The Billionaire's Allure (The Silver Cross Club Book 5) (13 page)

I had been to the zoo many times, with my family and on various school trips over the years. It was commonplace for me and no longer particularly exciting, although I always enjoyed watching the animals. But Beth and Renzo were enraptured, Beth very openly and Renzo despite his best efforts to seem disinterested. Many of the enclosures were empty, the animals sleeping in some behind-the-scenes nest, but some of the larger animals were still out and about, moving around beneath the waxing moon. We watched the lions for a long time, leaning over the railing and trying to decide which one was, in Renzo’s words, the most badass. They periodically looked over at us and flicked an ear or a tail, but they mostly seemed unbothered as they went about their mysterious midnight perambulations.

“Okay, time to move on,” I said, checking my watch. “The guard’s going to come by pretty soon.”

“Where to next?” Beth asked, hooking her hand through the crook of my elbow.

“We can go see if the bears are out,” I said. “Or maybe the tigers. Are they nocturnal?”

“I think mostly,” Renzo said. “If they’re still outside, maybe we’ll get to see them kill something!”

“You’re too excited about that,” Beth said. “What are they going to kill, anyway? Some poor pigeon that flew into the enclosure?”

They argued about it as we walked away from the lion enclosure. I didn’t say much, content to listen to them and feel Beth’s hand on my arm, small and warm. I had everything I wanted in life: my chosen family with me, a warm night, and Beth at my side.

The bears were outside, but they were dark, unmoving lumps huddled against the rocks, and not very interesting. We moved on to the tigers. Most of them were lazing around, sprawled on the grass, but one of them was playing with a large rubber ball, batting it around and attacking it, and we watched him—her?—until he finally flopped to the ground, panting.

“Big cats are just the same as small cats,” Renzo said. “I had a cat growing up, and she would do the same thing. Like, go crazy for a while with a toy, and then pass the fuck out. And look at it rolling around on its back! That’s what my cat would do, and if you tried to pet her tummy, she would claw the shit out of your hand.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” I said.

He nodded. “She died a few years ago. I think she probably got hit by a car.”

“I’m sorry, Renzo,” Beth said, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“All cats go to heaven,” I said.

Renzo grinned at me. “They probably do, huh? The great catnip farm in the sky.”

And then, behind us, a voice: “Hey! What are you doing in here?”

We ran, and the guard ran after us, his flashlight catching us in its beam and then losing us again as we hopped over a fence. We were all pretty good at running away—from cops or from angry storekeepers or victims of my pickpocketing—and the guard was out of shape and not particularly motivated to catch us, and after a few terrifying minutes we got away: up over a chainlink fence and into the wild parkland on the other side.

We slowed to a stop at last, on the far side of a low hill. Renzo bent over, hands on his knees, sucking in air. Beth leaned against a tree, gasping. I collapsed to the ground.

For a few minutes, we caught our breath and didn’t speak.

Then I said, “At least we got our cardio in for the day.”

Beth staggered over to me and smacked my shoulder, not very hard. “I can’t believe you! You promised me we wouldn’t get caught.”

I grasped her hand and drew her down beside me and wrapped an arm around her, both to hold her close and to keep her from smacking me again. “And we didn’t. Here we are, wild and free, just like the tigers.”

“Jesus Christ,” Renzo said. “I’m with Bee. We
almost
got caught.”

“But not quite,” I said, grinning from the adrenaline rush and the sheer joy of being alive. I turned and kissed Beth, fiercely, trying to communicate my joy through lips and tongue, wanting more than anything to share everything with her, all of my thoughts, every sensation, wanting to merge our bodies and souls so that neither of us would ever be alone.

“Jesus
Christ
,” Renzo said again, and kicked some leaves at us, and we broke apart, laughing, alive, in love.

I was so in love with her.

And then I ruined everything.

CHAPTER TEN

Beth

I was afraid that Max would scheme up some big adventure for us, but he must have decided that I was too tired and grumpy after the flight to do anything too strenuous. We walked around downtown a little and watched the cable cars turning around at the end of the line. The tourists were out in full force with their cameras, lined up waiting to board the cars. It was a nice day: cool, sunny. I wanted to get up somewhere high and get a feeling for the layout of the city. But I knew that if I mentioned it to Max, he would take me on some wild tour involving gondola lifts and BASE jumping.

“Want to take a ride?” he asked me, tipping his head toward the cable cars.

I sort of did, but the line was pretty long, and the cars were packed full, with people balancing precariously on the sideboards. If I tried that, I would definitely fall off. “Maybe not today,” I said. “I know it’s still early, but I’m getting kind of hungry.”

“It’s dinnertime on the East Coast,” he said. “Okay. Let’s go back to the hotel, have some dinner, and take it easy this evening. Recuperate from the trip. Tomorrow I’ll get you up at the crack of dawn and we’ll spend the whole day exploring. I hope you brought comfortable shoes.”

“I’m not getting up at the crack of
anything
,” I said. “I work nights, remember? Even jet lag isn’t going to get me up before mid-morning.”

“I forgot about that,” he said, frowning as if this was an actual serious concern. “I’ll just have to bring you a lot of coffee.”

True to his word, when I finally emerged from the bedroom the next morning, Max had coffee waiting for me: lukewarm, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I popped the lid off the cardboard cup and took a sip. Max lowered his newspaper and watched me, eyes crinkling.

“I’m just drinking coffee,” I said. “It isn’t that exciting.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re sleepy,” he said. “Get in the shower and we’ll scrounge up some breakfast. It’s raining. It’ll be a perfect day to go to the park.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You aren’t serious.”

“Oh, I am,” he said. “The tourists run amok when the weather’s nice. But since it’s raining, they’ll all stay inside, and we’ll have the entire park to ourselves. It’ll be perfect. I hope you packed a raincoat.”

“I don’t like rain,” I said. I knew I was being unreasonably childish and grumpy, but I had come to San Francisco to find Renzo, not gallivant around the city with Max. I wasn’t happy with his explanation about the investigator, and I felt like we were wasting valuable time. If Max thought he could charm his way back into my panties by showing me the sights, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

He rolled his eyes at me. “What’s going to happen to you? Are you going to melt? Okay, Wicked Witch. Drink your coffee and let’s get going. You said we could do tourist stuff, and it’s too late for you to back out now.”

Our hotel allegedly had a nice continental breakfast, but I had slept so long that it was well over by the time I showered and got dressed. We walked down the street to a little bakery that Max said was a local chain, and had breakfast sandwiches and more coffee. I felt a little more awake by then. It was raining pretty hard, and the streets were much emptier than they had been the day before. We ate at a counter by the window and I watched men in suits walk past with their umbrellas. San Francisco was no New York, but it was more of an actual city than I had expected. Bigger, busier.

“How long did you live here?” I asked Max.

“Four years,” he said. “I haven’t been back since I moved to New York. It’s a little surreal. Everything is so familiar, but it’s changed just enough that I don’t feel like I know the city anymore. I keep joking about playing tourist, but the truth is, I
am
a tourist now.”

“Do you miss it?” I asked. “Are you sorry you moved back to New York?”

He shook his head. “I loved San Francisco, but New York will always be home. And if I hadn’t moved back, I wouldn’t have found you. So I can’t possibly regret that decision.”

What a sentimental jerk. And yet I loved it. I had been alone for so long, and—okay, I could admit it—starved for love and ordinary affection. Max’s endless talk about how wonderful I was and how happy he was to be with me again was empty flattery, but I ate it up.

Oh, he was definitely going to break my heart.

I had expected that we would take a cab to wherever we were going, but instead, Max led me to a nearby bus top. We ducked under the shelter to get out of the rain, and I upended my umbrella and shook the raindrops off. “I thought you were too fancy for public transit,” I said.

“Not at all,” he said. He lowered the hood of his rain jacket. “It’s usually less efficient than calling a cab, which is why I don’t do it very often. But if we’re being tourists, it’s important for you to get the full experience. Taking the bus is the best way to get to know a new city.”

“That sounds like something you got out of a fortune cookie,” I said. “I guess I should be grateful that you aren’t making me walk.”

He grinned. “It’s only three miles. That would take us—what? About an hour?”

We didn’t talk much on the bus ride. I gazed out the rain-streaked window, watching neighborhoods scroll past. We went by City Hall, an ornate building trimmed out with gold leaf, and then climbed up a hill into a more residential area, with streets lined with Victorian rowhouses. The downtown area around our hotel wasn’t much to write home about, but as we traveled further west I decided that I could understand why people talked about how charming San Francisco was.

“Here’s our stop,” Max said, reaching above me to tug the cord. “Golden Gate Park.”

We got off the bus and climbed the sidewalk running alongside the road into the park. The sound of traffic on the road behind us quickly faded away. At the top of the hill, Max turned left onto a footpath. I followed him, looking around in amazement at the abundant greenery around us: the jade plants growing alongside the path, the tall trees overhead dripping with rain. For the first time, I really felt like I was in a different place. The trees were unlike anything I had seen before, and the rain and overall hush made me feel like we were explorers on a distant planet, somewhere human feet had never walked before. In the near distance, a hill or small mountain loomed, shrouded in mist.

“Wow,” I said.

Max turned and smiled at me. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s really beautiful,” I said. “I had no idea.”

“That’s why I brought you here,” he said. “And we’ll have it mostly to ourselves. Anyone with sense will have stayed inside where it’s warm and dry.”

“Good thing we don’t have much sense,” I said.

He led me down the other side of the hill toward a large glass greenhouse with a delicate cupola on top. “The Conservatory of Flowers,” he said as we approached. “This building is from the late 1800s, I think.”

He purchased tickets, and we went inside, through a short vestibule and into what a sign proclaimed was the Lowland Tropics Room. A lush profusion of plants filled the room beneath the glass dome: palms of all sorts, ferns, orchids. It was warm and humid, a nice change from the weather outside, and I paused to shuck my jacket before I started exploring.

The plants were so dense that I went around a slight bend in the path and immediately lost sight of Max. That was fine. I knew he wouldn’t go far. Most of the plants had a placard identifying them and providing basic information, and I moved slowly, reading, and periodically tipping my head back to look up at the glass panes overhead and the ambitious plants that had climbed high enough to brush the ceiling.

The conservatory was empty aside from an older couple intently photographing the plants. Rain beat down on the ceiling, a steady drum. I moved on into the next room, Highland Tropics, and then the Aquatic Plants Room after that, which contained a large artificial pond covered in lily pads. I sat on the low wall surrounding the pond and gazed down into the water. A fountain burbled somewhere. It was very peaceful. I closed my eyes and felt my heart beating. I could have sat there all day, enjoying the stillness and the quiet.

Max sat down beside me. I knew it was him without opening my eyes. I recognized the rustle of his raincoat, and the woodsy smell of his cologne. “You were right,” I said.

“Right about what?” he asked. “Not that I disagree with you. I’m always right about everything.”

I opened my eyes and wrinkled my nose at him. So conceited. “Right about doing stuff. I’m glad we came here. This is better than just hanging out at the hotel.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he said. He lifted one hand to touch my cheek, and I watched the change in his eyes and expression as he decided to kiss me. He cupped my face in his hand and leaned in, very slowly, taking his time, giving me space to understand his intentions and turn my head aside if I wanted to.