A Calculated Romance (10 page)

Chapter 8
-Like a Moth to the Flame-

James pulled the strings of his hoodie tight, covering his blonde hair and much of his face.  He jogged through the morning fog, past a canal and into the sketchiest part of Venice.  At eight thirty, the skies still hadn't cleared, and the mist hung so thick it seemed a perpetual, faint drizzle hit his face.  He spied Landi's apartment in the distance, and just as he guessed, her old green pinto couldn't be seen.  She'd already left for her classes across town.

Thankful for the weather conditions which supplied him cover and complete anonymity, he made a quick glance around before approaching her building.  One last nonchalant look to each side, and he took a key from his sweatshirt pocket and slipped it in the lock.  It went in just fine, but refused to turn.  He tried flicking his wrist counter-clockwise, but still, it would not budge.  James removed the key and tried again, in both directions.

"Why, that little minx!" he said aloud, his voice filled with frustration and admiration.

He glanced up to the eaves just to make sure the girl hadn't also installed a nanny cam, then felt Sizzle rubbing against his calf.  He reached down and picked up the alley cat, rubbing the animal behind its ears.

"Your mistress changed the lock, eh?  Didn't see that one coming," he whispered to the cat, now scratching under its chin.  "In future, we'll give her more credit, won't we, Boy?"

James placed the cat back on the ground and resumed a slow jog back to his car, parked several blocks away in a swankier part of the seaside town.  His trunk held a lock pick and other devices that would easily grant him entrance to her apartment.  He pondered whether he should return another time or get this over with today.  By the time he reached his car, the fog began to clear.  He'd have to come back later to search her place.  He didn’t want to risk being spotted by a neighbor or the landlord.

Arriving at Katrina's, he changed from his sweats to jeans and a polo shirt.  Then, he called his boss with an update on his progress before continuing his research on the internet.  When Ireland arrived, he realized he hadn't gotten lunch.

"Hello, James," she said without looking at him. 

She felt heat flush on her neck and tried to calm herself.  Coming to work became more difficult each day with this man present.  After yesterday, even his scent caused her to blush.

"Hey, Kumquat.  How was class?"

"Great," she replied, sitting down and turning on the laptop she used when at work.

"Make anymore earrings?" he asked, referring to the pair she'd given her stepmother.

"No.  Today, we studied how to polish different stones for different effects—nothing hands-on," she explained.

"Say, Landi, I've got two Dodger tickets for tonight's game.  Do you want to come with me?" he asked.

He watched as she buried her nose in her keyboard as if searching for a missing letter of the alphabet.  She bit her lower lip, and her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink.

"Uh, no, thank you."

"Why not?  I bet you've never even had a Dodger dog.  You can't miss that."

"Uh, I'd like to, but—" she said, chancing a glimpse in his direction.

She saw the pleasant smile on his face and his confident countenance.  He didn't get turned down often, and the thought probably hadn't even crossed his mind.  Still, she wished she could go with him.

"But what?" he interrupted.

"I already have plans this evening."  There, she'd said it.

"What kind of plans are those?" he said, his tone demanding as he raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to dinner with Douglas."

She risked another glance his way and saw his lips curl into a snarl, then relax into a smile.  She checked his eyes and watched them shift from deep blue to grey in a matter of seconds. 
They
did not smile along with his mouth.  She could read him easily after only knowing him a couple of weeks.  Years surviving with the bare minimum of affection and material goods, along with interpreting the moods of others, had made her keenly observant.

"Have fun," he said cheerfully, then returned to his computer work, furiously typing away.

Ireland checked her emails and then began responding to comments left on Katrina's blog.  Her boss insisted every remark be replied to, unless, of course, they were disparaging.  Those they ignored or tried to placate if not too rude.  The two worked on this together, so Landi had a pretty good idea of how to answer the fans of Violet Sparks, Kate's pen name.  Sometimes, this required research.  The girl was in the middle of googling a jewelry designer from the 1920s when her computer pinged with a message.  She switched to her email account and saw a note from Katrina.

Odd.  She should be enjoying her honeymoon, not thinking about work
.

She opened the document, first squinting, then widening her eyes to be sure she read it correctly.  Her boss apologized for slamming her with so much work at the last minute, but it was vital that she complete the task before twelve that night.  Katrina needed a proposal for a museum in Torino, Italy.  They were planning an upcoming exhibit of Italian jewelry from the sixteenth century through the twentieth, and wanted the input of Violet Sparks.  It could prove lucrative.  Ireland needed to research the different styles of ornaments common in those eras and put together a plan of how the collection should be shown to the public.  Kate included the layout of the display room as an attachment and asked that the completed design be returned to her before midnight, California time.  She would present it to the museum the next day.

Ireland grimaced and rubbed her forehead.  This was the biggest project she'd ever been given, and she didn't want to let her boss down.  She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

"What's wrong?" James asked.

"Nothing.  Your sister just gave me an enormous project, and I don't know how I can meet the deadline," she said, frowning.

"Anything I can help with?"  He raised his eyebrows and looked sincere.

"Maybe.  I'll let you know," she said, heading for the living room and its telephone.

He listened in as Landi broke her date with Douglas, explaining the situation to her would-be suitor.  Jim put all his mental efforts into not smiling.  So much for the swing dancer's attempt at romancing the girl.  He slipped from the apartment before she hung up.

Forty minutes later, James returned with Mexican food from a mom and pop place a few miles away on Venice Boulevard.  He popped a Styrofoam container open in front of Landi.  She glanced at the burrito, rice, beans, and guacamole.

"I can't eat all that," she said, exasperated, glaring up at him.

She saw his irises had returned to their normal shade of deep blue and breathed a sigh of relief.  Sometimes, his gaze troubled her.  He flashed his devastating grin.

"Yes, you can, Kumquat.  You've got to keep your strength up.  I've got flan for later," he added.

"I'm sure you do," she said absentmindedly, looking back at her computer screen.

They ate at the table, both attending to their work between bites.  Every so often, she felt his eyes on her, but she chose to ignore the man.  His stare made her nervous, as did his masculine presence, or aura, and she couldn't afford the distraction today.  Around five o'clock, he suggested they stop for dessert.

"You've been hunched over that thing all afternoon.  Let's take a short break," he urged.

She agreed, and he ordered her to retreat to the living room for coffee and flan.  She complied, cracking her neck and giving her back a good, long stretch, arms over her head.  Jim couldn't help but watch the girl as she lengthened her lithe torso and rolled her neck forward and backward.  He forced himself into the kitchen to retrieve their desserts and brew coffee.

"James?" she said after he'd sat down.

"Yes."

"What do I owe you for lunch?  You've been providing me meals all week, and I haven't paid you a cent," she said.

"Oh,
that's
how it is, huh?  I'm hurt."

"What?"

"Here I've been thinking of it as a lunch date each day, but it's been all business for you," he joked.

"Really, James, I feel bad.  What do I owe you?"

"Let's worry about that later.  When I think of a way you can pay me back, I'll let you know."  He waggled an eyebrow suggestively. "Now, it's your turn to spill a secret,"  he said, switching the subject.

Ireland had already decided she'd confess her darkest secrets to him first.  She formed a strategy that would scare him away—the sooner, the better.  If he failed to run, maybe she'd gain a real friend.  She doubted he'd be able to handle her truth, though.

"Someone tried to kill me," she stated with a deadpan tone.

She watched Jim's face twitch, then cement into a blank expression—except for his eyes.  They turned a steely grey almost instantaneously.  She longed to see them blue again.

"Who?" he commanded more than asked.

She felt her lower lip quiver before the words tumbled from her. "My boyfriend."

"When?"

His countenance never changed after that first quick spasm, although a light akin to rage sparked from his eyes.  She'd seen something similar burn in Rick the last time she refused him.  She instinctively drew back.

"Nine months ago, before I came to LA.  That's why I left Cadiz when I did."

Ireland averted her eyes from his stare and hung her head.  Even though it wasn't her fault, the attack left her ashamed.  She could hear Jim's breathing even though she'd inched away from him.

"Has he bothered you again?" he growled.

"No.  I haven't seen him since.  I don't think he knows where I am, but sometimes, I worry that . . ." her voice trailed off, her head still down.

They remained silent for several minutes.  With each passing second, she figured he was trying to figure out an exit strategy—a way to leave politely.

"Did he do anything else to you?" he asked in a whisper so low, she almost couldn't hear him.

"Isn't trying to take my life
enough
?" she asked, incredulous.

Landi's spine straightened, and she shot James a withering glare before she realized what he was getting at.  His expression remained hard as granite, and he focused his stare on her shoulder instead of her face.

"No, he only choked me," she said in a barely audible tone, ignoring how Rick had roamed his hands over her body before she'd convinced him she'd run away with him.  The memory made her wince.  They agreed he'd return for her the next morning after she'd had a chance to break the news to Hatti.  Instead, she'd made it to Needles, then taken the bus to Los Angeles before disappearing into the metropolis.

Jim placed his hand over hers.

"I'm sorry, Landi," he said, shifting his eyes to meet hers.

His expression softened as he rubbed the fleshy part of his thumb over the back of her hand and wrist.  She enjoyed how his rough fingers felt against her skin.  Somehow, he managed to make her feel safe.

"I am too.  Rick wasn't always like that.  He'd been my friend for years, and we did talk about marrying someday.  He's a couple of years older than me, and when he got out of high school, he started hanging around the wrong crowd.  He changed."

"I don't think you have any reason to be sorry, Ireland.  I've dealt with bad people in my line of work, and their victims are never at fault.  I'm just glad you survived." He lowered his voice to a deep, husky tone and continued, "And that I met you."

She didn't recoil when he reached for her and pulled her under his arm.  He gave her several good squeezes, jostling her considerably.  She didn't mind.

"Your turn," she said.

He chuckled.

"Hmm, there was this blonde beauty who tried to drown me—"

His cheerful tone revealed that he joked.

"The truth!  A real secret," she insisted.

"Demanding, aren't you?" he said between laughs.

"I'm only following your rules."

"All right.  I find I've got a thing for redheads," he said in his most serious voice.

She let his comment hang in the air without replying and finished her flan, savoring the caramel sauce, before returning to her project.  After several more hours of work, Jim punched a key on his computer and stood to leave.

"That's about it for me.  How's it coming?" he said, walking around the table.

"Fine," Landi replied, too engrossed to look up.  A second later she yelled, "Oh, no!"

"What?  What's wrong?" he said, glancing over her shoulder.

"My computer just crashed!  Oh, what am I going to do?  I think I lost my work," she cried, frantically punching keys.

"Stay calm," he said, laying a large hand on each of her shoulders.  He gently kneaded his fingers into her muscles until he felt the knots dissolving.  Then, he grasped the nape of her neck and tenderly forced her head from right to left, running a thumb up and down the side of her neck, relieving more tension.  He returned his hands to her shoulders and grazed her back with his thumbs while his fingers caressed her clavicle bones.