Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll (11 page)

Hawke frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got a meeting. I could only spare you
ten minutes and your handsy bodyguard used most of them.”

He swallowed hard. “But, what about
strategy?”

She smiled mischievously as she flung open
the door. “I don’t need strategy.”

She gave Max a cursory glance over her
shoulder and swung one hip at him as she swayed down the hall.

Max heaved a muffled curse and entered the
suite. “Women should not be allowed to shake their asses in public.
Especially an ass like hers.”

Hawke ran a hand through his hair. “Really? I
hadn’t noticed.”

Max pushed the door closed. “You expect me to
believe that?”

Although aggravated by Cameron’s ability to
manipulate his plan, Hawke couldn’t help but envy her spunk. Yet,
admitting he appreciated Cameron’s attributes would be extremely
dangerous. One look at the
no trespassing
warning on Max’s
face said it all. Hawke opted for non-response.

Max didn’t seem to be bothered by his
silence. “You’re still in one piece.”

“Actually, it wasn’t too bad.”

“The ass or the conversation?”

Hawke snickered. “The conversation.”

“Anything I should know?”

Hawke opened his mouth to tell Max about
their bargain and then decided against it. “She agreed to help me
with Rachel.”

Max snorted. “Not too sure that was smart,
Hawke.”

“You might be right.” Especially since now
Hawke was sure Max wanted Cameron. “How about we discuss it over
lunch and a beer?”

Max frowned. “You’re not gonna get plastered
and share your feelings, are you?”

“No. I just thought we both needed to
unwind.”

“You want to stay in or go out?”

“Out. I need some air.”

“Agreed.” Max led the way out the door.

While they waited for the elevator, Max
called ahead to clear their exit from the hotel.

“Back door,” he said as they stepped off the
elevator.

Security waited at the back door and quickly
shuffled Hawke into the waiting Suburban. Max opened the driver’s
door and then reached to remove a baby pink card from under the
windshield wiper. He tossed it across the seat before sliding
behind the wheel. “You have mail.”

Hawke flicked the card open with one thumb
and read the message:

I WON’T DENY YOU, HAWKE

Max steered out of the parking lot. “What
flavor?”

Hawke smudged the familiar lipstick print
with his index finger. “I’m thinking Wild Cherry.” He licked the
lipstick from his finger. “Yeah, Wild Cherry.”

“Want me to check it out?”

“Nah.” Hawke tossed the card to the seat
beside him. “It’s harmless.”

***

Cameron sat cross-legged on the sofa in the
reception area and erased the last name from Rachel’s appointment
book, almost labeling herself a traitor. Rachel would kill her if
she knew about the deal Cameron made with Hawke not more than three
hours ago. She released a long breath and blew the eraser crumbs to
the floor. Too late now, she wasn’t about to undo all her hard
work. Not after she spent all afternoon lying through her teeth to
convince so many people Rachel was actually taking some time
off.

She paused for a brief moment to analyze her
motives behind this whole zany scheme. Never for a moment did she
regret agreeing to help Hawke. After the short amount of time she’d
met with him, she felt confident he was sincere about his feelings
for Rachel. And realistically, Sean Pirelli had nothing to do with
it. Especially since his earlier phone call when he agreed to work
her in.

Cameron reached for the phone beside the sofa
and dialed Hawke’s number. Rachel just needed a gentle push, for
her own good. She worked an earring loose as she waited for Hawke
to answer.

“Hi, Rachel.”

She stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Not
Rachel, Zippy.”

“Cameron?”

Cameron tossed the earring to the table in
front of the couch. “Well, duh. Don’t you have caller ID?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, who else do you know at Newberry
& Tremaine except me and Rachel?”

“No one. What did you call me?”

“Zippy, your codename.”

She heard him release a long breath and she
took the opportunity to continue. “Since you’re so anxious to zip
right through this, I did what you asked. There’s just one
catch.”

“What now?”

“You’re out 25 pairs of concert tickets, six
backstage passes and fourteen french kisses.”

“Pirelli was the trade.”

“Well, I hit a snag and had to do some fast
talking. Rachel’s a pretty hot item, Hawke.” She gave an
exaggerated sigh. “She has a waiting list a mile long, but if you
want, I’ll call everybody back and explain the circumstances.”

Hawke gave a half laugh. “No, Cameron, I’ll
have Greg make the arrangements. But fourteen french kisses? Whose
idea was that?”

Cameron giggled and decided to let up just a
bit. “No one’s. I just threw that in to yank your chain.” She
sneezed. “By the way, fifteen bouquets of roses is overkill, don’t
you think?”

“Were you snooping?”

“I signed for the deliveries. All of
them.”

“They’re not all roses.”

“Technicality, Don Juan. We could have a
funeral in here.”

“Did you clear the whole week?”

Cameron cleared the moisture from the corner
of her eye with one finger. “Yes, I came to your rescue. I
rescheduled everything except the ribbon-cutting dinner for the new
wing at the hospital. Are you going?”

Her question was only a formality. The black
tie affair attracted anyone who was anyone in Diablo. Of course
he’d attend.

“Yes,” he answered.

She waited a split second and then went in
for the kill. “Do you have a date?”

“Are you asking?”

Cameron shook her head so hard she thought
her brain would flip over. “What? No!”

“Max is available.”

Suddenly, she felt the conversation was
headed for a dangerous curve. “Enough. Do you want my help or
not?”

He answered with a low chuckle.

“Anyway,” she continued, “blazing a path for
you wasn’t easy. Rachel won’t be happy when she realizes this will
set her People project back.”

“Her what?”

“She didn’t mention Professionals for
People?”

“No.”

Cameron tucked her bottom lip between her
teeth. “Maybe I should let her tell you.”

“Too late. If you don’t tell me, I’ll put Max
on it.”

“Fine.” She huffed and damned her big mouth.
That’s all she needed, Super Spy on her back. “Rachel and I support
a local charity, Professionals for People. We, along with other
professionals in the community, help to provide housing for the
less fortunate here in Diablo. We’re supposed to complete a house
before the hospital shindig.”

Cameron paused and took his silence as a
quiet victory. That’s what he got for thinking Rachel would fall at
his feet. “Does that soothe your ego?”

“Yeah,” he said. “What exactly does the
charity provide?”

“Everything. Lawyers draw up deeds,
contractors build the houses, and electricians wire them. Rachel
normally draws the plans and I do the interior design.”

“You sound dedicated.”

“I am,” she agreed, “but it’s really Rachel’s
passion. She started the whole thing about five years ago.”

“Why didn’t she say something?”

“Rachel prefers to keep her involvement
quiet.”

Cameron gave him a minute to process that
information and used the silence to question her matchmaking
effort. If Hawke truly wanted to get close to Rachel, he would need
to respect her privacy. Was that even possible?

“I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, Hawke,”
she said finally, “You better not break her heart.”

“I won’t.”

“Seriously, because I’m not afraid to take on
Bigfoot to get to you.”

“I get it, Cameron.”

Only halfway satisfied, she eased off for the
time being. “Just so we’re straight. By the way, I think we need to
re-negotiate our agreement.”

“Why?”

“I think Sean has his own charity. Is she
blonde or brunette?”

He chuckled and she knew he wouldn’t answer
the question. Especially since she’d already kept her end of the
bargain. “Thank you, Cameron.”

“You’re welcome.” The bell over the front of
the office door announced a visitor and Cameron looked up to see
Rachel enter the office. “I gotta go.”

Cameron disconnected and leaned to place the
receiver back in place.

“Who died?” Rachel tossed a cardboard tube
across the sofa table in front of Cameron.

Cameron sneezed again. “No one. All of these
are for your sniffing enjoyment.”

“From who?”

“Not that I read the cards or anything, but
they’re from a Mr. Jaydon Hawke, rock star extraordinaire. Just
what exactly did you do in Sacramento?”

“Not what you think.”

Cameron clutched the appointment book against
her chest and leaned back against the sofa.

“That’s why he’s called twice and sent
truckloads of flowers. Must’ve been some trip.”

Rachel cut her eyes at Cameron then glanced
down at the appointment book. “Please don’t tell me I’ve had
another cancellation.”

Cameron bit her lip. Please don’t kill me.
“That frees you up for the whole week.”

“I told Hawke I was booked the whole
week.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to look desperate,
Cameron.”

“He sounded persistent when he called.”

Rachel snorted. “Of course. He’s used to
getting exactly what he wants.”

Cameron smirked. “He wants you,
girlfriend.”

“No, he wants the thought of me.”

“That’s a really blonde thing to say, Rachel.
Even I don’t get it.”

“Hawke likes the thrill of the chase,
Cameron, and since I’m running, he’s thrilled. If he ever caught
me, he’d be bored.”

“Then beat him at his own game.”

“You are insane.” Rachel rolled her eyes.

“That’s no secret,” Cameron agreed, “but as
long as you have the upper hand, the universe is balanced. Besides,
I thought we agreed you’d try him on for size.”

Rachel’s eyes flickered and Cameron suspected
Rachel hadn’t forgotten.

“We did, but—”

“But what?”

“I’m not good at this.”

Not willing to let Rachel quit, Cameron made
the one suggestion she knew Rachel wouldn’t argue with. “Use the
week to work on his house.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow and bobbed her head
from side to side as if considering the suggestion.

“And,” Cameron pressed, “maybe you should
tell him about your People project.”

Rachel shrugged. “He probably already
knows.”

Cameron swallowed hard. “You think?”

“Nothing gets past Max.”

“Yeah, Secret Agent Man,” Cameron mumbled,
more than agreeable to let Max take the blame.

“I’ll think about it.” Rachel took the
appointment book from Cameron and headed back toward her
office.

Cameron folded her arms across her chest and
shook her head, both annoyed and proud that Rachel wouldn’t give in
easily. “You think entirely too much.”

Rachel had just dozed off when somewhere in
the depths of her subconscious she swore she heard a telephone
ring, but her brain refused to let her believe it. Instead,
peaceful REM patterns took over and returned her to a warm,
dream-filled cocoon.

And then the obnoxious noise intruded
again.

Why didn’t someone answer the ringing beast?
Rachel groaned and forced herself awake enough to realize the noise
came from the phone on a table beside the bed.

Half irritated, she rolled over and answered.
“Hello?”

“Miss Newberry?”

Rachel sat up, rubbed one eye with her free
hand, then glanced at the clock next to the phone. 2:00 a.m.
“Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, Ma’am, but this is the
Diablo Fire Department central dispatch. There’s been a fire in the
Pacific Valley Heights addition. It’s one of yours.”

Rachel didn’t give the dispatcher time to
explain any further. She mumbled a quick thank you, slammed down
the phone and sprung from bed.

Minutes later, Rachel crammed the car in
park, shoved open the door, and sprinted toward the smoldering
structure. Heat penetrated her pores as tiny bits of ash fell from
the night sky like snowflakes and stuck to her sweat-dampened
skin.

“Rachel!”

Rachel only vaguely recognized her name as
she came to an involuntary abrupt stop when she bounced off a
hard-bodied fireman in her path.

“You can’t go any closer.”

She lifted her now-watering, burning eyes to
see Rick Martinelli slide his helmet from his head.

“How did this happen?”

Rick brushed his forearm across his forehead
then wedged the helmet between one arm and one hip. “We don’t know
for sure yet.”

She dug deep for patience. “Guess, Rick.”

“Arson.”

“Why?”

“No way to know.”

“How extensive is the damage?”

“Total.”

Rachel fumbled for her cell phone then
realized she left it behind. “I need to call Hawke.”

“He’s on his way. The captain made the call.”
Rick handed her his helmet and then shrugged out of his jacket. The
scent of burning wood assaulted her nostrils.

“Here, put this on.”

She frowned. “You’ll need that, won’t
you?”

Rick shook his head. “Fire’s out. I won’t be
going back in.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Besides, I’m not
standing out here in my nightie.”

Rachel gasped, thrust the helmet back at him,
and grabbed the coat. “Thank you.”

Rick replaced his helmet. “You’re welcome.”
Rick turned and headed back toward a row of fire trucks. After
several steps, he tossed her a wink over his shoulder. “By the way,
I always appreciated your legs.”