The Very Thought of You (16 page)

“Do you play poker?”

“Excuse me?” He put his free hand on his knee and leaned forward.

“Do you play cards?”

“Not too often.” Occasionally, he played gin rummy with his father. He took a sip of his drink and his lips puckered. Apparently, he was in a sugar-free zone. An organic garden probably flourished behind the house as well.

“That's the reason Molly's late this morning. She overslept. We had one heck of a poker game here last night. It didn't break up until midnight. Molly was the big winner. She cleaned my daughter and me out.”

Yeah, he already knew she was pretty skillful at relieving people of their money. “How much did she win?”

“Plenty. The last pot had a buck forty in it. She won it with a straight flush. Drew an inside card, too.”

“That was luck.” Chunky ice cubes, the kind produced by metal trays, filled his glass. His hand began to freeze. He looked around for a place to set down his drink.

“Partly luck. It also took some skill.”

No wonder Molly was so good at stonewalling. What was she, some sort of card shark? He did a quick recalculation on how long it might take him to lure her away from his tenants and onto his team. Did he have that much time?

“Of course, she snagged three of the four wild cards. When that happens, no one else has a chance.”

Wild cards.
He smiled.

“Hi, Nick.”

Molly stood in the open doorway and held a cellophane-wrapped food basket cradled in her arms. Her hair fluffed out from her head in a mass of soft, copper curls. She wore a yellow, orange, and white flowered sundress with narrow shoulder straps and red buttons down the front. Her toenails were painted the same cherry red that matched the shade on her lips and fingernails. It showed off well with her flat-heeled sandals. The little white jacket she carried didn't seem like it would do much to keep her warm two hundred feet above the ground. Maybe if she shivered from the chill, she'd let him hold her in his arms. Then maybe he'd get lucky and find out if her lipstick tasted like cherries. Just imagining it signaled an anatomical wakeup call.
Jeez, and in front of the aunt. What the hell am I thinking?

“Hello, Molly.”

He had only one chance to haul himself out of the sofa or come across like an incompetent ass. It occurred to him to knock off a few candles and park his drink on the coffee table. Instead, he flexed his leg muscles, tightened his grip on the glass, and put enough energy into his movement to propel himself up and out of the beast's embrace.

Molly stepped into the room.

“Very good.” She grinned. “You didn't spill a drop. It takes most people at least three tries to spring up out of that thing.”

“It's all in the legs.” He tried not to sound smug as if he performed an Olympic feat.

A few steps brought him close enough to touch her, which he had the sense not to do. She smelled faintly of apricots. He breathed in the scent. Then he remembered he was supposed to be a gentleman and not out to seduce her.

“Here, let me hold that.” He took the food basket out of her arms.

Her aunt stood up with no trouble, but then he figured she had years of practice extricating herself from the furniture. As she relieved him of his glass, she gave her niece a tiny nod. Molly frowned. He assumed all the facial maneuvering had something to do with him.

“My aunt's a bit eccentric,” Molly said once they reached the sidewalk.

“Yeah, I noticed. It doesn't seem to have rubbed off on you, though. Or maybe you have your own crystal ball.”

“That's only for show.”

Nick put his hand on her lower back and started to steer her toward his car. “And the hookah?”

“Oh, that. She claims she hasn't smoked anything illegal since the Summer of Love.” Molly looked out at the street in both directions. Then she spotted the N MAN 1 license plate. “Where's the limo?”

“I canceled it. I hope you don't mind.” Nick fished his car keys out of his pocket.

“Not in the least. I'm not into limos. Actually, I don't go in for most kinds of formal stuff.”

“Yeah, neither do I. I didn't think you did, either. So I took a chance.” He popped the trunk and set the food basket inside.

Once in the car with the motor running and the cool air flowing, he turned toward her. “I'm pretty casual. So we have at least two things in common.”

“Two?” She hadn't thought they had
anything
in common.

He put his hand on the edge of her seat back. “The other is something I'm not allowed to mention.”

“Wha … ” Then she got it. “Oh. You mean the ten … But we're on opposite sides.”

“Not really.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Well … ” He paused and then shook his head. “No, we made a deal. I had to remind myself all morning not to head there. I woke up a few times last night and wondered if I'd be a few thousand dollars poorer at the end of the day.” He shrugged.

“It was on your mind all night?”

“Along with one or two other things that were a lot more pleasant.”

“It's not worth losing sleep over.” He did seem a bit less animated than usual. “I mean, if you should happen to sort of unconsciously mention … you know what … well, I don't want you to spend the whole day worrying.”
Especially since I intend to somehow find a way to mention my own you know what.

“No, I made the rule. As far as I'm concerned, it's ironclad.” He twirled a few strands of her hair around his finger. “Sometimes I wonder if any of the other stuff is worth it, though.”

“Other stuff?” His thumb touched her earlobe, and she felt a pleasant buzz slide all the way down her body and into her toes. “What other stuff?”

“Hey, we're out for fun.” He smoothed the lock of hair behind her ear. “So let's get on with it. We're liable to hit traffic heading toward the bridge.” He put on his sunglasses — the Sexiest Man Alive ones — and pulled the car away from the curb. “If you'd like, I'll answer your question later.”

“Well, sure. I suppose. I do have another one, though.” Here came the perfect opportunity to grill him. Sooner than she'd hoped.

“Shoot.”

“Do you think there's any further interest in … ah … building on our block in SoMa?” She was careful not to mention right away her suspicion the interest might come from him.

“I think it's possible. No, probable. It's a prime target for urban renewal. Someone's bound to put together the necessary financing.”

“Like … who?”

He shrugged.

She angled her body so she half faced him. “Like you, for instance?”

“When I finish my condos and sell them … wait a minute, I'm not allowed to mention anything about the … you know.”

“I'll give you a one-time dispensation.”

He laughed. “Okay, I might have … ”

“Might have what?”

“Some interest, but it depends … wait a minute. I think I used up my dispensation.”

“I can't lose the clinic.” Molly's worry and frustration poured out in her tone. Right now, she didn't care about rules or penalties for breaking them.

“It shouldn't be too hard to relocate down there in SoMa.”

“Any street would be impossible. We don't pay rent.”

“Sweet.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

He gave her a quick glance. “You're in tight with the mayor. Maybe he could help you out. I read plans are afoot to clean up Sixth Street. I'm sure the clinic would be a welcome addition. You can write another grant. Anyway, let's put all this on hold for now. I thought we already agreed on that.” His full attention shifted to the road as he wiggled through traffic.

Oh, he was interested all right. The way he cut her off proved it. He was a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to make it happen. Molly's shoulders slumped.

The usual sea of autos met them as they headed into Golden Gate Park. Sunlight bounced off the shiny black hood of Nick's car, and Molly fished her sunglasses out of her shoulder bag. Then she settled back against her seat. The balmy weather brought out the walkers, and people had already set up picnics on the lawns and tables in the park meadows. Dogs ran loose. Kids chased Frisbees while bicyclists clogged some of the paths. It was a glorious San Francisco day. Since there weren't all that many of them, she put her concerns on hold and made up her mind to enjoy the next few hours. She glanced out the side window. It seemed there were more than the usual number of joggers. Maybe that was how Nick kept in such good shape. Some people went to extremes running up and down the steepest hills in the city.

“Do you jog?”

“I never got into jogging.” He glanced at her then turned his attention back to the road. “Do you?”

“No. I tried it a few times. It's too much like punishment.”

“That's how I see it.”

Hmm. More common ground?

“How do you keep in shape?” Maybe he lifted weights or did karate. Or kickboxing. That could come in handy if he had to defend himself against Duncan Serk.

“I eat junk food.”

“Stop.” The way his jeans fit him left little to the imagination. No bulges anywhere except where her eyes had no business to stray.

“No, I'm serious. I eat it all the time.”

She screwed up her mouth and scrunched her eyebrows then threw him one of her “don't try to kid me” expressions, but he watched the road ahead. If he ate junk food, could that mean he didn't have a steady girlfriend? Of course, a lot of women these days didn't hang out in the kitchen. There were all the times every month she brought home a dinner salad or something hot and already prepared from Whole Foods. If
she
dated him, she'd cook up enough of a storm to put a sizeable dent in the supermarket chain's pre-cooked food profits.

“I eat mostly take out. I know a place in the Mission that makes the best enchiladas this side of Tijuana. If you request it, they'll pile on extra cheese.”

Extra cheese.
She thought about the food basket in the trunk of the car. She'd picked it up the previous afternoon from the caterers. Some of the food it contained seemed far from ordinary, such as smoked eel. Would anything that exotic appeal to a man who thrilled to a cheesy enchilada? She was pretty sure the caterers hadn't included anything with a south-of-the-border taste. She hoped that wouldn't be a problem.

They passed through the Presidio, the former army base, then onto the Golden Gate Bridge. Crowds of pedestrians, some with cameras dangling around their necks, some pushing baby carriages, thronged the walkway along with bicycle riders and roller skaters. The bridge was probably the hottest tourist attraction in San Francisco, but locals took advantage of it, too. Walking the span was something Molly often talked about but never earnestly pursued. Dozens of sailboats dotted the bay and circled Alcatraz Island. The sun was a golden splash on a pale blue canvas. She looked forward to the balloon ride and the picnic later with Nick.

“I owned a boat once. Well, a tenth of a boat. I chipped in with a bunch of other guys. It was right after I graduated from college.”

“You went in with nine others? How big was the boat?”

“Not too big. I didn't have the time to use it enough. I sold my share a couple of years later.”

“What made you go in on it?”

“We all thought it would be a great way to attract women. It worked for a few of the guys.” He shrugged.

What a waste of money.
He could have invested in a skateboard and, with that body and those looks, gotten the same results. Maybe he'd arrived at the same conclusion.

Traffic thinned as they passed through Marin County and onto the two lanes that headed toward Napa. Neat rows of grapevines covered the gently rolling hills and stretched for miles. Tiny silver streamers anchored amid the vines, meant to discourage the birds from eating the grapes, fluttered in the breeze. The valley was one of Molly's favorite places. Only about an hour north of San Francisco, it lured locals as well as tourists for wine tasting, shopping, and fine dining. She didn't know of any restaurants in the area where you could order an enchilada with extra cheese, though.

She glanced over at Nick. “When's the last time you were up here?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Really? Yet you bid on the balloon ride. You must like it here. I mean, to come back so soon.”

“I own a house in Napa.”

“Oh.” That took big bucks. “I thought only movie stars and tech wizards could afford this area.” Her tone said,
Explain that!

“Well, for now it's only part of a house.”

“Don't tell me. You're partners in it with nine other guys.”

He laughed. “No, I'm the only one who'll live there, eventually. I hope.”

Talk about ways to reel in women. A house anywhere in the Napa Valley would draw them like mosquitoes to standing water.

“Why did you refer to it as being only part of a house?”

“It's nowhere near finished. There's not much more than a roof and four walls. I've barely made a dent inside.”

“It sounds like you're building it by yourself.”

“I work on it every chance I get, but not often enough.” He glanced at her, then brought his concentration back to the highway. “Maybe I could show it to you later if there's time. It's really the spectacular view that makes it special.”

“I'd love to see it.” She wondered if the offer was spontaneous or part of some master plan he'd hatched during his sleepless night. Maybe it coincided with whatever had prompted him to bid on the package. At the moment she didn't much care.

Nick followed the directions on a posted sign and turned onto a narrow dirt road. It ended at a field where a yellow and red striped balloon floated above a passenger basket. Two other couples were already onboard. He parked the car under a shade tree.