by Claire Adams
I glanced at Penn. Why was he being so nice? Could he really be so gallant, or was he expecting this to be a one-night stand? A passionate one-night stand. The thought melted me right to the core.
I shook my head. What was I thinking? I wasn't that kind of girl. The last person I had been with was Joshua. He was an energetic but predictable lover, and everything had been so polite. I didn't know how to be with anyone else, especially not someone who looked like Penn.
The rugged and rough look of him had my insides quivering. I could imagine those wide lips of his searing mine with a hard, passionate kiss.
I definitely needed to roll down the window. I fumbled with the sleek switches on the door handle. Then, I saw what was outside and fell back in my seat.
Enormous gates decorated with intricate scrollwork iron swung slowly open. The driveway dipped low and revealed a breathtaking view of San Francisco Bay. My eyes touched on the red Spanish tiles of the mansion's roof. Before I could blink, we swept down the driveway and under a wisteria-covered pergola and parked in front of a set of arched doors.
Lights blinked on behind the wall of windows, and I could see through the top floor to the twinkling red arches of Golden Gate Bridge. Tom jumped out of the driver's seat and opened Penn's door. I was ensconced in the silent luxury of the Maserati again, and all I could hear was my own shallow, shocked breathing. I had gone home with a complete stranger and ended up facing the most jaw-dropping mansion I had ever seen.
Penn pulled open my door and offered me a hand. As I eased myself from the car and blinked in wonder at the mansion, he spoke over my head to the young driver. "That's it for tonight. And, no, you can't borrow the car. I already transferred your fee to your account."
"Who needs a car?" Tom snarked. "From this hoity-toity hill, I can skateboard to the Embarcadero without putting a foot on the ground."
The exchange made me smile, and I felt the overwhelmed tangle in my gut unknot. I had seen Penn interact with Ginny, his bouncer friend, and the scrawny teenage driver. He might look tattooed and tough, but Penn had a caring and generous heart. My nerves were still jumping, but I was sure that I was safe alone with him.
He watched Tom glide out of the gates with his middle finger extended and laughed. "I hope he didn't scare you. Tom seems reckless, but he's the most hyper-aware and fast-reflexed driver I've ever known."
"He seems charming," I said.
Penn glanced at me, and when he saw I was being honest, he smiled. "That must be why I like him."
I slipped my arm through his and felt his biceps tighten. The jolt of power I felt from causing him a physical reaction made my head giddy and light. "How about you give me a tour?" I asked, and the breathless tone was unintentional.
"My pleasure." Penn's voice was gravel-rough.
I shivered deliciously as we walked together up the wide, sweeping front steps.
"This isn't like a normal house," Penn said, pushing open the double-arched doors.
"No kidding," I muttered, stepping inside. The polished tile under my feet was Travertine, and for a wild moment, I wished I had worn fancier shoes.
Penn chuckled. "The first floor is basically a giant foyer. There are a few seating areas, but it's mostly about the view."
He wasn't kidding. The panoramic view of San Francisco Bay was captivating, but my eyes kept sliding back to Penn. He was bulkier and heavier-muscled than any other man I had found attractive. But the soft cling of his worn T-shirt revealed a flat stomach and narrow waist. He was fit and firm, and my mouth kept going dry.
"The next floor down is the dining hall. It's flanked by a butler's pantry and a separate bar with the best views of Treasure Island." Penn laid a wide hand at the small of my back and led me through the priceless artwork and elegant interior design of the first floor to a curving staircase.
I stopped at the top of the stairs and willed my body not to sway as Penn's arm curved around my waist. "And, what's on the next floor below that?" I asked.
"The living room, the music room, the first of the guest rooms," Penn said. "Or would you rather just go see the apartment above the garage?"
His dark eyes showed flecks of gold as he took a step down and came level with me. The electrical realization that his lips were just inches from mine made my brain short circuit. I imagined us falling in the door of the small garage apartment, my hands tugging hard to pull his shirt over his wide shoulders. The wild, unbidden idea of testing my teeth against his taut muscles made me sway.
Penn's hands automatically caught my waist and steadied me. As I reached out and caught his shoulders, the gold in his eyes burned brighter. I felt his fingers flex around my waist. All I had to do was lean forward, and our lips would meet. I caught my breath and tore my gaze away from his eyes.
"It's just, ah, your boss's place is spectacular," I said.
Penn shrugged and turned down the staircase. "And, you've only seen the top floor."
The weight of my disappointment pushed me down the stairs after him. I was glad he walked in front of me because my cheeks blazed again. I could have sworn his question was more an invitation, but what if I was wrong? Penn probably saw me as some silly blonde he would never bother with if I hadn't needed help.
I crinkled up my nose and balled my fists. The women that Penn found attractive were probably outgoing, confident, and strong. I was none of those things. I was snobby when nervous, insecure, and tripping all over myself around him.
As we stepped down onto the next floor, I smoothed back my silken curls. Penn might think he was better than me, but that didn't mean I was unattractive. I tugged down my dress and tossed my hair. If he thought he could dismiss me, then I would have to show him I didn't care. Men always wanted women who didn't want them.
"So, what's your boss like?" I asked.
The question sparked a reddish hue in his dark brown eyes. "My boss? He only loves the best of the best," Penn snarled.
"And yet he lets you work here?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.
Penn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, very funny. I never said he loved me."
"Your boss?" I was thrown off-balance.
"I hardly ever come here," Penn said. "Normally, I live at my own place down in Monterey. I'm more of a free-agent these days."
His phone rang, and Penn swore. I sauntered over to the sparkling view and let him take it.
"Yes, I got your message. Yes, I'm here. Of course you're going to be late," Penn's answers were curt. "Yes, boss."
I didn't want Penn to think I was listening in on his conversation, so I pulled out my phone. Tom had charged it as promised, and I was able to check my messages. The first one was a quick message asking if I had seen all of Penn's tattoos yet. Attached to it was a raunchy cartoon of a girl swooning over a tattooed strong man whose chest muscles danced. I laughed out loud.
"Yes, someone is with me. So, don't worry, I am staying here tonight after all," Penn said.
"Sorry," I said after he hung up his phone. "I hope I didn't get you in trouble with your boss."
"Not at all," he smiled. "How about I show you the apartment now? We can call it a night."
My heart dropped, and all the heat left my body. Penn had used me to play out some kind of spat with his employer. Now his boss, obviously a well-to-do billionaire, thought I was letting Penn do unspeakable things to me all over his expensive, custom furniture.
The thought that I would have let Penn do those things left me cold. Now that I knew I had just been a pawn in his little scheme to get back at his boss, I lost my nervousness.
Penn slid open a glass door and led the way out onto a stone terrace. "We can walk back up through the gardens," he said.
I shivered but followed him out into the brisk, bay air. Fog curled around Alcatraz below us and obscured the far side of the bay. The lights of Berkeley were barely visible, and I wrapped my arms around myself to stay warm. It was annoying how comfortable Penn looked. Inside, he seemed tense, but in the fresh air, his tense sho
ulders released.
He took a deep breath and sighed. "I love the smell of fog, don't you?"
I shrugged. "I'm not really the outdoors type."
"No kidding," he chuckled.
I felt my spine stiffen. "What does that mean?"
Penn crossed his arms. "I'm the outdoors type, so I guess you could say I can spot my kind of people."
"And, I'm not it?" My sharp tone rose from the hurt I felt.
"I'm not saying I don't like you," he said. "I just don't see you hiking and camping for weeks on end. Have you ever gone more than fifteen minutes without checking your phone?"
I jammed my phone back in my purse and pointed a finger at his chest. "You don't know anything about me," I snapped. "I used to go hunting with my father and cousins. I've done the camping thing and the canoeing thing, and I've been to almost every national park between here and the Mississippi."
Penn held up both hands and laughed. "All right, I get it. Maybe I pre-judged you a little based on your looks. Wait, why the Mississippi? Are you from the Midwest?"
"What do you care?" I marched past him and up some curving stone steps. "Is this the way to the garage? I'm pretty tired, and I'd like to see where I'm supposed to stay."
I was out of breath by the time I ascended the steep stone steps, but I wasn't going to let Penn catch me panting. I marched straight across the driveway and pointed to another set of stairs.
"That's it, up there," Penn said. He followed me without another word.
I stopped suddenly on the steps to the apartment and glanced down at him. Penn jolted, and I flushed with heat. He'd been staring at my backside the whole time. The realization that he might want me as much as I wanted him had a dizzying effect. Along with the fast pace I had chosen and then forced myself to keep up, I almost fainted there on the steps.
Instead, I took a long breath and noticed the view. "Wow. I guess living above the garage can't be so bad when you're sharing that view," I said.
Penn continued up until he was only one step away and we were again eye to eye. "Yeah, it's not a bad spot if you're content with just a view."
I laughed. "How can you sound so nonchalant? Are you telling me that, great outdoorsman that you are, you can't appreciate a good view?"
His dark eyes trailed out over the San Francisco Bay and kept going until he seemed very far away. "My boss is happy seeing all of this through glass, but I prefer to be out in it," he said.
I studied him for a moment as he watched the far, fog-covered edges of the bay. "Oh, wait, now it makes sense."
Penn's dark brown eyes swung back to me. "What makes sense?"
I chuckled that he seemed so worried. "Oh, come on. Now I get why you have open access to all of this. I even get why you talk about your boss the way you do."
Penn's hand flexed on the railing. "Please, tell me all about myself," he challenged.
"You're the groundskeeper," I declared.
"I'm the, wait, what am I?"
I pushed his shoulder. "Just admit it. You're the groundskeeper."
"And, what if I was?" Penn asked. He watched my face with careful attention. "Would that bother you? Are you disappointed that you wasted the night with a lowly groundskeeper?"
"The night's not over yet." The quip was so unexpected and full of such innuendo that I turned around and practically ran the rest of the way up the stairs.
A smile played around Penn's wide lips as he caught up to me and unlocked the apartment above the garage. "I'll leave the lights off for a moment if you want to check out the view again," he said.
The apartment was a surprisingly large and airy loft. The tall ceilings stretched to a steep peak and framed the view in a high A-frame. I didn't bother to muffle my envious sigh. "I think I could be happy living somewhere like this."
"Over a garage? You?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I crossed my arms and turned to face him, the view forgotten.
Penn flipped on a lamp next to a comfortably worn couch. "I just got the sense that you are determined to make it to a big house like that one. I didn't think you'd settle for the apartment above the garage."
"I don't know. Maybe I haven't decided yet," I gulped.
"Well, let me give you a little advice," Penn said. He moved closer and caught my hand. "Don't think about practicalities or settling. Just do what you love."
I shied away from him and feigned interest in an old oil painting. It was a tumultuous depiction of a sailboat in open water, and somehow the bright white of the hull comforted me in the midst of all the foaming, dark-blue waters. Steady and bright and able to sail through the storm.
That's how I felt every time I sang.
"What'd you study in college?" Penn asked, flipping on more lights. "Musical performance?"
I scoffed. "No. I wanted to make sure I was spending my money on a career that would pay off my student loans."
Penn tipped his head and considered me. "Did you pay your own way through school?"
I shrugged off the second question and only answered his first. "I studied hospitality. I'm applying to work at the Ritz-Carlton tomorrow."
"But you really want to sing," he said.
My laugh sounded hollow. "Singing's just for fun. And since I'm planning to live in a house like that someday, I'm going to stay focused on work."
He followed my gaze out the window to the mansion. "Did I mention there's a music room?" he asked. "It's one of my favorite rooms here. There's a whole wall of records. In fact, I bet we could find that song you sang tonight."
He headed towards the door, but I hesitated. I felt like a trespasser in that house, sure that each step would cause some catastrophe that would keep me in debt for the rest of my life. One careless elbow and I would owe his boss a priceless statue or antique vase.
"Unless you're tired," Penn said, but opened the door and held out his hand.
I took his challenge and let him lead me back into the luxurious glow of the mansion. He didn't stop on the first floor until the staircase. There, he glanced down at my high heels and said, "You can take those off and go barefoot if you'd rather."
I battled between being comfortable and being appropriately dressed in such elegant surroundings. My aching feet finally won out, and I slipped my shoes off. Penn plucked them from my hands and tossed them by the newel post. I cringed as their non-designer label was revealed, but he didn't notice. Instead, he held out his hand.
Our fingers laced together somewhere on the next flight of steps. I was stunned by how perfectly my hand fit in his, though I was terrified he could feel my jumping pulse.
Penn led me through the house, punching light switches and opening doors with a casual ease that I envied. He was never once stunned into silence by the priceless artwork or wide-eyed by the million-dollar furnishings.
Part of me wanted to play the part, pretend for a night that I was the rich person who owned such a lavish palace. I wanted to float through the rooms as if I owned them and take each expensive detail for granted.
Instead, I padded through the rooms barefoot and was barely able to keep my mouth from gaping open. The more I saw, the more a sure feeling took root in me. I didn't really belong in such a mansion, and the opulent surroundings weren't really what I wanted.
"And this is the music room," Penn announced. He tossed open the door and slapped on the lights.
A small dais stage complete with a microphone lit up like a beacon. "Does that ever get used?" I asked and pointed with a shaky hand.
"My boss loves to entertain, and he's usually got a little jazz combo or some fancy soloist performing here," Penn said. He caught my other hand, and the gold flecks warmed in his eyes. "Please tell me you want to try it out."
"Me? No. There's no music. I couldn't," I stammered.
Penn squeezed my fingers and pulled me across the room. He found a hidden switch, and an entire bookshelf moved to reveal a state-of-the-art sound system. "Any song you want. Just name it, and I can cue it up on th
is," he said.
I freed my fingers from his grasp before he felt the cold sweat that broke out on my palms. "Didn't you say there was a wall of…oh, there."
Penn grinned. "See the tablet on the wall? It's a catalog. Type in any album you can think of, and it will give you the precise location."
I smiled, relieved. "I always loved Billie Holiday."
He typed on the tablet and then pulled over a wooden ladder. Penn scaled the ladder with the ease of a practiced climber and pulled out the album. When he jumped back down next to me, he grinned again. "Did I mention that we can adjust the levels so you can sing along or sing by yourself with her band?"
I didn't want to admit that I was tempted. It would be too easy to lose myself in the joy of it. The glittering lights of the bridges and the dark, swirling glow of the waves in the bay were too stunning a backdrop. The acoustically perfect and lavishly comfortable room was too close to a dream come true. And the thought of singing for just Penn, just the two of us and the music, threatened to incinerate me where I stood.
"I know," he said with a snap of his fingers. "How about a little champagne, maybe a little snack from the kitchen? Maybe once you relax, I can plead for a song with better results."
"Your plan is to soften me up with champagne and snacks?" I resisted the urge to pinch myself and laughed out loud instead. "It's worth a shot."
Penn put the Billie Holiday album on and adjusted the levels so her voice was just barely audible. Then, he winked and took the stairs up two at a time. I circled the room and forced myself to take in every detail, but the small dais and microphone called me.
I had finally curved a hand around the microphone stand and joined in the chorus when Penn returned. He wasn't alone, and my shocked squeak reverberated through the room. "Your boss is Xavier Templeton!"
The multi-billionaire tech giant tugged at the crisp cuffs of his impeccable suit. I had seen his image on a dozen magazine covers and countless times online. Xavier Templeton owned Silicon Valley, and he was the one who made the future with the nod of his head. I gripped the microphone stand and prayed I didn't faint in front of the richest man I had ever met.
His handsome smile was just as perfect and shining as his dark, sculpted hair. He stepped into his music room and said, "Please, don't let me interrupt you. This is one of my favorite songs."