Dragon and the Dove (10 page)

All she’d wanted to do was have a snack, be
with her children, and go to bed. Instead, Tony had pulled out all
the stops. Coupled with Christina and Eric’s
loving and excitement,
she’d gotten an unwelcome second wind. She probably wouldn’t fall
asleep until four in the morning.

“The guy on his second piece of cheesecake,”
her brother replied, giving her a wry look. “The guy who sent you
overseas with less than a day’s notice. The man who made you miss
Christina’s piano recital. The one I haven’t been real impressed
with so far.”

“Oh. You mean the one who fired me five
minutes after meeting me and is now practically blackmailing me
into staying?” She grinned.

Paul grinned back at her. “Yeah. That
one.”

“He’s not so bad, really.”

“I know,” her brother said. “That’s why he’s
not what I expected. He’s been pretty high-handed with you. I guess
I thought he’d be a real stuffed shirt.”

“He’s had a hard time of it lately.” She
poured the last of the hot milk into the espresso cups, yawning.
Maybe her second wind was winding down. She could only hope.
Because of the guy on his second piece of cheesecake, she’d had a
hard time of it lately too.

She had not had a private moment to tell her
brother what she’d learned in London about her boss’s financial
situation and recent family history, but had decided the news could
wait until morning. She didn’t want to take a chance of Cooper
hearing her talking about his murdered brother again. The awfulness
of it still had her shaken.

“Nice guy or not,” Paul said, “you don’t
need somebody else to take care of, a wounded dove.”

“He’s not a dove, he’s a dragon,” she said
perfectly deadpan.

Her brother gave her a look of pure
skepticism, and she rephrased her answer.

“Believe me, Paul. Cooper Daniels can take
care of himself.”
And me
, she silently added. George had
been right to tell her to get out while the getting was good, but
he’d been wrong about Cooper’s inclinations to take care of her.
Those were up and running in full working order.

“Maybe,” her brother answered, still looking
doubtful. “But he sure spends a lot of time looking at you as if
he’d like you to take care of him, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, turning aside
as much to put the filled
latte
cups on a tray as to hide
her sudden blush. “He’s been nothing except rude and demanding.
Hardly the actions of a man trying to impress a woman.”

Paul shrugged. “I know a guy on the make
when I see one, little sister, and your boss couldn’t keep his eyes
off you all through dinner.”

“You’re overprotective.”

“I’m realistic.”

“You’re barely kicking thirty in the back,
and I’m over the hill. Therefore I am not your little sister,” she
said, reminding him of her four-year age advantage.

He only grinned down at her from his
seven-inch height advantage and said, “Oh, yeah?”

* * *

It was time for him to leave. It had been
time for him to leave an hour ago, but Cooper still hadn’t managed
to extricate himself from the Langstons, the Signorellis, and
Alaina Fairchild. At dusk, Paul had turned on the lights hidden in
the trees and along the paths leading through the yard. The effect
was exotic, reminding Cooper of the finer places he’d been to in
Southeast Asia, places where the very air evoked mystery and
sensuality.

His gaze drifted to Jessica. She wasn’t what
she was supposed to have been, and the disparities were going to be
his undoing. She’d made a quick change of clothes before supper,
doing away with her business suit in favor of a long blouse and
leggings with a blue-and-white seashell pattern. She’d worked her
hair up again, which was becoming his favorite style for her. It
exposed the exquisite nape of her neck, a place he wanted very much
to put his mouth to and taste with his tongue.

He felt a tightening in his groin and swore
silently as he shifted in his chair. She was going to be the death
of him. In four days of working for him, she hadn’t made a false
move—except for shaking his concentration and somehow making him
care, making him want her.

He forced his attention back to his
wineglass, lifting it to drain its contents. He knew better than to
do what he was considering but he didn’t think that was going to be
enough to stop him.

“More wine, Mr. Daniels?” Tony asked.

Cooper looked over at the younger man and
shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Jessica’s brother was a nice kid, nothing at
all like Jackson, except in his smile, his exuberance, and his
appreciation of the gentler sex. Alaina Fairchild was glowing under
all his attention. Tony’s basic body build and the darkness of his
hair were the same as Jackson’s, but without the smile to transform
them, the resemblance was purely superficial.
Thank
God
.

After dessert had been served, Paul had
turned off the brighter patio lights, leaving Cooper with a sense
of being cocooned in a rainforest night filled with stars. The lush
landscaping extended along both sides of the house and overwhelmed
the backyard with the same undiminished vigor it displayed in the
front yard. The smells were wonderful, rich and earthy with a hint
of flowers.

His own home smelled of the sea—and of
emptiness. He knew that was another reason he’d allowed himself to
linger. He had hardly been home in two months, and he still wasn’t
ready to face the emptiness. Cooper had friends, but they were all
mourning Jackson, and his guilt didn’t allow him that luxury. It
was safer to be with strangers, and he wanted to be with
Jessica.

When Tony left to walk Alaina to her car,
Paul gave Cooper an undisguised signal to leave. “I guess it’s time
we all called it an evening,” the younger man said, rising to his
feet. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Daniels. Christina, Eric, this
is it. Bedtime. Let’s go.”

The children stood up with their uncle, and
Jessica followed suit.

“I’ll see you out,” she said to Cooper, then
turned to her children and gave them both big hugs. “I’ll be up in
a minute, sweetie pies. We’ll read a story together.”

Rather than going through the house, she
literally led him down the garden path. Cooper could have told her
it wasn’t necessary. He could have seen himself out. She was tired,
and he’d already taken up too much of her time. But he wasn’t ready
to let her go. His quick escape had died with the invasion of her
family, and he’d resigned himself to breaking a cardinal rule.

“I’ll be going to Honolulu in the morning
and staying over the weekend,” he said, stepping aside and letting
her precede him into a serpentine bower of latticework and
grapevines. The arbor was lit from within by more of the tiny
lights, but there weren’t enough of them to do more than hint at
the intricacy of their home. “I would appreciate you checking the
office in the afternoons while I’m gone. I’m expecting some
information on Fang Baolian. It will either come down by modem or
over the fax, less likely as a telephone message. Regardless of how
it’s delivered, I don’t want it lying around. You can store it,
file it, download it, or transcribe it. I just want to make sure it
isn’t lost or seen by anyone else.”

“Okay. I’ll check in twice on both Saturday
and Sunday,” she said.

It was the kind of dedication he was paying
for, and he would have been more surprised if she hadn’t made the
offer. Nevertheless, he was grateful.

“Thanks. I’ll be back Sunday night. I’ll
leave my itinerary on your desk, in case you need to get in touch
with me.”

They walked a few more steps before she
asked the question he’d been expecting.

“Do I need to worry about Chow Sheng?”

“No,” he said without hesitation.

“You sound pretty positive,” she said, not
sounding at all positive herself.

“I am.” Chow Sheng valued his life too much
to trespass where Cooper had warned him not to go, and that was
within a mile of Jessica Langston.

She looked up at him as if she expected more
of an explanation, but she wasn’t going to get it. Cooper saw no
reason to repeat to her what he’d said to Chow. He was in a
vengeful mood, he’d told the old man, a terribly vengeful mood.
Only a fool would cross him in such a mood, a fool or a man intent
on his own death.

“I didn’t realize you spoke Chinese,” she
said, resigning herself to his answer with an ease he
appreciated.

“I lived in Hong Kong with my mother for a
few years, from when I was about seven until I was ten, and Jackson
and I went back after she died. Her family is still in the trade
and shipping industry there, Burnett and Company.”

“I went to Hong Kong once on a business
trip.” She lifted her hand to brush back a hanging leaf. “The city
is amazing. It must have been a very exciting place for you as a
child.”

“Not nearly as exciting as when the old man
came to haul us back to the States,” he said with a humorless
laugh. “My mother became involved with another man, a Chinese. As
much as my mother’s family loved her, and as much as they hated my
father, they couldn’t tolerate adultery when it crossed color
lines. They called the old man and told him to come get his
estranged wife.” He caught the shocked look Jessica gave him and
knew he’d startled her with his revelation.

“How . . . uh, awful for you,” she said. “I
know adultery is very hard on—on families and children.” She was
floundering, and it took him a moment to figure out why. When he
did, he wished he’d phrased his words less bluntly.

“I guess that sort of thing would be hard on
kids as sweet as yours. But my mother only had me at the time, and
sweetness wasn’t my long suit. At one time I even liked the
man.”

“I wasn’t talking about my children,” she
said in a flustered tone that made her impossible to believe.

“It’s nothing to feel guilty or be
embarrassed about, unless you were the one who strayed.” He didn’t
expect her to reply to his veiled question, but neither did he need
her reply. He’d done some checking on Ian Langston, enough to know
what had caused Jessica’s divorce.

When she didn’t answer, he continued his
story, partly to make up for embarrassing her, and partly, for
reasons he didn’t fully understand, because he wanted her to know
what had happened.

“The fireworks really went off when good old
Dad came and dragged her out of Hong Kong. Nobody thought she
deserved the abuse he dished out, but once he got her back to San
Francisco, nobody could stop him either. She died just before my
sixteenth birthday. Physically, he didn’t kill her, but he made her
life a living hell. I always thought she just gave up when she
couldn’t take any more. I was angry with her for a long time for
leaving Jackson and me like that, so angry, I packed us both up and
took off for Hong Kong. Her sister took us in.”

“I’m sorry, Cooper. I’m sorry you had to go
through so much.” Her voice was full of compassion for him, as if
she truly felt and understood his childhood pain and wanted to wish
it away.

She was years too late, but that didn’t stop
him from being uncomfortably aware of his emotional response to her
sympathy. The urge to draw her into his arms and kiss her, to
connect with her and offer her the comfort she was offering him,
was almost overwhelming.

“It’s always been even money on who raided
the Damn Line to death, the Burnetts or my mother’s Chinese lover,”
he said, hoping a few hard, cold facts would help him shake off the
strange feeling he was having. He could admit to lust. Wanting to
give and receive comfort was something else altogether, implying an
emotion he hadn’t suffered from in a long time.

He let his gaze drop to where the faint
light rimmed the gentle contours of her face and haloed her hair
with reddish highlights. He curled his hand into a fist to keep
from touching her.
Soft, soft, soft
. Everything about her
was so invitingly soft, making him want to hold her, to feel her in
his arms. Her curves were soft, her skin, her voice, her mouth, her
heart.

“You make me talk too much,” he said, moving
deeper into the arbor, leading her farther from the house. The
smell of cedar and ripening grapes melded together in a rich
fragrance, adding an intimacy he was all too aware of.

“Is Hawaii business or . . . um, pleasure?”
she asked, making an awkward change of subject.

By the slight wince he detected crossing her
face, he could tell she wished she’d said something different. Her
question had sounded more personal than professional, but that was
fine with him. They were going to get a lot more personal before
they reached his car, and he appreciated any help, however subtle,
she gave him.

“Business. I’m picking up Pablo Lopez.”

Her head came back up. “You know where he
is?”

“Everybody knows where he is,” he said,
moving aside a trailing vine overhead. She stopped just on the
other side of the vine, still well within the bower, her partially
illuminated face reflecting her confusion.

“Then what was London all about?” she asked.
“If everybody knows where he is, why didn’t they pick him up
themselves instead of wasting a lot of my time and contracting to
pay you a small fortune?”

He looked down at her, taken back by the
extent of her naïveté. He was a bounty hunter. She’d met George
Leeds and been in the Boarshead. What did she think? That he spent
a lot of time in boardrooms?

“They don’t want to get hurt,” he said,
putting it to her as simply as possible. With a gesture of his
hand, he suggested they continue walking.

She obliged him, hesitantly, for about three
steps, before coming to an abrupt stop
at the end of the bower. “And you do?” she asked, the concern in
her voice edged with anger
.