Now That You're Here. Lynnette Kent

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СКАЧАТЬ She parted her lips, granting it. She expected to be swept away. She wanted to be swept away.

      But the kiss stayed well within the boundaries of control. Touching, parting, touching again—a sweet torment that brought tears to her eyes and need into her chest. She had no defense against gentleness.

      Jimmy drew back, leaned in again to press kisses on her eyelids, her forehead. “You still taste like strawberries,” he said softly. Then he let her go and stepped away. “I’ll make sure the cab is waiting.” Before she could gather her thoughts together, he had left the kitchen.

      She managed a calm goodbye as he held the door of the cab for her. She kept herself together during the ride across town, the wait for the elevator and the ride up with two tired-looking men. Emma didn’t react at all until she was safe behind the door to her private room.

      There, she set free her self-disgust. “Haven’t you learned anything?” She yanked the band out of her hair and jerked a brush through the tangles. “Throwing yourself at the man like…like a lovesick undergraduate. Surely you know better by now.”

      Even before the debacle that ended her research career, Emma’s experience in academia had taught her more than historical facts. Over years of competition with male scholars and teachers, she had come to see herself in a realistic light. Her brain was formidable, her talents varied and useful.

      But as a woman she lacked the spark to ignite men’s hearts. Eric had as much told her so when he broke the engagement. “Thanks for the leg-up, Emma,” he’d taunted. “I knew if I played you right, you’d believe me when I said those letters were authentic. What I do for my career…” He sighed. “Now, of course, there’s no need for me to marry you. Amazons just aren’t my type.”

      She wasn’t anyone’s type, apparently. That summer with Jimmy, they’d both been young, ready to learn the ways of love. Adolescent hormones and natural curiosity created a powerful chemistry. Only a fool would expect the reaction to last twenty years. Or to survive the twenty pounds she’d gained, the lines at the corners of her eyes, the awkwardness of being too tall, which she’d never managed to conquer.

      Jimmy’s charm, his charisma, were as natural to him as breathing. But Emma knew better than to believe the fantasy. Cinderella she was not. When Jimmy was kind, when he was flattering, she would simply have to keep her head. He’d given her a job, given her a means to start over with her life.

      How much more could she reasonably ask?

      Turning off the bedside lamp, she burrowed under the sheet, arms folded tight against her chest, and acknowledged the answer to her own question.

      Not nearly as much as I could want.

      EVEN ON SUNDAY, the late-night streets weren’t deserted. Long after Emma had left, Jimmy set the club’s alarm, stepped out the front door and locked it, then turned to assess the situation. The cops patrolled fairly often until about midnight. After that, the pretense at control disappeared, and the street people reclaimed their territory. For a few hours, anyway.

      Tonight’s cast of characters included a couple of prostitutes stationed on a corner across from the club and their pimp in his gold Mercedes parked nearby, plus the usual assortment of addicts and dealers, the homeless and the helpless.

      Jimmy shook his head. He’d once seen himself as someone who could help these people solve their problems. Now he just figured they all had a right to go to hell their own way.

      As he approached the Jag in its usual spot, a trio of shadows separated from the nearby wall. Talking about lost causes…

      “Hey there, Mr. Falcon. Great wheels.” The Texas drawl identified Harlow.

      “Thanks.” Jimmy leaned back against the front fender. “After that mix-up the other night, I didn’t expect to see you guys around here so soon. Doesn’t look like the neighborhood’s too safe, where you’re concerned.”

      “We go anywhere we want to.” Tomas, part Mexican, part Indian, and all mouth, ran a hand over the roof of the Jag. “Nobody’s telling us where we can and can’t hang out.”

      “If you say so.”

      “Business doin’ good, Mr. Falcon?” The smoke from Harlow’s cigarette drifted on the late-night breeze.

      “Same as usual.”

      “Been catching some great smells coming out that back door this week. You got a new cook?”

      Every hair on his body stood on end. Jimmy forced himself not to move. “That’s right.” These three weren’t the violent threat some folks pictured when they thought about heroin addicts—only boys who had nowhere else to go and nobody who cared. That was why he’d once thought he had a chance to get them off the streets, out of this lousy life.

      But the drug had defeated him in the battle for their souls. He wasn’t afraid of them, but he didn’t want them hassling Emma. Just one more reason he never should have hired her.

      Harlow wasn’t going to let the subject drop. “You’re gettin’ real uptown for a dirty little hole in the wall. Next thing we know, you’ll be paintin’ the place.”

      “Don’t worry—I don’t expect to get an award from the Denver beautification committee anytime soon.”

      “Glad to hear it. Those types like to think our types live somewhere else, you know?” Harlow straightened away from the lamppost. He sounded almost…regretful.

      But Jimmy had let that easy regret fake him out before. Harlow was a master con artist. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, it’s been a long day.” He wouldn’t open the car door until they left. And all of them knew it.

      “That it has.” Ryan, the smallest of the bunch, was thin to the point of disappearing. The hunger in his eyes was not for food. “Man with a car like this must carry some extra change. Whaddaya say, Mr. F.? How about a loan?”

      “I could manage fifty cents for some gum.”

      Tomas barked a laugh. “Piss on that. As if gum wasn’t eighty freakin’ cents these days. Gimme a break, man.”

      Despite his size, he moved fast. Jimmy looked up into the swarthy, sweating face just inches from his own. If Harlow was the brains of the group, Tomas was the muscle. And he had a bad temper. “Get out of my way.”

      “I’m tellin’ you, man—”

      Harlow put a hand on Tomas’s shoulder and jerked him backward, away from Jimmy. “Chill, Tommy. We’re not gonna shake down Mr. Falcon. He’s one of the good guys.”

      “Like hell he is.”

      “Harlow…” Ryan’s voice had started to shake. In the few minutes of the conversation, his skin had paled and his eyes had clouded.

      “Yeah, Ry. I’m coming.” Harlow shrugged and gave Jimmy a conciliatory grin. “Sorry for the trouble, Mr. Falcon. We’ll let you get home and get some sleep.”

      “Thanks.” Jimmy didn’t move until Harlow and friends started down the sidewalk toward the part of town where drugs were easier to score than ice-cream cones. Then, through the windshield, he watched until the three boys blended into the night. He reminded himself СКАЧАТЬ