The Hill. Carol Ericson

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.”

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