A Gentleman in the Street (13 page)

Akira hefted the weight of the bouquet. “Good morning. This was on the front stoop. It has my name on it. Do you know anything about it?”

The permanent frown lines on his face deepening, Harris looked at the bouquet with genuine puzzlement. “No, Miss. I have been in the kitchen since I came downstairs.”

“Is anyone else from the staff here yet?”

“No, Miss.”

There was a privacy fence around her house, but the only gate was at the driveway around the side. It wouldn’t be a hardship for anyone to walk up to her door and leave her the gift. Obviously thinking the same thing, Harris scowled. “I shall review the security footage. Here, let me take those. You should not be handling any suspicious packages.”

She hesitated a beat before handing him the bouquet, which he treated as gingerly as a bomb. “Let’s look at the footage right now.”

Harris’s bald head shone in the morning light as he inclined it. “Yes, Miss.”

She followed Harris through the kitchen, where he placed the bouquet on a counter, and into a small pantry she had converted into a security office. Three flat screens showed split video of all of the cameras, both inside and outside the house. Harris leaned over the keyboard and typed a series of commands. The middle screen changed, displaying the front door and the gate. Harris played the footage at double speed, until a dark blur had him pausing. He backtracked a bit.

Three a.m. A large figure came up the walkway, bold as anything, and carefully placed the bouquet on the stoop. Though the exterior lights didn’t shine directly on the man’s face, they didn’t need to. Akira stiffened. Oh. My. God. She would recognize the way that man moved anywhere.

Jacob had left her flowers in the middle of the night? Jacob? Straight
-
and
-
narrow, felt
-
ashamed
-
to
-
get
-
a
-
boner
-
for
-
her Jacob?

“Hmm. Rather late to leave flowers
.
Suspiciously late. Shall I call the police?”

Yes. Call them. Have this man arrested for delivering flowers and reminding me he exists. Here, I can give you his address.

“No.” Damn it.

“Miss?”

“No, Harris. I can handle this.” She spoke through her teeth, wishing she could be cold enough to shuffle her ex-stepbrother and ex-moment-of-madness-lover to the big house.

“I’ve told you before, you should consider around
-
the
-
clock security,” Harris fretted.

She had an alarm system and excellent locks on her doors. Generally, she only employed security when it was absolutely necessary. Her father had insisted on personal bodyguards because he’d liked how important they made him feel—she’d had enough of people following her around when she was growing up. “No. This is no one to be concerned with.” Maybe he had suffered momentary insanity, resulting in a floral delivery. Of course Jacob had to be exceptional even when he went insane.

She could call him and chew him out, or visit his house. The bolt of anticipation shooting through her at those ideas immediately nixed them
.
Hadn’t she decided just last night she didn’t need his brand of crazy? Her life was volatile enough on a good day.

“All the same, you never know—”

“Trust me. I know. This man isn’t unstable.” She glanced at the screen and muttered under her breath
,
“Just annoying as hell.”

Harris bowed in that way he had that managed to look neither mocking nor ridiculous. “Yes, Miss.”

She almost made it to the exit of the kitchen before she had to halt, her body quivering. Muttering a curse, she stomped to the counter, picked up the bouquet
,
and glared at the fragrant sunshine.

She thought of the tidy home she had visited a couple of weeks ago, where she’d found Jacob’s sister instead of him. There had been no room in front, but perhaps Jacob had a flower garden behind his house filled with the sunflowers and daffodils and other various blooms making up this bouquet.

Don’t you dare be charmed. Don’t you dare find the thought of a massive Jacob lumbering through flowers and snipping them for you the slightest bit adorable.

Oh God, what if he had arranged this bouquet?

Control yourself, woman.

What was she supposed to do with these? What was this anyway? Weeds to serve as a sop to his conscience?

They were a pretty sop, though…

She stiffened, her spine straightening.
Fuck this weird, vague offering. And fuck him.

She marched over to the trash can and held the bouquet over the bin. For some strange reason, her fingers wouldn’t uncurl enough to drop the blooms into the basket.

Finally calling herself a weakling, she laid the flowers on the counter as Harris joined her in the kitchen. “Put these in water, please,” she said, not caring that she sounded more than a little grumpy. “You can leave them in my bedroom.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. If the scent of sunshine and spring followed her out the door and all the way to her office, she’d never admit it out loud.

Akira managed to keep Jacob out of her mind until noon, due to a fire at one of her Houston locations. Thankfully, the bar hadn’t yet opened for the day when the wiring in the walls had sparked, so no one was hurt. Still, the damage meant the place would be out of commission for a few weeks, at least, and she was kept busy dealing with the fallout.

The media was the biggest hassle. She understood she was an easy target since a lot of people would love to see her fail, and implying her venues were unsafe or dangerous was a favorite pastime, but it was annoying as hell to have to grit her teeth and calmly instruct her PR department on how to proceed.

Not for the first time, she cursed the arrogance of her youth that had dictated the name of her business. She should have gone for something anonymous, placed a no-name figurehead at the helm, and faded into the background as a faux-silent partner. Thanks to her father, this fucking name of hers practically painted a bull’s-eye on her company.

She was not in the best of moods when Tammy came in carrying the salad Akira had ordered from the deli down the street. “Bless your heart. I’m starving.”

Tammy set the familiar plastic takeout box on her desk and placed a brown bag next to it. Akira cast her a questioning look at the latter. “What’s that?”

“It was waiting for you at the security desk downstairs. I told them to send it up with your lunch order. I figured you ordered something else?”

Akira studied the innocuous bag, her morning flower delivery popping into her brain. “No. Just my salad.”

“Do you want me to…?”

“No.” Akira waved her away. “I know who it’s from. Thanks.” She waited for Tammy to leave. The second the door closed behind the other woman, she snatched the bag closer. The name emblazoned on the front was familiar, though she hadn’t seen the swirling script in a while. Davide. She traced her finger over the simple black lettering. How on earth had Jacob known…?

Akira stiffened. Ah. Yes. How long ago had that been? Five years? Leaving her mother’s house on a brittle New Year’s Eve, she had encountered the woman gushing to Jacob where he stood on the stoop, ready to leave, his coat draped over his arm. “The clock hasn’t even struck midnight yet, Jacob.”

Jacob had responded, but Akira hadn’t been concentrating on his words. So rarely did she get to hear the low rumble of his voice, she wallowed in it when she did.

“Well, give Kati and the boys my regards. I’ll drop by your house tomorrow. With Davide’s of course.”

A pang of hurt had wormed through the champagne Akira had been drinking all night to make the evening at her mother’s home bearable. It wasn’t enough Mei showed Jacob and his siblings more warmth at these parties than she did Akira. She also stopped by their homes the day after? With treats from one of the most expensive bakeries in San Francisco?

This time, she heard Jacob’s response. “Kati’s looking forward to it. She loves those scones you bring.”

She sneered at the exact moment Jacob’s eyes shifted to her standing behind her mother. His easy smile froze.

It took a second for her to banish the outward signs of emotion, but she managed it by the time Mei glanced over her shoulder, her shiny black bob swinging. Disdain replaced the affection. “Are you leaving?” There was no entreaty to stay, as Jacob had received.

She hadn’t planned on going. It was barely ten. There was a stockbroker lingering in the ballroom she’d been working on seducing all night. She always tried for at least one conquest at each of these parties.

Hell, she needed to eke some pleasure out of the experience. And her mother’s angry attention was better than no attention at all.

But suddenly, facing this matching wall of disapproval, she lost her stomach for courting even that. “Yes. I have a hot date waiting for me at home,” she lied. She stepped around her mother and through the door, her hurt insulating her from the cold breeze brushing over her bare arms. She hadn’t worn a coat, the better to shock her mom upon arrival with her short slip of a dress.

Jacob took two hasty steps back as she descended the stairs. Annoyance over his retreat, combined with the alcohol in her system, made her toss her next words over her shoulder. “I’ll try to clear my, um, friend out tomorrow in time for our traditional New Year’s lunch, Mother.”

“Don’t rush on my account, dear,” her mother said smoothly, both of them aware they were playing a game. “I know how you like your fun.”

That was her. Fun.

Jacob’s eyes shifted warily between her and her mother. “I have to get going. The kids are waiting for me.”

Mei softened. “Of course. Good night, Jacob.”

“See you tomorrow, Mei. Akira.” Jacob gave her a curt nod and turned on his heel, heading down the path to the valet.

“That man is a saint,” her mother murmured behind her. “As kind as his father, but far more responsible.”

Akira struggled not to shiver. “Yes. A regular saint. I suppose I’ll see you at Easter.”

“Valentine’s. I’m having a fundraiser requiring your presence. Try to behave. Important people will be in attendance.”

She merely looked at her mother standing framed in the door. “I show up.” Appearances were met. In society’s eyes, her mother was the poor, kind mother with the slutty, useless daughter.

“And I should be grateful for that?” Her mother’s narrow nostrils flared, but she was forestalled from speaking further when a burst of laughter came from behind her and she had to turn to speak with more departing guests.

She gave her mother a wave. “Bye, Ma.”

Her mother grimaced in response.

She found Jacob waiting for his car at the valet stand. He didn’t look her way, but the tap of her heels must have announced her presence because he stiffened. They rarely spoke to each other at these parties anymore. Or rather, he did his best to avoid her, and she did her best to pretend she didn’t care.

“You’re worthy of Davide’s, hmm?” she asked, hating the silence. Hating him a little bit. “That means a lot, coming from my mother.” And, thanks to the damn champagne, she continued bitterly, “She’s never even taken me there.” Akira had gone on her own, curious as to why her mother liked the small bakery so much. But it wasn’t the same.

He didn’t respond for a second, before a gruffly uttered, “I’m sorry.”

Mustn’t reveal too much.
She lifted her chin. “Don’t be. It’s better that way. I have to keep my figure.”

He gave her a short once-over, and though she was certain he didn’t intend it, his gaze burned over her bare legs. “You look fine.”

She had been told she looked amazing, delicious, riveting, gorgeous, and once, from a sexy Scot, “bonny.” So it was silly to draw Jacob’s “fine” close to her breast, as if it were the greatest of compliments.

“Cold, though.” He started to shrug out of his coat. “Do you want my coat?”

She eyed the battered leather hungrily. Yes, she wanted it. She wanted to steal it and wrap herself up in it and never give it back. So tempting.

He was merely being polite, the same way he’d offer his coat to a chilly old woman or a small girl. “No. Thanks, Brother Jacob.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He settled the outerwear back on his shoulders with a jerk as the valet drove a small, sensible sedan up to them. “Enjoy your evening.”

There was nothing but innocent meaning in Jacob’s words, but she gave him a bright, lascivious smile. “Trust me, I will. Night, Jacob.” She didn’t have to try to make her voice husky. That was automatic.

His gaze dropped to her lips for an instant before he got in his car and sped away.

Akira bit her lip, the memory making her chest ache all these years later. She edged open the bag, the scent of peaches and warm bread filling her nostrils. The scone inside was huge, the size of her entire hand. Peaches and cream.

Delicious. Her mouth watered, but a ball of melancholy had lodged in her throat. Jesus, but that encounter had been characteristic of all their encounters at her mother’s place, hadn’t it? She was the interloper, he the welcomed guest. She was the one who limped away wounded, while he sailed off, heart and soul intact.

A sane person might wonder why she had spent her life coming whenever her mother summoned her. There was no rational answer. Akira had told herself at the time it was an opportunity to annoy the woman to no end with her antics. Maybe a part of her hoped Mei would reward her attendance and hand over her grandmother’s legacy, but the chances of that were slim. Despite showing up, Akira never behaved the way her mother intended when she used the box as a carrot.

Akira guessed she simply liked the feeling Mei needed her for this small thing. And a tiny, weak part of her had been resistant to closing down the single chance she had to be around the woman. Because if she was around her mother, maybe one day her mother would…love her.

Akira released a shaky sigh. Damn Jacob. Dredging up all these memories. He was so closely entwined with her mother in her mind, it was difficult to think of one without thinking of the other. Pain either way.