CHAPTER FOUR
hesitated over the intercom switch. My father's house was a marvel of engineering and a showcase for modern interior design, but the open floor plan allowed noise to filter up from every room. Especially when Corsica and I were the only ones home.
Just thinking her name took my mind on a bumpy detour full of deep ruts. Mostly how extremely attractive I found her. Corsica was neither too firm nor too voluptuous, but there was something about her that I found entirely irresistible. Sure, the envious gleam in her eyes as we toured the house was turn-off, but I decided to withhold judgment. I'd withhold it until the image of her in that curve-clinging black dress, singing out the sultry lyrics of an old song lost its tight grip on my system.
Thinking about the effect Corsica's voice had on me, I punched the intercom button and only felt partially bad for eavesdropping.
She was already humming as she looked through the vast wall of album choices. For most people, humming was a nervous habit, but there was nothing anxious in her breathy sounds. There was the occasional gasp as she ran across rare and mint condition albums that rarely saw the light of day. I even caught a long, awe-filled whistle when she found the section of autographed album covers.
As she muttered the famous names under her breath, I kept myself busying putting together a tray of tempting snacks. If I was going to ask Corsica to spend the night and ensure my father was not able to strong arm me into whatever scheme he had, then I was going to need to show her a good time.
I bit my cheek and debated over caviar or salmon pate. Corsica had shown herself to be the kind of woman that longed for expensive and exclusive things. I had overheard that it was her dream to work at the Ritz-Carlton just so she could brush arms with the wealthy, but I wasn't sure how thick I could lay it on. I chose the fresh salmon pate my father's personal chef had whipped up that afternoon.
As I searched for normal crackers instead of the hand-baked flatbread on the counter, I felt the disgust creeping back into my thoughts. This was the world I had grown up in and it was hard to realize just how easily I slipped back into it. I gritted my teeth and looked out over the panoramic view. There was plenty of world out there that did not rotate around money, and I needed to get back to as soon as possible.
It didn't matter what my father had to say. His worried and stern voicemails, plus the few and vague answers my mother had given me, had drawn me in, but I could not stay. I was becoming surer and surer this was just another trick of my father's to try to hook me back into his empire.
I needed to get back to the open air as soon as possible and Corsica was my way out. My father would never discuss anything serious in front of her, so all I had to do was ask her to stay with me.
I open and shut a half dozen cupboards with no thought to the noise. In minutes, the tray was full of reasonably decadent food plus a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. I picked up the tray, turned towards the door, and almost dropped everything.
Her voice touched me like a live wire, and I felt her singing through my body as if I were electrified. Corsica's velvet voice immediately conjured the memory of her on the small stage, silver microphone in hand. At the nightclub, I had noticed how the hem of her skirt rode higher with each cadence of her lovely voice. It was as if Corsica's voice allowed her to finally enjoy her sexy body. Her long, lean calves flashed as she danced to the music, the neckline of her dress dipping as she rocked low over the chorus.
I wanted to abandon the tray and run downstairs just to get a glimpse of her.
The beep of the security monitor killed my mouth-watering anticipation. Someone was driving through the gates of the mansion and that meant only a short list of possibilities. The only people to know the gate code were my father's driver, Tom, myself, and my father's small personal staff. I glanced at the monitor and swore out loud. My father's impossibly tall driver unfolded himself from the driver's seat and loped around the car to open the passenger door.
"Can't even open the car door at his own house in the middle of the night," I muttered through gritted teeth.
I set the tray down in a prominent position on the kitchen island and waited for my father to find me. I saw his polished shoes descending the stairs first, then his tailored suit, his perfect, double-Windsor knotted tie, and his clean-shaven jaw. There was a flurry of silver hair over his temples that I had never seen before, but other than that, my father was still the same, imposing figure he had always been.
Even drunk and raving, my father had looked impeccable. It was one of the things I hated most about the man.
Xavier Templeton's eyes flickered up from his phone just long enough to catch the impression that I was in the kitchen. "Penn, I'm so glad you came. Here, let me look at you."
I frowned as my father tucked away his phone and locked his eyes on mine. I didn't trust this new approach of his and figured sensitivity had to be the newest business tactic. Xavier Templeton was all about tactics: inspiration, intimidation, and stonewalling were his normal M.O. and the change made me uncomfortable.
"I thought you said you weren't going to make it tonight."
"This is important," Xavier said. He strode into the kitchen as if preparing to address a board of directors, but it was just me, the silver tray, and the bottle of champagne. "I see you had no trouble adjusting your plans. Or is this a spur of the moment thing? She, whomever she may be, might like the Beluga more."
I bristled as he eyed the two champagne flutes. My father, of all people, had no right to advise me on romance. "Not spur of the moment, just private. We weren't expecting you."
My father pounced. "You're in a relationship?"
"Why is that so shocking?" I snapped.
"Only because it doesn't happen that often, and I've never been so lucky as to meet one of your women."
I picked up the silver tray just to stop both hands from curling into fists. "Well, tonight's not your lucky night. We were just finishing our little tour of how the rich and despotic live. We'll be in the garage apartment. Maybe we can talk in the morning. Maybe."
"You mean you're taking this poor girl to the carriage house?" Xavier laughed at the ludicrous idea. "You really expect your girlfriend to see all of this and settle for that little attic? I'll invite her to stay and she can have her choice of guest suites."
He beat me to the stairs, and my knuckles went white trying to resist the urge to throw the tray down after him. Not only had I made more out of my connection to Corsica than was true, but I knew exactly what would happen when she met my father. All women swooned over Xavier Templeton, but with Corsica's social climbing drive, she would turn into a drooling mess.
"Is she singing?" my father whispered at the door to the music room. "My God, her voice really ignites the blood."
I scowled, but said nothing. I thought the silver hair fanning out at my father's temples was the only change I would see, but now there was something different in his face. Something faraway and wistful. My father had never wanted for anything, so to see that expression in his eyes was enough to steal my voice.
Then he stepped into the music room.
"Wait, she doesn't-"
"Please, don't let me interrupt you. This is one of my favorite songs."
Corsica's laugh had the same lusty tone of her singing voice until I walked in and she realized the situation. "I'm sorry," she said. "I really didn't mean to trespass, sir. I'll just be on my… Oh, my, God, you're Xavier Templeton!"
She dropped the microphone and clapped both hands over her mouth. My father chuckled and held out a hand to her. I dropped the silver tray onto a side table with a crash and cut him off.
"She's right. We'll get out of your way, boss," I said.
My father politely declined to move and held out his hand to Corsica. "Yes, I am Xavier Templeton. And, who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"
"Corsica Allen," she said. "I read the interview you did for The Guardian and I'm impressed with the holistic view you have of technology."
My jaw dropped, and Corsica's chin went up a notch when she noticed. She shook my father's hand and allowed him to escort her to the white, leather seats by the window. There was nothing I could do but watch. He had always been the picture of gallantry and, while Corsica's reaction to him had been one of the more coherent I had seen, she blushed at his attention.
"I truly believe technology can better our lives, but only if it benefits all," my father said. "When tools are kept out of the hands of some, we as a people miss out on incredible talent. Like yours."
"Mine?"
"You were singing one of my favorite songs and now I will never prefer the old rendition."
I cleared my throat and joined them to lay a hand on Corsica's shoulder. "It's late, and we really should be heading up," I said.
My father shook his head and winked at Corsica. "He's always so secretive. I never get to meet any of the women he's dating, much less the special ones."
Corsica's blush deepened and for a moment, I was caught by the storm of flattery and confusion in her eyes. Then her sky blue gaze cleared and she said, "I'm sure he did not intend for us to meet. You must have high standards for your staff, and I wouldn't want you to think he bent the rules for me."
"Rules?" my father glanced up at me. "The last time I disciplined Penn for an infraction of the rules he must have been-"
"Trying to get fired," I snapped.
Corsica jumped to her feet, her face a mask of worry. "Why would you do that?" she squeaked. "You work for the most innovative and forward-thinking man in Silicon Valley. It would be crazy to throw that away."
If only she knew how much I had thrown away, I thought.
My father measured me with an arched eyebrow. "Penn, unfortunately, has the supreme confidence that he is irreplaceable. It often mars his manners."
He knew. Xavier knew I had lied to Corsica about our connection. He also knew he held the balance of the room in his hand. Corsica thought I was nothing but his employee, perhaps nothing more than a groundskeeper, and I was certain my father weighed out what that information was worth as he strolled casually across the music room floor.
Then, to my shock, he sat down at the piano and played a few flawless bars of the song Corsica had been singing. "Penn, pop that champagne before I fire you. Now, dear Corsica, how about a song? Even trade: I get to hear your heavenly voice, and you can ask me anything about my wayward employee here."
She shook her head, and I thanked her shyness. Now all I had to do was maneuver her away from my father before his charm boosted her confidence. I was caught between two lies, and it was more important that Corsica was on my side than it was for her to know I was a Templeton.
"We'll let you warm up," I told my father.
I steered Corsica towards the silver tray where we could have a moment of whispered conversation.
"You work for Xavier Templeton," she leaned close to me so he wouldn't hear us. "And, you didn't that was important enough to mention?"
"No. We have an, um, contentious business arrangement. Long story." I took a deep breath and dove in. "The vital part of the story is that he now thinks we're a couple. Is there any way you could just go with that and save me?"
Corsica's blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "I don't know," she sighed as I popped the champagne cork. "You're really not my type. No one's going to believe it."
I shoved a full champagne flute into her hand. "Pretty please?"
She took the glass with one hand as the other trailed up my arm and squeezed my shoulder. "Well, since you asked so nicely, darling."
My stomach was still kicking from the electricity of her touch when I turned to my father. "One for you?"
"No, thank you."
Then, Corsica slipped her arm around my waist and I lost the ability to think straight.
My father smiled at us. "I know I am terribly out of practice," he said, his fingers still dancing over the ivory keys, "but I'm still hoping to tempt another song out of you."
Corsica gave a breathy giggle and took a sip of her champagne. "Your playing is beautiful. I never learned to play piano."
The tinkling music stopped. "You never learned piano? But you have such perfect pitch."
She shook her head. "Shameless flattery. My mother pushed for piano lessons when I was young, but my father thought it was a waste of time."
"A shame," Xavier said. "Children should be encouraged to follow their talents."
I snorted. My father had never once encouraged me to pursue my passions or my talents. If my interests didn't align with the vision of his future empire, then he made certain they were cut off.
Xavier cut off my slip-up with a dramatic crescendo. Corsica forgot my strange reaction and smiled at my father's impressive piano playing. She moved in to lean against the side of the baby grand piano.
I took a few steps back and felt a heavy weight drop into my chest. I never knew my father could play piano. My last memories of him were as a weaving snake of a drunk that could strike at any moment. He had shown no interest in the piano other than a convenient resting place for his always full drink.
As I stood there watching my father charm Corsica with his nimble playing, the weight in my chest turned to resentment. Everything was effortless for Xavier Templeton. The only thing he had ever failed at was having a family, and now that was swept so far under the rug that no one would ever connect us.
I moved forward and snagged Corsica's tight waist. "I'm sure my boss has an early morning meeting. I know he's a charming host, but we should be going."
"Did you know he could play like that?" Corsica asked.
"No," I said more forcefully than I intended. "I had no idea he could play the piano, and you would think that would be something that he would have shared with me."
Her delicate eyebrows knitted together. "Sorry, I guess it is silly to think he'd share that with an employee."
"Corsica, why don't you indulge me just a moment more and tell me how you and Penn met? I find I'm becoming quite the romantic in my old age," Xavier said.
"We ran into each other at a dance club, then I heard her sing, and the rest is history," I barked over Corsica's head at my father.
Xavier looked hurt. "Not a very romantic telling, but it must have been because you two look very good together."
"And all you care about are appearances, isn't that right?"
My father flashed a tactical smile. "You're right, son, appearances make a difference. See, I employ him because he badgers me like the son I never had. It's good. It keeps me real."
I wrapped one hand into a tight fist. My father might have saved me from revealing my origins to Corsica, but that would not make me beholden to him. "Real is relative. He taught me that," I said.
Corsica leaned nervously from foot to foot, then finished her glass of champagne. "How about a song?" she asked to clear the tension.
My father grinned. "Wonderful! I may be rusty, but you can name any song and I'll do my best."
I drank from the champagne flute I was holding to hide my irritation. Then, the first lilting notes poured from Corsica's lips. I was frozen with the champagne fizz tickling my nose, but her voice was hypnotic. Despite the late hour and the strange, opulent setting, her voice flowed with ease.
She was different when she sang. Gone was the perfectly groomed image, the poise, and the eager to advance set to her chin. Corsica sang from somewhere deep inside and the notes drew out the version of herself that she kept hidden.
I set the crystal flute down with a shaky hand. I was not accustomed to wishful thinking. I knew that love was a farce, a contract of mutual benefit, but when Corsica sang, even my own thoughts were drowned out.
My father, for his part, accompanied her beautifully. For a moment, I was almost able to forget who he was and what I had seen him do. For just a moment, I saw a true, easy joy on his face and the weight in my chest shifted.
Maybe he had changed. Maybe some epiphany had hit or the remorse of older age, but for a second, I was filled with the wild hope that my father had summoned me to town to reconcile.
Then the song ended and I felt the cold quiet of his trophy home seep back into me. Only Corsica's radiant smile kept my feelings from hardening again. She smiled so shyly as my father and I clapped, then she applauded him for his playing.
"That was wonderful. Thank you," Corsica said. She trailed a hand lovingly along the curve of the piano. "Now I really wish I had pushed harder for those piano lessons."
"Well…" my father began in what I knew was his negotiating tone.
"Well, that was shocking, amazing, and it's late enough that for a moment there, I thought I was dreaming," I said. "We'll get out of your way and let you get some sleep."
My father stood up and buttoned his tailored suit coat despite being in his own home. "Yes, I understand it's late, but, Penn, I would like to have a word with you in private."
I snaked my arm around Corsica's waist. "No need to bother tonight on my account. Meeting in the morning will be just fine."
"It's important, Penn," Xavier said.
I nuzzled Corsica's neck and whispered into her hair. "Please, save me. Don't let tonight end on a sour note."
"Why?" she whispered back. "Because you think he has every right to fire you for your behavior?"
"Pretty please," I kissed the side of her neck.
Corsica shivered and leaned into me. "Well, since you asked so nicely… It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Templeton."
"Please, feel free to call me Xavier," my father said.
"Goodnight, Xavier. Thank you for your hospitality."
My father caught my arm as Corsica and I walked towards the door. True to her word, she pretended not to see the grip he had on my bicep. She snuggled her head against my chest and sighed dreamily.
Xavier gazed at her soft, honeyed hair against my shirt and sighed himself. "First thing in the morning, we need to talk," he said. "And, Penn. Don't take that for granted. It's worth more than you know."
His words chafed at me all the way up the steps and out the front doors of the mansion. Corsica eased up her protective hold on me, and I felt the chill of the bay breeze as we crossed the driveway. I wanted to pull her back against me, feel her warmth and comfort, but I resisted. The worst part was that my father was right. I was taking advantage of Corsica, but her comfort suddenly far outweighed avoiding my father.
I ran up the steps to the garage apartment ahead of her. It gave me just enough time to fight my conscience. I wanted her to stay; I almost needed her to spend the night. The only problem was she deserved more. Corsica deserved a man who would charm her, lavish gifts on her, and tell her how he felt. Those were things I had never managed to do, even if I wanted to.
"You don't have to stay," I said as I opened the apartment door. "I can call a cab or my driver and they'll be here in five minutes. I understand if this all seems a little too crazy."
"What kind of savior would I be if I let your boss fire you in the morning?" Corsica asked. She laid a hand on my chest as she slipped by me into the darkened apartment.
"I know, I know, he's a charming guy. Next to him, I look and sound like an ungrateful Neanderthal."
Corsica squinted at me as I turned on the soft glow of a lamp. "I don't know, maybe in the right light you could look a little bit like Mr. Templeton. Though, you could be hiding any number of things under that beard."
"I'll have you know my beard is very well maintained and I've never had a woman complain. In fact, lots of women like the feel of it."
Corsica tipped her head and gave my beard a doubtful glance. "I don't know, I guess it looks soft. What does the rest of you do while your beard is charming women?"
I laughed. "Obviously repelling them with my sub-par conversation."
Corsica followed me to the bedroom and lingered in the hallway as I flipped on the lights for her. When I stepped back into the hallway, we bumped into each other and got caught in the doorframe.
"The sheets are fresh, there's an en suite bathroom through that door, and extra blankets in the closet if you get cold."
"Your beard won't be keeping me warm?" She put both hands on my chest as we both eased out of the tight doorway.
I caught one hand and kissed the back of it. "Thank you for saving me. Goodnight."
It wasn't until I flipped off the living room lights and settled down on the couch that I realized she had been hitting on me. She had wanted me to keep her warm. After everything, after seeing me in direct contrast to Xavier Templeton, Corsica still wanted me.
The effect was more than warming. I tossed off my blanket and sat up to punch my pillows. I leaned forward and glanced down the hallway just in time to see Corsica's light turn off. If it had stayed on just seconds longer, I would have found a reason to walk back down that hallway. Now, in the dark, all I could do was toss and turn all night thinking about what I had missed.
CHAPTER FIVE
hesitated to open my eyes. If I woke up in Santa Cruz, in the small apartment that Ginny and I rented together, I would be crushed. The views I had seen last night of golden lights across the shimmering San Francisco Bay could have been a dream. And, a dream was the only explanation for meeting Xavier Templeton and singing while he accompanied me on piano.
I squeezed my eyes shut and thought back to what had really happened. I met Penn. He was tall, dark, bushy-bearded, and tattooed. And handsome.
I didn't want to admit it, but Penn attracted me with a magnetism I had never felt before. I should have been repelled, but instead, I had been drawn into his arms more times than I could count. I buried my blushing face in the soft pillow and remembered throwing myself at him.
He'd been nothing but polite, and I had misread the entire situation—except for when he lied and let his employer think we'd been dating for a while.
My eyes popped open. Why would Penn do that unless he actually felt something for me?
I felt a wave of dizziness crash over me as I sat up. I hadn't dreamt up the views or the mansion.
What I hadn't seen last night and now blinked at in shock was the garage apartment. It was a simple A-frame loft with a wall of windows dedicated to the bay views. The master bedroom shared a section of that window. The ceiling sloped down to a clever built-in closet. Everything was custom-framed redwood. The apartment exuded elegant simplicity. It must have cost a fortune.
This was where Penn lived?
I scrambled out of bed and realized the simple but high-quality furnishings all spoke to Penn's rugged, outdoors style. Every book on the custom-made shelves, every photograph on the wood-paneled walls, and every treasure displayed spoke of adventure, minimalism, and rebellion against the opulent luxury that resided directly across the driveway.
Standing in Penn's apartment, I felt an affinity for the man I hardly knew. I knew I had expensive taste, but I wanted to earn everything for myself. The only problem was the sudden stone wall that stood between me and the job I had so carefully planned to have.
There was definitely an uncompromising way about Penn and I wished I could be the same. I wanted to sing and settle for nothing less than the joy it brought me, but I had a dwindling bank account to consider.
Just a quick cup of coffee, I'll leave, and I'll send that resume over for Joshua to edit, I promised myself.
Last night hadn't been a dream, but I had to treat it like one. Now that it was morning, it was time to get back to real life. With my shoulders squared, I dragged on my little black dress, smoothed it down as best I could, and wandered into the main room.
I half-expected Penn to be gone to an early morning meeting with his employer, so when I spotted him still sprawled out on the couch, I froze. My heart thumped hard in my chest, and I pressed a hand against it, worried that my galloping pulse would wake him. How was it possible for him to look better in the bright sunlight?
I had been certain that by the sober light of day, I would be horrified. The magnetic attraction had to be a heady mix of alcohol and rebellion. The night before, in a fit of childish refusal, I had ignored my ex-boyfriend's practical suggestions and purposefully made a bad choice. Just for fun; just to get it out of my system. Except the effect had not worn off; it had grown stronger.
Penn's long, strong legs dangled over the end of the couch. The blanket was tangled around his waist and revealed the hard contours of his washboard stomach and wide chest. One muscled arm was thrown carelessly over his head, and I could not help but study the intricate tattoos that covered his tan skin. They continued up his arm to encase his shoulder and reach heavily designed tendrils over his chest. Where the tattoos ended, a mat of dark hair began.
The thought of running my hands over his chest hair and feeling the taut strength of him sent a bolt of heat straight through me.
Shock knocked me back a step, and I hit the light switch on the wall. Penn blinked under the sudden glare and sat up. His dark, wavy hair was more rumpled than last night, but it didn't detract from the chiseled features of his face. Not even the beard could hide his wide, sensuous lips or the square, masculine line of his jaw. I remembered those lips whispering against my neck, asking me to save him, and my whole body shivered with pleasure.
Then his dark eyes caught on me, and I lost my breath completely.
"Good morning," Penn said. "I thought maybe I had dreamed you up."
My laugh started as a nervous squeak. "Sorry to wake you up. I'll get out of your way."
"No, no, the least I can do is make you coffee." He stood up, oblivious to his near-naked state. "You saved me from a one-on-one conversation with my, ah, my employer. Now that I think about it, you deserve breakfast, too."
I tore my gaze from him and turned sharply towards the kitchen. "I make a killer omelet," I stammered.
Penn nodded and gave his belly a sleepy scratch. Then, he blinked and changed directions. "That sounds good. I'll be right back. Could you put the kettle on?"
I nodded and couldn't clear my throat until he was behind the closed door of the bathroom. I hadn't even turned on the stove and my body was already flooded with heat. I had to pull myself together.
I opened the refrigerator and was surprised to find it well stocked. I grabbed the eggs and refused to think about the tan width of Penn's naked shoulders.
"What's that you're singing?" Penn asked. He had pulled on a clean T-shirt, but was still barefoot.
"I was singing? Oh, um, just something I made up, I guess."
His dark eyes locked on mine, and I saw the golden flecks in the morning light. "Must be nice to have talent. You know, I could really see you making it as a singer. You've got the talent and the looks. Now you just need the passion."
I'm drowning in passion, I thought and gave my head a rueful shake. "I can't," I said. "I have to work."
Penn smiled. "I bet becoming a singer is work. Hard work. Is that what you're afraid of?"
"I love hard work," I snapped. He still saw me as a feckless girl who would choose easy, instant gratification. "I plan to work for everything I want."
"Good." He brushed by me to plug in an expensive coffee grinder. "I bet you could start at a few open mic nights, get a little buzz going, and then try out for a few bands. In San Francisco, it can't be hard to find a jazz trio that's looking for a frontwoman like you. You'll join up with the right combo and be the toast of the town, everyone falling at your feet while you carry on a steamy, music-inspired affair with the bassist."
His speculation trailed off as he punched the grind button harder than needed.
When he was done, I laughed. "I didn't know it was all so easy."
He shrugged. "It's not, but you find a way. You're already a step ahead of everyone else because you know what your talent is. You don't have to hope for it or search for it."
"Did you?"
He tugged at his beard. "I was raised to do one thing and when I broke away from that, it took me a long time to find the right direction. I was like you, thinking I needed to do what was practical first."
"That seems like the right decision if it got you here," I said.
Penn's eyes hardened into unfathomable agates. "This isn't what I want."
I shook my head. "Easy to say when you have it."
He tossed tablespoons of fresh coffee grounds into a French press and poured the hot water. Even though the process took a delicate touch, I could see the restrained anger in his movements. He wrenched open a kitchen cabinet, pulled out two fancy coffee mugs, and clattered them onto the counter.
I glanced towards the door. "Your omelet's ready. Thanks for the coffee, but I'm going to have to run."
"No, sorry, I'm just annoyed with myself," Penn said.
"It's okay. I've got to jump online and revamp my resume, get everything ready to apply to this big job. I really shouldn't be dragging my feet like this."
Penn scowled, but it was at his ringing phone instead of me. "Please, just don't rush off. I have to take this. There's a laptop in that drawer if you want to work over breakfast."
The relief I felt at hearing his words bowled me over. He wanted me to stay.
I took my coffee cup, careful not to slosh any, and sat down in one of the high stools on the other side of the kitchen island. Penn answered his phone and handed me the laptop with his free hand.
"Yes, I'm still here. No, it's not a good time."
I opened up my email, found my old resume, and pretended to pore over it as Penn talked. It was clearly his boss, but I still didn't understand the sharp, opposing tone he took every time they talked directly. I wondered if maybe Penn was a prodigy that Xavier Templeton had saved from some free-range, survivalist life.
"Maybe next time you won't cancel at the last minute and still expect me to show up," Penn snapped. He hung up the phone and slid it away across the granite kitchen island.
"Um, I think your computer needs an update. I can't download my resume," I said.
His dark eyebrows furrowed together. "Sure, go ahead. Do whatever you need to."
"You don't want to do it?"
He shook his head and devoured his omelet while casting irritated glances out the window at the mansion. "I'm glad you stayed for breakfast," he said.
I studied him from under my lashes as I ran the updates software on his laptop. Clearly, Penn was no technology prodigy. The administrative password had been 1234. What on earth did he do for Xavier Templeton?
"Are you really in such a hurry to get a job at a hotel?" Penn asked.
I jumped and had to gather my thoughts. "No. I mean, yes. It's not just any hotel—it's the Ritz-Carlton. It's a huge opportunity that could set the whole trajectory for my career."
"And, you have to start right away?" Penn studied me over the edge of his coffee cup.
"Well, the job doesn't actually start until September and the applications deadline is open until the end of this month."
"So, your friend was right? You could take the summer off?" Penn set down his cup and leaned on the kitchen island. "Why not spend the summer doing something you love before you settle for the practical choice?"
The probing warmth of his dark-brown eyes made me squirm in my seat. "Why do you care what I do with my summer?"
He stood up with a baffled laugh. "I don't know. I like this. I like you."
"You think I'm a silly college graduate who's chasing pretty, shiny things and knows nothing about the real world or regrets," I snapped.
"Is that what you think people see when they look at you?"
Tears stung my eyes. "I know about regrets."
Penn caught my hand and kissed the back of it. "I'm an ass. I went about this all wrong. All I was trying to say is that, if you want, you can have this apartment rent-free for the summer. You can stay and try out singing; do whatever you want."
"I couldn't do that." I shook my head and then jumped as a figure appeared in the apartment door.
Xavier Templeton met my surprised gaze with a quiet look. "I think you owe it to that voice I heard last night to take Penn up on his offer."
I tipped my chin up. "I can make my own way. I pay my rent."
"Never turn down the right generosity," Xavier said. "It almost always becomes a regret. And, again, I agree with Penn. Why not spend the summer making sure you don't have any regrets?"
My chin slipped. When he phrased it that way, the whole thing made more sense. I would be able to concentrate more fully on my career once I had spent a little time clearing my head.
"It's too generous." I gestured to the view of the Golden Gate Bridge. "I can't stay here."
"I tried," Xavier said. He sauntered into the living room and took a seat on the longer, leather couch. "The rest is up to you, son."
"Don't call me that," Penn snapped. "Excuse me."
I pretended not to listen as I texted my dilemma to Ginny. There were strange undercurrents in the room, but I wanted to take the rent-free deal at face value. Ginny always knew if something was crazy good or just plain crazy.
Penn stalked across the room to confront his employer. "I told you that now wasn't a good time."
"There is never going to be a good time for this," Xavier said. "How about we let Corsica make a few phone calls while we get this out of the way?"
Penn looked at me and I saw his meaning clear as day. Save me, he mouthed.
I set down my phone and stood just as the screen lit up. Ginny's answer was easy to read: Yes, yes, yes!
I didn't stop to think, I just trotted across the room and threw myself into Penn's arms. His dark eyes went wide, but he caught me with a surprised smile.
"Thank you!" I squealed and kissed him full on the mouth.
Once I was there, suspended in his arms with my lips pressed against his, I lingered longer than needed. Xavier was hiding a smile as he politely appreciated the view out the windows. Penn, on the other hand, regarded me with a lax-mouthed look of shock.
"I knew under that cynical bachelor exterior, you were really a knight in shining armor. This is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me, Penn." I winked theatrically at him, and his mouth popped shut.
A gleam warmed Penn's eyes as he dragged me back against him. "I'm still feeling pretty cynical. Could you do that again?" he asked.
My eyes shifted nervously to Xavier Templeton, but it was too late. Penn erased my worried frown with a melting kiss. I gasped against his mouth as my knees wobbled and I had to cling to his rock hard arms. His dark eyes fluttered open then closed as he deepened the kiss.
When he pulled back, I was limp in his arms. "There might be something to this romance thing, after all," Penn said with a smile.
That grin was enough to get me back on my feet with a sharp stomp to the arch of his foot. "Stop being rude to Mr. Templeton," I hissed.
Xavier cleared his throat. "As encouraging as I'm finding all of this, I'd really like to tell you some important news."
Penn caught me and tucked me under his arm where I had no choice but to contour to the side of his hard body. My mind was still reeling from the memory of his kiss while my body almost purred at the pleasure of being against him. I didn't hear Penn's smart-ass comments, but I felt Xavier's news like an earthquake.
"Your mother is very ill. Stage-three breast cancer. She did not want me to burden you with this, but, as she is now refusing traditional treatment, I need you to talk to her about it."
Penn's weight shifted against me, and I wrapped my arms around his waist for support. His beard brushed my cheek as his jaw worked, but no sound came out. Xavier stood up and moved towards us, but Penn reeled back. I steadied him as best I could and squeezed him tight.
He brushed a shaken hand down my bare arm. "You're lying. Why didn't she tell me? How long have you known?"
I felt the emotions raging through him. He was angry and directed it at his employer. Somewhere in there, a bond of trust had been broken. Then, Penn was hit by hurt and betrayal. His mother had not trusted him enough to tell him.
"Almost two years last March," Xavier said.
"She's okay; she's still alive. She's got a chance," I whispered.
Penn looked down and eased his weight off my shoulder.
I refused to unhook my arms from his waist. "None of that matters now. Just help her find her best chance at surviving it," I said.
Xavier stepped closer and reached out a hand, but Penn didn't see. He kept his dark brown eyes pinned on me. "I'm so glad you're here. I'm sorry you're here."
I held his look, even as tears swam in my eyes. "I'm glad I'm here, too."
Xavier checked his watch, and Penn pounced on the gesture. "Somewhere else you need to be?" he snapped.
"I still want to talk to you, Penn, but that's a different conversation," Xavier said. "For now, all I can say is I'm sorry. I'll send you all the details. You should really call your mother."
The two men measured each other with a long look. I released my arms from around Penn's waist and tried to slip away. His large hand flexed on my shoulder to hold me in place. I studied the polished hardwood floor, not sure I could stand the pain I was seeing in both their eyes. Whomever Penn's mother was, she was very important to them both.
"I'll call her, but you know she won't listen to me." Penn's voice was graveled with pain.
Xavier slashed a hand through the empty air. "Her and her voodoo, new-age bullshit."
"It's more than that and you know it," Penn snapped. "You never understood her or even tried to hear her point of view. Not everyone in the world bows down to your technology."
"Are you saying you want her to continue to refuse the best care money and technology can provide?"
"No," Penn said. "I want her to beat this by any means necessary. Wait. You've been talking to her for almost two years?"
"And in all that time, I couldn't get her to see reason." Xavier brushed a hand over his perfectly gelled hair. "I couldn't even convince her to tell you."
Penn scoffed. "This is all a lie. She wouldn't reach out to you. You, of all people, don't deserve to be a part of her life."
A flash of pain brightened Xavier's dark eyes. "She reached out to me, and I am doing the best I can."
"Well, you don't need to do anymore." Penn stiffened as Xavier's phone began to buzz. "Go ahead, take it. This conversation is over anyway."
"Are you sure?" I asked as Penn spun away. He left me stumbling for balance before I followed him across the room to the wall of windows. "Don't you think he can help?"
"I think he can go to hell," Penn spat out.
His vehemence stopped me in my tracks. I had far overstepped my bounds. I should have left as soon as I heard the private nature of the conversation. My heart bled for Penn, but it was a private matter, so I turned to leave.
Penn ground his teeth. "I know, I know. I need to work with him on this. It's just not that easy. I'm sorry you got stuck in the middle of this."
I looked back and found myself at his side again. "I know how hard it is to hear a family member has cancer. You just have to hold out hope. Some people really do beat it."
"You don't know my mother." Penn gave a strangled laugh before continuing, "Then again, if anyone could beat cancer on their own, it would be my mother."
"She's really opposed to modern medicine?" I couldn't help but ask after what I had overheard, even as I inched towards the door.
"And very stubborn." Penn caught up to me in one stride. "Wait, please don't go. I meant what I said about you staying here rent-free this summer. You'll have the place to yourself. It's the least I can do for putting you through this whole drama."
I shook my head. "I can be stubborn, too, and I have got to say no. You have a lot going on and the last thing you need is a stranger in your way."
Penn smiled and caught my hand. "But you're not a stranger, remember? You're my girlfriend."
My stomach did a dizzy flip as I shook my head again. "If I was your girlfriend, I'd be more of a comfort and less of a distraction."
He took my hand and pulled it around his waist until I was tucked under his arm again. Then, he brushed back my hair and whispered, "But you are a comfort. And, there's lots to be said for distractions during a time of duress. Please, please distract me."
His pleading ignited my insides, and I found myself pressing tighter against his body. We fit together seamlessly from my thighs to where my breasts gave against the hard muscles of his chest. When I arched my back to look up into his face, Penn's lips dipped down. The kiss was gentle, exploring, but it set off an explosion of desire.
He must have felt it, too, because he pierced me with a fierce look before he swept down and claimed me in another searing kiss. Then, he groaned. "Please stay, just one more night?"
I knew instantly that I would regret it, but I nodded anyway. "I'll stay tonight," I whispered.
Xavier finished his phone call and cleared his throat. Penn and I drew back from each other, but he kept me tight against his side. "I need you here so I don't kill him," Penn muttered.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, I berated myself. Penn was in the midst of a crisis. I couldn't be getting all fluttery or weak in the knees over anything he said to me. He probably had no idea what he was saying and when everything settled, he would wonder why I was still hanging around.
I need to get out of here, I thought.
As if Ginny read my mind, she appeared in the doorway of the apartment. "Hello? Sorry to interrupt, but I was just dropping off Corsica's stuff."
"Stuff?" Xavier Templeton asked.
Ginny noticed him and lost the ability to speak.
"My luggage," I said. "Apparently she approves of my change of plans."
Xavier nodded and took my old leather duffel from Ginny. "Good, then you're already packed. We'll leave for Monterey shortly after one o-clock and be there to catch Alice at dinner."
"Alice? Dinner? Monterey?" I stammered.
Penn let go of me and glared at Xavier. "And where exactly do you plan to stay in Monterey?" Then Penn turned to me and explained. "My mother's name is Alice Brightwater, she lives a short drive from Monterey."