Summer Vows (Arabesque) (7 page)

“I am not one of your employees or a performer in the Serenity Records stable, so however you interpret what I say to you is a personal problem, Ana. I’m also not accustomed to dealing with spoiled brats who expect people to genuflect before them. I am giving up the next two months of my life, where I’d planned to sleep as late as I want, fish, sail down to the islands and if I feel the need for female companionship, then I’d find a woman to spend some quality time with who won’t bitch and moan because things aren’t going her way.

“I promised Diego that I would look after you, and I always keep my promises. Not to do so would make me less than honorable. And that’s not going to happen because you decide to throw a hissy fit. Now, please finish putting your clothes away, and when you come back I’ll have something for you to put on that will give you some protection from the sun.” He paused, watching the expressions on Ana’s face change from anger to shock. “Does this meet with your approval, Princess?”

* * *

Ana engaged in what could only be interpreted as a stare-down when she glared at Jacob. Not only was he arrogant, but also insufferable, and she wondered how long she would be able to live with him before calling her father and telling him she was willing to go to Brazil. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have other options, because she did. There was her cousin’s horse farm in the western part of Virginia. Security on the farm was so tight, no one entered or left without being monitored.

If not Nicholas, then she could stay with another cousin in a remote region of North Carolina. Celia and her husband, FBI special agent Gavin Faulkner lived in a mountain retreat near the Tennessee border. In fact she had family members all over the country where she could stay in relative anonymity. Her brother Gabriel lived on Cape Cod with his ex-DEA agent wife, her sister’s husband was a training specialist for the CIA, and there were enough former military intelligence relatives to set up their own agency. But her father and cousin had decided U.S. Marshal Jacob Jones would be the better candidate to protect her in the States because he wasn’t family.

She continued to glare at Jacob. “I’m immune to bullying,” she whispered, then turned on her heels and walked out of the kitchen, feeling the heat from his gaze on her back. If her host was looking for a fight, then she was going to disappoint him and not give in to his goading. If Ana had learned anything in life, it was how to deal with men with enormous egos coupled with an overabundance of arrogance.

First and foremost there had been her grandfather. Samuel Claridge Cole put the
a
in arrogance. Purportedly the first black billionaire—his actual wealth a closely guarded family secret—he used intelligence and intimidation to build his empire. His drive for success was passed along to his offspring who refused to accept defeat. And for Ana it was the same. She wasn’t
that bitch,
skirt
or any other derogative term attributed to women in positions of power, but someone ready and willing to conduct business in the most professional way possible.

She didn’t entertain gossip, read the tabloids or grant interviews. What she did do was attend most music industry award shows with her brother, while wearing haute couture and mouthing the appropriate phrases. Once she’d assumed control of Serenity Records her love life and her personal life were kept out of the spotlight, leading entertainment journalists to create whatever spin needed to sell magazines or increase TV ratings.

If Jacob thought he was going to browbeat her or break her will, then he was in for a shocker. After all, she was a Cole woman and they ruled while their men served.

Ana found the hangers in the master bedroom’s walk-in closet. Heavy mahogany furniture, furnishings and accent pillows in dramatic colors of chocolate, sand-beige and sea-foam-green pulled it all together. She found the space as masculine as its occupant.

A wide smile crinkled the skin around her eyes. She’d misjudged Jacob. He had a good sense for fashion. She counted at least half a dozen beautifully tailored suits in different colors. Racks held shoes ranging from slip-ons to wing tips. Shirts with monogrammed cuffs, slacks and jackets were hung neatly on racks along with a collection of ties. When, she mused, did he have the time to wear the tailored clothing and where? It was apparent her protector wasn’t what he presented to her.

He claimed he knew everything about her when she knew nothing about him other than his name, occupation and marital status. “Okay, Mr. Jones,” she whispered as she gathered the remaining hangers, “now it’s time for me to find out what you’re all about.”

Ana returned to the bedroom she would occupy during her stay in Long Key, hung up the remaining garments tossed on the bed and then retraced her steps along a catwalk to the staircase leading to the first floor.

She had to admit to herself that she liked the layout of the house. Unlike many homes built in the state it contained two levels. Her parents’ home was constructed in three one-story sections. They occupied one section, which included a guest wing. Four bedroom suites, one for each of their children, took up another section, and the third contained a state-of-the-art recording studio and what had been Serenity’s corporate office before David moved it to a Boca Raton downtown office building.

Although she knew Jason was more than capable of running the company, Ana wanted to be there just to feel the pulsing energy from prerecorded music playing softly throughout the offices. It hadn’t mattered whether it was soft jazz, R&B, blues, pop, country, classical, hip hop or occasionally gospel, Serenity was always about music.

Her thoughts returned to her host and protector. Jacob had admitted he cleaned his own house and she had discerned at least one thing about him: he was a neat-freak. The floors were spotless; there was no dust on any flat surface and even her adjoining spa-inspired bathroom was impeccable. It was no wonder he didn’t have a wife or girlfriend. He was more than capable of taking care of his own needs. And she didn’t want to believe he could be so vulgar to mention that if he needed a woman to take care of his physical needs, then he’d just go out and find one to spend some quality time with. She would never go out and pick up a man if she felt the need for sexual release, because engaging in risky behavior was against her principles. It didn’t mean she didn’t have urges, but that was only when she was sexually active. But lately she’d undergone a sexual drought, because she loathed hooking up with a man just for sex. The women she’d planned to accompany on their vacation to Puerto Rico had made a pact that they would sleep with at least one man before returning to the mainland. She’d been the only one who hadn’t agreed. They hadn’t begrudged her for not going along with their scheme, and that’s why she’d remained friends with them for so long. The motto between the five women was: judge not. They were very supportive of one another, and whenever one had a crisis they came together as one to provide emotional support.

Well, right about now Ana needed their support more than at any time in her life. Just seeing their faces or hearing their voices was like a soothing sedative. She’d promised Jacob she would help prepare dinner, but first things first. She had to call one of her girlfriends and let her know she would not be accompanying them to Puerto Rico.

* * *

Jacob was at the cooking island, chopping onions and red and green bell peppers. Several cloves of garlic were next to the colorful, finely minced veggies. His head popped up when she walked into the kitchen. Ana noticed that he’d exchanged his Hawaiian shirt for a white tee. Her jaw dropped, and mouth gaping she stared mutely at the breadth of his broad shoulders and muscular upper body. She was transfixed, watching the flex of muscle in his bulging biceps as he deftly diced strips of peppers.

Smiling, Jacob gestured to his colorful shirt hanging on the back of a high stool. “You can either use the loud and garish shirt, or there’s a tee on the seat of the stool.”

Ana forced her feet to move as she walked woodenly to pick up the T-shirt and pulled it on. The sleeves came past her elbows and the hem inches above her knees. “It’s just a trifle bit large.”

Jacob went back to cutting the garlic into minute pieces. “It’s enough to protect your skin.”

“It’s the perfect nightshirt.”

“I have more if you need nightshirts.”

Ana walked over and stood next to him. He’d exchanged his jeans for a pair of khaki walking shorts. “No, thanks. I have my own.” She stared at his large hands with long, slender fingers, noticing his nails were groomed. One of her pet peeves was men who either bit their nails or didn’t file them. Jacob’s were smooth and square-cut. “I’d like to use your phone to call someone.”

He stopped chopping, placing the sharp knife on the butcher block countertop. “Whoever you talk to, please do not divulge where you are.”

Resisting the urge to salute him, Ana wrinkled her nose instead. “I think I know the drill.”

“My number will not be displayed on their caller ID, so they won’t be able to call you back,” he called out as she walked to the wall phone.

“That’s okay,” she said over her shoulder. Resting a hip against the countertop, she removed the phone from its cradle and punched in the number of her friend who operated her business out of her home and was available 24/7.

Ana counted off the rings before she heard the familiar greeting. “Good afternoon. You have reached Creative Editorial Services. This is Samantha.”

“Sam, Ana.”

“Ana! Where the hell are you? And why haven’t you been answering your cell? You know I’ve been worried sick when I saw the news about someone shooting your cousin.”

She couldn’t help smiling. She’d met Samantha Mickelson when both were in the same college freshman English class. The fast-talking former book editor was open, friendly, spontaneous and her best friend. Ana had graduated and enrolled in law school while Samantha moved to New York City with the dream of becoming an editor. She’d managed to secure a position with a major publisher, working her way up from editorial assistant to an associate editor.

She discovered a brilliant mystery writer when she picked up his unsolicited manuscript from a slush pile and the rest was history. Their relationship went from editor and writer to husband and wife. Unfortunately for Sam her husband took his overnight success a step further when he literally became a literary rock star. Paul was always surrounded by groupies and that escalated rumors of him cheating to a tabloid exposé with photos of him in a hotel room with a barely legal nubile television actress.

Samantha had him served with divorce papers and, following a quiet divorce with a generous settlement, she returned to Florida and set up a freelance editorial service. Her reputation had preceded her, so she was never at a loss for clients wishing to break into publishing.

“I’m okay.”

“Where are you? I called your folks and your mom wouldn’t give me any information. I also called Jason at his office and he was just as mum. What’s up?”

Ana and Jacob exchanged a long, penetrating stare. She placed her hand on the mouthpiece. “Can you please give me a few minutes of privacy?” she whispered.

Jacob shook his head. “Nope. My house. My phone. My rules. I get to monitor all incoming and outgoing telephone calls.”

She glared at him. “That is so rude.”

“That is your opinion,” he countered.

“Ana, are you still there?”

She resisted the urge to suck her teeth—a habit her mother detested, and turned her back instead. “I’m still here. Look, Sam, I’m not going to be able to go down to Puerto Rico with you. And I was so looking forward to this trip.”

There came a pregnant pause. “Is something going on that you can’t talk about?”

Samantha was one of the most perceptive women Ana knew. There were times when she’d told the book editor that she could double as a psychic. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the same when it came to Samantha’s own future.

“Yes.”

There was another pause. “Is someone there listening in on what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“The fact that no one in your family is talking and you can’t tell me where you are reminds me of a mystery novel. I get it and respect that, but the only thing I want to know is if you’re safe.”

“Affirmative again,” Ana answered, lowering her voice.

“Well, that makes me feel better and hopefully I can get a full night’s sleep without waking up every few hours thinking about you. You know you’re my girl, Ana. I never would’ve made it through my divorce without your support.”

“Yes, you would’ve, Sam.”

Samantha’s husky laugh came through the earpiece. “I’m not going to debate that because I know I’ll lose. I love you to death, Ana, but if there is anything I can do just call.”

“I love you, too, but right now I’m in a very good place emotionally. If anything changes, then you’ll be the first to know. Give my best to the rest of the gang and tell them I’ll be with them in spirit.”

Samantha laughed again. “We’ll be certain to raise a couple of glasses of mojitos, piña coladas, cosmos and one or two extra-dirty martinis to toast your absence.”

“And don’t forget Jack and Coke.”

“Please don’t mention Jack and Coke. That’s what got me into trouble where I’d lost my mind and wound up married to that fool.”

Ana smiled. “Then scratch the Jack and Coke.” She quickly sobered when she shifted and saw Jacob frowning at her. “Look, Sam, I have to go. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks.” She ended the call, replaced the receiver on the cradle and then turned to meet her protector’s angry scowl. “What’s the matter now?”

The seconds ticked as they engaged in what could only be determined as a stare-down. Ana knew instinctually that Jacob hadn’t wanted her to make phone calls, but there was no way he could completely shut her off from the outside world.

“I would prefer that you not make any calls, and if you do then limit them to a minute or less.”

A smug smile touched her lips. So, she was right. He didn’t want her using the phone. “That call was necessary because I had to tell my friend that my vacation plans had changed.”