Sexy Silent Nights

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

“Not at all.” The cheese and crackers were gone, her favorite movie was over, and working would give her a perfect excuse to avoid her bed.

“I need a favor,” Gabe said.

Cilla’s heart sank. Not a job after all. “What can I do?”

“I want you to meet someone at the airport and make sure he gets home safely. He’s not a client. He doesn’t even know I’m making this phone call.”

Hearing the worry in his voice, Cilla reached for a pen and paper. “Who is he and what time does his plane touch down?”

On the other end of the line, Gabe expelled a breath. “Thanks, Cilla. It’s Jonah Stone and he’s due to arrive in San Francisco at 10:15. There was a lengthy delay because of the weather here in Denver. I was hoping the flight would be canceled, but he’s on his way.”

Jonah Stone.

Just the mention of his name had her heart skipping a beat. His image flashed into her mind—all that glorious dark hair, the handsome face with its sharp cheekbones, clearly defined chin with just that hint of a cleft, and the dark gray eyes… Just thinking about him made her knees weak and she carefully lowered herself into her desk chair.

“Jonah’s not going to like that I’m sending you,” Gabe said.

Cilla didn’t imagine that he would. She’d had a chance to explore every inch of that taut, toned, amazing body. Jonah was a man who could handle himself on a physical level pretty well. That was definitely part of what made him so damned attractive.

More than once since their night in Denver, she’d regretted the fact that he was on her Forbidden Fruit list. More than once, she’d run over the reasons why. She’d done a little research on him. According to Gabe, the man had a real talent for hacking and electronic security, and right out of college, he’d helped Gabe establish G.W. Securities and continued to work there while he’d recruited backers for a supper club in San Francisco. In the past six years, he’d opened two more clubs and others were in the planning stages. A man that successful had to put business first just as her father had.

And still did. Bradley Michaels was handsome, charming and currently working as the CEO of his fourth company. There’d been no time in his life for her mother or her. Not even at Christmas. Christmas had been his time to focus even more on the business and entertaining. After five years of playing second fiddle, her mother had divorced him, and since then Cilla’s contact with her father had been limited to phone calls on her birthday and Christmas.

“I’m worried about Jonah,” Gabe said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s worried enough to cancel his plans and fly back to San Francisco early. He received a threatening note today. It was inside a green box tied with red ribbon and hand delivered to him while he was at a Christmas party he and Father Mike Flynn and I were throwing for the Boys and Girls Club we run here in Denver. I have some people still working on the box and the ribbon, but there were no prints, and I’ve had no luck tracking down the sender. He or she wore a Santa suit and sent it in with one of the kids. An early present for Mr. Stone. I’ll send the contents of the note right now in a text.”

Cilla grabbed her cell phone. “It’s the first one he’s received?”

“No. I asked him that right away and he admitted getting one yesterday during the height of the cocktail hour at Pleasures.”

“I’ve got the text.” Then she read it aloud.

“‘’Tis the season for remembering Christmases past. Pleasures and fortune are fleeting. You destroyed an innocent life in pursuit of yours. You’ll pay for that soon. Five nights and counting…’”

Today was the twentieth of December. Cilla did the math in her head. “Five nights until Christmas.”

“Yeah. The first had the exact same message except that it read, ‘Six nights and counting…’”

Holding the phone pressed to her ear, Cilla rose and began to pace. “The first one is delivered to his club here in San Francisco, the next to Denver. The sender wants him to know that someone’s keeping close tabs on him.”

“We think along the same lines, and so does Jonah.”

“Does anything in the wording ring a bell for him?” Cilla asked.

“Not that he can put a finger on. But he has a feeling about the threat. His feelings are usually spot-on, so now I have one, too.”

She was beginning to get one herself. Gut instinct should never be ignored. Her mind was already racing ahead. What she had was a reluctant client and the possibility of real danger. A tricky combination, but she could do tricky. In fact, she enjoyed tricky. One reason she’d been delighted when Gabe had approached her was because the jobs in L.A. had become a bit too predictable and boring even before she’d had a disagreement with a client and decided to move on.

“Jonah has an office and living quarters over his club, Pleasures. That’s where he’s headed.”

“Good to know.” Going to Pleasures would mean a wardrobe change. The jeans she was wearing would be out of place at the fancy supper club.

“I’ve known Jonah since we were in our teens. Ask him for help and he’ll give you anything he’s got. But at heart, he’s a bit of a loner. He doesn’t like to depend on anyone.”

“In other words, he’s going to try to ditch me.”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t let me send anyone with him. He wouldn’t even let me tag along.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll stick.” The two years she’d spent working personal security for some of Hollywood’s youngest and brattiest stars had honed her skills in the sticking department.

The moment she hung up the phone, she raced into her bedroom and threw open her closet door. She didn’t have a lot of clothes, but during her time in L.A., she’d acquired some special pieces. She pushed aside hangars and decided on the little black cocktail dress that had visited some of Hollywood’s hottest nightspots.

Whirling, she was about to toss it onto her bed, but Flash lay sprawled across the middle. The cat could move like lightning when she really wanted to.

“I have to leave for a while.” She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice. “Business. Fancy place.”

Pleasures was very upscale. Though she’d never been there, she’d frequently walked by. And each time she’d passed the front doors during the past three weeks, she’d resisted the temptation to go in. If she had, the chances were good that she’d run into him. The plan was to get over Jonah Stone.

So far the plan hadn’t worked. And seeing him again…

Jonah was a client, she reminded herself. And she had very strict rules about clients.

She turned her attention to Flash. “Dress needs something, don’t you think?” The red peep-toed shoes had cost her half a paycheck, but when she held them up for Flash’s inspection, the cat made a sound deep in her throat.

“I agree. These things will dress up anything.”

It took her three minutes to change and another ten before she was satisfied with her hair and makeup.

She paused to survey herself in the mirror. She definitely didn’t look like a bodyguard. That ought to make it easier for a man like Jonah Stone to accept her as one. At least for the evening.

Then she narrowed her eyes on the image in the mirror and swept her gaze down and up. “Who are you kidding? You’re wearing this just as much for him as you are for the job.”

Moving closer, she tapped a finger on the mirror. “The man has three strikes against him. Not only is he like your father, he’s also your boss’s best friend and now he’s a client. One night with Jonah Stone is understandable. Enviable. Any more could be disastrous. You are going to handle this.”

Turning back to her closet, she grabbed her red leather coat and transferred her gun from her dresser drawer to her pocket. She was almost at the door of her apartment before she felt the eyes boring into her back.

Flash.

“Sorry.” Whipping around, she saw that the cat had returned to her station on the sofa. Right next to the empty plate.

“I’ve got to go, pal.” Crossing to the sofa, she crouched down and looked into Flash’s eyes. “It shouldn’t take long. But it’s my chance to impress my new boss.” She lifted a hand and then dropped it, remind ing herself that Flash didn’t like to be touched. “No more food. Remember our little talk about lifestyle choices.”

It was one that they’d had several times since she’d taken her new roommate to the vet. Dr. Robillard had prescribed a “modification” in Flash’s diet. The pediatrician her mother had taken Cilla to when she was thirteen had used nearly the same words.