Chapter 4

Simon Yeager’s office appealed to the sensualist in Jackson. The satin-smooth high-gloss cherry suite was as much a pleasure to touch as it was to look at. There was a matching liquor cabinet against one wall, graced with frosted etched glass doors, and on the floor a sumptuous Persian rug pulled the gorgeous room together. If that wasn’t enough to delight Jack’s senses, the aroma of the fine leather chairs mingling deliciously with the bouquet of the splendid Cognac warming in his palm capped it.

They kicked back and talked shop, though it was clear these were two men who knew how to appreciate a quiet moment.

A knock on the door drew their attention. It opened slightly, and a stunning woman peeked in.

“Hope I’m not disturbing anything,” she said, her playful smile a wonder to behold.

Yeager waved her in, and both men came to their feet. “Not at all, I’ve been expecting you.”

She came around the door, and Jack’s shoulders went back and his spine lengthened as he tried hard not to stare, but she was, without question, the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered.

“Jackson Murphy, I’d like you to meet my sister, Genevieve Fraser. Gen, Jack.”

She shook Jack’s hand warmly. “Jackson, a pleasure.”

“Genevieve.” He smiled back.

She eyed him appreciatively, her hand lingering in his longer than necessary. He wasn’t complaining.

“Jackson heads our news department,” Yeager told her as she finally withdrew her hand.

“Is that right?” she said, her voice a sexy purr.

Jackson couldn’t get over how exquisite her face was. She should be modeling, especially with that height. Though she was a bit thin and angular for his tastes, she was exactly the type designers had in mind when they dressed women.

Yeager turned to Jack. “Genevieve runs the Meridian Gallery in Soho.”

Jackson’s eyebrows went up. “No kidding.”

“I enjoy it.”

“You know,” Yeager said, “Tomorrow’s Gen’s last night in town, but I have—”

Jackson took the hint and raised his hand. “Say no more. I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more than having such a charming dinner companion,” he said smoothly.

Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. “Then I guess it’s settled. You can pick me up at the Highland Marriott at eight. I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“So am I.”

Yeager drew his coat off the back of his chair and Jackson made his excuses, leaving just ahead of them.

****

Sabrina parked her car at the curb and locked it. Taking a deep breath, she stared despondently at the house looming in front of her. She recalled how much she’d looked forward to living here in the beginning. Fool.

After the last kleptomaniac roommate, it was going to be a pleasure to have a space all to herself. No more toting her toiletries in and out of the bathroom. She could finally use the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator as intended instead of locking her food in a metal cabinet in her bedroom and then locking the bedroom door. Who would have thought even those steps wouldn’t cut it?

How many times had she come home to find her bedroom door wide open and another pair of shoes or a favorite piece of clothing missing? How much jewelry had disappeared from her dresser?

Her roommate was shameless. Taunting her, perfectly aware that the last thing Sabrina wanted to do was go into a nuclear meltdown. In the end, she’d quietly moved out, taking the losses as a lesson learned, and run to this, a sixty-year-old house with its upper apartment and the landlady from hell.

Plodding miserably up the winding sidewalk, she paused when the metal storm door squeaked open and a bushy gray head poked out. Mrs. Starkey looked at Sabrina as if she was picking up a nasty odor in the air. Sabrina could hear Muffin growling, no doubt frothing, too, from behind her landlady’s leg as she fought to keep the rabid poodle back.

“Mrs. Starkey,” Sabrina said tonelessly. The time for pleasantries was long over, and now it was straight acknowledgement and that was it.

“You threw away your recyclables again and didn’t lock down the lid on the garbage can this morning.”

The woman somehow managed to drain all the energy right out of her. Sabrina swayed with exhaustion. What next?

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh.

Mrs. Starkey scowled. “Muffin got into it, poor thing, and I don’t know how much he ate before I was able to pull the plastic bread bag out of his mouth. Do you realize he could have choked to death or, God forbid, suffocated?”

Only if there really were a God, thought Sabrina bitterly. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Miss Eckhart, I don’t think this is working out.”

“And you’d like me to find another place.”

“As soon as possible.”

“I’ll be out at the end of the month.”

“Thank you.”

The door closed abruptly and the front light went off, leaving Sabrina standing in the dark. Muffin remained behind the door, growling and scratching in frustration, robbed of the opportunity to draw more blood.

Sabrina sighed again and wandered around the house to the outside staircase that led up to her crappy hovel.

She stepped directly into the ugly kitchen and tossed her purse onto the little Formica table in the corner.

This was for the best. It really was. Mrs. Starkey wouldn’t be able to bitch her out if her showers ran longer than six minutes. (The woman timed her every morning.) She wouldn’t have to watch television with headphones on because the noise upset precious Muffin downstairs, and she wouldn’t have to apologize if she got phone calls after eight p.m. There’d be nothing to stop her from having people over at the next place, if she could get it looking okay, unlike here where Mrs. Starkey made everyone feel unwelcome, even her renter.

Sabrina’s purse rang and she raced for it, grabbing her phone before she heard the angry tapping of the broom handle against the ceiling downstairs.

“Hello?”

It was her sister-in-law Toni. “Tomorrow night, Botticelli’s, eight-fifteen. Be there or be square.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Why so late?”

“Best we could do by the time Numb Nuts decided where he wanted to go for his birthday. You’re going to be there, right? We have a reservation for seven of us, unless you’re planning to bring a date. You’re not, are you?”

Sabrina leaned against the counter and snorted pathetically. “Right. My brothers would make that so comfortable.”

“That’s what I figured. So tomorrow, then. Dress nice.”

“Don’t I always?”

“No comment.”

“Bitch.”

There was a laugh. “Love you too.”

****

Just after noon on Wednesday Tanya walked into Sabrina’s office carrying a hot steak sandwich and an extra plate. She set them on the desk.

“What’s this?” Sabrina asked, looking at it.

“Lunch. Some doctor ordered it, then got called away by an emergency.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“We’re splitting it.” Tanya picked up the steak knife and cut the sandwich in half, sliding one end onto the spare plate and shifting some of the fries.

“Not too many.” Sabrina tensed. “I’ve got a big dinner tonight and I don’t need all the extra calories.”

“What you don’t eat I will,” said Tanya, sitting down and laying a napkin primly on her lap.

Sabrina did the same and pulled a plate toward her. Picking up the sandwich, she took a bite and moaned in ecstasy. “Oh this is good,” she said, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Only a woman who isn’t getting sex on a regular basis could look like that over a fricking sandwich,” said Tanya.

“I like good food.”

“It’s a substitution and you know it.”

“Why do all our conversations lately have to revert to my love life?”

“Hello,” Tanya sang out, “because you don’t have a love life.”

Sabrina bit a fry and frowned. “That’s the least of my concerns of late.”

“Well I think you should blow off your brother’s birthday dinner tonight and hang around for The Dating Game. Nate showed me some of his questions, and I guarantee you it’s going to be a riot.”

“He’d better not get us sued.”

“Nah, we’re cool.”

How Tanya could guarantee that, she didn’t know, but Sabrina wasn’t in the mood to pursue it.

“I’m going to my brother’s dinner—end of story.”

“We could have used you to kick things off here.”

“I’m not going to be one of Nate’s victims.”

“Candidates.”

“Whatever. This place turns into a meat market at night. I’ve never been comfortable with that aspect of the business. But you’ll tell me everything tomorrow, right?” Sabrina popped a sliver of beef into her mouth.

“Count on it.”

****

Sabrina followed the Botticelli hostess to their reserved table and groaned inwardly when she saw she was the last of the family to arrive. Forced to circle the table for hugs and greetings, she was finally able to take a chair a full five minutes later.

Andy, as the birthday boy, had the head of the table. He turned her present over in his hands and grinned. “Thanks, Brie. Bet I can guess what these are.”

He tore at the paper while everyone watched. “All right, I wanted this CD.” He moved it aside to see the one underneath and furrowed his brow. “Um, don’t I have this one already?” He stared at it, trying hard to remember all the music in his vast collection.

“Not anymore.” Sabrina blushed and reached for a bread stick. “I borrowed it last month and, well to make a long story short, you get a new one. Happy birthday! You have no idea how long it took me to find that stupid thing. Get an IPod already.”

“I have an IPod, but I have a huge CD collection, and I’m not giving it up.”

Luckily she was able to tune out the murmurs and chuckles at her expense, because a server appeared at her elbow and asked for her drink order.

“A glass of merlot, please,” she said with a smile.

****

Jackson and Genevieve made a striking couple on their way through the dining room, turning heads as they were shown to a quiet table for two.

Walking two steps behind, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she moved was pure poetry, both graceful and confident. The black dress hugged her frame like a lover, and those long elegant legs of hers were giving him heart palpitations. Genevieve was a woman of sophistication and class, with the face of a goddess balanced by a wit and vivacity that promised a very pleasurable evening ahead.

Jackson thanked the host and excused the man so he could pull out her chair himself. Once his date was settled, he took the second chair, and she smiled at him. It was like a benediction. Glory hallelujah, all was right with his world.

****

Sabrina reached for her ice water as she laughed at her sister-in-law Leah’s joke. Right in mid swallow Sabrina caught Jackson’s distorted image through the glass. He was getting cozy with his beautiful date not three tables away. Completely unprepared, Sabrina gasped and sucked an ice cube right down her windpipe. The violent wheezing and choking was instantaneous.

“Oh, my god!” Toni hauled off, giving Sabrina two solid cracks on the back before Sabrina held up her hand in desperate protest.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she said coughing helplessly. She hoped so, anyway. Anything was better than letting Toni knock a few teeth loose. Sabrina touched the back of her hand to the underside of her nose in alarm. Was that water running out of it? Oh, god! She whipped her napkin off her lap and dabbed frantically, her face flaring bright.

Aaron grinned at her. “Take it easy, kiddo.”

“It isn’t funny,” Leah said scowling at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sabrina nodded. “Wrong pipe, that’s all. I’m fine now. Please don’t make a big deal about it.”

Once everyone’s interest shifted away from her, Sabrina looked between Aaron and Leah at the more compelling couple behind them. Jackson and his date were leaning intimately close, in the middle of an animated conversation, and laughing lightly. Every time the woman spoke she touched his arm. Sabrina wanted to march over there and bend the woman’s fingers back and dump something cold and wet over his irritating head. Why was that?

“Earth to Sabrina,” Toni said with a laugh and poked her in the arm.

“What?” she asked, looking around in surprise.

Andy grinned. “I was just asking why you’re moving again?”

“Long story,” Sabrina said, wishing she could ignore the pair at the other table. Spilling her misery might help.

****

Genevieve laughed. “And he wondered why no one wanted to buy anything at his last show.”

“Seriously, Kool-Aid?”

“I’m not kidding you.”

“My body is a canvas?”

“Well, the tool, anyway, tool being the operative word.”

Jackson chuckled. “Incredible.”

“Frankly I’m a little terrified about what he’ll come up with next.”

“I can imagine.”

Genevieve turned, her smile still lingering on her lips when her perfectly sculpted eyebrows drew together. “There’s a woman over there giving you the evil eye.”

Jackson dipped to one side to see who she might be referring to. A second later his eyes popped and he pulled back in alarm.

He gasped. “Oh, shit.”

Genevieve’s grin widened in amusement. “She’s pretty. An old flame?”

“I swear I don’t know who the hell she is. She’s like a wrecking ball with my name on it.”

Genevieve smirked in disbelief. “Quit kidding. Who is she?”

He shrugged, utterly perplexed. “I honestly don’t know, but she’s become my worst nightmare.” He gave his companion a completely disarming look of helplessness. “I know this is going to sound strange, but if she comes anywhere near me, would you protect me?”

Genevieve laughed, the sound rich and warm, and she patted his arm sympathetically. “Leave it to me, but if I’m going to throw myself in front of your bullet, shouldn’t I know the details?”

“You’d never believe it.”

“I’m a New Yorker. Try me. I’ve heard everything.”