my way. Layla followed a moment later, twirling a loose strand of hair around her fingers as she strolled leisurely back to the party.
As I walked into my classroom, I considered the scene I’d just overheard. I couldn’t let Cynthia know I’d witnessed the argument, but I had the strongest urge to console her. I could feel her pain, having just experienced a meltdown over the possibility of Layla and Derek together.
I took a moment and mentally shoved Derek Stone into a box so I could conduct the class without going bonkers.
Within the first half hour, the party sounds from Layla’s happy hour bash dwindled. Eventually all was quiet and my students were able to concentrate on practicing the kettle stitch they’d learned the night before.
This was only the second evening of class but the group was already beginning to meld nicely. As everyone worked, the personalities of some of the students rose to the fore. I’d like to think we were all getting used to each other’s quirks and foibles, but some were more easy to acclimate to than others.
Cynthia and Tom, for instance, tended to bicker quietly over almost anything. The subject matter could be as trivial as the choice of covers for the books they were making. But I’d heard that argument with Layla and there was nothing trivial about it. Tom would have been wise to pay closer attention to his wife.
Gina and Whitney liked to talk, too, but at least they were entertaining. Both were pop-culture fanatics and proud of it. They told me what they’d seen on TMZ the previous night; then Gina showed everyone the GoFug-Yourself. com app on her phone. Kylie and Marianne both begged to see the latest red-carpet disasters.
Mitchell was a jovial man, cheerful and interested in the others’ lives. Dale, Bobby, and Jennifer, on the other hand, worked quietly and kept to themselves.
When Alice wasn’t texting her boyfriend, Stuart, or rushing off to the bathroom, she would absently rub her stomach while she worked. Fortunately, she was blessed with a self-deprecating sense of humor, so most of the students found her charming, despite her health issues.
When she walked back in from her latest bathroom run, I approached her and asked if she was okay.
She sighed and whispered, “Sometimes I think I was born without intestines. Food and liquid seem to travel directly from my stomach right down to my… well, you probably don’t need the specifics.”
“Ya think?” Gina whispered loudly, and everyone nearby laughed, including Alice.
“Maybe it’s your diet,” Whitney suggested gently. “My cousin is gluten-intolerant and he had to change his whole way of eating. But now he’s fine.”
“Oh, I’m getting tested for celiac disease tomorrow,” Alice said. “Stuart read about it and insisted I see my doctor.”
“Good idea,” Gina said.
Alice sighed. “Sorry to disrupt the class.”
I glanced around the room. Most everyone seemed to be concentrating on gluing their books properly. “I don’t think you’re disrupting anyone.”
“Yeah, Alice, don’t worry about it,” Whitney said, waving away her concern. “We just want you to be healthy.”
Alice blinked, clearly surprised. “You guys are so nice.”
Just then, I caught Tom Hardesty casting a disgruntled frown at Alice. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him make that face, but I only now realized it was directed at Alice. Since he was a board member, there was no way I could tell him to knock it off. But I didn’t like students being disrespectful of each other. I wondered if maybe Tom disliked Alice because she was such good friends with Layla.
It occurred to me that Cynthia Hardesty left the room almost as frequently as Alice did, in order to make and return phone calls. “Bidness,” she’d whisper loudly, and walk out.
Tom never glared contemptuously at his wife when she slipped out. Probably because he was scared to death that Cynthia would catch him and spank him. And that was a visual I never wanted to conjure up again.
It was almost ten thirty by the time everyone was finished for the night. Following Officer Ortiz’s orders, I put Mitchell in charge of making sure nobody left alone. As the students packed up their stuff, he went around assigning a buddy for everyone.
Then he turned to me. “What about you?”
I thought of Derek’s promise that he’d meet me after class. “I have to clean up a bit, and I’ve got someone waiting for me. I won’t leave alone.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. My friend should be here any minute, if he’s not already waiting in the gallery.”
“Well, we’re not leaving until he shows himself.”
“Fine, let’s go.” I grabbed my bag and locked the door, then followed Mitchell, Sylvia, Kylie, and Alice into the gallery. I glanced around for Derek, but he wasn’t there. My first thought was that he was in Layla’s office. I hoped not.
“Give me thirty seconds,” I told them, and ran down the hall to check. Layla’s office was empty, but Naomi was still working. She looked up when I knocked.
“Have you seen Derek Stone?” I asked.
“No,” she said irritably.
“Do you know who he is?”
“Yes,” she said pointedly.
“Okay, thanks. Good night.”
She muttered something I couldn’t hear and I wondered what had put her in such a foul mood. Then I remembered she worked for Layla and let it go.
Walking back to the gallery, I refused to show that I was hurt by the fact that Derek was nowhere to be found.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Change of plans?” Mitchell asked.
“Yeah,” I said, and left it at that.
Maybe Derek and Layla had gone out for a quick drink. Or maybe he’d run off to guard Gunther. Yeah, Gunther. I preferred that scenario.
But I was still hurt. Again. I really needed to stop caring about that man.
Outside, the cold, foggy air hit me hard. I hunched my shoulders and huddled inside my down jacket as we all walked briskly to our cars. Alice’s was parked almost directly in front of BABA and we teased her for snatching the primo spot. The rest of us had all parked farther away because of the party.
As we hiked down the street, the heavy fog made it impossible to see Potrero Hill, but I knew it was there. I considered swinging over to Goat Hill Pizza to drown my sorrows in takeout and my mouth began to water at the thought of the goat cheese and pesto combo. Last year, before settling on my SOMA loft, I’d looked at houses on the Hill. Some parts were still in transition, as real estate agents liked to say when working-class areas were gentrifying. But I still loved the cozy neighborhood feel of the area, with its Victorian homes perched on the sloping hills and the cool shops and parks. Best of all, besides superlative pizza, the Hill was the home of Christopher’s Books, one of my favorite little bookstores in the city.
Another two blocks farther, we turned the corner. The street was dark and shrouded in fog that seemed to cling stubbornly to us as we walked through it. It was so thick, I didn’t notice the man standing in the shadows next to my car until I was almost in front of him.
“Hello, darling,” Derek said.
I jumped. He looked even more dangerous than usual. Maybe it was the fog.
“Are you all right, Brooklyn?” Mitchell asked.
“I’m fine,” I said, staring at Derek. “Good night, gang.”
“Good night,” a trio of voices answered, and I heard their footsteps recede into the night.
“You waited,” I said to Derek, tossing my bag into the backseat of my car and pulling my jacket even tighter around me.
“Of course I waited. I told you I would.”
“I thought you’d be inside.”
He scowled. “I tried waiting inside, but it became troublesome.”
I chewed my lip nervously. “Layla?”
“Yes. Come here.” He coaxed me into his arms.
“It’s been a long night,” I said, and covered up a yawn.
“And you’re tired.” He began to knead a pulse point at the junction of my shoulder and neck.
“Yes. I’m exhausted and just want to… oh.” I was pressed up against him and he was doing miraculous things to my muscles. I would melt if he continued much longer.
“We can go for a drink, or dinner,” he said.
“Oh, well, I could eat something.” Thoughts of pizza returned and I smiled.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered. He was well aware of my ability to eat heartily anytime, day or night.
But was I really his girl? Did I want to be? After all, he didn’t call, he didn’t write, and he didn’t want to see me again. And yet, he was here, and so was I. I certainly didn’t want to be his port in the storm, but if he kept rubbing my neck like that, I would say yes to just about anything he asked.
“Darling, I-” His cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket and he muttered, “Bloody hell.”
I took the opportunity to step back, away from temptation. “Better answer it.”
He stared at the screen, then looked at me, plainly conflicted. “I warned them not to call unless-”
“Answer it,” I said again, then tried to move farther away to allow him some privacy. But he swung his arm around my shoulders and dragged me up against his solid chest.
I could hear yelling on the other side of the call but couldn’t understand what the speaker was saying. Derek barely said a word but for a muttered expletive here and there. And with his clipped accent, even cursing sounded charming.
“I’ll be there in ten,” he said, then clicked off the call.
“New plan?” I said lightly.
“Yes,” he said, “I must go kill Gunther Schnaubel.”
“Hey, that’s okay,” I lied. “I should go feed my neighbors’ cats anyway.”
He laughed. I liked the sound of it.
I tried to convince myself that this was a good thing. I’d been seconds away from going to dinner with him. From there, I might’ve agreed to spend the night. Only a couple of hours ago, I’d been furious. Now I was ready to throw my panties in the wind, for heaven’s sake. Things were getting serious and complicated, fast. For me, anyway.
I still didn’t understand his relationship with Layla and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. More important, I didn’t know what to expect by getting involved with him, if anything. And now I wouldn’t have the chance to talk to him about it. Not tonight, anyway.
So it was just as well that he’d received that phone call. It would give me some space to think about things. I needed to figure out exactly what I was getting my very vulnerable heart into.
He leaned his forehead against mine. “Tomorrow night, Brooklyn. I’ll be here. We’ll go to dinner and we’ll talk. And I promise you, there will be no more interruptions.”
“Okay,” I whispered, grateful for the short respite. Twenty-four hours was plenty of time to think about stepping off a cliff, wasn’t it?