Climbing High (17 page)

“He phoned a couple of times to check on me for Jake, too. We didn’t talk long, but he managed to make me laugh. He cares a lot about Jake. He flew into Toronto to see him.” She pulled open the heavy glass door and waited for her mother to precede her into the posh silence of the spa. Attendants moved forward to greet them, and soon they were swaddled in terry robes and headed for the massage tables.

“Jake said it’s safe to talk here,” Sharon murmured in Siree’s ear. “Everyone has signed confidentiality agreements.”

So talk they did, lightly covering family and friends, upcoming events, gardening work and climbing. Raised to the world of diplomacy, they avoided the personal and intimate and absorbed each other’s pleasure in silence a great deal of the time.

With her skin glowing, her finger and toenails tipped with a scarlet colored polish named Vavaboom, Siree settled into the swivel chair, her wet hair wrapped in a terry turban.

“So just a blow dry?” Her stylist clacked his scissor blades and addressed her in English laden with a Cockney accent. “Cripes, luv,” he intoned when the shampoo girl unbraided Siree’s hair to wash it. “Wha you doin’ to yourself?” He combed his fingers into the hair at her temples and lifted it away from her head. “Brilliant mane, luv, but weakened under all that weigh’. It’d be a treat to cut it.”

“It is heavy,” she agreed, thinking of the pain in her neck by the end of the day. She stared into the mirror. The wet strands looked like a net entrapping her. She remembered how it had complicated the act of love, recalled other moments of inconvenience, pain, awkwardness because of its length. “Maybe it’s time to let it go,” she whispered to her reflection. The woman in the mirror spoke with a little girl’s inflection and terror shone in her eyes. “Mother?” she appealed to Sharon.

Sitting in the chair next to her, Sharon had taken in the conversation while appearing to pay attention to the stylist working with her. She held up her hand, signaling him to stop talking and met Siree’s eyes in the mirror.

“I think you’ll look stunning with shorter hair, darling. It will be so much easier for you to handle.”

“But Daddy told me never to cut it.”

Sharon shot out of her chair and wrapped her arms around her from behind. “Your father would never want you to be bound by something that caused you pain. Not your hair. Not your memories. He’d tell you it’s long past time to let them go.” She pressed her cheek to Siree’s then went back to her chair and resumed her conversation with her stylist.

“Yes, I’m going to let it go.” She lifted her chin into the air, squaring her shoulders. “What do you suggest?”

Sharon winked at her in the mirror and lifted her fingers in a victory salute.

****

Siree felt so light and free she twirled across the living area of the bungalow. “What do you think, Mom?” She raised her hands and twirled again. Her hair, lifted like a sun-drenched wave, then flowed over her shoulder blades in a bright froth of waves and spiral curls.

“Delightful, absolutely perfect on you.” Her mother, looking gorgeous in midnight blue chiffon, gestured for her to turn again.

She swirled around, delighting in the feel of her scarlet jersey dress flitting against the back of her thighs. Narrow straps held up the sweetheart bodice while the length of her legs appeared elongated by the flirty heeled sandals on her feet.

“Vavaboom indeed. I think our escorts will be suitably impressed.” Sharon looked like a canary that knew the cat couldn’t reach her.

“Escorts?” Siree inquired. “You’ve added players to the roster without telling me.”

“Just a little treat I cooked up earlier.” Sharon stopped to listen. Tires hissed over the cobbled driveway. “Here’s Samuel now. Will I do?” She turned in a smooth circle that flared her own skirt around slender legs, and showed off the figure of a much younger woman. “I don’t want to put you to shame.” Her grey eyes twinkled.

Siree’s laugh rang true. “Like that could ever happen,” she teased back. She tucked her arm through her mother’s and tugged her toward the door.

Sam, finger posed over the bell, looked up startled by their instant appearance.

“We’re ready.” She looked to see which of her mother’s many friends hovered in the background, only to meet Jake’s brilliant eyes. They raced over her face, down to her strappy sandals and back up to her face. By the time they trapped her gaze again, they had darkened with want.

“Jake.” Siree’s hands reached for him as she stepped forward. “What a wonderful surprise.”

At her words, the tension left his body and he reached to enfold her in a hug that just kept happening. Neither could step back from the pleasure of holding and being held.

“Sam persuaded me I had a fifty-fifty chance you’d want to see me.”

“I’m dying to see you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his ear and glorying in the shiver that ran the length of his body.

He tightened his arms for a brief second. His stifled groan wafted warm air against her temple before he pulled back to acknowledge her mother. “Sharon”—he cleared the husky note from his voice—“thanks for inviting me to join you. I’m really looking forward to this evening.”

Sharon moved across from where she and Sam had carried on a light-hearted conversation to give Jake and Siree their moment. “I thought you’d like to see the results of your philanthropy. Siree and I had the most delightful day. Thank you.”

“I’m glad. I don’t think I’ve ever had greater pleasure from making a donation.” The wicked gleam leapt back into his eyes. “Sam, we won’t have to pay for dinner, because these two ladies look good enough to eat.”

“And here I was looking forward to a good steak instead of Sharon on the half shell and fillet of Siree with wine sauce.” Sam turned to address Sharon again. “Shall we?”

They glided through the night in a stretch limousine. Glasses of vintage wine clinked together. Laughter flavored the evening. Four people in high spirits could create a lot of it. Conversation flowed from topic to topic, stimulating four fine minds.

Seated in the restaurant, Jake didn’t even try to take his eyes off Siree. He stared, too enraptured to care. She lit up the room, her hands moving in graceful gestures as she described one of the hotel managers she’d had to deal with in Curaçao. A born mimic, she had them hooting with laughter. Her foot grazed his calf under the table and he looked into golden eyes brimming with mischief. Her lips pursed in a silent kiss. Jake’s temperature rose another three degrees.

Sam jumped in with a tale of his own, and so the evening progressed, excellent food, exemplary service, and Siree taunting him with looks and touches that made the caveman in him hover dangerously close to the surface.

He wanted to drag her from the restaurant and bury his hands in her hair. He needed to feel the silken curls wind round his fingers, feel the heated weight of it near her scalp. He caught himself looking again and again at the difference it made in her carriage, and demeanor. She seemed to hover at an altitude all her own. Her hair had been about her guilt. Had she finally let go of both, or had something else caused this change in her?

When the tables around them emptied and the last of the wait staff hovered, Jake glanced at his watch and noted hours had passed in what felt like seconds. “I guess we better let these people close up and get home. They’ve had a long day.” He settled the bill as Siree and Sharon excused themselves to the powder room.

Sam stepped out the front door to beckon the limo forward and quickly stepped back in. “Sorry, Jake. I called this one wrong. There are a couple of your long time followers waiting out there.” His voiced hardened with anger. “God, man, don’t you ever get a break? I couldn’t do it.”

“And I’m not prepared to anymore,” Jake stated. “In the early years we had a symbiotic relationship that met both our needs. Now, they’ve become like vultures hovering over my relationship with Siree. I was half expecting to find it dead when I arrived. I’m relieved to know there isn’t a corpse for them to pick at, and I’m going to make sure there never is. For right now, I’m going to have to get her out the back way, before they—”

Siree and Sharon walked up to them.

“They?” Siree tilted her head and fixed him with a look that told him she’d guessed the answer.

“A couple of media hounds are camped out by the limo. I’ll call Thomas to bring it around to the back and take you out that way.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry about this, Siree, Sharon. You’re not safe with me in the picture.” He pulled out his phone and stepped across the foyer to make the call.

Siree watched him detach himself from them, struck again by how alone he looked. She cast a questioning glance at her mother, who nodded her head in rapport.

“Don’t bother, Jake. I’m happy to walk out the front on your arm. Let them do their worst. I’m not hiding anymore.”

Sam gave her a huge smile of approval and, bowing, offered Sharon his arm. “No more games.” He mimed raising a glass in a toast.

“No more games,” Siree echoed and raised her own invisible glass with Sharon following suit. She turned to Jake. He looked undecided for the first time since they’d met.

“This might not be a good idea,” he said. “The stalker will see the press coverage. I don’t want her threatening you.”

“It’s not your decision. I want to be with you, and I’m prepared to take the risk. You’ve done everything you can to protect me. But I’m responsible for my own choices.” Siree tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and tugged him toward the door. “Just keep the bodyguards close by,” she whispered.

He held back, his thoughts turning inward. When she tugged again, he placed his hand over hers. “Give me a second.” He brushed at his bottom lip then bracketed his mouth with his free hand, looking down at the floor.

Sam broke the stand off. “You said you weren’t going to let them feed off you anymore,” he reminded him.

Jake looked at Sharon, calmly standing beside the door. He remembered their conversation and her certainty Siree needed to conquer her fear of the press to live fully.

“Let’s do this,” Siree urged.

Jake lifted his phone and instructed the driver to pull up to the front door. With his hand on her elbow, he stepped onto the street and crossed the brief distance to the limo. Lights flashed, the two intrepid paparazzi rushed toward them yelling questions into the quiet street.

“Who’s the new lady in your life, Jake?”

He pressed forward, refusing to answer.

“Desiree McConnell,” Siree replied. “I know you guys seldom check your facts, but do check your spelling.”

He handed her into the limo, stepped back to help Sharon enter. Sam whacked him on the back. “So much for the vultures,” he hooted.

“Why don’t we go dancing?” Siree suggested the minute the limo pulled away from the curb. “Sam, you must know some good nightclubs.”

“I do, and would be happy to give the driver directions to the best, but I’m afraid I have to make it a night. I have a really early flight to Denver tomorrow.” He faked a yawn that didn’t fool anybody.

“I’m ready for bed, myself,” Sharon said, looking so energized she could dance all night. “Maybe you could drop us off, and Jake would be kind enough to take you dancing.” She looked at him.

Jake picked up his cue. “I’m too wired to sleep yet. I’d be happy to go clubbing.” Siree and Sharon were savvy enough to know the media would follow him, but neither brought up the subject and Siree didn’t ask him to make arrangements to protect her. He settled back, staring out the window into the dark night, his mind working the puzzle of Siree’s sudden change in attitude. Her slender body pressed against his side. Her light scent beckoned him closer. He inhaled the subtle note of green moss and fresh linen unique to her. He breathed it in like a talisman making all well. Just being in proximity to her through dinner had gone a long way to settling his restlessness. Now he had her all to himself for several more hours, her lithe body in his arms, her smiles and laughter just for him. He felt like a priceless treasure gleamed within his reach.

****

Siree ran the gambit of the paparazzi with the nonchalance of a pro. She tucked her hand into Jake’s arm, tilted her chin, and flashed him a smile as they moved at a fast pace from the limo to the club. He whisked her in the door and up to the maître d’, who led them to a discreetly-placed table at the back of those ringing the floor. She sank onto the padded bench while he ordered her a green apple martini and requested a double scotch for himself. She tugged playfully on his sleeve. “I really do want to dance, you know. It’s been ages since I had any fun.”

Jake caught her slender fingers and pressed them against his lips. His eyes met hers over their entwined hands. “If I let the other men in this club get a good look at you, I won’t see you for the rest of the night. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

“Well, I did want to look nice.”

“Nice?” His eyes lit with amusement. “You, in clinging red, go so far beyond nice. Other women can’t even get there.”

She tugged a tendril of her hair. “Well, tell me, what do you think about my hair?”

He hid his instinct to smile, surprised by the little girl insecurity in the amazing woman’s body. Her pupils expanded to absorb her irises and he knew his response mattered a lot.

“I can’t think when I look at you. My mind fills up with images of you naked, without a veil of hair keeping you from my sight and my hands.” He dropped his voice, the husky note becoming more prominent. The words fed his hunger. “Desiree, my heart’s desire, you are stunning with shorter hair. You appear liberated, bright and courageous and strong.”

“Thank you. I accept your fine compliment with pleasure.” She sat back while the waiter set their drinks in front of them and left. “But it doesn’t get you out of dancing with me.”

“There is only one thing I want to do more than dance with you.” He swallowed a mouthful of scotch, hoping the burn would give him some control. Holding Siree close in public would require every bit he had. He rose and came around the table to tug on her hand and lift her to her feet. “Another first for us,” he whispered in her ear, turning her into his arms.