“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.
“How much of my twelve hundred fifty dollar bid is paying for the ride?” he asked as they walked toward the basket.
“None of it is. Like all the other items in the auction, it was donated.”
“That’s very generous. Is the owner a relative or something?”
“No. We saved his life at the clinic last year. He just happened to be half a block away when he had a heart attack. Someone drove him over, and Dr. Ed worked on him while we waited for an ambulance. Thank goodness it turned out to be a mild attack. He said to call him if there was ever anything he could do to repay us. So that’s why we’re here today.”
Nick put his arm around Molly’s back. “You people are full of good deeds, aren’t you?”
She wondered if that was a compliment or a subtle reminder about her connection to his tenants. She let it drop. Whatever his intentions, she’d made up her mind not to let anything ruin the day’s excursion.
Molly introduced Nick to the owner/operator. They chatted for a few moments about the mechanics of becoming airborne. When, finally, the last of the riders climbed aboard, the owner fired the jets, and they lifted off with a gentle sway. The sun spread a carpet of heat over the valley, and Molly slipped into her jacket. Why spoil the day with a sunburn? Trees dotted the ground on either side of the field and merged in the distance. The balloon hovered well above the earth. They rose higher over the leafy canopies, and the whole valley spread out below them. The air was crisp and clear. Molly spotted the skyscrapers in downtown San Francisco. The bay sparkled under a brilliant sun, giving the illusion of buildings floating on water.
She kept a grip on the basket’s wicker rim and lifted her face to the breeze as it swept over her. It sifted through her hair like gentle fingers. She hoped it wouldn’t undo all the hard work she’d gone through for at least half an hour that morning to tame it. She’d used tons of conditioner, then had to rinse almost forever, which had made her late.
Nick stood close behind her. When the basket brushed a leafy branch and gave a little bump, he clasped her shoulders presumably to steady her. Except she only swayed a tiny bit. It was nice to feel a man’s strong touch. Nick’s touch, if she wanted to admit it. It excited her. Everything about him excited her. She’d have to be hooked up to life support not to feel the tingle that caused goose bumps to sprout on her skin.
He kept his hands on her shoulders, even after the basket steadied. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he liked being close to her. Chemistry seemed to build between them and it was useless to deny her attraction to him. It grew stronger in spite of everything. It defied the odds. She tried to project into the hours ahead, after the ride ended and they were alone again. Would their molecules mesh or combust? She had a premonition that before the day ended, she’d have her answer.
Chapter 15
“I have an idea,” Nick said once they were back on land and inside his car. “Why don’t we have our picnic at my house in Napa? It’s not very far, about twenty minutes or so. I’d like to show it to you. That is, if you don’t have to rush right back to the city.”
“That sounds like fun.” No equivocating, no pretending she had another commitment, like a Saturday night date. He probably didn’t have one, either, unless he planned to hurry her in and out. A quick peek at her watch confirmed it was close to two thirty. By the time they drove to his house and he showed her the spectacular view and whatever else, ate their lunch — leisurely, she hoped — then drove back to San Francisco in the Saturday evening traffic, it should be too late for him to spruce up for a big blowout on the town. At least, that’s how she imagined it, how she wanted to imagine it.
She remembered the heat from his hands when he’d held her shoulders. It had flared right through her jacket as if he’d branded her. She didn’t foresee putting up a whole lot of resistance if he wanted physical contact again. After wandering for almost a year in the dating desert, she’d more than earned a wallow at the waterhole. It didn’t mean she’d fall madly in love with him. She shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it onto the rear seat.
Nick headed toward the highway. Beams of sunlight intensified the car’s bright black finish; cool air began to circulate inside. He rummaged in the storage compartment between their seats and fished out a CD. “Do you like Tony Bennett?”
“Hmm.”
He inserted the disc, and the tenor’s voice filled the car with a low, silky growl. Contentment spread through Molly as if she were on a real date with a desirable man. At least she had the desirable part right. She glanced at Nick. His index finger tapped the steering wheel in time to the music. He even hummed a couple of bars. His body language hinted he was relaxed and enjoying himself. Nothing about him seemed to suggest he had an agenda. If he did, like he planned to get in her face and break his rule about not mentioning finances, she couldn’t see it.
When they reached Route 29, the four-lane highway that bisected the valley, he headed north. Several wineries dotted the land on either side of the road. They were set amid seemingly endless acres of grapevines. Most of the properties stretched toward the gently sloping hills. If the cars in the parking lots were any indication, plenty of people took advantage of the winery tours and the picnic areas that sprouted on some of the grounds. It occurred to Molly the bottle of wine included in the item he bid on waited for them at Thistle Creek.
She reminded Nick. “They promised me a great vintage. Not that I’d know the difference. If you want, we could stop by there and pick it up.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll leave it up to you.”
“Maybe not. Everyone’s probably busy in the tasting room. I just thought because you paid for it.”
“I’m sure I have some wine at the house. I know there’s beer in the fridge. That’s what I usually drink.”
“I’d better phone the winery to let them know we won’t stop by,” she said and called them on her cell. She was glad Nick had suggested they picnic at his house. The private room at Thistle Creek was beautifully appointed with redwood beams and acres of glass walls that let in the view of the grapevines and rolling hills, but it was in the midst of a very public area. Today she wanted privacy. If Nick’s place were half as nice as it sounded, it would provide the perfect ambiance.
They cruised along the main highway for a few minutes before he turned onto a secondary road. From there he headed north along the Silverado Trail. They drove by wineries whose names she recognized. Some of those labels ran well into the high two figures and even three. Special pressings cost even more. No connoisseur, she usually stuck to whatever brand of wine her supermarket put on sale.
Thickly canopied trees cast dappled shade onto the narrow road. Houses, some mansion-sized, perched on the hills. She wondered if one of them belonged to Nick.
Minutes later, he maneuvered onto another two-lane road. As they came around a bend, a high stone wall appeared. He pulled up in front of the tall wrought iron gate blocking their path. He lowered the car window, reached out, and punched a code into a metal keypad set into the stone. The gate swung open and they proceeded through. Grapevines staked in even rows bor
dered the drive and covered the ground as far as Molly could see.
“Do you own a winery?”
“No. This spread belongs to a friend. He sold me a half acre.”
Nick followed the twisting drive over a rise. When it branched in two directions, he took the one that veered toward a low rectangular stone building. His house, she presumed. He parked in front and cut the motor.
“This is what’s taken up so much of my time and … ” He rubbed three fingers together in the international sign for money. “Someday, I hope to finish it. The building is the original winery. The first vines were planted here over a hundred years ago. Todd, the guy who owns this property, built a state-of-the-art complex about a quarter mile down the road. This just sat vacant, and when he offered to sell it to me, I jumped at it.”
He disengaged the locks, and Molly stepped out of the car. Nick joined her.
“How long have you owned your half acre?”
“A little under three years.”
“I would have picked your house out right away.”
“How’s that?”
She pointed to the roof. “The solar panels. Greening the environment. Isn’t that your passion?”
“Yeah.” A grin played around the corners of his mouth. “It’s one of them, anyway.”
He didn’t have to explain. His tone and the deep pitch of his voice said it for him. He was no stranger to passion. She wondered how many women he’d invited here and what he did with them once he hustled them inside his stone bunker. She also wondered what he planned to do with her, if anything. A pleasant shiver skipped down her spine.
“Those panels took eight months to install. I had to replace the original roof. Before we go inside, I want to show you the view.”
He placed his hand against her back and led her around to the other side of the house. She felt something possessive in those long fingers that seemed more to caress than guide her. Or maybe it was her imagination. They walked across an ill-tended lawn — apparently, no time or money to sod it — toward where the ground sloped away leaving an unobstructed view of San Francisco Bay in the distance. The tall buildings that delineated the downtown area seemed to poke at the sky through the hazy light.
Sexy in the City Page 68