Sexy Silent Nights

Jonah moved toward the spiral staircase to his loft. And there was always the chance that tonight would be the night that Cilla Michaels finally faded from his dreams.

CILLA JOLTED AWAKE AND TRIED to focus. Relief came when she realized she’d fallen asleep on the couch and not in her bed. During the past three weeks, she’d rationed the hours she allowed herself to spend in her bed.

Because the damn thing was cursed.

Each time she fell asleep in it she dreamed of Jonah Stone touching her, tormenting her, taking her.

And each time she woke up to find herself alone, she yearned for him. So avoiding her bed had become almost as important as avoiding Jonah.

Which was why she’d ended up dozing off on her couch during a Christmas movie marathon on the Hallmark Channel. The credits for Miracle on 34th Street were rolling down the screen. A quick glance at the time on her digital TV box confirmed that she’d dozed off for nearly twenty minutes.

That pissed her off.

Not only had she missed her favorite part of the movie, the part where Kris Kringle proves he really is Santa Claus, but she’d also missed the cheese and crackers. The plate sitting on the cushion beside her was now empty.

She glared at her cat. Flash, a plumply proportioned calico, lay stretched serenely along the arm of the sofa, a good distance from the scene of the crime.

Pets were not allowed at The Manderly Apartments, a rule that was explicitly spelled out in the lease and articulated equally clearly by the apartment manager, Mrs. Ortiz, a woman who reminded Cilla eerily of Mrs. Danvers in the old Rebecca movie.

But Flash hadn’t given Cilla much choice. When she’d moved in a few months ago, the calico had migrated from its former home on the fire escape to the living room via an open window. And stayed.

It had to be for either the food or the conversation since the cat wouldn’t allow her to stroke, cuddle or even pick her up most of the time.

“You’re supposed to share,” Cilla pointed out.

Flash’s bland expression clearly said, “You snooze, you lose.”

Her phone rang and the caller ID lady chimed, “Call from Wilder, Gabe.”

Cilla sprang from the sofa and raced for her desk. Gabe headed up G.W. Securities’ home base in Denver. Two months ago he’d given her a new beginning by hiring her to manage his branch office in San Francisco when she’d moved on from a personal security agency in L.A. Gabe wouldn’t be calling her at home on her night off if it wasn’t important.

Maybe he even had a job for her. Business had been good lately. G.W. Securities offered a variety of services to corporate as well as private clients. Lots of people wanted to give security systems for Christmas, and she enjoyed the challenge of working on their design. But there were times when she missed the action that came with providing personal security.

Mentally crossing her fingers, she grabbed the receiver on the third ring. “Gabe.”

“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.

“Moderation is the key. It made all the difference for me when I was in my teens. You’ll get used to it.”

Flash’s expression said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Tell you what. I’ll leave the Hallmark Channel on. They’re having a marathon of Christmas movies. It’ll take your mind off food.” She snagged the remote, hit the channel. “Look. A Boyfriend for Christmas. That sounds like a great one. Santa, presents and romance thrown in.”

And now she didn’t have to watch it herself. Cilla silently sent up a prayer of thanksgiving to Gabe as she rose and raced for the door. “Meeow.”

Flash’s mournful reproach followed Cilla as she headed for the stairs.

3

JONAH STONE HADN’T BEEN HAVING the best of days when he stepped into the airport parking garage. A chilly blast of wind followed him. His flight to San Francisco had been delayed three hours because of a blizzard in Denver, and he’d spent most of his wait time at the airport thinking about another blizzard and another night.

He’d been counting on the time in Denver to give him some respite from thoughts of Cilla. He’d been looking forward to catching up with his best friend, Gabe Wilder. Their other pal Nash hadn’t been able to make their annual party because his grandmother had arranged for a private Christmas cruise that would allow Nash and his wife, Bianca, to get to know some recently discovered members of their family.

Though their career paths had drawn them apart since the years they’d spent at Denver’s St. Francis Center for Boys, they tried to get together whenever they could, and Christmas usually provided the perfect time. He’d been looking forward to a poker game tonight at Gabe’s apartment and shooting some hoops tomorrow.

The note that had been hand delivered that morning had changed his plans. Like the first, it had come in a small green box tied with a red ribbon. The message had been playing in his head in a continuous loop, and each time it repeated, the feeling in his gut grew stronger.

The word pleasures had appeared in both notes, so now he was headed back to the club. Pulling his parking stub out of his pocket, he checked the aisle, turned left, and increased his pace.

He nearly stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. Though he managed not to break stride, he now knew what it must be like to take two barrels of a shotgun right in the belly. She was leaning against the back fender of his car, her mile-long legs crossed in front of her.

Cilla Michaels.

As often as he’d considered calling her, as frequently as he’d imagined her in his mind, nothing had prepared him for the impact that seeing her again would have on him.

It was all he could do to keep his pace from quickening. That night in the hotel lounge, her dark hair had been pulled back into a long neat braid. Tonight, it spilled in dark curls over her shoulders. The open red leather trench coat revealed a very short black dress. The shoes were red with open toes and dangerously high heels. And the legs…well, they were incredible.

But as he reached her, it was the eyes that drew his gaze again, just as they had before. They were a pure and piercing green with a shimmer of gold around the pupils. Fascinating. And looking into them for too long had the same effect he’d experienced the first time. He forgot to breathe.

When he drew air in, he felt the burn in his lungs. No other woman had ever affected his senses, his mind, his breathing, his gut in quite this way.

Nearly a month had passed and he hadn’t stopped wanting her. Now, seeing her again, he wanted her even more. He wanted his hands on her. He needed hers on him.

All the more reason to remember that she was dangerous for him. All the more reason to send her away. He had bigger problems on his plate right now. The two notes he’d received needed all of his attention.

“Cilla Michaels,” he said. “Gabe sent you.”

She nodded. “He contacted me as soon as your plane left Denver. He thinks you need protection, and he warned me you might not like it.”

“It’s not a matter of liking. Do I look like someone who needs protection?”

“Not in the least.” Cilla had had plenty of time to study him as he’d walked toward her, but she was sorely tempted to run her gaze over him again. The black leather jacket and jeans suited his tall, lanky frame and made him look tough and a little dangerous.

“You look to me as if you could handle yourself just fine,” she said.

“Good.” He opened the passenger door and tossed his duffel on the seat. “Then we’re agreed that I don’t need your services.”

“We’re not agreed on that.” She waited until he met her eyes, then added, “The least you can do is let me give my sales pitch. It’s the job of G.W. Securities to think of things the client might overlook.”

He leaned a hip against the car door. “Such as?”

“Would you have thought to check for a bomb under your car?”

He narrowed his gaze. “No.”

She smiled. “I did. It’s part of the service.” She could tell from the look in his eyes that she might have scored a point, but the game wasn’t over.

“I know that the first note said, ‘six days and counting…’” she continued, “the second said five, but that could be a lie. Sociopaths aren’t known for their honesty.”

Silence.

“And you’re probably thinking it’s highly unlikely that someone could have traced your car to this particular parking space, but I got a friend of mine to run down your license plate. Then I simply drove through the garage until I located your car. If I was able to do that, so could someone else. They could easily have booby-trapped it.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point.” When he smiled at her, the effect rippled right down to her toes. Then he took the lapel of her jacket and rubbed it between his fingers. Her toes, the little traitors, curled.

“But you’ve obviously got better things to do tonight. From the looks of it, Gabe’s call pulled you away from something or someone special.”

She thought of the empty cheese and cracker plate, her disgruntled cat and the movie on the Hallmark Channel’s Countdown to Christmas and barely smothered a yawn. Instead, she tried a smile of her own. “Actually, it didn’t. I was having a quiet evening at home.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “You dress like this for a quiet evening at home?”

“I changed after Gabe called. I thought this was more appropriate for Pleasures. That is where you’re headed, isn’t it?”

His smile faded. “Gabe is overreacting.”

“He said you had a feeling.”

“I may be overreacting. It’s probably a crank.”

“Perhaps.” But in the three hours he’d sat in the Denver airport waiting for his plane, he hadn’t changed his mind about coming home, Cilla thought. “But you don’t think so. You don’t like the fact that they used the word pleasures in the note.”

Surprise flickered for a moment in his eyes. “No, I don’t like that.”

“Could be coincidence, but…”

“I don’t trust coincidence.”

“But you do trust your instincts.”

He let the silence stretch again, so she pushed her advantage. “Look, I know we have a history. And we made a deal. One night.” She waved a hand. “Let’s put all of that in a side bar for now. This is strictly a professional offer.”

He narrowed his eyes fractionally, and dammit, her toes curled again. For an instant, her mind flashed back to that moment in Denver when they’d first stepped into the hotel room and he’d pushed the door shut and put his hands on her. His eyes had narrowed then, too, and she recalled how they’d glinted in the darkness. Ignoring both the image and her traitorous toes, she ruthlessly focused.

“Gabe’s a friend of yours and he’s my boss. He asked me to make sure you got to Pleasures safely. As a favor. I’m not even here on G.W. Securities’ clock. But I am here as a private security agent. And I’m good at what I do. You can call Gabe and get a recommendation.”

He frowned. “I’m not questioning your abilities.”

“Then why don’t you think of my escorting you to your club as a way to set Gabe’s mind at ease?”

“You’ll follow me to Pleasures and that’s it.”

“Not exactly. The service G.W. Securities provides is more than door-to-door. I check out your apartment before you go in. Double-check the security system. And I get a chance to walk you through Pleasures on the way. I’ve never been there.”

He considered for a moment. “Sounds reasonable. I run the risk of sounding like a real prick if I say no.”

“Not exactly the way I’d phrase it, but you’ve got the gist.”

“You are good at this, aren’t you?”

She beamed a smile at him. “I’m the best. How about I follow you to your club?”

HE LIKED TO KEEP HIS ROOM dark. In his opinion, everything was way too bright during the holiday season, as evidenced by the amount of light pouring through the windows. On the screen of his laptop, he could see that Jonah Stone’s plane had landed—10:15.

The anger that he’d been keeping tightly leashed for the past three hours eased just a little. He didn’t like it at all when he had to adjust his plans. The plane should have landed three hours ago.

But Stone was finally here. It wasn’t too late to go forward with the scheme. It would be another forty-five minutes to an hour before Jonah Stone would reach Pleasures.

He took a cell phone from his desk and punched in a number. On the fourth ring, a raspy voice said, “Yeah?”

He relayed the information and gave the order. “Got that?”

“Consider it done.”

Turning off the cell, he laid it carefully on the desk. Then he rose, walked to the closet and took out his overcoat, a hat and a long scarf. He trusted the man in charge of the mission, but he would still be on the scene to make sure his orders were carried out.

Five more nights—that’s how long it would take to complete his mission. It was all planned out. And during those nights, Jonah Stone would pay for the life he’d taken.

Moving to the nightstand, he glanced down at the picture. It was framed in crystal, and a small flameless candle burned in front of it.

Elizabeth. Poor, innocent Elizabeth. She’d been the only person he’d ever loved. And he’d had to leave her. He had a calling. She’d understood. He’d known that she’d been fragile, but how could he have foreseen that in his absence, she would fall under the spell of a man who’d seduce her and then reject her and kill her?

Five nights from now, on the anniversary of her death, he would exact revenge.

After running one finger down the side of the frame, he put on his coat, the hat and the scarf. Then he walked to the door.

When one set up a plan, part of the pleasure was watching it come flawlessly to fruition.

4

“YOU’VE GOT A CLASSY PLACE here,” Cilla remarked as she joined Jonah at the rear of his car. He’d pulled into a private lot half a block down from Pleasures and spoken briefly with the attendant, who’d then waved her through.

“I like it,” he said, shifting his gaze to the three-story club on the corner across the street.

And well he should, Cilla decided as she studied it. The location was prime, right in the heart of the city, and the building was old with tall arched windows on two upper floors that recalled a different, more gilded age.

On the second floor, shadowy figures wove their way among tables lit with candles. Through the windows on the street level, she caught a glimpse of a crowded bar. Tiny white Christmas lights twinkled on the awning, a subtle salute to the season.

“I know that I only talked you into letting me escort you here and lock you up tight for the night, but you really should allow G.W. Securities to provide you with round-the-clock protection. At least until we get a handle on what’s going on here.”

“You talked to Gabe on the drive over.”

She shrugged. “He is my boss. He wants to put a couple of men on you even without your agreement. My feeling is that the moment you spot them, you’ll shake them. He agreed. So we’d like your permission.”

“You’ve got all you’re going to get from me tonight. I have a business meeting tomorrow afternoon, and I don’t need a couple of babysitters tagging along. You can tell Gabe that I’ll check for car bombs myself in the morning.”

She let it rest as they watched a couple exit through the glossy red entrance doors to the club and head up the street in the opposite direction. At this time of night, there were very few pedestrians, and many of the other buildings on the block were dark. So were parked cars. In contrast, Pleasures glowed like a tempting little jewel.