He was sitting directly opposite her with a pen and a notepad. The whole scene felt surreal. And where was C.J.? She tried to see through the smoke, to no avail. She turned to face the detective. “What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with your full name.”
Tasha got through the beginning of the interview quite simply. She had nothing to hide. She was Natasha Bennington, single, twenty-seven, daughter of Congressman George Bennington, and a human rights lawyer. All easy till the next question.
“Do you think you any have enemies?”
That question had her sitting upright with her mind reeling. “Of course I do. The very nature of my father’s career makes me a target.”
“I understand, but what about your job? Do you have enemies as a human rights lawyer?”
Her body started trembling. “This is confidential. I will sue the station if this goes public. I have clients whose lives depend on me.”
“Don’t threaten me, Miss Bennington. I’m checking all angles.” His posture was rigid. “Please go on.”
“I’ve been quietly investigating Fernando Mendez for some clients, whom I represent on a pro bono basis. They were brought here with promises of green cards, but upon arrival were put to work in the grape fields illegally. The D.A. and I are working on a huge case that could put him away for years. If this information were to go public, it would ruin our chances of locking him up.”
The detective was quiet for a long time while he took down all the information. “I’ll need to corroborate your story with the D.A. For now it will be kept quiet. I have no more questions for you. I do encourage you to contact your insurance agency immediately to file a claim.”
He reached into his pocket and handed her his card. “Call me if you have any more information for me.”
“I will,” she said.
“Thank you for your time.” With that he got up and left.
Tasha ran her hands through her now wild hair. Tears poured down her cheeks as she realized this fire could all be her fault. She needed to make sure she kept her distance from people, especially from C.J. And she would have to put any relationship on hold.
What if Mendez was watching her right now? Anyone she knew or cared about could be at risk. In fact, two of them were.
A PITIFUL MEOW PULLED Tasha from her thoughts. She shot to her feet. “Stormy!”
Her beautiful Persian, wrapped in a blanket, was put into her arms. His face and the blanket were black with soot.
Tasha looked up and saw C.J. standing directly over her, giving her a smile that made her heart leap. In shock and relief, she tucked Stormy into the crook of one arm and extended her free hand to explore the face of the man who’d put his life in danger to save her pet. That face was covered in soot, too, but she couldn’t resist touching him.
“I told you I’d find him,” C.J. said as he leaned closer.
“Were you in terrible danger?”
“No.” He shook his head. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m a firefighter? I do this for a living. What did you think Tim and I did? Just hang out at the station playing pranks?”
“I don’t know what I thought. Actually, I usually just blocked it out. The thought of Tim constantly fighting fires made me nervous.” Tasha nestled against C.J.’s jacket.
He began to pull away. “Hey, I’m covered in grime. I don’t want to ruin your beautiful dress.”
“I don’t care! Please…hold me.”
He wrapped his arms around her and Stormy. Tasha felt him stroke her hair, and nestled closer. “Thank you for everything tonight, C.J. I don’t know how to repay you.” She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. They sparkled like sapphires through the soot.
“Hush.” He shook his head, then kissed her on the lips. It was a soft kiss, different from the one he’d given her earlier that evening. It was a kiss of comfort and affection.
She could feel herself wanting more. Then she remembered Mendez, and she froze and pulled away. When she met C.J.’s eyes again, she saw the look of a man with hope of new love. That was how she felt, too. But it was forbidden now. She couldn’t put him at risk.
“Thank you again,” she murmured.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re saying goodbye?”
“There’s no goodbye with friends,” she said evasively.
He stood a little taller. “I think we’re a little more than that now.” C.J. drew a deep breath. “Let me take you back to my place for the night. We can stop to pick up some necessities for you and the cat. You can sleep on my bed. I’ll take the couch. Tomorrow you can figure out what to do. But first I need to change.”
She nodded.
Fifteen minutes later the two of them and Stormy were sitting in her car. “I talked to Detective Gonzalez,” C.J. said. “He told me you had some enemies, but he wouldn’t go into details. Is that why you’re pushing me away? I’m a big boy, Tasha. I can take care of myself.”
She looked at the man in the ash-covered tux, then to the gaping hole filled with smoke that used to be her home. “It was wrong of the detective to say anything.” She looked away, not wanting to discuss it.
“He has to answer to a captain, especially if he thinks it could be arson.”
She jerked her head toward him again. “Does he really suspect someone’s after me?”
“He only alluded to it. Let’s get out of here. We can talk more when we get to my place.”
“Thank you for your offer. In fact, thank you for everything. I don’t how I would’ve handled this evening without you.” She reached up and caressed his cheek. “But I can’t put you in danger. If this is a case of arson, I need to go to my parents’ house until we find out what happened. Dad has a lot of security—I guess having a congressman for a dad has its perks.”
C.J.’s expression was unreadable. “I can protect you.”
“Come on, C.J. I’ll just be a burden. What about your social life? Anyway, I can take care of myself.”
“Social life?” He sounded perplexed. “What are you talking about?”
“Will you please just drive me to my parents’ house? Someone will be there to drive you home.”
He sighed. “Whatever you want.”
There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to go to his apartment and lie in his arms all night. But she couldn’t, she just couldn’t. She cared too much. It was as simple as that.
C.J. FELT LIKE A FOOL driving the heiress home to Nob Hill in her luxury car, with her sooty cat on her lap. He was done with society tonight, and pulled out his cell phone to call for a taxi.
He still felt confused by her attitude, more than confused. There was an ache in his heart that refused to go away. When he pulled up to the curb in front of the mansion, he said, “The princess is home safe and sound. I’ll be calling to find out how you’re doing. Okay?”
IT HAD BEEN A WEEK since the night of the fire, seven days since she’d talked to C.J. All Tasha had done was work and speak with every agency in the world about her condo. At night she was so damn tired she fell asleep with her clothes on.
The worry about people she loved being hurt because of her was overwhelming, but in her parents’ fortress of safety, she felt there was no imminent danger. She’d busied herself with work, trying to salvage her life. At least she was walking normally again after a lot of stretching and a few yoga classes.
By Friday Tasha was going crazy wondering when somebody was going to find out what had caused the blaze. The buzz of her interoffice phone brought her out of her thoughts. “What’s up, Daph?”
“Tasha, you have a phone call from a detective Gonzalez. Do you want to take it or are you busy?”
Tasha thought her heart would leap from her chest in anxiety. Her entire body began trembling. “I’ll take it,” she managed to answer. “Thanks.” She pressed the flashing button. “This is Natasha Bennington.”
“Hi, Miss Bennington, this is Detective Gonzalez. I’m calling to inform you a
bout the investigation.”
“Please tell me it’s not arson.” She was holding her breath.
She heard a small chuckle. “For once I can deliver a bit of good news. It’s been ruled an accident.”
Her breath came out in a whoosh. “So what was the cause?” she asked.
“The investigators I’ve spoken with all believe the culprit is the sixty-year-old wiring in your condo. Apparently an old fuse didn’t trip when your stylists were prepping you for the ball. We’re still investigating the exact time that the building caught fire after you and your team left. I’ll get back to you when I have more information. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you for calling, Detective.” Tasha set the phone down with a shaky hand. It wasn’t arson. Her body sagged in her office chair, the relief overwhelming.
This horrible ordeal had taught her one thing, until Mendez was put away, she had to be more careful in all aspects of her life. She had already taken too many chances with loved ones.
The phone rang again, and over the next two hours she was told the exact same story from the FBI, the fire investigator’s office, the police and her insurance agency. Her insurance company, however, wasn’t so kind. Fortunately, she had money and many places she could stay.
When the insurance agent told her how long it could take before she’d be given money to rebuild her home, she felt sick. What did less fortunate people who had lost everything in a fire and had nowhere to go do?
She couldn’t think about that right now. She was having dinner with her staff tonight. She would cancel, but knew Richard and Daphne were looking forward to their firm’s monthly dinner. Rubbing her temples, Tasha finished typing notes into the computer from her last appointment. She signed off with the words you have to help this family.
How many times had she written this? She might as well stop counting, because it seemed she wrote herself that reminder after every conference with a client. Each situation was desperate in its own way.
In frustration she began to rake her miniature Zen garden. In her heart she knew the probable outcome for this young family from Mexico. The father would be deported, separating the new mother and infant from the breadwinner. It was on days like this that Tasha knew why she fought the system so hard.
Her gaze traveled to the engraving hanging on one of the walls of her modern office. The quote came from Anne Frank, Tasha’s personal hero, a young woman who inspired the world with her courage: “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” Tasha wanted to believe that was true.
Leaning on the desk, she rested her chin on her hands and noted the flashy opulence of her office. The orange and red walls were hung with beautiful paintings. The marble floors and mahogany cabinets added a certain sophistication.
Even though she did all her work pro bono, the expensive decor made her feel guilty. But she wanted her clients to feel special, too. Her biggest splurges were on fresh-cut flowers she brought in daily to bring life and sweet aromas into her workplace.
Just because her clients couldn’t afford the top lawyers didn’t mean there wasn’t one out there who didn’t want to give them her all. Anne Frank’s words gave Tasha hope and courage to continue her fight for the amnesty of immigrants who already lived and worked in the United States.
Weary from her long day, she put her glasses down on the desk and rubbed her eyes, then glanced at the clock on her computer. She had fifteen minutes till she, Daphne and Richard were going out to eat.
Not only had she lost her condo, now she was fighting feelings for a man she knew she could never have. She wondered what C.J. thought of her now that the ball was over and he had saved her cat. Yes, they had kissed, but had those kisses meant anything to him? They were both missing Tim that night, and it was nice to have someone who felt the same way. Now that that night had passed, she imagined he was off with the newest flavor of the week.
Her phone buzzed, interrupting her musings. It was Daphne.
“Tash, do you want me to send in your next appointment?”
Tasha looked over at the planner on her computer screen. Sure enough, there was a Jeremiah P. scheduled to see her at five forty-five.
“Daph, did you add him today?” She spun around in her chair to grab a diet cola from the mini fridge behind her desk. “I don’t remember an appointment for this late in the day.” She popped open the lid and took a swallow.
“Yes, this morning. He told me it was urgent.”
“So he’s another first-name-only client?”
“I wouldn’t put him in that category.”
“Do I need to call security and have an officer sit outside the door?”
“No, but I’ll come in if you want me to.” There was a tone in Daphne’s voice that suggested this was not Tasha’s usual sort of client.
“Daph? If he’s your type of guy, I’ll definitely be needing security.”
“That was low, Tasha.” Her assistant sounded hurt.
“Come on. The last guy you lined me up with stalked me for a week. He tried to woo me with promises of beer, roadside camping and ‘hot loving’ if I would make the annual pilgrimage to Sturgis, South Dakota, with him.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t come with us. It was a total blast.”
“A Harley Davidson convention is not my idea of fun. Sorry, Daph. Can we talk about this after the appointment?”
“You can buy me a drink.”
“That’s easy, since we’re having dinner together,” Tasha said. “One more time. Is there a need to call security?”
“No.”
“So he’s not very good-looking?”
Daphne laughed. “Smoking hot is how I would put it.”
“For heaven’s sake, send the poor man in. And I hope he hasn’t overheard you.”
“Why?”
“You know I take our clients’ privacy seriously. That’s why your desk is at the far end of the reception room, so no one can hear you talk, or did you forget?”
“Aren’t we allowed to date potential clients?”
“What?” Tasha was beginning to feel edgy. “No, and stop being such a tease.”
“You’re no fun, Tasha.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She hung up and waited for her appointment.
C.J. SAT IN THE RECEPTION AREA of Bennington law firm wondering how Natasha was going to feel about seeing him. He’d been trying to reach her since the night of the ball.
He’d gone through a string of emotions from anger and frustration to worry. It was more than just a physical attraction to the beautiful brunette who ran this office. He admired her strength, her dedication, and was beginning to have strong feelings for her.
She’d changed her cell phone and hadn’t bothered to call him. It annoyed him that he’d been forced to call Detective Gonzalez to find out whether the fire was arson.
C.J. had tried to reach her at her parents’ house, but the housekeeper told him all information regarding Miss Bennington was private. To his chagrin, the McGinnises had decided to go out of town the day after the gala.
He sucked in his breath. Soon enough he’d find out some answers and—
“Jeremiah?” The secretary with pink-and-purple streaked red hair poked her head around her privacy screen. “You can see Ms. Bennington now,” she purred.
“Thanks,” he grumbled, then made his way to her office door. When he’d searched for her firm, he’d seen it was on Market Street, near the Embarcadero, in the heart of the financial district.
Good thing he kept slacks and a bomber jacket in his locker, just in case he had to go on a hot date when he got off duty.
“Excuse me….”
C.J. turned and almost bumped into the pixielike secretary. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. Am I going the wrong way?”
She blushed. “No.”
“Is there a problem?”
“I’m not supposed to do this. And believe me,
I never do, but would you like to go out with me sometime?”
He was taken aback. Normally he was keyed in to women and knew when they were going to make a move. For the first time in his life he realized he wasn’t interested in playing the field. Tasha had him wound up so tight he couldn’t even think straight. “Uh, what’s your name?”
She looked so sure of herself it made him uncomfortable. “Daphne Grant.”
“I’m sorry, Daphne, but I’m interested in another woman right now, and so I’m not seeing anyone else.”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes. Obviously this girl was not used to being turned down. “I’m not that easy to get rid of,” she said saucily. In her tight, silky shirt and black miniskirt, she sashayed back to her desk.
Now if Tasha wore an outfit like that…C.J. shook his head to clear it, then turned and knocked on Tasha’s door.
“Come in,” he heard her call.
He opened it and was met by an odd grating sound. Tasha was sitting at her desk, scraping gravel in a flat wooden box with a tiny rake. She was frowning fiercely.
Even angry, she looked beautiful. Her hair was pulled up in a chignon, showing off her exquisite face. Her shimmery, lime-colored blouse brought out her olive complexion and vivid green eyes.
He couldn’t resist baiting her. “Agitated, Benny?”
“I’m not agitated.” She looked flustered. “I’m just raking my Zen garden.”
C.J. closed the door and walked to her desk. “As a firefighter I’ve saved a lot of properties, but never a Zen garden.”
“You know I hate that name.”
C.J. started strolling around the office, looking at the paintings. “You hate being called Benny?” He feigned innocence. “Well, I hated it that your cell number changed. Sometimes we just have to deal with the things we hate.”
“Why don’t you go find a soft, willing woman who wants your company?”
“Tasha…” No one could get to him the way she did.
“How about I phone you later tonight?” she suggested.
“No.”
The Firefighter's Cinderella Page 5