The Hill

“God, no. I’m working for her tonight...as a bodyguard.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” London sniffed and ran her hand beneath her nose. “It’s the least I can do. Theodore can take us.”

“That I can,” her driver added.

A drink with the rich and beautiful London Breck? Why not? Another way to make his older brothers jealous.

“Sure.”

“I’ll go tell Bunny’s driver. I know him.” Theodore turned and made his way down the alley, momentarily blocking out the headlights and casting him into darkness again with London.

She suddenly looked vulnerable with her silvery-blond hair half-down on one side and her ripped couture dress.

Judd tapped his neck. “Are you okay?”

“Throat’s a little rough, but I’ll live.”

“Do you want to report it to the cops?”

“Did you get a license plate or a good look at the driver or my attacker?”

“The car didn’t have a license plate and the driver was wearing a ski mask just like your assailant’s, except for the white zigzag down the front.”

“Then, no. I don’t need the publicity.”

Theodore shifted his formidable presence to the side and the headlights lit up the alley again. The beams picked up London’s sparkles—her hair, her jewels, her dress—and she blazed to life. How had he ever imagined this woman had one vulnerable bone in her body?

“You get a lot of that, don’t you? Publicity, I mean.”

Spreading her hands, she shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

Theodore called from behind her, “I sent Mrs. Harris’s driver away. Are you ready, Miss Breck?”

“After the night I just had? You bet.”

She spun around on her high heels and picked her way through the puddles in the alley to the waiting town car.

Judd’s gaze locked onto her swaying hips in the glittering material below the bomber jacket and the endless legs below the jagged hem of the skirt. London had a tall, slim build, but he wouldn’t call her skinny.

Wouldn’t kick her out of bed, either.

He motioned for the driver to get in the car first and held open the door as Theodore squeezed behind the wheel. Judd slammed the door after Theodore and ducked into the backseat.

It smelled like brand-new leather, which felt as smooth as butter beneath his fingertips as he adjusted himself on the seat next to London.

The glass between the front and backseats slid open. “Where to, Miss Breck?”

“How about Sneaky Pete’s in the Lower Haight?”

“I don’t think it’s very safe down there, Miss Breck.”

“I’m going to be with Bunny Harris’s bodyguard, and he’s—” she patted his chest “—packing heat.”

“It’s that obvious?”

“To the practiced eye.” With her hand still on his chest, she ran those practiced eyes down to his thighs and a slow heat simmered his blood.

“And here I thought we were headed someplace upscale and trendy.”

“I just want a quiet drink. Disappointed?” She snatched her hand back and dropped it into her lap where her ripped dress had ridden up, exposing her creamy thighs.

“Doesn’t make any difference to me, but if we’re headed that way, I need to make a stop first. Is that a problem?”

“Not for me.” She leaned forward in her seat. “Theodore?”

“Not a problem, sir. Where to?”

Judd pulled the bag of jewels from his pocket and tossed it on the seat between him and London. “I need to make a deposit at Bunny’s house.”

“I know exactly where the Harris house is. It’s not too far from Mr. Breck’s residence. We’ll be there in less than fifteen minutes.” The privacy glass magically slid into place while Theodore backed the car out of the alley and rolled onto the street.

“I’m sure this was your idea.” London caressed the velvet pouch. “Bunny is notoriously careless, especially when she’s met a new young stud.”

“I noticed.”

“Do you guard her body or her possessions?”

“This is a one-night gig for me. I was helping out a buddy, and the directive was to watch the jewels. When it was clear she’d made plans after the gala with someone she’d just met, I insisted she leave her jewels with me.”

“You’re one of those Brodys, aren’t you?”

Why wouldn’t she know his family? Hers had been in this city longer than his. He hunched forward and inspected the mobile liquor cabinet in front of him. “Yep.”

“Congratulations.”

“For what?” He lifted the lid from a cut-glass decanter half-full of dark amber liquid and sniffed the rich aroma.

“After all these years, it looks as though your brother and that true-crime writer uncovered the truth that your father wasn’t the Phone Book Killer.”

“I guess so.” He investigated another decanter.

“You seem rather nonchalant about it all.”

“Happened a long time ago.” And he’d sealed off that part of his life in a cold little box in one corner of his heart. He’d let his older brothers gnash their teeth over the stain on the family name. He’d schooled himself not to think about it...or his father.

Her hand covered his, grasping the decanter. “Do you want a drink?”

That smooth skin against his did things to his insides. Was she that smooth all over? That perfect? He’d have fun getting her a little dirty.

His gaze wandered to the tinted glass. Would Theodore mind? This backseat afforded plenty of room to twist this leggy blonde into a pretzel. But she deserved more than a quickie.

He stared into her murky green eyes. “I can wait.”

As her hand left his, she trailed her short, polished fingernails across his skin and he suppressed a shiver.

This one might be made of ice, but she liked to play with fire. He’d seen the tabloids—London Breck jumping naked into a fountain, London Breck running away from home at seventeen to join a rock band on tour, London Breck getting arrested in Qatar for having one of the world’s largest diamonds in her possession, which she’d claimed a married sheikh had given her.

Slumming it with a lowly P.I. could be her next crazy prank.

Hell, he was game.

What made him think she wasn’t his type? Any gorgeous woman who was up for a good time was his type.

The car slid to a smooth stop at the gates of a mansion in Pacific Heights. The city lights created a twinkling river before them.

The intercom clicked on and Theodore’s voice rumbled across the speaker. “I don’t know if we can get past the security gates, sir.”

“Mrs. Harris and I made arrangements. Pull up to the call box, Theodore.”

The car turned into the driveway and stopped at the intercom at the gate. Judd punched the button and held it in.

“Hello?”

“This is Judd Brody.”

“Of course, Mr. Brody. Mrs. Harris left instructions.”

The gate eased open and Theodore drove the car around the short, circular drive in front of the Victorian mansion. Did London live in a place like this up here?

“I’ll be right back.” Judd swung open the door before Theodore could get out and open it for him. He strode up the front porch and rang the doorbell, which chimed somewhere deep in the house.

The door opened a crack and an eyeball assessed him. Then the crack widened and the pinched face of Bunny’s butler appeared.

Judd held out the pouch. “Mrs. Harris wants these to go right back in the safe.”

“Yes, of course.” The butler snatched the pouch with long, bony fingers and pressed it to his heart. “Thank you, Mr. Brody, for looking after Bunny’s treasures.”

“I think someone else is looking after her treasures now.”

He left the butler standing at the door with his mouth gaping open, launched off the porch and grabbed the handle of the car door.

He fell onto the seat and ran a hand through his hair. “On to Sneaky Pete’s.”

The car lurched forward and London fell against his shoulder. She took her time getting back into her own space. So she felt it, too?

He’d better maintain control. The drive to the Haight wasn’t that long—not nearly long enough for what he planned for London.

He cleared his throat. “Do you live in Pacific Heights?”

“No.” She shook her head and her hair shimmered. “I live on Nob Hill, but my father has a place here. I’m not moving.”

He shot a quick glance at her luscious lips, now pressed into a determined line. His simple question had changed the mood in the car.

London kept her hands in her lap and stared out the window. She seemed to have lost interest in their flirtation, so maybe he wouldn’t be getting lucky with an heiress tonight.

Theodore pulled the car to the curb, but this time Judd didn’t beat him to the door. Theodore opened London’s door with a wrinkled brow beneath his cap. “I don’t like this, Miss Breck.”

“It’s all good, Theodore. Do you want to join us for a drink?”

He crossed his arms, resting them on his big belly. “I don’t drink and drive. Never have, never will.”

Judd clambered from the car and eyed the seedy bar with the psychedelic mural on the outside wall and a flickering red neon sign. “I’ll take care of her, Theodore.”

“Thank you, sir.”

London heaved an exaggerated sigh, but she didn’t protest. “You can take the car home, Theodore. We can get a taxi later.”

“I have my own code. I take you somewhere, and I bring you back. Call when you’re ready.”

“If you insist.” She winked at Judd.

“Hold on.” Judd shed his dinner jacket, shrugged out of his cummerbund and pulled off his bow tie. He tossed them into the backseat of the car. “I don’t want to be overdressed.”

London tugged her motorcycle jacket closed over the sparkly material of her dress. “You have a point.”

Judd opened the door of the bar and ushered her through. The neon motif from outside carried forward to the interior. Standard-issue neon beer signs flashed on the walls, and a jukebox in the corner cranked out a hard-rock tune. If smoking in bars were allowed in this city, this would be a smoke-filled room.

Instead patrons cracked peanut shells and dropped them on the floor as they gathered around tables or hunched over the bar. A few couples danced on the wood floor of a small room off the main bar. Nobody looked at them twice.

Rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, Judd led London to a table near the jukebox and slid onto the wood bench across from her. “Come here often?”

“Every once in a while.” Her gaze scanned the tattoos spilling down one of his arms, and she pointed to the long bar of scarred wood. “We can order at the bar. The waitresses here are few and far between.”

“I’m in no hurry, are you?” He caught the eye of a waitress in a pair of short shorts and a tie-dyed T-shirt tied under her breasts.

She scurried over, balancing a tray of drinks with one hand. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a beer, whatever you have on tap.”

“I’ll take the same.” London turned wide eyes on him. “How did you get her to come over here so fast?”

He shrugged. “I just made eye contact. It works better than yelling.”

Her gaze dropped from his face and meandered across his chest, where he’d undone the first few buttons of his shirt. His flesh warmed in the wake of her inventory.

“Yeah, whatever.” She folded her arms on the table. “So what do you normally do for a living when you’re not helping out friends guarding jewels for rich, frisky matrons?”

“Guard jewels for rich, frisky matrons.”

“Really?”

He stretched his legs out to the side of the table. “I’m a private investigator and bodyguard. Usually my assignments are more long-term than this one. I just got back from a job in Saudi Arabia.”

“I know a few people in that part of the world.” She flashed her teeth in more of a grimace than a smile and drummed her fingernails on the table. “Is it interesting work?”

“It can be. There’s a lot of travel involved, which I like.”

“I like to travel, too.” She stopped fidgeting and pressed her palms together. “Things will be a little different for me now, now that...”

“Your father died. Sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“He left you in charge?”

Her eyes narrowed and glittered. “You sound surprised.”

“You sound defensive.”

She puffed out a breath, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Let’s just say I’m dealing with a lot right now. Lots of unhappy people never expected Dad to put the reins of Breck Global Enterprises in the hands of his flighty daughter.”

“You’re his only child?” He knew that, of course, even if he didn’t follow San Francisco society closely, except when he needed to for his clients. But he stubbornly wanted to pretend he knew nothing about her famous family.

“Only legitimate one.” She rubbed her chin. “I do have a half brother. I’m sure my father would’ve preferred me as the bastard and Wade as the legitimate son. You have three brothers, right?”

He raised his brows but held his response as the waitress delivered their drinks and a bowl of peanuts.

The waitress asked, “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, thanks.” He tipped his chin at London. “You?”

“Not after all that rich food at the benefit.”

He sipped the dark, malty beer through the thick head of foam and met London’s purposeful look over the rim of the glass.

“Three brothers? I know one’s a cop in the city, and then there’s the one who was working with that writer.”

“You seem to know a lot about my family.”

“The Brody family is in the news almost as much as my family.” Her lips puckered and she blew on the foam in her glass.

“For very different reasons.” He shifted his gaze away from that kissable mouth. He’d let her make all the moves.

“While you’re all busy delivering justice, the Brecks are delivering...money.”

“Both equally necessary. Besides, I don’t deliver justice. I just look out for pretty people and their pretty things.”

He didn’t believe in justice—not after losing his father when he was practically a baby and then his mother to drugs and alcohol. Sean had been a great big brother, but a sibling was no substitute for a mom and dad.

“Thank God for that.” London clinked her mug with his.

The song on the jukebox had changed to a slow ballad all about how love hurt, and Judd took a swig of beer. Hell, love didn’t hurt, not if you dropped it in its tracks.

London rapped her knuckles on the table between them. “You wanna dance?”

“You’re kidding.”

“There are some couples out there.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the postage-stamp dance floor.

“That doesn’t mean we have to join them.”

She tugged on his rolled-up sleeve. “Come on. I promise not to jump on the tabletop.”

Her cool fingers brushed against his skin, causing a thudding ache in the middle of his belly. “Have you been known to do that? Jump on tabletops?”

Her fingernails dug into his forearm. “Don’t pretend you don’t know about me, Judd Brody.”

Busted. He jumped from the booth. If this was some weird mating ritual she had, he’d play along.

When they hit the dance floor, he pulled her snug against his body. Who did she think she was toying with, some upper-crust rich boy? He didn’t play games. If a woman signaled interest the way London was doing, he’d take her up on the offer every time.

Wrapping one arm around her slender waist, he reached up with his other hand to tuck her head against his shoulder. Her breath warmed his skin through the thin material of his shirt.

He rested his cheek against her bright hair, and the golden strands stuck to the stubble of his beard. Reaching between their bodies, he opened her leather jacket and drew her close, his chest pressing against her soft breasts beneath the silvery material of her dress.

She shifted and her soft lips touched the side of his neck.

He gritted his teeth to suppress the shudder threatening to engulf his body. Her expensive perfume enveloped them, and for the first time in a very long time and a very long line of women, he felt on the edge of losing control.

Then the door to the bar burst open and Theodore, bloodied and battered, staggered into the room and dropped to the floor.

Chapter Three

London screamed at the bloody mess that was Theodore’s face and twisted out of the comfort of Judd’s embrace, pitching forward. Judd curled one muscular arm around her waist to steady her.

He tucked her behind his large frame and strode toward Theodore, who had collapsed in a heap.

She made a grab for Judd’s belt and hooked two fingers through the loop, following him as people cleared a path to Theodore’s inert form.

Judd yelled over his shoulder at the bartender, “Call nine-one-one. Now!”

He crouched beside Theodore, feeling for his pulse. “Towels, I need some clean towels to stop this bleeding.”

“I-is he still alive? Has he been shot?” London had never seen so much blood. She unbuttoned Theodore’s shirt at the neck.

“He’s still breathing, and I don’t see any bullet wounds.”

The waitress who had served them earlier rushed from behind the bar with a stack of white towels. “Is he okay?”

“He’s lost consciousness.”

One of the bartenders knelt beside Judd with a pitcher of water. “Ambulance is on the way. Do you need this?”

London dipped one of the towels in the water and dabbed Theodore’s split lip as Judd pressed another against the gaping wound on his head.

Taking Theodore’s big hand in hers, London squeezed it and whispered, “You’re going to be okay.”

The wailing sirens scattered the crowd of people hovering over Theodore. When the EMTs rushed in, Judd talked to them as they worked on their patient.

Once the EMTs bundled Theodore into the ambulance, a police officer approached Judd. “Do you know the victim?”

Judd turned to London. “He’s her driver.”

“Black limo? License number—” the officer flipped open a notepad “—BGE21?”

London’s heart fluttered in her chest. “That’s right. What happened to Theodore? Where’s the car?”

The officer tapped the pad of paper against his chin. “The car’s registered to Spencer Breck and Breck Global Enterprises.”

“That’s me.” London waved her hand. “I’m Breck Global Enterprises.”

The cop’s eyes widened for a second and then shifted to the diamond necklace around her throat. “Of course, Ms. Breck. The car—your car—was found idling at the curb by the park. The driver’s-side door was open and it looks as if the car had rolled partially into the street and then was hit by another car.”

Judd’s head shot up. “Was there blood near the car? On the seat?”

“Exactly. It appears that someone pulled the driver from the car and beat him on the street. His plans to steal the car were probably thwarted when it rolled into the street and got hit.” The officer’s eyebrows met over his nose. “And you are?”

“Judd Brody.”

“Brody...”

“He’s my friend. Is that what you think this was? An attempted car theft? Of a limo?”

“Could’ve been kids looking for a joyride.” He scratched his chin and eyed Judd. “Aren’t you...?”

Judd sliced his hand through the air. “I don’t think kids could’ve done that much damage to a big guy like Theodore.”

Good to know she and Judd were on the same page. Wedging her hand on her hip, she said, “I don’t think kids would be out to steal a distinctive limo, either.”

“That might be just what they wanted. We don’t have any witnesses. I’m amazed your driver made it this far in his condition. He should’ve just called the cops himself.”

The officer asked them several more questions and told her where the ambulance had transported Theodore. He had a daughter in New York and one in Atlanta, and she intended to call both of them just as soon as she checked up on Theodore herself.

How could this happen? Theodore had never run into any trouble driving her father around. She couldn’t even keep her employees safe. How was she supposed to run a company? Maybe she did need Roger’s help.

She arranged for a tow service to take the limo back to her father’s place, and Judd called a taxi.

London twisted her fingers into knots. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve insisted that he take the car back instead of waiting around in this crappy neighborhood.”

“The only people who deserve blame are the dirtbags who tried to jack Theodore.” He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek with the rough pad of his finger. “There’s no way you were going to convince Theodore to leave you. He takes pride in a job well done.”

“You’re right, but we should’ve gone somewhere else.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “I need to stop being the wild-child free spirit.”

He wedged a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back. “Who says?”

His soft touch and low voice caused tears to prick the backs of her eyes. How had he gone from sexy alpha male on the dance floor to this man with the understanding eyes? And why was she falling under his spell so quickly?

She jerked her head away and ducked to peer through the window. “I think our taxi’s here.”

They climbed into the backseat and she put her hand on his forearm, which tensed beneath her fingers. “Your jacket’s in the back of the limo.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think I’ll be needing it anytime soon.”

“Where do you live?” She leaned forward in her seat.

“We’ll have him drop you off first.”

She gave the taxi driver her address and fell back against the seat. “I hope Theodore’s going to be okay. Maybe we should follow the ambulance.”

“And have you create a media circus? Not a great idea. Theodore lost a lot of blood, but I’ve seen guys a lot worse off than that after fights. I think he’ll pull through.”

“Thanks to you. Is all that first aid—” she waved her hand in the air “—part of your job?”

“Yeah. I spent several summers working as a lifeguard in Santa Cruz, so I had all that training, which comes in handy now.”

She closed her eyes. Was there anything this man couldn’t do?

Too quickly, the taxi pulled in front of her building.

Judd tapped the driver’s shoulder. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He took her hand to help her from the car and dropped it all too soon as they walked to the front door of her building. She entered the code to open the door and turned on the step. Under better circumstances she’d invite him up for a cocktail, see if his slow seduction on the dance floor would come to fruition.

Now she just wanted to wash her hands, still smudged with Theodore’s blood.

“Thanks for everything tonight, Judd Brody.”

“You’re welcome, London Breck. Do you need me to walk you up to your place?”

She pointed inside the lobby at the security guard sitting at the desk watching TV monitors. “Twenty-four-hour security here. I’m not the only celebrity in the building.”

“Good, but don’t forget how the evening started, with you being attacked in an alley.”

Judd didn’t even know about the threatening note. “I guess Theodore and I both had targets on our backs tonight.”

His brow furrowed. “Yeah, you did.”

He obviously wasn’t going to sweep her into his arms for a good-night kiss, no matter how much she needed the comfort, so she stuck out her hand. “Good night.”

“Goodbye.” He gave her hand a hard squeeze and then turned away.

Ouch. That had a ring of finality to it. Why shouldn’t it? They were two strangers thrown together by two extraordinary events. They’d shared a little flirtation, but so what? A man like Judd Brody must have had many little flirtations to his credit...and many notches on his bedpost.

She had more important matters to think about anyway. She waved to the security guard as she crossed the marble-tiled lobby. She had to grow up and take charge of a multibillion-dollar enterprise—and Judd Brody couldn’t help with that at all.

* * *

THE FOLLOWING DAY, London scooted the plastic chair closer to the bed and patted Theodore’s arm. “I don’t get why someone would want to carjack a limousine. And why did you go to the bar instead of calling the police?”