Chapter Two
Penn
I should have kept walking. The thought occurred to me for the tenth time as I watched her toss her golden blonde hair. Corsica stood too close to her ex-boyfriend, her eyes bright with excitement over whatever news he was sharing. I rubbed my chest and cursed myself. When would I learn?
Women like Corsica, prim and perfect, were dangerous. Anyone who spent all their time polishing a perfect facade disgusted me.
Except disgust was the wrong word for my reaction to her. Attraction wasn't even a strong enough word. I could feel her pumping through my veins, and for the life of me, I couldn't look away.
There was some comfort in the way her sky-blue eyes kept coming back to me, even as her catalog-model boyfriend talked. I winked, and she frowned.
Corsica had already made it clear that I was not her type. I tugged at my beard. My careless clothes and my tattoos were not a disguise; they were me, but I had always been glad my look deterred women like her. One whiff of my bank accounts would turn her into a heartless, husband-hunting machine. Then, she would want to change me, outfit me like her perfect ex-boyfriend, and parade me around town.
I ground my teeth and turned back to the bar.
Corsica's friend, a tiny pixie of a woman, leaned next to me. "They aren't dating anymore, thank God," Ginny said.
"You really don't like him?" I was surprised.
"Oh, Joshua's fine, really. He means well. I just hate how he's got Corsica on this straight and narrow path."
I watched Corsica glance back at the stage. The microphone seemed to call to her. "And that path doesn't lead to singing?"
Ginny snorted. "Joshua has never encouraged Corsica to sing. Even though they met at open mic night at his parents' inn."
"His parents' inn?"
"Yeah. His parents own one of those fancy inns down in Santa Cruz. You know, the ones with the white linen tablecloths and seven-course dinners."
I chuckled. "What's wrong with that?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "It's just that he plans to turn Corsica into the perfect hostess. I don't want to see her stuck in a dress suit and pearls, kissing the ass of every rich couple that walks through the doors."
"And what does she want?" I asked, glancing at Corsica again.
Ginny gave a dark frown. "Doesn't matter. She'd never admit to it. Corsica's too determined to get ahead."
That was it. That was my cue to turn my back and forget about her. I should have kept walking the moment I met Corsica. With self-preservation in mind, I glanced at my phone for a distraction. Unfortunately, the only thing there was a text message from my father. I scowled, thinking how impressed my father would be with Corsica's ex-boyfriend. If anyone appreciated careful presentation and impeccable self-grooming, it was my father.
If there was one thing that Xavier Templeton loved, it was a polished image. My father looked down at the world from his towering command over Silicon Valley. He was every inch the legacy billionaire, from his custom, Italian shoes to his obscenely expensive haircuts. My father was just the man that people like Joshua and Corsica hoped to meet.
I, on the other hand, was pissed off at the idea of seeing him. I'd only come to town because my father's summons seemed so dire. We hadn't spoken in years, so plain curiosity was enough justification for me to come to San Francisco. It was becoming clearer and clearer that coming to the city was a mistake.
I read the text message again. My father was running late and wanted me to meet him at his house. As if that multi-level monstrosity of a mansion on Telegraph Hill could be called a house.
It was only minutes away, so I raised my hand to order another drink. Then, I saw Corsica gathering up her purse. She was going to leave with that blond, Polo-shirted asshole. My throat burned, and I decided to skip another drink. Besides, I could piss off my father by getting into his aged Scotch while I waited.
"You're leaving?" Ginny asked.
"Seems like the thing to do," I said. "Nice to meet you. And your friend."
I didn't like the way Ginny studied my face, or the way Corsica glanced over as soon as I stood up. What was I doing letting myself get tangled up? I'd spent my life untangling myself from other people's expectations and going my own way. Why did I care if she left the club with another man? It was stupid to stay another minute.
Still, I took my time making the rounds and saying goodbye to my friends who worked at the club. I was still chatting with the bouncer out front when Corsica appeared with her ex. Ginny trailed after them with a frustrated look.
"Why you giving him the evil eye?" the bouncer Allen asked me.
"Am I?" I shrugged. "There's just something about him I don't like."
"Or something about her that you do like?" Allen elbowed me in the ribs.
Corsica was hesitating, leaning towards going back inside with her friend. Joshua frowned and explained what she should be doing with an arrogant expression.
I felt the acid in my stomach sizzle. "I think he reminds me of my father," I spat.
Allen frowned and checked out Joshua again. "You think he's an alcoholic? Should I stop him from driving?"
I waved away the bad memories and called Allen off. I was overreacting, and it was totally out of character. If Corsica was so determined to hitch her wagon to someone like Joshua, who was I to try to change her mind?
"Shame she's not going back in," Allen said. "I heard she has the voice of a sultry angel."
I couldn't answer. Joshua grabbed Corsica's elbow so tight I could see the pain on her face. He pulled her towards his car, and something in my brain snapped. I had seen my father grab my mother like that, the rest of the memories coated in helpless, black anguish.
The next thing I knew, Allen was pulling me back. He positioned his mountainous body between me and Joshua as the gasping crowd outside the club stepped back.
"What the hell, man? Penn, get a hold of yourself." Allen shoved me back another step.
I stopped pushing and held up my hands. "I'm fine. I got this."
"What you got is that crazy look in your eyes," he said. "You better think about what you're doing, man. Do you really want to butt in?"
"He grabbed her, Allen. I'm not going to just stand here and let him bully her. What's going to happen if she goes home with him?"
I knew my panic was unfounded. I knew nothing about Joshua or Corsica, but my muscles jumped with the desire to shield her. The thought of her getting hurt the way my mother once did was enough to have me stepping forward again.
Allen saw it. He knew. So, he stepped back.
Corsica had wrenched her elbow free and was fighting to keep Joshua from getting another hold. "Just give me a minute to think about it. I came out with Ginny, and we want to celebrate. My resume can wait until morning."
"I don't think you get it," Joshua said. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and I'm not going to let you miss it."
He lunged forward to catch her upper arm but caught my hand instead. "I know you heard her," I growled.
Joshua took one step back and brushed his pristine Polo shirt as if I had soiled it. "This doesn't concern you. Don't you have tables to clear or trash to take out?"
Allen loomed up behind me. "Watch yourself, pretty boy. Don't you know who he is?"
"I'm no one." I gave my bouncer friend a warning glance and then turned back to Joshua. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you manhandle the lady here."
Joshua gave a tight laugh. "I didn't know white knights came in a hipster-trash model."
His surface judgment of me burned, as it always did, but I reminded myself it did not matter what he thought. I knew who I was, and that was enough.
"So you admit she needs saving?" I asked.
Joshua rolled his eyes and laughed again. "Please. No one around here is going to think that Corsica needs saving from me. You, on the other hand, you look just like the kind of guy women should steer clear of."
"Stop, Joshua," Corsica snapped. Her blue eyes glittered with irritation, and I was relieved not to see a speck of fear.
Then, she rubbed her sore elbow, and my insides boiled again. "One of these days, pretty boy, you're going to learn that your worth has nothing to do with your looks. Or maybe your looks are all you've got."
Joshua took the challenge and stepped towards me. "You really looking to fight me?" He pushed Corsica away when she tried to stop him. "I'll be glad to pound you into the pavement and then bring you up on assault charges. I think we both know who a judge is going to side with."
I thought of all the judges my father regularly golfed with. One phone call and any charge against me would be dropped. Too bad I would never make that call. I would gladly spend time in jail rather than talk to my father.
Allen crossed his tree trunk arms. "No one's fighting on my sidewalk," he boomed.
"She wants a minute to think," I said to Joshua. "Are you telling me you're so insecure you can't even let the lady decide for herself? If she wants to go home with you, it's up to her. If she doesn't, then you're going to leave alone."
"What if she can speak for herself?" Corsica snapped.
I was startled when her glittering blue eyes landed on me. "I'm just trying to help," I said.
"Help?" Corsica asked. "You're no better than him. What are you going to do? Bully him into not bullying me?"
"So, you admit he was bullying you," I pointed out.
She stepped forward and poked a finger into my chest. "The only thing I'll admit is that you are both acting like a couple of jackasses. What century do you think this is? I can and will decide for myself."
Joshua shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm right here when you're ready," he said.
I looked down at her, furious that she had missed my good intentions. "So, what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to keep my conversations private, thank you very much." Corsica stalked off down the sidewalk and gave a sharp motion for Joshua to follow her. He gave me a superior smile and followed after her.
That should have been the end of it, but I just stood there watching her go. It took every ounce of willpower not to follow them and make sure she really was going to be all right.
"Nice try," Ginny said.
"You're not going with them?" I asked.
The little pixie of a woman shook her hair. "Nah. I think I'm going to go back inside. A few old co-workers of mine are here." She glanced up at me. "Not what you wanted to hear?"
I sighed. "I know I don't know him, but I know his type. He always wants to be in charge, and he's not always going to be nice about it."
Ginny shrugged. "I'm not big on judging a person by their looks, but I think you might have nailed Joshua. You wish I was going with her."
"I just want to know someone is taking care of her," I admitted.
Ginny patted my arm, blew a kiss to the bouncer, and took off after Corsica.
I turned and saw Allen's goofy smile. "Oh, God. You look like a man in trouble."
Allen popped his mouth shut, but didn't take his eyes off Ginny. "I'd say it takes one to know one."
I groaned. "That's not it. Not at all. I'm just looking for something to take my mind off meeting my father."
"Like taking a feisty singer home and keeping her safe from all harm?"
I cracked a knuckle punching his rock solid arm. "Don't you have a line to lord over?"
"What are you going to do?"
"Me? I'm going back inside and finding a comfy spot at the bar."
Allen frowned. "That's not like you, either. Thought your father scared you off getting drunk for good."
"Well, seeing as I'm in town to meet the old man, I'm going with 'when in Rome.'"
Allen's worried shake of the head stayed with me until I got to the bar. I knew my father had been sober for some years now, but the memories still stuck hard. So, when the bartender came over, I cleared my throat and ordered a tonic water with lime.
An old friend of mine, she nodded and poured the drink. "I can't believe you're in town to see your father," she said.
"Thanks, Rita." I took the drink and spun it slowly on the bar. "I can't believe it either. In fact, I should cut my losses now and head back to Monterey."
Rita shook her head. "You should stay. We've got some real talent in the karaoke lounge tonight. Did you hear that little blondie sing? I think I'm in love."
I winced. "Yeah, she was amazing."
"Amazing is not quite the word for it," Rita said. She licked her lips and sighed at the memory of Corsica's lush, little body. "We get a lot of raw talent in here, but she was something special. I mean, it was like hearing one of those old-school songstresses."
I fought to remember Corsica's snobby attitude, her determined ambition, and her obvious disgust for me. "You know who would like her? My father. He was always a sucker for those torch singers. A pretty little picture with a big voice standing in front of a small jazz combo." I had to stop because I realized that was my fantasy forming.
"Speaking of your father, why'd he call you into town? I thought you hadn't spoken to him in years?"
I sighed and leaned both elbows on the bar. When I had cut ties with my father and my family fortune, I’d found work as a bar-back. Rita was a cocktail waitress back then, and we had worked many, many long nights together. We were both there when Allen was hired, and even though my fortunes had taken off in that last few years, we were all still very tight. They were more than my friends; they were my trusted counsel and my therapists.
"I have no idea, but it didn't sound good," I said.
"You call your mother?"
"A half dozen times, but she was out leading hikes or instructing tourists on vision quests or whatever she's doing now. The one time I caught her on the phone, she was really vague." I worried again about how strange she had been on the phone.
"She's always wanted you to reconcile with your father," Rita pointed out.
"Like that's ever going to happen."
"Well, I'm glad you're around." Rita drifted down the bar towards other customers. "Stick around and cross your fingers. Maybe that pretty singer will get back on stage. I'm telling you, Penn, you're going to love her."
I gripped the tonic water with both hands and tried to ignore the prophetic ring of Rita's words. I knew it was only a matter of time before Allen told her about the scene outside and she'd be right back down the bar to pry all the details out of me. What had possessed me?
It was easy to justify my reaction to the way Joshua grabbed her. It had triggered bad memories from a dark time in my childhood. But that didn't explain the initial reaction I had to Corsica. What was it about her that turned me upside down?
Sure, she was beautiful. She was gorgeous. A curvy but athletic body tucked tight into a little black dress. Her hair was a cascade of honey-blonde curls that I itched to wind around my fingers. And those eyes that changed hue with her every passing emotion. It was no wonder I was attracted to Corsica. The real puzzle was why my mind couldn't win out and dismiss her.
When I had denounced my family fortune, I had turned my back on an enormous social circle that looked exactly like Corsica and her prep-school ex. Each tattoo I got released me further from the expectations and restrictions of the ultra-rich. I shunned luxury surroundings and camped out for weeks on end. I grew out my beard. I roughened my hands with rock-climbing. And then, I found my fortune in outdoor equipment.
The irony of it still made my mind reel.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
I looked up and had to grab the bar for support. Corsica stood next to me, one hand tugging at a long curl. "You forget something?" I asked.
The corners of her mouth quirked up. "My manners. I forgot to thank you for stepping in earlier." Her eyes widened. "Not that I'm saying Joshua's a bad guy. He's not. It's just I appreciate that you were willing to speak up for a complete stranger."
I nodded. "Where's your friend?"
"Ginny?" Corsica asked. Her smile disappeared. "She went to a bar in Chinatown with her co-workers after I told her I was taking a cab home."
"Allen will be disappointed," I said.
"Allen?" Corsica brightened.
"The bouncer. I think he might be head over heels."
"The giant outside? Oh, Ginny would love him," she said as she glanced at the doors.
I grinned. "I want to be there when you tell him. Big man falls hard."
"Let me just ask the bartender to call me a cab first," Corsica said. "My phone died."
I glanced down the bar and saw Rita sloshing two drinks towards a couple. Then she wiped her hands and fluffed up her hair. If Rita got to Corsica, she'd hang on and flirt with her. It would only take Rita a few minutes to read my reactions, and then I would never hear the end of it.
"Actually, I've got a car waiting outside. It's yours if you want." I stood up and offered Corsica my arm.
She smiled and slipped her hand into the crook of my elbow. "So, you really are a white knight?"
I ignored Rita's flailing gestures and headed with Corsica towards the front doors. "I don't like how common courtesy has become as rare as chivalry," I said.
Allen opened the doors for us with an entirely too wide smile. "Good to see you again, m'lady," he said.
"Sounds like her friend has a crush on you," I said to shut him up.
Allen gaped and Corsica laughed as he stammered to her about maybe calling Ginny if she wouldn't mind giving him her number.
I was glad they were both distracted because at that moment, Joshua stepped out of a black town car. He sneered at me and looked for an opening to call Corsica over.
I hated to use my influence since I didn't want Corsica to see, but I directed the valets with a nod. They jumped up and directed Joshua's driver to move along. He argued immediately, and Allen's team, a pair of off-duty police officers almost the same towering size as him, encouraged Joshua to get back in his vehicle.
Within seconds, Joshua was cleared out, and my Maserati slid into place. My driver, a juvenile delinquent that could handle any car better than the best, stepped out and gave me a jaunty salute. I whipped out my phone and texted quickly how he better keep his mouth shut no matter what I said.
"You're letting Tom Thumb drive the Maserati?" Allen asked.
Corsica's mouth dropped open as she saw the silver sports car. Tom whipped open the back door and grinned. "That's your car?" she asked.
"My boss's car," I lied.
"And who's Tom Thumb?" she asked.
"Only the biggest car thief in the Bay Area," Allen muttered.
"He's just a kid," she pointed out.
"A kid with a rap sheet longer than the Golden Gate Bridge," Allen boomed. "And he better remember that his ass is on the line no matter how nice Penn is to him."
Corsica laughed when Tom blew Allen a kiss.
"He was a car thief," I admitted. "I met him when he stole my, I mean, my boss's car right out from under Allen's post."
"That can't really be his name," Corsica said.
"Street name for a street rat," Allen mumbled.
"Not many people get the drop on Allen," I explained as I led Corsica towards the Maserati.
"It was my pleasure, sir," Tom said with an overly dramatic bow.
"I only employ him because it pisses off my boss." I caught Tom's eyes to make sure he had understood my text message.
He saluted again. "Penn's boss is a real dick. Where to?"
"Take the lady home," I said.
Corsica's eyes widened again. "Oh, sorry, no. I told you I'm from Santa Cruz. I better just have you drop me off where Ginny is over in Chinatown."
"Nonsense," Tom said. "Penn's, ah, boss has a great place over on Telegraph Hill. Plenty of room. Just minutes away."
I shot Tom a warning glance, but he was unrepentant. Then the thought worked on me for a moment more. If Corsica came with me to my father's house, I would have the perfect buffer. She'd be shocked by who he was, and I would be able to use her as a reason to push off our conversation until the morning. I was just not up to hearing what the old man had to say.
"He's right. You're welcome to stay at the house. In fact, there's an entire apartment over the garage. It's private and secure. Ginny's welcome to stay, too," I said.
Corsica frowned. "Your boss won't mind?"
"Not when he gets a load of you," Tom said.
I kicked him in the shin. "My boss will most likely not make an appearance until the morning. He's a very busy man."
She chewed her cheek and considered my offer. "What if I change my mind?"
"Tom here drinks too much caffeine, so you can call him at any time. He knows all the good, reasonable hotels and motels in the city," I said.
I waited and tried not to hold my breath. I knew full well that I didn't look like the type of guy good girls should be going home with in the middle of the night. My rag-tag sidekick did nothing to add respectability to my image, but, then again, I wanted her to take me as I was. Minus the growing fortune.
I didn't want to lie to Corsica, but I didn't want her to know I was loaded. Suddenly, it was more important than anything that Corsica see me for myself, not my money or my family connections.
She took out her phone and then remembered the battery had died.
"I've got a charger for that," Tom said. "In the car. You'll be up and running before we get to the top of the hill."
"Not the way you drive," I muttered.
Corsica smiled. "Well, if you're willing to charge my phone so I can call Ginny, then I guess the least I can do is take a look at the apartment."
She slipped into the car, and Tom slammed the door with a flourish. "I like her," he announced. "I don't think you need to lie to her."
I scowled as I shooed him around to the driver's door. "I like her, too, and I probably will until she finds out who I am."
Chapter Three
Corsica
I tucked my hands back in my lap as soon as Penn got in the backseat next to me. The polished, leather seats were softer than anything I had ever touched. I had been insulated in a world of luxury and, within seconds, found myself caressing the seat underneath me. Then, Penn slipped into the seat next to mine and cocked a dark eyebrow at my fidgeting fingers.
"You don't have to be nervous," he said. "You can get right out, and we'll call you a cab."
I laced my fingers tight. "No, that's not it." I laughed at myself. "I was just, ah, admiring your boss's car."
Penn's lips curved. "You were petting the seats?"
I raised my nose. "I was not. I simply felt the softness of the leather and found it nice."
"I don't mind a bit of leather myself," Penn said.
My eyes flew to his, and my mouth gaped before I caught the twinkle in his eye. I swatted his arm. "I bet you're the one that pets these seats. Does your boss know that you use his car?"
"He should. He's the one that summoned me."
Penn shut his door, and Tom jumped into the driver's seat. The engine growled as Tom left a black mark on the pavement behind us. I glanced back to see Allen shaking his enormous fist in the air. Whatever he yelled was drowned out by the high-performance engine.
"I only hire Tom when I'm in town."
"'Cause it pisses off his boss." Tom winked into the rearview mirror.
Penn gave him a murderous glance and turned to me. "I hate to say this when he can hear, but the gaunt, little brat is the best driver. If you want to beat the traffic in the Bay Area, then this is your guy."
"At your service," Tom gave me an outrageously flirty smile and earned himself a whack on the back of his head. "Ow. Careful, man, or she might ask me to drive her away from such a brute."
Penn turned back to me. "We can drop you off wherever you want. Chinatown is minutes away."
My heart skittered. What was I doing? I was riding with a mysteriously connected, tattooed man in a brand new Maserati with a juvenile delinquent driver. It was the middle of the night, I was hours from home, and Ginny was off somewhere in Chinatown. Every rational fiber in my body screamed to redirect the kid to the address Ginny had texted.
Then, the burning in my chest flared up. Every time I thought of Joshua's condescending reminders of how to further my career, the frustration enflamed me. I was free to do as I chose. And if I chose to spend the night with Penn, that was my decision. No one would blame me; a lot of my friends would probably applaud.
Despite Penn's careless and shaggy appearance, he was incredibly attractive. Strong hands that could be so gentle, a rock hard chest between broad shoulders, and dark, smoldering eyes that could melt a girl right down to her toes. I took a deep breath. The scent of him was an intoxicating mix that reminded me of sunshine and warm pine needles.
The heat in my chest radiated through me and changed. The burning I had felt was lust for Penn. The blush was instant, and I prayed the streetlights didn't show him. But he was looking at me, waiting for me to answer.
I licked my dry, panicked lips and said, "I'd rather go home with you."
Tom gave a randy growl and then laughed. "Good thing, 'cause we're here."
Penn's dark eyes were locked on my lips, and it took a moment for him to blink and then punch the back of the driver's seat. The temperature in the car had risen at least ten degrees. I looked at my window and wondered if there was still time to roll it down and soothe my heated blush.
I glanced at Penn. Why was he being so nice? Could he really be so gallant, or was he expecting this to be a one-night stand? A passionate one-night stand. The thought melted me right to the core.
I shook my head. What was I thinking? I wasn't that kind of girl. The last person I had been with was Joshua. He was an energetic but predictable lover, and everything had been so polite. I didn't know how to be with anyone else, especially not someone who looked like Penn.
The rugged and rough look of him had my insides quivering. I could imagine those wide lips of his searing mine with a hard, passionate kiss.
I definitely needed to roll down the window. I fumbled with the sleek switches on the door handle. Then, I saw what was outside and fell back in my seat.
Enormous gates decorated with intricate scrollwork iron swung slowly open. The driveway dipped low and revealed a breathtaking view of San Francisco Bay. My eyes touched on the red Spanish tiles of the mansion's roof. Before I could blink, we swept down the driveway and under a wisteria-covered pergola and parked in front of a set of arched doors.
Lights blinked on behind the wall of windows, and I could see through the top floor to the twinkling red arches of Golden Gate Bridge. Tom jumped out of the driver's seat and opened Penn's door. I was ensconced in the silent luxury of the Maserati again, and all I could hear was my own shallow, shocked breathing. I had gone home with a complete stranger and ended up facing the most jaw-dropping mansion I had ever seen.
Penn pulled open my door and offered me a hand. As I eased myself from the car and blinked in wonder at the mansion, he spoke over my head to the young driver. "That's it for tonight. And, no, you can't borrow the car. I already transferred your fee to your account."
"Who needs a car?" Tom snarked. "From this hoity-toity hill, I can skateboard to the Embarcadero without putting a foot on the ground."
The exchange made me smile, and I felt the overwhelmed tangle in my gut unknot. I had seen Penn interact with Ginny, his bouncer friend, and the scrawny teenage driver. He might look tattooed and tough, but Penn had a caring and generous heart. My nerves were still jumping, but I was sure that I was safe alone with him.
He watched Tom glide out of the gates with his middle finger extended and laughed. "I hope he didn't scare you. Tom seems reckless, but he's the most hyper-aware and fast-reflexed driver I've ever known."
"He seems charming," I said.
Penn glanced at me, and when he saw I was being honest, he smiled. "That must be why I like him."
I slipped my arm through his and felt his biceps tighten. The jolt of power I felt from causing him a physical reaction made my head giddy and light. "How about you give me a tour?" I asked, and the breathless tone was unintentional.
"My pleasure." Penn's voice was gravel-rough.
I shivered deliciously as we walked together up the wide, sweeping front steps.
"This isn't like a normal house," Penn said, pushing open the double-arched doors.
"No kidding," I muttered, stepping inside. The polished tile under my feet was Travertine, and for a wild moment, I wished I had worn fancier shoes.
Penn chuckled. "The first floor is basically a giant foyer. There are a few seating areas, but it's mostly about the view."
He wasn't kidding. The panoramic view of San Francisco Bay was captivating, but my eyes kept sliding back to Penn. He was bulkier and heavier-muscled than any other man I had found attractive. But the soft cling of his worn T-shirt revealed a flat stomach and narrow waist. He was fit and firm, and my mouth kept going dry.
"The next floor down is the dining hall. It's flanked by a butler's pantry and a separate bar with the best views of Treasure Island." Penn laid a wide hand at the small of my back and led me through the priceless artwork and elegant interior design of the first floor to a curving staircase.
I stopped at the top of the stairs and willed my body not to sway as Penn's arm curved around my waist. "And, what's on the next floor below that?" I asked.
"The living room, the music room, the first of the guest rooms," Penn said. "Or would you rather just go see the apartment above the garage?"
His dark eyes showed flecks of gold as he took a step down and came level with me. The electrical realization that his lips were just inches from mine made my brain short circuit. I imagined us falling in the door of the small garage apartment, my hands tugging hard to pull his shirt over his wide shoulders. The wild, unbidden idea of testing my teeth against his taut muscles made me sway.
Penn's hands automatically caught my waist and steadied me. As I reached out and caught his shoulders, the gold in his eyes burned brighter. I felt his fingers flex around my waist. All I had to do was lean forward, and our lips would meet. I caught my breath and tore my gaze away from his eyes.
"It's just, ah, your boss's place is spectacular," I said.
Penn shrugged and turned down the staircase. "And, you've only seen the top floor."
The weight of my disappointment pushed me down the stairs after him. I was glad he walked in front of me because my cheeks blazed again. I could have sworn his question was more an invitation, but what if I was wrong? Penn probably saw me as some silly blonde he would never bother with if I hadn't needed help.
I crinkled up my nose and balled my fists. The women that Penn found attractive were probably outgoing, confident, and strong. I was none of those things. I was snobby when nervous, insecure, and tripping all over myself around him.
As we stepped down onto the next floor, I smoothed back my silken curls. Penn might think he was better than me, but that didn't mean I was unattractive. I tugged down my dress and tossed my hair. If he thought he could dismiss me, then I would have to show him I didn't care. Men always wanted women who didn't want them.
"So, what's your boss like?" I asked.
The question sparked a reddish hue in his dark brown eyes. "My boss? He only loves the best of the best," Penn snarled.
"And yet he lets you work here?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.
Penn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, very funny. I never said he loved me."
"Your boss?" I was thrown off-balance.
"I hardly ever come here," Penn said. "Normally, I live at my own place down in Monterey. I'm more of a free-agent these days."
His phone rang, and Penn swore. I sauntered over to the sparkling view and let him take it.
"Yes, I got your message. Yes, I'm here. Of course you're going to be late," Penn's answers were curt. "Yes, boss."
I didn't want Penn to think I was listening in on his conversation, so I pulled out my phone. Tom had charged it as promised, and I was able to check my messages. The first one was a quick message asking if I had seen all of Penn's tattoos yet. Attached to it was a raunchy cartoon of a girl swooning over a tattooed strong man whose chest muscles danced. I laughed out loud.
"Yes, someone is with me. So, don't worry, I am staying here tonight after all," Penn said.
"Sorry," I said after he hung up his phone. "I hope I didn't get you in trouble with your boss."
"Not at all," he smiled. "How about I show you the apartment now? We can call it a night."
My heart dropped, and all the heat left my body. Penn had used me to play out some kind of spat with his employer. Now his boss, obviously a well-to-do billionaire, thought I was letting Penn do unspeakable things to me all over his expensive, custom furniture.
The thought that I would have let Penn do those things left me cold. Now that I knew I had just been a pawn in his little scheme to get back at his boss, I lost my nervousness.
Penn slid open a glass door and led the way out onto a stone terrace. "We can walk back up through the gardens," he said.
I shivered but followed him out into the brisk, bay air. Fog curled around Alcatraz below us and obscured the far side of the bay. The lights of Berkeley were barely visible, and I wrapped my arms around myself to stay warm. It was annoying how comfortable Penn looked. Inside, he seemed tense, but in the fresh air, his tense shoulders released.
He took a deep breath and sighed. "I love the smell of fog, don't you?"
I shrugged. "I'm not really the outdoors type."
"No kidding," he chuckled.
I felt my spine stiffen. "What does that mean?"
Penn crossed his arms. "I'm the outdoors type, so I guess you could say I can spot my kind of people."
"And, I'm not it?" My sharp tone rose from the hurt I felt.
"I'm not saying I don't like you," he said. "I just don't see you hiking and camping for weeks on end. Have you ever gone more than fifteen minutes without checking your phone?"
I jammed my phone back in my purse and pointed a finger at his chest. "You don't know anything about me," I snapped. "I used to go hunting with my father and cousins. I've done the camping thing and the canoeing thing, and I've been to almost every national park between here and the Mississippi."
Penn held up both hands and laughed. "All right, I get it. Maybe I pre-judged you a little based on your looks. Wait, why the Mississippi? Are you from the Midwest?"
"What do you care?" I marched past him and up some curving stone steps. "Is this the way to the garage? I'm pretty tired, and I'd like to see where I'm supposed to stay."
I was out of breath by the time I ascended the steep stone steps, but I wasn't going to let Penn catch me panting. I marched straight across the driveway and pointed to another set of stairs.
"That's it, up there," Penn said. He followed me without another word.
I stopped suddenly on the steps to the apartment and glanced down at him. Penn jolted, and I flushed with heat. He'd been staring at my backside the whole time. The realization that he might want me as much as I wanted him had a dizzying effect. Along with the fast pace I had chosen and then forced myself to keep up, I almost fainted there on the steps.
Instead, I took a long breath and noticed the view. "Wow. I guess living above the garage can't be so bad when you're sharing that view," I said.
Penn continued up until he was only one step away and we were again eye to eye. "Yeah, it's not a bad spot if you're content with just a view."
I laughed. "How can you sound so nonchalant? Are you telling me that, great outdoorsman that you are, you can't appreciate a good view?"
His dark eyes trailed out over the San Francisco Bay and kept going until he seemed very far away. "My boss is happy seeing all of this through glass, but I prefer to be out in it," he said.
I studied him for a moment as he watched the far, fog-covered edges of the bay. "Oh, wait, now it makes sense."
Penn's dark brown eyes swung back to me. "What makes sense?"
I chuckled that he seemed so worried. "Oh, come on. Now I get why you have open access to all of this. I even get why you talk about your boss the way you do."
Penn's hand flexed on the railing. "Please, tell me all about myself," he challenged.
"You're the groundskeeper," I declared.
"I'm the, wait, what am I?"
I pushed his shoulder. "Just admit it. You're the groundskeeper."
"And, what if I was?" Penn asked. He watched my face with careful attention. "Would that bother you? Are you disappointed that you wasted the night with a lowly groundskeeper?"
"The night's not over yet." The quip was so unexpected and full of such innuendo that I turned around and practically ran the rest of the way up the stairs.
A smile played around Penn's wide lips as he caught up to me and unlocked the apartment above the garage. "I'll leave the lights off for a moment if you want to check out the view again," he said.
The apartment was a surprisingly large and airy loft. The tall ceilings stretched to a steep peak and framed the view in a high A-frame. I didn't bother to muffle my envious sigh. "I think I could be happy living somewhere like this."
"Over a garage? You?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I crossed my arms and turned to face him, the view forgotten.
Penn flipped on a lamp next to a comfortably worn couch. "I just got the sense that you are determined to make it to a big house like that one. I didn't think you'd settle for the apartment above the garage."
"I don't know. Maybe I haven't decided yet," I gulped.
"Well, let me give you a little advice," Penn said. He moved closer and caught my hand. "Don't think about practicalities or settling. Just do what you love."
I shied away from him and feigned interest in an old oil painting. It was a tumultuous depiction of a sailboat in open water, and somehow the bright white of the hull comforted me in the midst of all the foaming, dark-blue waters. Steady and bright and able to sail through the storm.
That's how I felt every time I sang.
"What'd you study in college?" Penn asked, flipping on more lights. "Musical performance?"
I scoffed. "No. I wanted to make sure I was spending my money on a career that would pay off my student loans."
Penn tipped his head and considered me. "Did you pay your own way through school?"
I shrugged off the second question and only answered his first. "I studied hospitality. I'm applying to work at the Ritz-Carlton tomorrow."
"But you really want to sing," he said.
My laugh sounded hollow. "Singing's just for fun. And since I'm planning to live in a house like that someday, I'm going to stay focused on work."
He followed my gaze out the window to the mansion. "Did I mention there's a music room?" he asked. "It's one of my favorite rooms here. There's a whole wall of records. In fact, I bet we could find that song you sang tonight."
He headed towards the door, but I hesitated. I felt like a trespasser in that house, sure that each step would cause some catastrophe that would keep me in debt for the rest of my life. One careless elbow and I would owe his boss a priceless statue or antique vase.
"Unless you're tired," Penn said, but opened the door and held out his hand.
I took his challenge and let him lead me back into the luxurious glow of the mansion. He didn't stop on the first floor until the staircase. There, he glanced down at my high heels and said, "You can take those off and go barefoot if you'd rather."
I battled between being comfortable and being appropriately dressed in such elegant surroundings. My aching feet finally won out, and I slipped my shoes off. Penn plucked them from my hands and tossed them by the newel post. I cringed as their non-designer label was revealed, but he didn't notice. Instead, he held out his hand.
Our fingers laced together somewhere on the next flight of steps. I was stunned by how perfectly my hand fit in his, though I was terrified he could feel my jumping pulse.
Penn led me through the house, punching light switches and opening doors with a casual ease that I envied. He was never once stunned into silence by the priceless artwork or wide-eyed by the million-dollar furnishings.
Part of me wanted to play the part, pretend for a night that I was the rich person who owned such a lavish palace. I wanted to float through the rooms as if I owned them and take each expensive detail for granted.
Instead, I padded through the rooms barefoot and was barely able to keep my mouth from gaping open. The more I saw, the more a sure feeling took root in me. I didn't really belong in such a mansion, and the opulent surroundings weren't really what I wanted.
"And this is the music room," Penn announced. He tossed open the door and slapped on the lights.
A small dais stage complete with a microphone lit up like a beacon. "Does that ever get used?" I asked and pointed with a shaky hand.
"My boss loves to entertain, and he's usually got a little jazz combo or some fancy soloist performing here," Penn said. He caught my other hand, and the gold flecks warmed in his eyes. "Please tell me you want to try it out."
"Me? No. There's no music. I couldn't," I stammered.
Penn squeezed my fingers and pulled me across the room. He found a hidden switch, and an entire bookshelf moved to reveal a state-of-the-art sound system. "Any song you want. Just name it, and I can cue it up on this," he said.
I freed my fingers from his grasp before he felt the cold sweat that broke out on my palms. "Didn't you say there was a wall of…oh, there."
Penn grinned. "See the tablet on the wall? It's a catalog. Type in any album you can think of, and it will give you the precise location."
I smiled, relieved. "I always loved Billie Holiday."
He typed on the tablet and then pulled over a wooden ladder. Penn scaled the ladder with the ease of a practiced climber and pulled out the album. When he jumped back down next to me, he grinned again. "Did I mention that we can adjust the levels so you can sing along or sing by yourself with her band?"
I didn't want to admit that I was tempted. It would be too easy to lose myself in the joy of it. The glittering lights of the bridges and the dark, swirling glow of the waves in the bay were too stunning a backdrop. The acoustically perfect and lavishly comfortable room was too close to a dream come true. And the thought of singing for just Penn, just the two of us and the music, threatened to incinerate me where I stood.
"I know," he said with a snap of his fingers. "How about a little champagne, maybe a little snack from the kitchen? Maybe once you relax, I can plead for a song with better results."
"Your plan is to soften me up with champagne and snacks?" I resisted the urge to pinch myself and laughed out loud instead. "It's worth a shot."
Penn put the Billie Holiday album on and adjusted the levels so her voice was just barely audible. Then, he winked and took the stairs up two at a time. I circled the room and forced myself to take in every detail, but the small dais and microphone called me.
I had finally curved a hand around the microphone stand and joined in the chorus when Penn returned. He wasn't alone, and my shocked squeak reverberated through the room. "Your boss is Xavier Templeton!"
The multi-billionaire tech giant tugged at the crisp cuffs of his impeccable suit. I had seen his image on a dozen magazine covers and countless times online. Xavier Templeton owned Silicon Valley, and he was the one who made the future with the nod of his head. I gripped the microphone stand and prayed I didn't faint in front of the richest man I had ever met.
His handsome smile was just as perfect and shining as his dark, sculpted hair. He stepped into his music room and said, "Please, don't let me interrupt you. This is one of my favorite songs."