by Carol Caiton
"Good morning, Simon," she said, depositing his coffee on the table.
He didn't bother with a greeting. "Your sister's angry with me again."
"Why? What did you do?"
He scowled. It made him appear rather formidable. "Why do you automatically assume I'm to blame? Would you be shocked if I told you I was trying to protect her?"
"Which question would you like me to answer first?"
"Which— I don't give a damn. Sit down and talk with me."
"It's not time yet."
"What?"
She indicated his coffee. "This is only your first cup."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"There's an order to these things. You're disrupting the order."
He murmured something beneath his breath. "Fine. Tell me why you blame me for Hannah's anger. You weren't even there."
"It's because I've heard the bite of your tongue."
"The bite—"
"Hannah doesn't understand you the way I do."
He stared. Then a very wicked smile pulled at his mouth. "So, you think you understand me, do you?"
She blushed and felt the heat of it all the way up to her hairline. "I apologize. That was forward of me. I only meant that you haven't spent time with Hannah as you have here with me." She lowered her voice. "You need to make peace with her, Simon."
"Do you think I haven't tried? And I was trying to protect her.
"I believe you."
"You do?"
"I just said so."
"Don't patronize me, Jessica."
"Patronize? Ah, yes, I know that word." She grinned at him.
"I'll bet you do."
She ignored that. "Are you going to tell me why Hannah needed protecting?"
Something caught his attention and the forbidding expression she'd noted before hardened his features. In fact, he looked suddenly quite menacing now, his eyes flinty, his jaw locked in place, and a small tic thumped furiously in his temple.
"I was protecting her from him," he bit out, jerking his chin toward the entrance.
Curious, she turned. But the man who entered the dining room was the last person she expected to see. He should have been at work. Doing road construction things. But the black jeans that hugged his hips were clean. And the gray pullover shirt that fit so smoothly across his broad shoulders looked new.
The breath left her lungs and her knees weakened even as she took in every detail of his wonderful face.
"Kyle," she whispered. And then she remembered.
* * *
Damn, but she looked good. And if his eyes raked over her in a show of possessiveness, well, he'd finally come to terms with the fact that he thought of her as his. Even if she wouldn't talk to him. Even if she thought he'd give her away to someone else. Like hell.
He didn't like the depth of what he felt for her. And yeah, besides tension and a dose of fear when she wouldn't see him, another emotion she brought out in him that he'd never felt before was jealousy. This wasn't a fleeting interest. He was learning to accept that. And the thought of passing her along to another man, just knowing she thought he would, pumped a lot of angry chemicals thought his system.
As it was, he had to deal with an army of men ogling her because she was being paid to entice them. That minuscule excuse for a skirt . . . those full ripe breasts . . . . He knew exactly the kind of thoughts that filtered through a man's brain when he looked at her. And the way she was staring back at him, her eyes all sparkly and drinking him in as though she'd missed him . . . .
Then the sparkle faded and her lips trembled. A world of hurt showed in her eyes before she smoothed it over and turned back to the customer she'd been waiting on.
The asshole. Hell, didn't that guy have a company to run?
Kyle watched while she said something to him before whirling away and heading toward one of the coffee urns. When the hostess approached to seat him, he asked for a table in her section. He was given a window seat three tables away from the asshole and he pulled out a chair that would allow them to shoot laser beams at one another. Then he waited for Jessica to make her way over to him. It didn't take long.
"Good morning, Kyle," she said, all very proper. "Have you decided what you'd like to have?"
He looked into her eyes and enjoyed some very male satisfaction when she blushed. Damn, but he'd missed her. It hadn't even been a week since they took that walk, but it felt a lot longer.
"Yes, I know what I want," he told her. "I want you."
"Kyle—"
"And Jess?" he cut her off. "If I ever have you, there won't be another man after me. Ever."
"But—"
"No other men, Jess. And you won't be a used bride."
Tears welled in her eyes. She searched his face and blinked them back.
He softened his tone. "I wouldn't like it if another man touched you, honey. I'm staking a claim, and you can go look that up in your dictionary if you don't think I've made myself clear."
"Kyle," she whispered. Then she backed up a step and made a vague gesture with one hand. "I have to . . . ." She backed up another step. Without another word, she turned and rushed away, heading for the corridor that led to the restrooms.
Exhaling, he looked around the dining room and found the asshole's dark stare focused on him from three tables away.
* * *
It wasn't supposed to be this way. She didn't want to care for Kyle. She didn't want all this heartache and hope and doubt. She wanted a blue link. She wanted to love a man and know her future came with guaranteed happiness. How could she trust her heart after what happened in France? How could she trust Kyle with his permissive view toward women and sexuality?
Dabbing her eyes with her fingertips, she hurried over to one of the stalls and tore off some tissue. She was at work. This was her job. She needed to hold back her tears until she got home.
Checking the overlarge mirror to be sure her mascara was where it belonged, she took a deep breath and went back out to the dining room. Immediately Simon gestured for his second cup of coffee.
Refusing to look at Kyle, she went to prepare it. With a pair of silver tongs, she lifted a wafer of shortbread and placed it on a square of parchment, then set both on a small porcelain salver.
His first cup was still half full.
"Is something wrong with the coffee I brought to you?"
"No, I'll get to it." He folded his newspaper and set it on the table. "Go ahead and put that one down too."
She nodded and did as he asked.
"Sit with me," he ordered in that abrupt way of his.
She glanced at Kyle and saw that he was watching.
"I'm sorry, Simon, I can't sit with you today."
She knew there were bad feelings between the two men. Hannah told her that Simon had ordered Kyle to leave the administrative building. And every time he looked over at Kyle, he wore a terrible scowl on his face.
His hand reached out to snag her wrist.
I wouldn't like it if another man touched you, honey.
Her heart slammed up into her throat. She jerked away and backed out of reach.
"Jessica?"
"Simon, don't touch me."
He pushed back his chair and stood up.
Her heart skipped a beat then sped up. He'd never accepted her refusal before. Never. Only this was no game she played today.
But Simon didn't know that. In one fluid move, he caught her arm in a firm grasp.
"Simon!"
"Simon!"
Her eyes flew to the entrance where two security guards rushed the dining room. Before she understood what was happening, both guards flanked Simon and she thought some emergency must need his attention.
"Release Miss Breckenridge and step back."
She blinked.
Simon, after a moment's pause, set her free. Eyes burning with a fury she'd never before seen, he reached for his cell phone and jabbed a single button.
"Jeremiah, get your ass
over to Urns & Leaves. Manager's office."
He disconnected, faced one of the guards and said, "Portman, escort Miss Breckenridge. Kinnerly, you're with me. Let's go."
Whatever had taken place—and she had a very bad feeling she knew—she was to be included in the interrogation. Would Kyle remain quietly at his table?
Please, Kyle, stay where you are.
A quick glance around the guard on her right showed her he was on his feet as well, face set, his eyes narrowed on the men surrounding her.
A fourth, dark-haired man who, she guessed, was Jeremiah Case, joined them less than a minute later in her supervisor's office. Simon then turned a dark, impatient stare on her.
"What's going on, Jessica?"
She glanced at each of the security guards. The one Simon had assigned to her, Mr. Portman, seemed the most approachable, so she addressed him first.
"My security chip . . . in my arm . . . I was nervous."
Miss Breckenridge," Jeremiah Case answered, "your stress levels are fluctuating with the speed of a tornado." He tapped a finger to the technical device in his other hand and she heard the faint, rapid beep of an alarm.
She looked up. "That's me?"
"That's you."
"I see."
"Jessica." Simon drew her attention back to him. "Explain what just happened out there."
Even as the tension in her stomach began to ease, the soft beep of the alarm decreased in tempo. She gestured toward it. "That device is . . . very fascinating."
"Jessica."
"I was concerned," she said. How could she keep Kyle's name from being mentioned?
"Concerned." Mr. Case raised a mocking brow that emphasized the inadequacy of her explanation.
"Worried, then," she allowed.
No one spoke.
Simon's face told her this was serious. Her stress levels had brought security guards down on one of RUSH's owners. He wanted an explanation, and the other three men weren't pleased.
She met Simon's eyes. "I was afraid you and my friend might engage in . . . a physical dispute."
Simon scowled. "Kyle Falkner?"
Her heartbeat tripped, which was evidenced by the increasing tempo of the beep on Mr. Case's security device. She wished he would turn it off.
"Jessica!"
Her eyes snapped back to Simon. "Yes. Kyle."
"He had you in tears a few minutes ago."
"You're mistaken—"
"Don't lie to me."
She waited a few seconds, then she tried to correct his interpretation of her tears. "You're mistaken in thinking I was upset, Simon. They were tears of emotion because of something Kyle explained to me."
"And what was that?"
She shook her head. "It was private."
"Miss Breckenridge, according to your file, you have no current links," Mr. Case stated.
"Yes, that's correct."
"Do you have a relationship with Kyle Falkner that opposes RUSH policy?"
His annoying device betrayed the skittering of her pulse again. She frowned at it. "I don't like that thing," she said, pointing at it.
He smiled. "I, on the other hand, find it very useful. Answer the question please. Do you have a relationship with Kyle Falkner in opposition to RUSH policy?"
"Outside of RUSH, yes I do. He's my friend."
"You're Hannah's sister."
"Yes."
He waited.
She wasn't sure what it was he wanted her to say, but her personal life was not his business. She wasn't going to share anything she didn't have to share.
"Miss Breckenridge, I do have access to your file."
She lifted her chin. "Then you may certainly look through that file at your leisure."
If she was trying to make new friends here in this country, the man who was head of security at RUSH was not to be among them. She didn't like him. And he'd decided he didn't like her either. She saw the disapproval in his face.
"All right." Simon settled the matter. "Jessica, I don't engage in . . . physical disputes without good reason. And not on business property unless I'm defending that business.
She allowed him to believe she'd misjudged him. "I overreacted. I apologize, Simon." Then she turned to the two guards. "Thank you for coming to assist me. I'm very reassured of my safety here." Then she faced Mr. Security. "I apologize for causing everyone this distress. It wasn't my intention."
When he answered, his voice was polite and professional, but his eyes continued to watch her with suspicion. "That's why we're here."
Simon looked down at his wristwatch. "I've got to get back to the office. Jessica, you owe me a cup of coffee and a wafer of shortbread."
"It will be my treat, Simon. The next time you come in."
"I'll take you up on that." He turned to Jeremiah Case. "Are we finished here?"
"Yes, we're finished." To Jessica he said, "You're free to return to the dining room."
She didn't linger. Escaping swiftly, before the too-astute security man found a reason to detain her, she hurried back to the dining room and looked for Kyle. But his table was deserted. He was gone.
The soft clatter of dishes and the aroma of many coffee blends brought back a semblance of normalcy. Perhaps the weakness in her knees would subside before that man's clever little device began to beep another warning.
* * *
Jeremiah didn't need the soft, slightly erratic signal to warn him there was more going on than the little Breckenridge sister would admit. Back at Security Central he pulled up the file belonging to Kyle Falkner, stared hard at the full front image, then skimmed the abridged profile gathered from his file. A Philadelphia cop. Interesting.
"Jack, get a fix for me on Falkner, first name Kyle." Was he still in Urns & Leaves?
"He's in the parking garage up at Checkpoint 2. Level 1."
Jeremiah turned toward the third monitor on his right. "Give me a visual."
A few seconds later, the camera trained on that area of the garage zoomed in on one Kyle Falkner leaning casually against a silver-beige Mercedes. He studied the relaxed stance, glanced at the wall clock, and narrowed his eyes.
"Zoom in on the license plate of that Mercedes and tell me who it belongs to."
Another few seconds passed, then Jack answered. "Employee. Jessica Breckenridge."
That's what he thought. The girl's shift would end in twenty-five minutes.
He scanned Falkner's file once more, then turned toward the exit. "If anyone needs me, I'll be up at Checkpoint 2."
The guard nodded.
"And Jack, when the morning shift ends, I want that camera focused on the area around Jessica Breckenridge's car until I say otherwise."
"Got it."
On his way across the grounds he contacted Cliff Portman. "Meet me in front of the security gate at Checkpoint 2. I'll send someone over to cover your beat at the food court."
"On my way."
At Checkpoint 2 he snared yet another guard. Then he took up a position and waited.
CHAPTER 17
When her shift finally ended, Jessica walked over to the administrative building. The days were growing quite warm and this close to the equator, the sun's rays were strong. By the time the double doors slid open and she walked into the welcome coolness of the lobby, a fine mist of perspiration dotted her hairline.
"Hello, Mary," she greeted the receptionist.
"Hi, Jessica."
"Is Hannah in her office?"
"As a matter of fact, she was just out here with some papers and saw you on the path. Go on back."
"Thank you."
The marble floor gleamed beautifully as she walked over to the arch. Reaching Hannah's office, she knocked lightly on the doorframe and saw her sister look up.
"Hi. Come on in."
"I'll only disturb you for a minute," Jessica assured her.
"It's okay. I could use a breather. What a day."
"Very busy?"
"Yes. Come sit down." She typed some
thing on her keyboard and a screen saver appeared on her monitor. Then she sat back in her chair and sighed. "How are things going?"
Jessica smoothed the back of her skirt and sat down. "I'm not sure how to answer. It's been an eventful morning."
"You say that as though you're worried about something. What happened?"
"Several things. First, Simon said something this morning that has me concerned."
"Has Simon been harassing you, Jessica?"
"Oh, no. It's nothing like that. He told me you were angry at him for protecting you."
"Protecting me?" Hannah crossed her arms beneath her breasts in an annoyed fashion. "He was interfering, not protecting me."
"Did Kyle say something to upset you?"
"He told you Kyle was here? No, he didn't upset me. He came to see me to ask how you've been. Jessica, I really think you should speak with him. I think you seriously misunderstood something he said."
"He came to Urns & Leaves this morning."
"He didn't go to work?"
"I suppose he didn't. I didn't have a chance to ask. But I believe you were right about him. I somehow misunderstood what he said the last time I saw him."
"You've talked to him then?"
"Briefly. I'll ask him to explain it if he comes to see me."
"You mean when he comes to see you. Heavens, Jess, you've got two men romantically interested in you. At RUSH of all places. But if it comes down to a choice between Simon and Kyle, I'd definitely choose Kyle.
"I'm sure Simon doesn't see me that way."
"But Kyle does."
"Yes, Kyle does." She shifted in her chair. "Hannah, have you encouraged Kyle to pursue me?"
"Not in the least. I don't have to encourage anything. He's already hung up on you. But I did take pity on him and told him you thought he wanted to go to bed with you then pass you along to someone else."
Jessica felt warm color steal into her face. "That must have been the reason he came to Urns & Leaves and said the things he said. I have feelings for him, Hannah."
"I was pretty sure you did. The day you slapped Simon's face, Kyle called to you and you went right into his arms."