The Hill (14 page)

London stepped into the room, tightening the sash on her pink terry-cloth robe, her damp hair streaming down her back. “Let me.”

She stood on her tiptoes between him and the mirror and took the bow tie from him as he tilted his chin toward the ceiling. The black band looped around her slim fingers as she tied it into a bow.

“There.” She patted her handiwork with two fingers.

“Thanks.” He tapped the base of her throat. “Shouldn't you be getting ready, or are you always fashionably late?”

“It doesn't take me long to get ready. I just need to dry my hair, put on makeup and slip into—” she waved her hand at a bag hanging on the door of her closet “—that.”

“I'll wait for you downstairs. Do you mind if I take a look at your father's computer?”

Her eyes flicked. “I actually brought it back to the office today. There's a top-notch safe in my father's office. Really, I won't be long. Have a drink or something. You might need it to get through tonight.”

Shrugging, he swept his jacket from the bed. “I might just do that.”

He draped the jacket over his arm and jogged downstairs, passing the spot where he'd taken her last night. He'd been crazy with desire and a need to possess her after exploring the unit next door. The thought of someone spying on her, watching her through that peephole, had driven him to march back over here and make her his own. As if making love to her could somehow put a force field of protection around her.

Then someone had started that fire.

He crossed over to the wet bar, lifted a few stoppers from some cut-crystal decanters and sniffed the contents. The stuff inside was probably more expensive than the container that held it. Just what he needed.

He picked up two tumblers from the shelf below and filled each one about half-full with the amber liquid from the fanciest decanter. He swirled the booze in his glass and took a sip.

The cognac felt like warm velvet against his tongue. He cupped it there for a second before swallowing it, savoring the smooth taste. His gaze wandered toward London's briefcase on the floor by the coffee table.

He'd thought she'd be gung ho about his suggestion of searching through her father's laptop. She should've left it here for him to take a look at it. He hadn't placed as much importance on the laptop as she had, and maybe she didn't want him to rain on her parade. He'd have to insist they look at it together.

A flash of green from across the room caught his attention, and his head jerked up. He clenched his jaw so it wouldn't fall open and make him look like the village idiot. Not much he could do about the erection he sported.

“You look amazing.”

She twirled for him, the skirt of the green mermaid dress flaring at her ankles and the flash of green light around her neck ricocheting across the walls.

“Are you going to be able to walk in that, or do I have to carry you around all night—not that I mind doing that?” He eyed the dress that fit tightly over her slim hips and down her thighs.

“There's lots of wiggle room.” She thrust her leg through a slit in the front of the dress.

He leveled a finger at the deep, plunging neckline that almost reached her belly button. “You'd better not wiggle too much.”

“Everything's firmly in place.”

She cupped her breasts through the silky material of the dress, giving him an even bigger reason not to step out from behind the wet bar.

“And what is that rock hanging between your...uh...assets, there?”

“This little bauble?” She slipped her finger along the chain and lifted the green stone surrounded by diamonds from her chest. “This is an emerald. It has some significance for tonight—a Russian prince gave this emerald to a prima ballerina. One of the ballet dancers tonight is reportedly a descendant of that Russian prince.”

“Are you going to give it back to him?”

“Ah, no.” She dropped the emerald back against her chest, where it could've cracked her breastbone.

“You're just going to dangle it in front of him?” He'd rather feast his eyes on the creamy breasts cradling the emerald than that cold stone.

Cold. He couldn't believe he'd once figured London Breck for a cold ice princess.

He cleared his throat and tapped the glass. “Cognac?”

“Drop a few ice cubes in there and I'll take a sip.” She tilted her head and her hair fanned out over one shoulder. “I thought you were strictly a beer man?”

“Did I say that?” He rolled the glass between his hands. “I prefer it, but hell, if I'm going to hobnob with the fabulously wealthy, I might as well drink like them. Where's the ice?”

“I'll get it from the freezer in the kitchen.”

“I'll get it.” He stepped around her with the glass in his hand and went into the kitchen. He stuck the cognac beneath the ice dispenser and pressed the lever. Two ice cubes splashed into the liquid and a few droplets hit his wrist.

He sucked it off and handed her the glass. He returned to the wet bar and raised his own. “Here's to getting some answers tonight—either at the soiree or after it.”

“I'll drink to that.” She tipped her tumbler toward him.

Before they could finish their drinks, a low buzzing sound came from her intercom. She pushed the button and the security guard's voice came through the box. “Ms. Breck, your car's here.”

“Thank you. We'll be right down.”

Judd said, “Too bad Theodore's not in the driver's seat tonight.”

“You got that right. I just hired a service.”

“Coat?” He jerked his thumb toward the closet in the foyer.

“I don't have anything that matches this. You'll just have to keep me warm.” She winked at him as she swept past him out the door.

Watching her swaying hips, he said, “It didn't stop you from pairing a sparkly black dress with a leather motorcycle jacket before.”

“I didn't have you to keep me warm then.”

The acrid smell from the fire still lingered in the hallway—a bleak reminder that he could keep London warm, but he'd better keep her safe.

The driver was waiting by the limo and jumped to open the door when he and London stepped onto the sidewalk.

London plucked up the skirt of her dress, fell onto the seat and shimmied to the middle.

Judd ducked into the car and joined her. “I think you'd be more comfortable in the water in that dress than on land.”

“I do look like a mermaid, don't I?” She smoothed the material across her lap.

“That was the first thing that came to my mind, except you'd lose that emerald in the ocean.”

She plucked it off her chest and cradled it in the palm of her hand. “It belonged to my mother. But let's not dwell on the past.”

“I like your past. It's colorful. It's you. Beats mine.”

She brushed the back of her hand across his cheek. “I can't imagine. Kids need stability. They need both of their parents.”

Her voice quavered in the darkness and he looked at her sharply. She didn't seem as though she would be overly fond of children in general. Did she pity the child he'd been?

He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. “Don't feel bad for me. My brothers were all right—not exactly a substitute for a mom and a dad, but Sean did the best he could. Eric, too. From all accounts, my old man was strict. With him around, I probably would've turned out completely different.”

“So you believe nurture has as much to do with our personalities as nature?”

“I guess so. Look at you.”

“Me?”

“You lost your mom at an early age. Maybe with a mother's influence, you wouldn't have been such a hell-raiser, but then, it could just be in your genes.” He tugged on a lock of her silky hair. He preferred it like this rather than up in some bun on top of her head.

“People can change.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know that, Ms. CEO.”

The limo rolled to a stop and seconds later, the driver opened the door for them. “Will you text your departure, Ms. Breck, or do you want me to be here at a specific time?”

“Plan for around midnight, but if you're not here, Mr. Brody will text you.”

Other limos and town cars jammed the street in front of the opera house, depositing passengers who glittered from head to toe with jewels.

Not one woman could compare with London.

She took his arm as they ascended the steps, more date than bodyguard. How would Roger react to his presence?

Her cousin Niles greeted them first at the top of the steps. “London, you've outdone yourself. That necklace is the perfect touch. Is that that Kaparov emerald?”

“It is.” She squeezed Judd's arm. “Niles knows my mother's jewelry better than I do.”

Did he know it and covet it?

“I don't know why you keep insisting on referring to those jewels as your mother's. She left them all to you when she died. They're yours, London.”

“Can we talk about this another time, like never?” She waved to a couple, her scowl morphing to a smile. “Are the dancers here yet?”

“I have no clue. I just arrived.” Niles arched a brow. “Do you enjoy the ballet, Judd?”

“No.”

Niles put one hand into the pocket of his jacket and tipped his nose in the air. “I'm going to mingle. You kids have fun.”

As they watched him walk away, Judd leaned close to London's ear. “He knows way too much about your family business.”

“That's because he's family.”

He nodded toward Wade with a pretty African-American woman. “Does your brother know as much?”

“No. He's on the business side of things only. Dad didn't include him in the personal details of our lives. His existence was a source of pain for my mother.”

“Does he resent that?”

“I doubt it.” She tugged on his sleeve. “Come on. I'll introduce you to his wife, Stephanie. She's his polar opposite.”

“Hi, Wade. Stephanie, I'm glad you could get away from the kids.”

Stephanie smiled and winked at Judd. “You make it sound as if they're holding me captive or something.”

Wade nodded curtly at Judd, but Stephanie grasped Judd's hand with both of hers. “Are you going to introduce me to your date, London?”

“This is Judd Brody. Judd, Stephanie Vickers.”

Wade rested hand on his wife's shoulder. “I told you, Steph, Mr. Brody is London's bodyguard.”

Stephanie's eyes widened. “You never told me London's bodyguard was Judd Brody. I've been following your family's story recently, Judd. Can I call you Judd?”

“Sure.”

London leaned in toward her brother. “While we're on the subject, did Dad ever mention Joseph Brody to you, Wade?”

That was one way to get it out in the open. Judd studied Wade's face, but it showed nothing but indifference.

“No.” His fingers curled into Stephanie's shoulder. “Steph, we need to say hello to Adam Cantor and his wife.”

“If you say so.” She kissed London's cheek. “Nice to see you, London, and that dress is fabulous.”

“They seem mismatched,” Judd said after they moved away.

“Oh, I don't know. It's a case of opposites attracting. She makes him more human.”

“And what does he do for her?”

“He's stable, a good provider. He offers her a lifestyle where she can stay home with their kids. That's important to her.”

Judd narrowed his eyes and peered across the crowded lobby. “Looks like my friend got another gig.”

“Who do you mean?” She waved and smiled at a few more clusters of people.

“My friend Rick. He's the one who was supposed to be working for Bunny that night.” He raised his hand. “He's over there.”

“Do you want to talk to him? There are a few rounds I need to make.”

“Go ahead. You're staying in this area, right?”

“Yes. I see the dancers by the stairs. I'm going to talk to them.”

He watched her join the group of dancers, who were already in costume. Great, he'd have to sit through dancers tiptoeing across the stage.

He shouldered his way through the throng of people to reach Rick and thrust out his hand. “So Bunny gave you another chance, or is it someone else tonight?”

“I'm looking after Bunny.” Rick whistled. “I saw your arm candy tonight. Seems like you made out like a bandit.”

“London Breck? I'm doing some personal security for her.”

“I wouldn't mind doing a little personal security for her.” Rick wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Guess it all worked out for the best.”

“What did?”

Bright red suffused Rick's face. “I sort of tricked you, dude.”

“Tricked me? What the hell are you talking about?”

“That night I was supposed to work for Bunny? I hadn't really double booked. I got a strange call from a lady the day before the gig.”

“Have you been hitting the open bar? What are you talking about?” Judd's heart had started to thump hard, rattling his rib cage.

“Look, man, I wouldn't have done it, but it was a lady asking, so I didn't see any harm. If I sensed any danger, I never would've done it.”

“Rick, dude, would you just spit it out? What are you talking about?”

“The day before that Breck benefit, a lady called me. She said she was a friend of London Breck's and she wanted you two to meet. The whole thing was a setup.”

 

Chapter Thirteen

The blood was thundering against his temples, and his vision blurred. “She wanted me and London to meet?”

“That's what she told me, just a little fun. She offered me money if I would give up the job for Bunny to you.”

“You did that?” Judd's hands curled into fists.

“Dude, she offered me a lot of money, and I didn't see the harm in it.”

“Really?” Judd had taken a step closer to Rick and loomed over him. “What if it was a setup? What if someone wanted me there to take me out?”

“It was a lady, dude.”

“Who was it? What was her name?”

“I don't know. She didn't tell me and we never met. Once I cleared the gig with you and let her know, she left an envelope of cash in my mailbox. End of story.”

It was far from the end of the story. Their meeting hadn't been fate, but it had been someone's plan.

“I can't believe you did that, Rick. You compromised my safety.”

“Dude—” his gaze tripped over Judd's shoulder “—I think I did you a favor.”

Judd could smell London's perfume before she tapped him on the shoulder. “Is this your friend?”

“London, this is Rick Jacobs. Rick, London Breck.”

They shook hands. “Good to meet you, London. If this surly SOB ever gets on your nerves, I'm available 24/7.”

“But Rick is a careless SOB.”

London drew her brows over her nose and looked from him to Rick. “What does that mean?”

“Rick gave up his job with Bunny to me because someone paid him to do so.”

“Dude!”

“Really?” London grabbed Rick's hands. “I knew it was all connected.”

Rick's eyebrows disappeared in his shock of dishwater-blond hair. “Now I'm confused.”

“Good. You deserve to be confused for pulling a stunt like that. Do you have this woman's number?”

“I can probably get it off my cell unless I deleted it. I figured since I didn't hear about your untimely demise at that benefit, she was on the up-and-up.” He saluted at Bunny across the room. “I have to get back to work, but I'll find you later and we'll go through my phone.”

When the crowd swallowed up Rick, London turned to Judd. “We're more connected than we realized.”

“Maybe what our ex-con has to tell me tonight about my father will shed some light on your situation.”

“I know it will.” Her green eyes sparkled as brilliantly as that emerald around her neck.

His stomach clenched. She wanted in on the meeting tonight and he hadn't figured out yet how he planned to dissuade her, other than tying her up. “London.”

She put her finger to her lips. “Listen. The orchestra is tuning up. I'm going to watch the performance. Maybe Rick can check his phone while they're playing.”

She slipped away through the crowd, a flash of green darting among a sea of black.

Judd scanned the people moving toward the staircases and elevators like a herd of cows—very well-dressed cows. He spotted Bunny with enough jewels dripping from her small frame to topple her over sideways. His gaze shifted to Rick hovering behind her.

If Judd had to hazard a guess, he'd bet that Bunny had a greater interest in keeping attractive young men at her beck and call than she did in protecting the wealth of jewelry she sported around her wrists and neck and hanging from her earlobes.

He caught Rick's eye and jerked his thumb toward one of the bars set up in the lobby.

Rick ducked his head and whispered into Bunny's ear. She patted his hand and took the arm of an older gentleman heading into the elevator.

The mass of people had thinned, and Judd strode to the bar and ordered a club soda just as Rick joined him.

“Make that two.” Rick pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “I'm guessing you want that number about now. Do not identify yourself or tell her I told you anything. The money she gave me was supposed to ensure my silence.”

“You made an unethical decision by accepting that money.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to the pop princess and Saudi princes you get to accompany to Hawaii and the French Riviera. Some of us P.I.s are working stiffs who don't get the jobs you do, Brody.”

“I am a working stiff.”

“Yeah, that's why you're here tonight at this gala.”

“As a bodyguard, just like you.”

Rick snorted. “Yeah, right. I wish my clients hung on to me the way London Breck hangs on to you—well, if my clients were London Breck.”

Judd slammed his glass on the bar. “Just get that number.”

Rick skimmed his thumb up and down his phone's display. “Let's see. That would've been almost a week ago, the day before the benefit at the hotel. I got it.”

“You're sure? It's a real number, not blocked?”

“I think this is it.” He held the phone in Judd's face.

Judd whispered the number several times, and then turned to the woman sipping a pink cocktail next to him. “Ma'am, can I borrow your phone to make a quick call? My battery's dead.”

“Of course.” She placed her drink on the bar and slipped her hand into her evening bag, pulling out her phone.

When he reached for it, she pulled it back. “I hope you're not calling a friend like—” her gaze roamed up and down his body “—you. My husband is very jealous and likes to check the numbers on my cell.”

“I'm calling a woman. It shouldn't cause you any problems.” Hell, her husband might've hired him to spy on her in the past.

She dropped the phone in his hand and retrieved her drink, taking a careful sip from the wide rim.

Judd closed his eyes for a few seconds to recall the number and then tapped it into the woman's phone. It rang four times before an answering machine picked up. “Hello. You've reached Bay Realtors, the San Francisco Realtor for all your real estate needs. Our office is closed, but if you'd like to leave a message, please do so at the tone. If you are calling about one of our listings, please leave the address of the property and the name of the Realtor. Thank you and have a great San Francisco Bay day.”

When the tone beeped, Judd swallowed and ended the call.

“Well?” Rick took a swig of his water.

“It's a Realtor's office, no individual name. The person who called you could've borrowed a phone there, or could be a customer. Not a lot of help.”

“I tried, dude.”

Judd slid the cell phone next to the woman's cocktail glass on the bar. “Thank you.”

She fluttered her eyelashes. “No problem. Not a fan of ballet?”

“Not really.”

“Me, either.” She adjusted the bodice of her halter dress, where a diamond almost the size of London's emerald glittered between her ample bosoms. “There's a quiet little alcove downstairs where we could get to know each other better and discuss our mutual dislike of the ballet.”

“No, thank you, ma'am.” He pushed away from the bar, ignoring Rick's smirk. “I'm working tonight.”

She called after him, “You can work for me anytime.”

“Haven't lost the old Brody magnetism.” Rick punched Judd's shoulder and whistled between his teeth. “That one's ripe for the picking.”

“That one's trouble.”

“Never stopped you before.”

A few hot retorts sprang to his lips, but he swallowed them. Rick had it right. Courting trouble had never stopped him before—before meeting London. Of course, London represented a whole other level of trouble.

He and Rick parked outside the doors to the orchestra level, where he could hear the music swell and fall. A burst of applause erupted and an attendant flung open the doors.

“Short intermission. Do you want to take a seat now?”

“No, thanks.” Judd spotted London's gleaming head bobbing as she talked to several people crowded around her. He'd let her do her thing and tell her about the call when she could break away.

As if sensing his scrutiny, she glanced up and met his eyes. She must've read something in his face because she started to shuffle down her row of seats.

Rick clapped him on the back. “Duty calls. I'll catch up with you later.”

As Rick melted into the crowd, Judd turned to watch London's approach. She could barely move three feet without someone stopping her to say a word or two, touching her arm, giving her a hug.

She drew people to her. They gravitated toward her as if to bask in her light, but they didn't stand in awe of her. They acted so familiar with her. Each and every one saw her as a friend, a confidante. She had the knack of making a person feel important, noticed.

Interpersonal skills like that didn't belong in a boardroom, behind a desk. Couldn't she see that she had something so much more important than a head for business?

When she reached him, she hooked her arm in his. “Sorry that took so long. All those people knew my father. I hadn't seen most of them since the memorial service and funeral.”

She tapped his glass of club soda. “Is that water? I could use one of those.”

“It's club soda. Hold it for me and I'll get you one.” Once he'd gotten her drink, he turned back, but he could barely see her through the clutch of people hovering around her, including her cousin and Richard Taylor.

He hung back. They couldn't discuss business with all those folks listening in.

“I heard you were working for London.”

Judd jerked his head toward the man to his left, who looked familiar to him. A former client? “And you are?”

“I'm sorry. I thought you would've recognized me since we met once or twice.” The man's dark eyes assessed Judd as he stuck out his hand. “I'm Captain Les Williams. I work with your brother Sean.”

Judd transferred London's glass to his left hand and gripped the captain's hand. “Good to meet you.”

“Do you know when Sean is returning? We need him—damned good detective. Runs in the family.”

“I don't know when Sean's coming back.”

The crowd around London had thinned, and she was signaling to him. “If you'll excuse me.”

“Of course. Who wouldn't rather be talking to that young lady?”

Judd hadn't even reached her side, and she broke away from the few remaining people in the group, including her cousin, who glared at him.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him into a corner. “Did Rick still have the number on his phone?”

“He did and I called it.”

Her eyes widened as she squeezed his hand. “And?”

“It went to a real estate office—Bay Realtors. Just a generic message, no specific agent.” He handed her the glass. “Your club soda.”

“Oh.” She wrapped her hand around the glass and gave him his. “It could be anyone—a client, a Realtor's friend, even a stranger.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

She tossed her head, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “But we can always look up the office and visit it in person, ask around.”

“We could do that.” He jerked his thumb toward the opera house, where the orchestra was striking up a few chords. “Another round?”

“It's very brief. Did you get something to eat yet?”

“There's food?” His stomach rumbled at the thought.

“I thought the caterer was going to start setting up during the first performance. You should check downstairs and eat something before the hordes descend. Nothing more frightening than a bunch of rich people stampeding for free food.”

He traced his finger around the rock resting against the smooth skin of her chest. “You act like you're not one of them.”

“Oh, I'm one of them. The trick is not acting like one of them.” She dropped her long lashes over her eyes, handed the glass back to him after one sip and grabbed the arm of a passing octogenarian. “Oscar, so glad you could come out tonight. I hope you plan to leave a big check before you leave.”

The old man chuckled and patted London's hip. “Only if you sit with me, dear.”

Judd shook his head, downed his drink and then hers. Then he jogged downstairs to get first dibs on the food.

Through the next dance performance, Judd did justice to the free food and nursed another club soda. London hadn't been kidding about the stampede. The line for the fancy grub snaked downstairs from the lobby of the opera house to the restaurant on the floor below. He watched London as she barely took a bite of food, weaving through the lines, smiling and glad-handing. She'd probably raised a half a mil for the arts in the past half hour alone.

Turning his wrist, he checked his watch—fifteen minutes to showtime. Maybe he could sneak out of here for the meeting while London continued her fund-raising.

“Are you sure you're doing your job, Brody?”

Judd turned slowly and shifted his gaze down slightly to meet the cold eyes of Richard Taylor.

“London and I can't be joined at the hip at a function like this. I'm keeping my eye on her...sir.”

“Joined at the hip.” He stroked his chin. “That's an interesting image. It's a common one, but when is any one of us really ever joined to the hip of another?”

“Sir?” Judd's brows collided over his nose. What the hell was this reptilian SOB going on about?

“I actually wasn't referring to this event, Brody. I heard about the fire on London's floor last night.”

Judd set his jaw and stared at Taylor without blinking. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking him how he knew about the fire. Besides, he needed to get rid of him.

Taylor blinked and glanced down. “I know people in the building.”

Judd still didn't make a response or move a muscle.

Taylor coughed. “Just want to make sure London's okay. Unlike some, I applauded her decision to hire a...bodyguard.”

“Enjoying yourself, Richard?” London stepped between them as if sensing the tension. “Where's Roger tonight?”

“A little under the weather.” He held up his index finger and clicked his tongue. “You could deliver the cure if you accepted his marriage proposal.”