Daisy noticed, with the woman’s first real smile, that she was actually very attractive—quite lovely, even, when she forgot to be a bitch. Her short brown hair exhibited signs of what looked to be the early stages of female pattern baldness, but it was faultlessly arranged. And her skin was porcelain smooth, her figure svelte, and her features strikingly proportionate.
The whole family was comely, when it came right down to it. Mr. Morrison was tall and distinguished-looking, his dark hair just beginning to go gray at the temples. Donald was still a little unfinished around the edges, but he showed promise of someday attaining his father’s height and his mother’s good looks.
And they seemed close. Daisy watched them exchange touches and soft words of encouragement as they began to relax, and she didn’t get it. Mrs. M appeared to have it all: money, beauty, a family who obviously doted on her. So what made her such a malcontent?
Nick managed to wrap up the sitting in record time and immediately set about packing up his bag. Daisy went to collect the light umbrellas. As she turned to carry them back to Nick’s duffel, Helena reached out to touch her arm. Daisy regarded the older woman warily—even more so when she saw Helena’s nose tilted up to a snooty angle.
So it caught her flat-footed when Mrs. Morrison took a deep breath and said, “I just want you to know that I admire the way you stand up for yourself and defend your friends. Particularly the latter. I find loyalty the most important attribute a person can possess.” She thrust out her hand, which held a business card. “Here. I thought you might want to give my salon a try. They can probably do something with your hair.” Her chin went up, as if awaiting a dig about her own thinning tresses.
Daisy merely blinked at her, still trying to assimilate what she was pretty sure was an actual compliment. She slid the light umbrella she held under her arm and took the card. “Thanks…I think.” She slipped the card into her blazer pocket and met the other woman’s eyes. “I hope you make your appointment on time.”
Helena glanced at her watch. “You know, I think I probably shall.”
A few moments later, seated in the passenger seat of Nick’s car, Daisy turned to face him. “Okay. I’m confused. Just when you think you’ve got someone pegged as a total bitch…Mrs. Morrison complimented me. Can you believe that? She said she liked the way I stood up for myself and—get this—defended you. Oh, and look.” She dug around in her pocket. “She gave me her stylist’s card. What is it about my hair that bugs people so much, anyway?”
Nick took his gaze off the road to glance over at her. “Aside from the fact that you’re a natural blonde? Probably that it looks as if you cut it yourself with a pair of nail scissors.”
She felt heat crawl up her cheeks. “Yeah? So, what’s your point?”
“Holy shit.” Nick laughed. “You do, don’t you?”
“Well, who has time for all that salon stuff?” What could she say? Somehow she’d been born minus the girlie gene. She’d just never seen the point in fussing around with hair or makeup. In a blatant bid to change the subject, she demanded, “So what’s the deal with Mrs. Morrison? I know drag queens she could give lessons to, and until today I would have sworn they’re as bitchy as it gets. And yet, I kind of liked her there at the end.” She’d recognized a kindred soul in the way Helena had thrust out her chin even though she’d clearly expected to have it punched in.
“She has cancer.”
Shock slammed through her. “What?” Her voice emerged a whisper, and she turned in her seat to stare at Nick.
“The reason she acted out was because she wanted their portrait taken while she still has all her hair.” He glanced over at her. “And while she’s still here.”
“My God. What kind of cancer does she have?”
“Ovarian. They caught it early and chances are she’ll be just fine at the end of her treatment. But you know how it goes. She might not be.”
“And the appointment she thought you were going to make her late for this afternoon?”
“Chemo.”
“Ah, damn. Which is the reason her hair is thinning, I take it.”
“Yeah. She had more last week.”
“Of course. It makes sense now, the way she finally relaxed when you said you could touch up today’s photo to be as good as the ones you’d taken last week.” She studied him for several silent moments. “And her condition is the reason you didn’t tell her to get bent when she was going off on you.”
“I don’t tell any of my clients to get bent, Blondie. Not as long as they’re paying my fees. I just let it roll off my back and give them the best photo I can produce.” He pulled up to a light and looked over at her, pinning her in place with the fierceness of his blue gaze. “I expect you to keep this information under your belt.”
Daisy snorted. “Who am I going to tell, Coltrane—Reggie and the boys? I’m sure they’d give a great big rip.”
J. Fitzgerald’s hired muscle were on their way back to the Pacific Heights estate that housed Nick’s carriage house when the car phone rang. Autry reached for it and punched the receive button. “Yeah.”
“Hey, Autry, it’s Jacobsen. Coltrane and the blonde we saw yesterday are on the move. I lost them in a traffic jam earlier, but I caught up with them again on Nob Hill just a few minutes ago.”
“No shit?” Autry sat straighter. “Good work, Jake. Where are you?”
“On Broadway, just coming up on the tunnel.”
“Okay, we’re headin’ that way. Stick with ’em, and we’ll do our best to connect up with you. Oh, and Jacobsen?”
“Yeah?”
“Douglass said for us to do whatever we have to do, to make sure those photos don’t surface.”
The cell connection started fading in and out. But Autry heard Jacobsen say, “Gotcha,” just before the connection was severed.
6
THEY stopped for lunch, then drove to Nick’s final appointment of the day. The Trevors were an elderly couple who lived in a plush Telegraph Hill condo with a spectacular view of the bay and Golden Gate Bridge. Eudora Trevor had the spare-boned look of a martinet, possessing the sort of ramrod posture, severe clothing, and a naturally downturned mouth that immediately put Daisy on guard. It just went to show how deceptive appearances could be, however—not to mention the way her day had gone so far—for after Nick’s introduction, the elderly woman greeted her with a smile that was singularly warm and sweet.
“Aren’t you lovely! Stanley, just look at the way Nicholas’ young woman carries herself. Like a young warrior queen.” She patted Daisy’s hand. “I do so enjoy seeing proper posture.” She turned to Nick, who was squatting in front of his duffel bag, unzipping its flaps. “Now, don’t unpack, dear. Stanley and I want you to take our photos at Golden Gate Park.”
Daisy’s heart sank. “Oh, but—”
Her instinctive protest was cut short when Eudora turned back to her and said, “I know we should have arranged to meet you there and saved you the drive, but I wasn’t at all certain the weather would cooperate. But it’s turned quite lovely this afternoon, hasn’t it, Stanley?” Without allowing Stanley the chance to reply, she smiled sweetly and explained, “We’re having Nicholas take our photo to commemorate our fiftieth wedding anniversary, you see. And Golden Gate Park is very special to us: it’s where we had our very first date.”
Knowing that Nick would bend over backward to accommodate his clients’ wishes, Daisy simply excused herself to use the phone. Stepping out onto the Trevors’ terrace for privacy, she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her blazer and punched in the office number.
“Parker Security.”
“Reggie, find out if any of the boys are available. Nick has a photo shoot scheduled in Golden Gate Park.”
Reggie emitted a rude noise.
“Yeah. My sentiments exactly. We’re going to need enough guys for a relay surveillance. See who’s available and call me right back.”
She tapped her foot, looked out at the bay and the bridg
e, and then turned and leaned against the sun-warmed railing to peer inside the condo at Nick and the Trevors. She glanced at her watch and blew out an impatient breath. Then she pushed off the railing to open the French doors and stick her head inside. “Nick, could I speak to you for a moment?” She gave Eudora and Stanley a forced smile that probably fooled no one.
He stepped outside, regarding her warily. “Blondie, if the Trevors want their photos taken at the park, I have no choice but to honor their wishes.”
“I know.”
His jaw dropped a bit. “You do?”
“Yes. But given the size of the park, I’m going to need help for the surveillance. I have to know which area to put my guys in.”
“Oh. And here I thought you were going to jump down my throat with your dainty blue combat boots.” His eyes warmed and he closed the distance between them, putting his hands down on the terrace railing on either side of her hips. The sun picked out the russet and amber highlights in his rich brown hair and turned his eyes bluer than a Caribbean sea, and Daisy’s heart stumbled.
“You know,” Nick said softly, “Eudora thinks you’re my girl. That’s a pretty good cover. Maybe we oughtta—” He quit talking abruptly when her hands stole up to cup the back of his warm, strong neck.
“Take a look at the drop off of this balcony,” she invited in a low voice, and pulled his head over her shoulder in order to see. From inside the condo, it probably looked as if they were getting mighty chummy. She fingered his ear for good measure.
“It’s a steep one.” But he didn’t seem particularly concerned. He turned his head and Daisy felt first his warm breath, then his warmer mouth as he softly pressed it to the side of her throat.
Hot shivers raced up her spine, and she closed her eyes for a second. Then she snapped them back open and growled warningly, “You don’t wanna make me demonstrate my body-throwing abilities, Coltrane.”
“No, that’s right up there at the top of things I’d just as soon not experience,” he agreed. “Second only to having my gonads ripped off and fed to the dogs.” Yet rather than backing off, he bent his knees, which enabled him to kiss a spot a little lower on her neck. His hair brushed hot and silky against her chin and along the side of her throat.
Daisy’s heart thundered, and it terrified her, how much she liked the way he made her feel. She was reaching for her knife to force him to back off, when the phone in her pocket rang—which was lucky, she decided, since threatening someone she was supposed to be protecting was probably not the best way to promote her professional image.
Sliding her hands to Nick’s wide shoulders, she gave him a shove, and he stepped back. She pulled out the phone and punched down the button. “Yeah!” Her breath coming fast and shallow, she lowered her head so she wouldn’t have to look at Nick.
“Daise, I got hold of John, Jere, and Benny,” Reggie said. “I gotta warn you, though, Benny’s in his slut-on-the-skids getup.”
“I don’t care how he dresses, as long as he’s available.” Then she shook her head, even though Reggie couldn’t see. “Well, that’s not quite true—I’d actually prefer him to be a little less conspicuous, but I can’t afford to be fussy.” She took a calming breath and expelled it. “I never dreamed we’d end up in this situation, Reg, so I don’t have the ear induction system with me. I want you to give each of the guys a set, though, and have them keep in contact with each other. Send along an extra set for someone to slip me if the circumstances allow. They know the drill.”
“Who should they be on the lookout for?”
“Beefy bruiser types. Hang on.” She looked up at Nick. “Describe your attackers for me.”
He did and she relayed the information to Reggie. “Give the boys a description of Nick as the target. Tell them he’s wearing off-white slacks, a T-shirt I’d call light brown but you’d probably call something fancier, and—”
“Ecru, maybe?” Reggie suggested. “Mocha?”
“Yeah, whatever. He’s also got on an oatmeal colored jacket you’d kill for. Oh, and a camera—don’t forget the camera. Hang on a sec.” She covered the mouthpiece and looked over at Nick. “Give me a clue where we’ll be in the park.”
Nick pulled his gaze off the pulse thumping in Daisy’s throat and smoothed out his scowl. “The path to the side of the Academy of Sciences.” He rammed his hands in his pockets. What the hell had he been thinking?
Okay, the truth was he hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d seen Daisy standing in the sunlight, not mad at him for once, and had thought Eudora was right: she did hold herself like a young warrior queen. He’d taken in the fragile length of her neck and her fine-boned wrists, and had suddenly wondered what he was doing with a medium-sized blonde with delicate skin and a bad haircut for a bodyguard. She looked eminently more suited to the role of playmate—someone to wrestle around with in bed. It undoubtedly took juvenile behavior to a brand-new depth, given their history and the fact that he’d offered her the job in the first place, but his ego had felt a sharp zing knowing that she saw him strictly as a client.
He’d needed to assure himself that he could fluster her, that she wasn’t completely indifferent to him—that was all. So when she’d yanked him over to threaten him with the dropoff, he’d just gone with the flow. It had felt natural and right to nuzzle her neck, and at least he now knew she wasn’t indifferent. And that felt good. Really good.
The thought made him stiffen, because it was not good. The last thing he needed was to dredge up memories of that night for either of them.
Daisy closed the cell phone with a click, which snapped him out of his reverie. He watched her chin come up as she met his eyes.
“Well, there goes my profit margin,” she said sulkily. “This is some complicated scheme to see that I don’t benefit from the retainer you gave me, isn’t it?”
His eyebrows rose. “Uh, a retainer is just an advance against the final charges, doll face.”
She huffed out a long-suffering sigh. “I know that, Coltrane. But I still bet if I dug deep enough, I’d unearth some nefarious motive behind your pretext for hiring me.”
Against all logic, her suspiciousness served to cheer him right up. Flashing her a grin, he reached out to tug down the sleeve of her blazer until it once again concealed the exposed hilt of her knife. “There’s no pretext about it, Daisy Mae.”
She bristled, “My name is not—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on.” He reached for the door handle and extended his other hand to usher her ahead of him. “The Trevors are all set to go smile pretty for the birdie.”
He and Stanley both wanted to take their own cars, so they agreed to meet in front of the California Academy of Sciences. Traffic was fairly light and a short while later Nick squeezed into a parking spot off Fulton. He and Daisy crossed the street and entered the park at Eighth.
“This is insane,” she muttered as they dodged cars to cross John F. Kennedy Drive just inside the park.
The last time Nick had been here the street had been closed for in-line skaters, bikers, and pedestrians. But that had been on a Sunday. He watched Daisy as she kept one eye on the cars whizzing past and the other peeled for possible trouble, which, when he looked around, he saw could come from any of a dozen directions. The flat-eyed stare she gave him when their gazes collided was full of disgust.
“You do know, don’t you, that you’re just begging for trouble when you expose yourself to a place as indefensible as this?”
In truth, watching her try to keep an eagle eye on everything at once did leave Nick feeling pretty exposed, but he shrugged carelessly for her benefit. “Just do the best you can, Daise.”
“I always do, Nicky.”
He gritted his teeth, but made a mental note not to call her that again. Apparently she reserved the nickname strictly for good buddies like her secretary. “So,” he was appalled to hear himself ask, “are you and Reggie an item?”
Her head snapped around. “What?”
“I ask
ed if you and your secretary—”
“I heard what you said. I just can’t believe you would think it’s any of your business.”
He shrugged without apology. “That doesn’t stop me from being curious.”
Daisy studied their surroundings, then gave him a probing glance before she went back to screening the bushes and trees that lined the avenue. “Whatever’s become of the much-vaunted Coltrane manners?”
“I’m standing on them with both feet. Answer the damn question.”
“No.”
“No, you don’t date Reggie, or no, you won’t answer the question?” Take a wild guess here, fool.
“No, I don’t date Reggie.” She sounded shocked at the very idea. “He’s my best friend.”
The men she did or didn’t date shouldn’t make the least bit of difference to Nick, but his mood lightened anyway. Hoping for a flat denial, he said, “Still, maybe one day it’ll ripen into something deeper.”
A short, sharp laugh escaped Daisy’s throat. “Not likely, Coltrane. Reggie’s gay.”
Excellent. “Ah,” he said with a show of indifference. “Probably not, then.” His rabid interest in her love life disturbed him, however. What’s the story here, Ace? You’re sure not gonna claim her for yourself—but nobody else gets to have her, either? It wasn’t like him to be such a dog in the manger. He picked up his pace down a gently graded bank, past fat palm trees and bronze statuary.
After entering the music concourse that was ringed by the De Young, Asian, and Academy of Sciences museums and headed by the huge and ornate amphitheater, they circled the fountain and cut through a grove of gnarled trees just beginning to sprout greenery. They were headed for the set of shallow stairs leading to their destination when the transvestite approached them.
For a moment Nick mistook him for a twenty-dollar working girl. It was the shoes that snagged his attention. Never having seen anything quite like them before, his gaze rose no higher than the wearer’s ankles.
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