Fire and ice...

Real estate mogul Ike Drake Jr. likes women the way he likes his cars—polished, sophisticated and reliable. Quinn Taylor, meanwhile, is as fiery and unpredictable as the red Corvette she drives. From the moment she roars into Paradise Cove, music blasting, they’re like oil and water. And when a judge rules that Quinn must work off the damages in Ike’s office after she broadsides his sedan, the tension between them escalates...before exploding into raw desire.

Quinn’s unconventional ways are ruffling feathers in this picturesque town. Yet there’s something compelling about the place—and about powerfully strong, steady Ike. Simple chemistry won’t be enough to bridge the gap between them, especially with a determined ex-girlfriend waiting in the wings. It’ll take the kind of trust that requires putting your heart on the line to secure a glittering, priceless future...

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked, the merest hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

Ike said nothing. His expression remained somber, his body taut, exuding power and raw masculinity. Suddenly she whirled around, heading for the door. A firm grasp of her arm stayed her progress. It wasn’t a move Ike had intended. Every move he made was measured and calculated, always controlled.

Yet less than five minutes alone with this fiery hellion and he was losing his cool. He began growing hotter not only under the collar, but in places farther down.

“Let go of my arm!”

He could feel her body shaking ever so slightly. Since her eyes were glaring daggers he assumed it was with rage. She surprised him by leaning forward, her lips precariously close to his. Dangerously close, even. “Let. Me. Go.”

Their eyes locked. The room faded away. Time seemed to stop, too. She blinked. He followed the movement of her long lashes, felt his heart skip a beat. An inch, maybe less, and he could satisfy his curiosity on whether or not her lips were as soft as they appeared, or tasted as sweet. Like cotton candy, he imagined. One inch and...

Dear Reader,

There’s something extra special about a person who succeeds against the odds. That’s why it will be easy to cheer for Quinn, the heroine in this book. In hindsight, she reminds me of my mom, who after five children and twenty years as a psychiatric aide, decided to finish her degree and realize her dream of becoming a nurse (interrupted by marriage and the unexpected arrival of my oldest brother). In her fifties and sixties, she received a master’s in social work and a BSN in nursing. She retired from mental health after thirty-five years, then spent another fifteen as a highly sought after and respected registered nurse.

The fact that she achieved her dreams showed me that I could, too. Hopefully this novel will inspire you. If Quinn can do it, you can do it.

One love...

Zuri

Sapphire Attraction

Zuri Day

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ZURI DAY sneaked her first Harlequin romance at the age of twelve from her older sister’s off-limits collection and was hooked from page one. Knights in shining armor and happily-ever-afters filled her teen years and spurred a lifelong love of reading. That she now creates these stories as a full-time, award-winning author is a dream come true! Splitting her time between the stunning Caribbean islands and Southern California, she’s always busy writing her next novel. Zuri makes time to connect with readers and meet with book clubs. Contact her via Facebook (haveazuriday) or at zuri@zuriday.com.

Sometimes, when we try to control our feelings,

We meet someone who sends our heart and mind reeling.

Life becomes dimmer, no true satisfaction,

Until we give in to the fire-hot attraction.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Copyright

Chapter 1

The smooth sounds of classic jazz filled the four-door luxury sedan. Ike Drake Jr. had had a stressful weekend, and he appreciated the way Wes Montgomery’s fluid guitar licks poured over his soul like water, washing the frenzy away.

In his preteen years, Ike had temporarily eschewed the music his grandfather loved in favor of the pop and hip-hop stars who then provided the soundtrack of his life. That didn’t last long. By tenth grade, during summers spent on Walter Drake’s farm, he regained an appreciation for his elder’s favorite musicians: Miles, Ramsey, Dizzy, Charlie and Wes. He also shared Walter’s passion for fishing, golf and classic cars like the meticulously restored 1961 Ferrari Spider he now drove. His grandmother Claire had labeled him an old soul since childhood, and even way back then had affectionately called him Mr. Ike.

Ike tapped a beat on his steering wheel, focused on the music and tried to forget about why his jaws were tight and his muscles were in knots. Days of Paradise, an annual event celebrating the incorporation of Paradise Cove and held during Labor Day weekend, was always a hectic time. The Drakes were among the town’s founding families, along with one of the wealthiest and most well-known. Their company, Drake Realty Plus, had built and/or sold many of the homes and apartments in which citizens resided. Ike’s brother Niko was mayor of the city. The Drake family participation was high profile and taxing. In addition to serving as the grand marshal for this year’s parade, he was on the Days of Paradise board and had helped oversee a three-day carnival and annual charity ball. These extracurricular activities on top of being immersed in the closing of a deal costing more than a hundred million dollars brought enough anxiety to raise his blood pressure. No one would fault him for being stressed and on edge. But if he was honest with himself, he’d admit that all of these very important issues weren’t the real reason for his discomfort.

The real reason was a woman named Quinn.

She’d burst into his world on Saturday night at the fund-raiser ball. Like a tornado, she’d bowled over everyone in her path and left hearts and emotions strewn around the room. Ike’s were among them.

The soothing sound of Wes’s “Bumping on Sunset” gave way to the memories of Saturday night. Without realizing it, his relaxed shoulders tensed. He gripped the wheel.

* * *

“Who’s that?”

Ike and two of his brothers, Warren and Niko, stood near the main bar in the Paradise Cove Country Club’s ballroom. Their position afforded an unobstructed view of the room’s entrance, through which a sexy siren who had elicited Niko Drake’s question had just entered.

“I don’t know,” Warren responded, his eyes glued to the room’s sudden star attraction as he sipped a neat bourbon. “But I guarantee she won’t remain anonymous for long.”

Ike could only stare. The stranger was stunning. Tall, he imagined around five-seven, but appearing statuesque because of strappy stiletto sandals and a high ponytail that exposed dainty drop earrings and an elegant long neck. Her dress was ultraclassic—a sleeveless black gown with a gently scooped neckline that hugged her slender body to the knee before flaring out into a dramatic train. Ike subconsciously nodded his approval as she came farther into the room, looking neither left nor right but either straight ahead or down at the petite satin-clad woman beside her. Classy, conservative, elegant...a perfect fit in this country-club crowd. Her mannerisms were understated, and while he was sure she was aware of her beauty and the subtle murmur of voices that followed in her wake, she seemed admirably unaffected.

After a long on-again, off-again relationship with a woman who, like him, had grown up in PC, Ike was single. Were he looking for a wife, she could potentially be a candidate. She was someone he decided to meet before the night was over. His eyes followed her as she passed the brothers, several feet away but partially hidden. His interest grew as he took in her regal bearing. He smiled as she passed them. But when he saw the back of her gown, his expression changed. He became as annoyed as he was attracted.

WTH?

The back of her Chai original was as risqué as the front was moderate. It plunged from her shoulders to just above her backside, exposing an expanse of creamy, smooth skin that made him think of vanilla ice cream covered with cashews and warm caramel. The back of the dress was made of lace, with carefully placed flowers in the fabric the only thing that allowed the enchantress to maintain any modesty at all. It was way too revealing, Ike noted. He now clearly understood why her entrance had caused the crowd to murmur, women to narrow their eyes and men to get poked in the side for staring. The woman was practically nude.

“Careful, darling. Scowling too hard for too long may cause permanent wrinkles.”

Ike had been so intent on watching—some would say judging—the room’s star attraction that he hadn’t even seen his date approach. “Did you see that? What a spectacle!” When the woman disappeared amid the throng crowding the bar, Ike finally managed to tear his eyes away. “The way she’s dressed is disrespectful. I can’t believe Mrs. Newman didn’t insist she change before bringing her here.”

Audrey Ross knew Ike well and quietly noted his strong reaction to the new girl in town. She had been his on-again, off-again girlfriend for the past ten years. They were no longer dating but remained good friends.

Niko had walked away but Warren remained. He turned to Audrey. “Is she related to her?”

“Maggie Newman?”

“Yeah.”

Audrey nodded. “Her granddaughter, Quinn Taylor.”

“I don’t remember seeing her before,” Ike said. “And the way she grabbed everyone’s attention, most folks in this town haven’t, either.”

Quinn emerged from the bar area with two glasses of champagne and carried them over to where Maggie Newman sat. Ike forced himself to quit looking, but Warren continued to enjoy the show. Almost every eligible bachelor seemed to vie for her attention as she calmly held court at one of the room’s center tables, the one next to the table occupied by the Drakes.

Once again, Audrey was a fountain of information. “She grew up on the East Coast and attended an elite boarding school in Switzerland before returning to America to get her college degree. At some point she got engaged to a prince, then broke things off mere weeks before the wedding. That happened recently—just a few months ago. It caused a minor scandal, as you can imagine. One of many she’s created since her teen years. Glen finally had enough.”

Ike’s head snapped around. “Glen Taylor? The judge?” Audrey nodded. “What could he possibly have to do with her?”

“Believe it or not, he’s her dad.”

“The conservative Republican? I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true.”

“Where’s her mother?”

“That’s a mystery,” Audrey mused. “No one knows about her, what happened to their marriage or why Quinn was raised by her dad.”

“I’m surprised anything about her got by you, Audrey,” Warren said. “How do you know so much?”

“Mom and Mrs. Newman are sorors, and good friends. I happened to be there during their afternoon-tea chat, shortly after Quinn came to town. At any rate, the judge arrived on the West Coast as a single father and from what I hear, never mentioned Quinn’s mother or any other woman from his past. The closest she had to a mother figure was her grandmother and a nanny, who was obviously long on patience and short on discipline. The result was a spoiled brat who grew into a troublemaking teen. Shortly after his marriage to San Francisco socialite Viviana Lange, Quinn was shipped overseas. Knowing the Langes and their obsession with image, that doesn’t surprise me. The story from there is public knowledge, as it’s been largely played out in the society pages of the Chronicle.” She took a sip from her wineglass, watching Quinn’s deft handling of her admirers. “From the look of things,” Audrey finished, “she’s still a troublemaker.”

“I wonder what she’s doing here,” Ike muttered, thinking out loud.

Audrey waved at an associate, talking over her shoulder as she walked away. “If the past continues to repeat itself, we’ll no doubt find out.”

The scowl returned as Ike pondered what Andrey had shared. Glen Taylor was a successful and well-respected judge. Both avid golfers, they’d run into each other on a course or two, the first time at the country club where they were now. Ike liked Glen and respected Mrs. Newman. He doubted either feeling would apply to the woman named Quinn.

Later on, this thought gained traction. When Quinn was introduced to his family, Ike didn’t like that she addressed his mother by her first name, or her flirty nature when meeting him and his brothers. More than once during the formal dinner, the quiet was interrupted by her raucous laughter as she sat at a table surrounded by men. When he saw her leave with one of the town’s notorious playboys instead of Mrs. Newman, with whom she’d come, that bothered him, too. He told himself it didn’t. But it did.

* * *

A roaring engine mixed with a pounding bass brought Ike out of his reverie. He looked to his left, saw a driver speeding like a bat out of Hades and had just enough time to accelerate and sharply turn the steering wheel in an effort to avoid the car as it crossed the center line. The head-on collision was prevented but a crash was not. Metal crunched against metal. Ike’s car jumped the curb and struck a mailbox. The force introduced his forehead to the steering wheel, a meeting that rendered him senseless. He smelled burned rubber and shook his head to clear the cloudiness. Wrong move. Instead of clearing, his head began pounding, even as he heard voices and someone yelling to call 9-1-1. He looked over to see the car that had hit him, a fiery red Corvette with loud music still blasting. The driver’s head rested against the seat. Blood dripped from a nasty cut. It was the troublemaker Quinn Taylor, wreaking havoc again.

Chapter 2

“Are you okay?”

When he went against the advice of the bystanders—one of whom was an off-duty EMT—and got out of his car to confront Quinn, that was not the question Ike had intended to ask. “Are you crazy?”, “What in the heck were you doing?” or “Why did you swerve into my lane?” was more like what he had in mind. But when he reached the driver’s side door, looked into frightened hazel-brown eyes partially hidden by naturally long lashes and took in the quivering lips sporting pale pink gloss, Quinn’s well-being suddenly became important than a verbal confrontation.

“I’m sorry. The dog. Did you see him? Jumped right in front of my car...” Quiet replaced chaos as she killed the engine and with it the blaring music. The movement caused blood to drip from the cut on the side of her head onto her arm. “Oh, my God, I’m bleeding!” She snatched the rearview mirror toward her and glimpsed an ugly gash on her temple just as an ambulance siren announced its approach.

“You were driving like a...” Ike managed before becoming distracted by the same tempting flesh that had stayed on his mind long after the charity ball was over, which meant far longer than he should have allowed. He assumed Quinn wore shorts, but from his position couldn’t quite tell. All he could see were bare legs that seemed to go on forever and hardened, pert nipples pressed against a ripped tee. “Way too fast,” he finished, almost as an afterthought.

“I was driving just fine,” she retorted with a pout. “It was the dog. Did you see...” She looked around, then back into Ike’s accusing gaze. “I swear, a dog ran in front of my car!”

“Blaming this on a dog, huh?” He looked around, becoming more irritated by the second. His smashed-up pride and joy being only one of several reasons. “Where is it now?”

“Good God, man! Are you all right?”

Ike turned toward the familiar voice behind him. His focus went from the look of horror on Warren’s face to where his eyes traveled after asking the question. Ike had only glanced at the Ferrari’s front end. He wasn’t ready to see the side that had taken the brunt of the collision. Didn’t want to confirm what he already knew to be true, that rare and expensive car parts had been damaged. Didn’t want to believe that his prized 250, one of only thirty-six such models ever made, driven in public fewer than two or three times a year, had crossed paths with a Corvette-driving Andretti wannabe using a street in the town square as her racetrack.

“Don’t even say it,” he warned Warren, a hand up as if to ward off the painful truth. “It’s bad, I know.”

“What happened?”

“Reckless driving,” he answered with a nod toward Quinn.

“I was not driving recklessly. I tried to dodge an animal.”

“A phantom dog,” Ike added, a heavy dose of sarcasm served on the side.

Quinn’s comeback was interrupted by EMTs rushing to her car. “Excuse me, guys,” the woman said, her tone businesslike but not unfriendly. “We need to get to her.”

The men stepped back. Ike turned toward his car. The quick movement made him dizzy. He stumbled.

“Whoa, watch out, brother.” Warren jumped to his side. “You probably shouldn’t be standing. Let me get one of those guys over here.”

Ike waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine.”

“You think you are, but there may be internal injuries.”

“There are definitely external ones,” he said through gritted teeth as he crossed back over to his wrecked car.

Steeling himself, he walked around it. The meticulous paint job that had taken months to complete now covered a misaligned and bent hood, caved-in side door and hanging fender. His jaw clenched in anger. Accidents happened, a fact of life. But this one could easily have been avoided. Even if a dog had crossed the street—an excuse that he found suspect, since he saw no dog in sight—there would have been more control and time to act if she hadn’t been speeding. Her actions were reckless, her reaction less than responsible or contrite. Of all the Drake brothers, Ike was normally the calmest, most calculating and even-keeled. But with the exhausting weekend, the pressure of closing the San Francisco deal and now a senseless accident in his prized Ferrari, Ike was ready to explode.

Warren walked over and stood next to his brother. “I’m sorry, man. I know how long it took to get it in mint condition.”

“Interesting how you’re apologizing while all she talked about was a dog in the street.”

“It could have been worse.”

“Yeah, she could have been driving a tank. I just don’t—” Ike stopped short, his expression incredulous. “Did you hear that BS?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Ike walked over to where a police officer had joined the EMT team checking out Quinn’s injuries.

“...I think he was, but I’m not sure,” Quinn finished, her voice weak and body sagging as the medical personnel attended to her cuts and bruises. “I feel woozy. I can’t...”

One of the EMTs spoke up. “Officer, we need to get her to the hospital.”

“Not before I clear up her fuzzy uncertainty,” Ike butted in, bristling at an act he thought might win Quinn an Academy Award but no sympathy from him. “The accident was her fault, one hundred percent.”

Ike had addressed the officer, but his eyes stayed glued on Quinn. They’d wrapped bandages around her head and were treating the ugly gash near her temple. A medic shone a penlight into her eyes as they wheeled her away.

“What happened?”

“She said a dog jumped in front of her, but she was going too fast—slammed into me before I could react.”

The officer looked around. “Did you see it?”

“Nope.”

“All right, sir. Wait here so I can take your statement. I need to get her information before they take off.”

Warren came over. “Ike, I know you’re upset. But remember what Audrey said the other night about the judge being her father. I’m sure they’ve got the type of insurance to handle this, and if not, the judge has the cash.”

“It’s definitely going to get handled. She is going to pay for the restoration and any other charges that are incurred as a result of her recklessness.”

Warren looked over as the ambulance drove away. “Both of your cars are damaged. But it looks like the two of you are lucky to come out of this with only minor injuries.”

Even angry, Ike’s heart hitched at the sight of her being wheeled into the back of the van. “Yes, I’m grateful for that. And even though she’s a hellion, I hope Quinn is okay.”

Warren’s brow raised at the unexpected tenderness he heard in his brother’s voice. “What about you, man? How are you?”

It was the first time Ike had given any thought to his own body and possible injuries. He flexed his shoulders, raised and lowered his arms, and moved his head from side to side. “Other than being sore as all get-out tomorrow, I guess I’ll live.”

Just then, one of the medics who’d been working on Quinn walked over to where Warren and Ike stood. He looked at Ike. “Were you the one in the accident, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Mind if we check you out?”

“No need for that. I’m fine.”

“You may feel fine now, but later, after the adrenaline stops and the shock wears off, the pain might come.”

“If that happens, I’ll call my doctor.” The medic nodded and left. The police officer rejoined Ike, with Warren beside them. “Okay, sir. I need your driver’s license, registration and proof of insurance.”

Ike retrieved the items and handed them over.

The officer recorded the information and returned the papers. “Want to tell me your side of how this accident occurred?”

“I was driving down the street, no problems, no traffic. Reached the corner, stopped and began driving through the intersection. Next thing I know I’m swerving to avoid a speeding car suddenly in my lane. Barely had time to react before she’d crashed into me.”

“Did she acknowledge that she was speeding?”

“Are you kidding? She didn’t even acknowledge she ran into me and not vice versa. Blamed it on a dog that’s conveniently disappeared, and even if it had been present, it wouldn’t have posed the same kind of problem for someone driving the speed limit.”

Ike watched the officer jot down notes. “What did she say?”

The officer spoke without looking up. “She said speed had nothing to do with the accident. As you just stated, she mentioned the dog.”

“Doesn’t surprise me that she’d try and skirt responsibility for this. But you ticketed her, right?”

“Didn’t get the chance. The medics feared a concussion and wanted to get her to the hospital as soon as possible. That’s necessary so that a more serious injury can be ruled out.”

“But she is going to receive a citation, correct? I don’t want her getting away with this, and I definitely want her held accountable for all repair costs.”

The officer looked at the wrecked classic. “That’s got to hurt,” he acknowledged with a shake of his head. “What is that, a Chevy?”

Not a comment to normally make one want to punch a guy, but at the moment that’s how Ike felt. Warren’s chuckle compounded his anger. Thankfully it also diverted his mind from going fisticuffs, which Ike had never done in his life. The stress, no doubt, had allowed the uncharacteristic thought to surface, even momentarily. It wasn’t illegal not to be a car enthusiast. Of course, one couldn’t go to jail for not answering a stupid question, either.

“How is this going to be handled?” he asked instead.

“Well, I’m going to take a look around and investigate the scene, find out if there are any other witnesses and turn in a report based on those findings. If you ask me, though, worse things can happen than to get tangled up with a pretty little thing like the gal driving that Corvette. Who knows, she might be open to some kind of...negotiation. Know what I mean?”

“No, Officer Morris,” Ike said, crossing his arms as he checked the young man’s badge. “Why don’t you explain it to me exactly?”

Officer Morris suddenly became very interested in the fine print of the report he held in his hand as a healthy shade of red crept from his neck to his chin.

“I suggest your investigation of this accident be a thorough and accurate one, because I’m going to contact a good friend who happens to be chief of police and ask him to take a personal interest in this matter and ensure that justice is served.”

“Will do, Mister—” Officer Morris looked down at the paper “—Drake. Um, right. I’ll be sure to take witness statements and record everything as accurately as possible.”

“You do that. And keep me posted on the outcome. I’m not letting her off the hook for this. Having no consequences for past rash actions is probably why she’s so careless today.”

By now tow trucks were on the scene. Ike walked over to the driver closest to his car and gave him a card to the garage where his car had been restored. “Be very careful,” he warned the freckle-faced young man. “As damaged as it is, that car is still my baby.”

The two brothers turned toward where Warren’s truck was parked. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Ike nodded. “I’m fine.”

They reached the truck and got inside. “Where to?” Warren asked his brother.

Ike looked at his watch. “Home, I guess. There aren’t any other meetings scheduled or urgent business matters at the office, so I may just as well work from there.” For a minute they rode in silence. “What were you doing away from the office?”

“I wrapped up work early and was headed home for the day. Charli’s been getting on me about increasing my daddy duties and helping out more. I told her to get a nanny, but she refuses. Says nobody else is going to tell her daughter what to do.”

“Did you ask if that included you?”

“No, but I probably should.” The brothers laughed. “She’s an amazing wife and a fantastic mother, but a little overprotective. And speaking of which, you know when Mom finds out about this she’s going to want you checked out.”

“I’ll call my doctor and, if he thinks it necessary, have him stop by.”

“Good idea. Though I’m sure that seeing your Ferrari smashed up hurt worse than any physical injury would.”

Warren, three years younger than Ike and a lot like their grandfather Walter, was the only other brother who had an appreciation for classic cars.

“Man, you know it. I just got every detail back to its original state, what, maybe a month or so ago? It took us forever to find that particular siding. And then a careless driver had to go and smash right into it.”

“I’m sure it was an accident, not intentional.”

“Accident or not, it happened because she was driving too fast, and probably distracted by the loud music blaring from her car stereo. Heck, she may have even been texting.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t. But I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“And even with that possibility, you’re still concerned about her welfare.”

Ike’s head quickly turned toward his brother. “Says who?”

“Says you. Back there.”

“I said no such thing.”

“When she was being wheeled into the ambulance. You said you hoped she was okay.”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“And you couldn’t take your eyes off her. Didn’t even know how badly your car was damaged until I got there.”

“I don’t remember that, either.”

Warren gave his brother a lopsided grin. “Well, I was standing right next to you, bro, and you were definitely checking her out.” They reached the gated entrance to the Golden Gates community where several Drake family members lived. Ike lived just a couple blocks over from his parents, and Niko, two years younger than Ike, lived a mere block away. Warren tapped a device on his dash and the gates opened. “No one can fault you for being concerned about Quinn. She’s gorgeous, smart...”

“Spoiled, irresponsible, ill-mannered. So don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

“Whatever you’re preparing to instigate by blowing up a general statement made when my brain was scrambled.”

“Ha! Oh, so now the comment that you don’t remember making was said while you weren’t in your right mind.”

“Correct.”

Warren laughed again. “Okay, you go ahead and believe that. I don’t know why you’re fighting it. If I weren’t married, I’d probably ask her out.”

“Could you see someone like her feeling at home on your ranch? No, I don’t think that would have been a match. She’s more Terrell or Julian’s speed, and closer to their ages.”

“How old do you think she is?”

“Too young for me.”

Warren gave a disgruntled grunt. “I bet she’s not ten years younger than you—probably more like five.”

“She could be five years older than me chronologically and still too young. Or perhaps I should have said immature.”

“You’re full of it, Ike. There’s no way you can sit there and tell me you don’t find Quinn attractive.”

“She’s gorgeous, no doubt. Just not the type of woman I’m looking for.”

They reached Ike’s house. Warren pulled into his driveway and turned off the truck’s engine.

“So you are looking. That means you and Audrey are still off again?”

“Audrey and I are off forever.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“No, it’s for real this time. She agrees, too. Said that after ten years I should know if she’s the one. Plus, she’s not getting any younger and wants kids. She needs to be with someone ready to commit.”

“And that’s not you?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Ike said with a sigh. “And to tell you the truth, I don’t know why. She has all the qualities I’d want in a wife. Everything except that spark, that something that leaves no doubt that you’d lay down your life for that woman. Like what I see between our grandparents, between Mom and Dad, heck, even between you and Charli, Niko and Monique, and Teresa and Atka. But it’s not there. I couldn’t lie to her and say it was, nor could I lie and say a commitment was imminent. So, yes, it’s officially and completely over, but we parted as friends.”

He opened his door. “Thanks for the lift, Warren. I’d tell you not to share the accident with Mother, but she probably knows already.” As if on cue, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and showed Warren the picture of their smiling mother, indicating that she was indeed the caller. “See what I mean?”

He waved to his brother as he walked up the steps to his front door, placing the phone beneath his ear as he let himself in. “Yes, I was in an accident, Mom, and no, I’m not hurt,” he said in greeting.

“I know all that,” Jennifer answered. “I’m calling to inquire as to whether or not you’ve called to check on Quinn, and to know what type of flowers you had sent to her room.”

Chapter 3

Ike actually pulled the phone away from his ear to see if the image had changed. Where was his mother and who was this stranger asking the ridiculous question? “You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I joke about performing a classy, kind act?”

“Obviously because you don’t know as much about the accident as you think you do.” Ike bypassed his living/ dining area and went into the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge then continued to his office. “The accident was totally Quinn’s fault, one that save for her negligence could have been avoided.”

“Be that as it may, you seem to be fine and she’s in the hospital, where she’ll be overnight for observation. So the gentlemanly thing to do is to send flowers and a card wishing her a speedy recovery.”

“All I plan on sending her is a repair bill, and that through my lawyer.”

Jennifer tsked. “Ike Anthony Drake, do not speak that way. It’s not how you were raised. I understand you being upset and can only imagine how bad you feel that your car was damaged. But it’s just a car, Ike, not a life. That neither of you were seriously injured is a blessing. Now, would you like for me to handle that for you, dear, or will you have your assistant send them in the morning first thing?”

Ike was dumbfounded into silence.

“Something grand and cheery, I’m thinking,” Jennifer continued in the silence. “Bird-of-paradise, red ginger and lilies—no blemishes, of course. And orchids, for their lovely scent. Purple would be nice. All accented with tall palm leaves and—”

“Mom. Excuse me for interrupting, but...I’ll take care of everything.”

And he would. That his idea of everything had not included a delivery of flowers to the woman who’d crashed into his Ferrari was something he saw no benefit in sharing.

“Sorry to prattle, darling. You know how much I love flowers. And so does your father. After almost four decades of marriage, he still brings them to me every week. Gets them from the florist shop in the town square.”

“He’s your husband. I’m the victim. So forgive me for not seeing a connection.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You’ve always been the serious son. At least until Julian was born. Among our children, you two are the most alike. Both of you can stand to lighten up a bit and not always take life so seriously. Except when it comes to your health. I understand you refused one at the scene, but have you seen a doctor?”

“Jeez, Mom, how do you get this information so quickly?”

“It’s a strategic process, darling, honed over time and not easily or readily explained. But very handy when one has six rambunctious sons.”

“Don’t leave the rambunctious sister out.”

“Unlike Teresa, the sensible sister, I admit London can sometimes be a bit unruly. But that comes from an inner excitement and zest for life.”

“No, it comes from being Daddy’s baby girl, led to believe that the sun revolves around her.”

“We may have been too lenient in those early years, that’s true. But your little sister has grown into an amazing woman. You know, the young lady in the accident, Quinn Taylor, reminds me somewhat of her.”

“Now that’s a connection easily recognized. Quinn’s a spoiled brat, too.”

“She’s also very beautiful and full of life. At the ball, I found her delightful.”

“I found her irritating, and my opinion of her has only plummeted from there.”

“Hmm, interesting.” She paused. “Well, dear, do see a doctor. Your father was in an accident once and refused medical treatment because he thought he was fine. It took five years for what was then a slight sprain to show up as pain in his lower back. Minor surgery was required to fix what could have been handled through a chiropractor if caught in time.”

“Definitely wouldn’t want that to happen. I’ll call him now. Bye, Mom.”

Ike left a message with his physician’s assistant and then called Niko. When he wasn’t in the mayor’s office, Ike tried his cell.

“What’s up, Ike?”

“A little situation I want to run past you. Tried your office phone. Where are you?”

“Temecula.”

“That’s right. I’d forgotten all about your getaway with Monique. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No bother at all. In fact, your timing is perfect. Monique is at the spa, bonding with her cousin-in-law and sister-in-law.”

“Diamond and who else, Faye or Marissa?”

“Marissa.”

“Where’s Faye?”

“Working too hard, like most doctors.”

“It’s nice that your wife is spending quality time with that side of the family. How’s everybody else doing?”

Niko filled Ike in on the latest happenings with their Southern California cousins who owned and operated Drake Wines & Resort, an award-winning five-star resort in Southern California’s wine country.

“So we’re happy to let them have their pamper day,” Niko finished. “Because come tomorrow night it’s the husbands’ turn—me, Jackson, Donovan and floor seats at Staples.”

“Floor seats? Must have cost you a fortune.”

“Jackson has connections with a big-time sports agent, Michael Morgan. The tickets came from him.”

“Now that’s what I call a connection. Does he have an extra?”

“Afraid not.”

“Then thanks for letting me know about floor seats at a game I can’t attend.”

“You’re welcome.” The brothers laughed. “So why’d you call?”

“I was in an accident today and need some legal advice.”

“Are you okay?”

“Banged up, but I’ll live. The other driver was taken to the hospital for observation, but from the looks of everything she’ll be fine.”

“She?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Quinn Taylor.”

“Damn. Lucky you.”

“Right. Lucky me.”

“I didn’t mean that sarcastically. That is one gorgeous lady. Running into her might turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“I highly doubt that. And she ran into me.”

“What happened?” Ike told him. “If it’s a situation that’s clearly her fault, more than likely her insurance will cover the damages. So why do you need a lawyer?”

“One, because no matter how good her insurance, it will likely not cover the costs of replacing the parts that will have to be fixed. They are rare and expensive.”

“Aw, man! She wrecked the Ferrari.”

“Now you’re getting there, brother. Feel my pain.”

“I feel it. You just got that baby in mint condition.” Niko whistled. “You’re right. That bill is likely to run over and above what her policy covers.”

“Exactly. Which brings me to the second reason I need legal advice—to prosecute her for reckless endangerment.”

“I thought you said this was an accident.”

“One caused by her using our streets as a racetrack.”

“Yes, Ike, but accidents happen. Give it twenty-four to forty-eight hours before setting anything in motion. The situation is likely to look quite different once you stop aching and cool down.”

“I’m angry, Niko, not irrational, and will not change my mind. This accident was a direct result of her foolishness. Her beauty isn’t going to sway me from making her face the consequences. It’s time she learned a lesson on cause and effect.”

“I’d think you’d want to school her in some...less combative areas.”

“Not you, too. First it was the police wanting to go easy, then Mom wanting me to send flowers and now you’re suggesting I make a date with that daredevil? That would hardly be practical. She’s much too wild.”

“Which would make taming her all the more satisfying.”

“You’re suggesting that I court her when why I called you is to take her to court. So your unrequested yet respected personal opinion aside, legally, how do I proceed?”

Niko laughed. “All right, man. I hear you. But I can’t help you, not directly. My expertise is corporate law. You need an accident and personal injury attorney.”

“Do you know any?”

“Not offhand, but let me make a couple calls and get back with you. Meanwhile, follow Mom’s advice and send those flowers. It’s the right thing to do.”

Later, Niko referred Ike to an attorney who was not only well versed in the field but quick to act. Two days after the accident, attorney Lance Holden demanded the police report be completed and filed. The day after that, Quinn was charged with reckless driving. A week later, Lance represented Ike at an arraignment at which Quinn pled not guilty. Lance then suggested they avoid a trial by requesting a pretrial conference in the judge’s chambers. That was fine with Ike. His demand for repayment and appropriate punishment would be met. Victory was all but assured. According to Lance, the matter would be resolved shortly. The defense attorney had left court, heading to his office and a meeting with Quinn.

Chapter 4

Quinn sat and seethed. Was she really sitting in a lawyer’s office over a car accident? Seriously?

“Where is he?” She stared at the door as if it had an answer.

“I’m sure he’ll be here shortly, Kristin Quinn. Try and stay calm.”

On cue, the door opened. A harried-looking lawyer in a wrinkled suit charged into the room, carrying a bulging briefcase in one hand and a coffee mug in the other.

“Hello, ladies. Sorry to have kept you waiting. A case ran late.” He set the briefcase and travel mug on the desk, then extended his hand to Quinn. “I’m Joey Wang, the defense attorney who’ll be handling this case.”

Quinn’s handshake was as lackluster as her desire to be here.

He shook Maggie’s hand as well. As he walked behind his desk she said, “We hope you were able to do what the other attorney couldn’t.”

“I’m afraid that’s not why I called you here. The victim is adamant. He wants this matter to be handled in court.”

“I can’t stand that man! He’s such a jerk!” A hearty stiletto-heeled foot stomp was the exclamation point to her anger.

“Quinn, please.” Maggie reached over and patted Quinn’s hand. “Take a breath.”

Quinn did as instructed even as she gave the attorney an icy stare.

Maggie looked at the attorney. His bewildered face matched her own.

“I understand you being upset, Ms. Taylor. These types of cases are often settled out of court. But I assure you that this case will be handled with the utmost care, and in a way that makes this unfortunate situation as easy as possible. Which is why I brought you here.” He looked at Quinn. “It’s to recommend that you change your plea.”

“To guilty? No way.”

“Given the preponderance of evidence, which includes witness statements, a guilty plea can possibly assist in resolving this matter quickly.”

“You’re asking me to plead guilty even though the accident wasn’t my fault,” Quinn insisted.

“What’s the difference?” Maggie asked.

“Guilty means that one admits responsibility, that they are at fault. When this happens, the sentence—or in this case whatever reprimand the judge would impose, since jail is unlikely—would be lighter than what a jury typically hands down. ‘No contest’ means that the defendant agrees to the facts presented but not to their guilt in what happened as a result.”

Quinn’s ears perked up. “Meaning I wouldn’t be liable for his car damage?”

“No, that is not what I mean. The eyewitness testimony and police investigation both point to you being at fault. His repairs will be your responsibility no matter how you plead. Then there is the matter of your driving history and the number of speeding tickets you’ve received in the past five years.”

Quinn’s shoulders slumped. There was no arguing with that truth.

“This will be classified as a misdemeanor. You’ll likely get off with a fine, some type of community service and a suspended license for no more than ninety days. If you slow down and go the next few years without additional tickets, you could approach the judge to have the charge expunged from your record.”

“Unacceptable,” Quinn said with her back ramrod straight. “Grandmother, can we talk about this privately, please?”

“What’s there to talk about, Quinn? You did hit the young man’s car.”

“Isn’t that what insurance is for?”

“I’m afraid these expenses are going to go beyond whatever policy you have,” Joey replied. “When fully restored and in pristine condition, cars like the one you hit sell for half a million bucks.”

Quinn huffed in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous.”

Maggie raised a hand to her chest. “Oh, good Lord.”

“The ’61 Ferrari is a prized classic. Few were made and most of those are in various states of disrepair. That makes the one you wrecked even more valuable, and leads to the final point.”

“There’s more?” Quinn asked.

Joey answered while opening his briefcase and pulling out a manila envelope. “The owner of the Ferrari has decided not to wait until after the trial to take additional action. He has filed suit against you, Quinn, to ensure the repairs will be handled.”

Quinn eyed her grandmother. “Sued me! Can you believe it? Should I still not be upset?”

Instead of answering the question, Maggie addressed the attorney. “Mister, um...”

“Wang, ma’am. But please, call me Joey.”

“Joey, thank you so much for all you’ve done. I’ll discuss this with my granddaughter and get back with you shortly.”

“As soon as possible, please. The victim and his attorney want this matter resolved in all due haste.”

They’d not taken two steps outside before Quinn started in. “Grandmother, please talk to Dad again. One phone call and this would go away! I don’t know why he’s being so stubborn!”

“One could say the same for you,” Maggie answered, with kind eyes.

“Me? Okay, maybe you’re right. Even though there was a very good reason for me to swerve, I did in fact hit the other car. So I’ll pay the fine and fix his stupid car. But community service? There’s no way. And with Trent coming to town next week, a suspended license is totally out of the question.”

Trent Corrigan was Quinn’s plus one when she needed one, a mood lifter with a great gift of gab. She called him Trench Coat. He called her Q-Tip. They’d been best friends since high school.

“I was talking about the strained relationship between you and your father, the animosity that’s been present since he remarried. That happened twelve years ago, honey, when you were thirteen. How long are you going to hold on to the anger of your youth?”

“I don’t see him making a move to repair things, either.”

They reached the car and got inside. Maggie turned toward Quinn, grasped her hands and squeezed softly. “Quinn, my dear. I love you so very much. The attitude you’re exhibiting is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have spoiled you, but those beautiful hazel-brown eyes would get me every time.

“Your father isn’t perfect. But there’s one thing I know for sure, and it’s that he loves you. Are there other ways he can show it besides the ones he’s tried? Certainly. But like you, honey, he’s doing the best he can.”

“Grandmother—”

“No, no need for a counterargument. You have to handle life on your own terms. As for spoiling you, I don’t regret a single one of the all too few days we shared when you were younger.” Maggie ran a hand along Quinn’s cheek. “You missed so much. Your mother gone and your dad always so busy with work.”

“Work and Viviana. Don’t leave her out.”

“And his wife, yes. I tried to fill the void in ways that may not have served you. There were too few rules and almost no consequences. All things considered, what the young man is asking is not beyond the pale.”

Quinn started the car and headed home, careful to observe the speed limit along the way.

“Is that why Dad is refusing to help me? To teach me another lesson?”

“I can’t answer that, dear. But regarding the pretrial conference, I agree with Joey. This matter will be settled through the court. There’s no getting out of that. Changing your plea seems the best thing to do.”

Quinn didn’t voice the reaction she felt. We’ll see.

They arrived home, but Quinn’s plans weren’t to stay long. She went upstairs and returned with her jacket.

“Going out again?”

“For a bit. While I still have a license.”

“Do be careful, darling.”

Quinn jumped into the rental Corvette she’d been given while her own was being repaired. She would have liked nothing more than to rev the V-6 engine and use major horsepower to take the car from zero to sixty in a little under four seconds flat. She resisted the temptation. Took her time to gain a cool head. Talking Ike Drake into standing down on his notion of justice would take all the charm and calm persuasion she possessed.

Halfway to Drake Realty, her cell phone rang. She tapped the phone icon on the steering wheel to answer the call from her lone PC friend, whom she’d met the first time on a visit at the age of twelve. “Hey, Peyton.”

“What are you doing?”

“Channeling the negotiator.”

“Huh?”

“Will explain later.”

“You’d better. Those words sound mysterious.”

“I’m handling part two of the mystery now, so when we meet I can share the whole story. Busy later?”

“Not really. Just text me where and I’ll head over.”

“Perfect.”

Quinn walked into Drake Realty with authority and confidence, having reminded herself that when it came to arguments, she won most of them.

“Good afternoon,” she said pleasantly to the receptionist seated in the lobby area. “I’m here to see Ike Drake.”

“Senior or Junior?”

“Junior,” Quinn answered, sure the virile man she encountered couldn’t have a grown son.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.” The receptionist reached for the phone. “But I’d rather you not announce me. My visit won’t take long.”

“I’m sorry, but all visitors must be announced and cleared before they’re allowed past this lobby. One moment.”

“Then consider me a friend, or family member, I really don’t care. Just point me in the direction of Ike Drake’s office, now.”

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but...”

Quinn’s anger, which had begun to cool on the drive over, started simmering once again. If announced, she doubted Ike would agree to see her. Anyone who had the nerve to follow up a gift of flowers with a lawsuit was definitely not the kind of man who’d want to face her head-on. “Never mind. It’s obvious your job is to protect scoundrels. Some people will do anything for a paycheck. I’ll catch him later.”

Just as Quinn turned to go, one of two doors on either side of the receptionist’s desk opened. Ike.

Their eyes met. The room temperature seemed to rise by several degrees. Quinn was surprised to feel her heartbeat increase. Anger had never felt quite like this.

The receptionist glanced between the two, not sure of what was happening or, given the look that was being exchanged, what might occur. “Mr. Drake, would you like me to—”

“No,” he replied, with a hand out to silence the receptionist. He walked over and stood in front of Quinn. “I’m fine. Ms. Taylor, I assume you’re here to see me.”

Quinn walked forward until their faces were mere inches apart, her voice a whisper beneath her smile. “You know damned well why I’m here.” She fixed him with a look that melted most men.

Ike was ice. He gave a curt nod. “Let’s talk in my office.” Then to the receptionist, “Hold my calls.”

He reached the door and held it open for Quinn to enter. She did so, and even though highly frustrated admired the revered mahogany walls and marble-trimmed halls of the prestigious firm. Aware of the curious stares from the employees who passed them, she kept her eyes firmly on Ike’s back. Had they been daggers, he would have been punctured from back to front.

He’d barely looked at her. Acted like she was invisible. Quinn wasn’t used to being dismissed.

With a discipline honed through years of ballet training and mastering the violin, she kept her ire in check until he’d closed his office door. Then she threw charm school right out the window and exploded like a clobbered piñata at a child’s birthday party.

“How dare you sue me over a traffic accident.”

“If what took place was a mere traffic incident, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Look, we don’t have to do this. I’ll fix your car, no problem. If you’re worried that I won’t, draw up a contract or something for me to sign. We can’t take this to trial. They’ll suspend my license. I have too much to do. Let’s just drop it. Okay?”

Ike walked behind his desk, sat and began placing items into a briefcase. “It’s not up to me. If it was, I’d probably give you a higher fine and harsher sentence than the judge will apply.”

“You know what? You’re disgusting.”

Ike sat back. “I’m disgusting?”

“Absolutely. That you would have the nerve to take me to court for an accident, then sue me on top of it, makes you not only disgusting but a first-class jerk.”

* * *

Ike was too incredulous to be angry and too stunned to take offense, not only at Ms. Taylor’s ability to stand in his office as though she was a victim but that she could do so and look absolutely magnificent.

Time to get out of here. Being alone with this woman behind closed doors was a bad idea. He stood and walked over to take his suit coat off the rack.

“For the record,” he began, putting it on, “I couldn’t care less what you think of me, but you will respect this business. You had no right coming here to discuss a personal matter, and the boorish manner in which you spoke with the receptionist was out of line. You may have experienced success with it other places, but that bratty behavior doesn’t work here.” He picked up his briefcase, keys and sunglasses. After a quick look around the office, he headed toward the door. “I suggest any rebuttal you have be shared with your attorney to present at pretrial. Because this conversation is over. I’ll walk you out.”

Quinn straightened to her full five feet seven inches, plus four-inch heels, and looked Ike directly in the eye. “Bratty, huh? Maybe I am. But you’re the one who spent half a million bucks on a relic and threw a weeklong tantrum over a car that’s insured, over repairs that will cost you nothing. There are not many people driving cars with a price tag that equals the GNP of third-world nations. I might be spoiled.” She placed a finger on his chest. “But one could say the same about you.”

Ike took a step back. Not because he was in any way intimidated. Her crystal-covered bravado reminded him of London, his kid sister, who was also headstrong even when wrong. But her temper didn’t move him, either.

The reason he’d retreated from the news item in front of him, one he was sure had caused more than one controversial headline, was because of a breaking story he hadn’t expected—a magnetic attraction combined with a visceral connection he did not understand. It was a feeling that puzzled him, and if he were honest, frightened him, too. Ike Drake Jr. moved through life with deliberate, thoughtful and strategic precision. He was a grown man, not a teenage boy given to uncontrollable urges. So why did he want nothing more than to wrap his arms around this bundle of fiery femininity and shut her mouth by covering it with his own? Annihilate her anger with his tongue? He felt an inexplicable desire in every inch of his six-foot-plus frame. Several inches in a certain area more than others.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. His gaze unwavering. His expression unreadable. His eyes slid to her succulent lips. The bottom one trembled. He wasn’t the only one affected. She wasn’t the only one who mattered. This was a fact she needed to know.

He took a step toward her, so close that their noses almost touched. This time it was Quinn who retreated. He took another step.

“What are you doing?” she asked, the merest hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

Ike said nothing. His expression remained somber, his body taut, exuding power and raw masculinity. He watched as in mere seconds a myriad of emotions flared in her eyes. Suddenly she whirled around, heading for the door. A firm grasp on her arm stayed her progress. It wasn’t a move Ike had intended. It just happened. As if his arm didn’t want her out of its reach. Later, this would cause Ike concern. Every decision he made was measured and calculated, every move controlled. Yet five minutes alone with this woman had tested his restraint. Had made him react in the heat of the moment. Ike was hot not only under the collar, but in places farther down.

“Let go of my arm!”

“Not until I make myself clear. You are never again to come into this company unannounced and demand anything. If you have something to discuss, schedule an appointment. Unless it is regarding the accident. In that case, don’t bother. That matter will be settled in court. Do you understand?”

He felt her body shaking. Judging from the hardened nipples now pressed against her shirt, this wasn’t a reaction to what he’d said. It was because of a synergy—stimulating, powerful, undeniable—existing between them. He felt it, too. She leaned forward, her lips so close he felt her breath. His groin stirred. Her mouth opened.

“Let. Me. Go.”

Their eyes locked. The room faded away. Time stopped, too. She blinked. He followed the movement of her long lashes. The urge to know if her lips tasted as sweet as they looked was overwhelming. Time to make a move.

Two quick taps on the door and it swung open. “Hey, Ike...whoa!” The tableau before him stopped Terrell in his tracks. “Sorry, brother. I didn’t know—”

“Your timing is perfect,” Ike interrupted, wanting to hug his brother and throttle him, too. The sound of the door opening had snapped Ike out of the Quinn-induced haze that had him about to act totally out of character. Regaining his composure, he walked behind his desk and began shuffling papers. “Ms. Taylor was just on her way out.”

Terrell turned to her with hand outstretched. “Hello, Ms. Taylor. I’m Terrell Drake.”

“I’m out of here.” She brushed past him and out of Ike’s office.

Terrell’s expression was one of amusement as he watched her leave. Still smiling, he turned back to his brother.

“Don’t.” Ike reached for his charging cell phone that he’d almost forgotten.

“What, bro?” Terrell innocently replied. “I didn’t even say anything.”

Ike pocketed the phone, placed the charger in his briefcase and snapped it shut. “Let’s keep it that way. Unless it’s about the deal.”

No doubt the upcoming meeting was important. The Drakes had handled their share of large purchases, but the office building strategically situated in San Francisco’s business district would be one of their biggest ones yet.

“That’s why I came by, to make sure there were no loose ends regarding the presentation.”

Ike gave him a look. “You know better than that.”

“I thought so. Until I walked in as you were about to get your groove on in the middle of the day.” Ike walked by him and toward the door. Terrell fell into step behind him. “Wait. Ms. Taylor as in Quinn Taylor, the girl who hit you?”

“Focus, Terrell. Your mind should be on numbers and tenant projections. Not her.”

“Oh, like yours was a minute ago?”

Ike ignored Terrell as they reached their father’s corner office. Ike Drake Sr. was just coming out of his private restroom, looking the part of a dynasty head in a navy blue suit, tailored to obscure his expanding stomach, stark white shirt and a red-white-and-blue tie. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut and lined, his face clean-shaven save for a thin mustache. At not quite six feet, it wasn’t his stature that made his presence so commanding, but the steely confidence that oozed from his pores. It’s what made him such a stellar negotiator and businessman, and why they were on their way to sealing one of their most lucrative deals yet.

“About time you two got here,” he barked gruffly.

“Sorry about that, Dad,” Ike Jr. offered. “Had to handle some unexpected business.”

“He was handling it, all right,” Terrell murmured, halted from commenting further by his brother’s warning stare.

“I understand, son,” Ike Sr. drawled as he reached for his personal items on the desk and walked toward them. “The meeting we’re heading to involves a negotiation for only a hundred million or so. No big deal.”

Ike Sr.’s offhand comment lightened the mood. The men chatted casually as a town car transported them to the private airstrip where they boarded a company plane for San Francisco. Once aboard, Ike Sr. and Terrell pulled out their computers. Ike stared out the window, his mind on Quinn and what happened at the office. She was a study in contrasts. Exasperating yet intriguing. Bothersome but beguiling. With a slight shake of his head, he forced himself back into the present. Earlier he’d told Terrell to focus. Right now he needed to follow that same advice.

Chapter 5

Quinn entered the cool confines of Acquired Taste, one of only a handful of restaurants in the town of Paradise Cove, now boasting close to five thousand residents. It was lunchtime. The room was crowded. Peyton had arrived earlier to secure a table. Quinn spotted her and headed over.

“Hey.” Quinn plopped into the empty booth seat.

Peyton stopped texting and looked up. “Whoa. Somebody’s not happy.” She set her phone on the table. “Looks like the negotiation didn’t go so well.”

“Not at all.”

“What happened?”

“I was involved in an accident. Of all the cars in this town, I had to hit an antique owned by an asshole. The guy’s impossible.”

“More impossible than you?” Quinn cut her eyes at Peyton. “Don’t act like that’s an exaggeration. I love hanging around you. But for the average person...you’re hard-core.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You’re welcome.” They paused and ordered drinks from the waitress. “Who was the lucky guy you met by accident?” Air quotes emphasized the last two words. “Pun intended.”

Quinn gave her a look. Peyton laughed. Quinn obviously saw nothing funny. Peyton lost her smile. “I’m sorry. Bad timing.”

“Bad joke, too.”

“Whose car did you hit?”

“Whose car did I collide with while swerving to save an animal’s life? Ike Drake. He’s also the man who’s decided to personally sue me because of it.”

“That’s crazy.”

“It’s to ensure that his car gets fixed.”

Peyton made a face. “Um, that’s why we have insurance.”

“Like I said, his is some kind of rare antique. Repairs will be expensive.”

Peyton shrugged. “You’ve got the cash.”

“I’m not worried about that. But they’re threatening to take my driver’s license. Trent’s coming to visit next week. That won’t work at all.”

Peyton reached for the menu and began to scan it. “You mean I finally get to meet your bestie? Cool!”

“Not so cool with what’s going on.”

“You’ll get out of it. You always do.”

Quinn picked up hers, as well. “I hope you’re right.”

“It could be worse. Ike Drake is handsome and one of this town’s most eligible bachelors.”

“His personality isn’t nearly as attractive.”

“I wouldn’t mind being with someone like him.”

“If the opportunity arises in the middle of my trial, I’ll be sure and pass that along. Through his prosecuting attorney, of course.”

“I’m just kidding, silly.”

“Don’t mind me. Go ahead and sleep with the enemy. And from what I’ve seen of his stodgy personality, I mean that literally.”

No sooner had the words come out of her mouth than an image of Ike’s face popped into her mind. The one he’d worn earlier when clearly chagrined that she’d stopped by his workplace. Fiery dark eyes. The hint of a cleft in his jutted chin. Well-defined lips. And words delivered in a way that brooked no argument, from a man clearly used to being in control. In Quinn’s first serious relationship, she’d worn the pants. Her ex-fiancé had let her do what she wanted. Quinn liked calling the shots—after a childhood in which she had no voice, she liked control. Remembering the power in Ike’s strong body and the force of his stern words made Quinn realize she might enjoy a man who took control.

“You okay?”

Quinn looked up to see the waiter by their table. “I’m fine,” she answered Peyton. “Just had a crazy thought, that’s all. You go first.”

Peyton looked amused. “I’ve already ordered.”

“Oh.” Quinn took another quick look at the menu. “I’ll have the baked salmon.”

“With a side of Ike?” Peyton asked.

“You’re nuts.”

“Maybe. But the look on your face just now got me thinking that you and Ike might be more alike than you know.”

“I couldn’t care less. By this time next week, that’ll be behind me.”

She delivered this statement with complete confidence and secretly hoped the fire in her belly from the encounter with Ike would leave just as quickly.

* * *

Later that afternoon in San Francisco, the Drake men were in a festive mood. The meetings had gone better than expected. Before heading back to PC, the men had decided to have dinner at one of Ike Sr.’s favorite restaurants. “The best Italian food outside of Italy” was how he described it. The Ikes and Terrell watched the sommelier uncork a vintage cabernet sauvignon blend. A single bottle cost more than some paid for rent, but next to a wine their Southern California cousins produced, it was Ike Sr.’s favorite. The complex, rich flavor was achieved through extensive knowledge, deft blending and patience. Ike thought the pairing a perfect choice.

He held up his glass. “To our new silent partner, Global 100, their rep, Bernard Lindsay, and the procurement of Ten Drake Plaza. The financing has been solidified. We’ll be able to close in less than sixty days. Good work, sons.”

Terrell held up his glass.

Ike held back. “You said it yourself, Dad. We’ve got sixty days or less until it’s official. Let’s toast then.”

“Ah, man!” Terrell shook his head as he and his dad clinked glasses. “Stop being so pessimistic, bro. Getting to this point took three years. Let’s celebrate.”

“It’s not pessimism, it’s pragmatism. I don’t like counting chickens before they’re hatched.”

“Ike tends to be more cautious,” Ike Sr. said. “On the other hand, you, Terrell, are more instinctive. You sometimes act first and think later. Both qualities have advantages and disadvantages. That’s why we make such a great team.”

“What quality do you bring to the table, Dad?” Terrell asked.

Ike Sr. answered without a pause. “My checkbook.”

They laughingly toasted to this truth.

Ike swirled the wine and took another taste. “This is very nice, Dad.”

Ike Sr. looked over the rim of the glasses he’d donned to read the menu. “Glad you approve.”

“It’s all right,” Terrell said. “Though it doesn’t beat a good shot of Louis XIII.”

“I’ll admit that cognac pairs well with a Cuban cigar, but for the perfectly cooked trio of duck, lobster and venison that I’m about to enjoy, this—” he raised the glass in Terrell’s direction before taking a sip “—is the perfect choice.”

“How’d you find out about this place?” Terrell asked, casually taking in the room.

“Came to a meeting here several years ago.”

Terrell nodded. “A business meeting?”

“A discussion about networking that could have led to business deals, but more about how we could impact the young men in this area, especially Oakland.”

Ike looked up from his cell phone. “I don’t remember you ever working with men from here.”

“You were busy in the field then, son. Working hard to come up in the company and make a name for yourself. It was right around the time you negotiated the deal on our office building.”

“Then it’s no wonder. Until it closed and we had the keys, that deal was the only thing on my mind.”

“Not much has changed,” Terrell teased.

Ike ignored him. “Are you still in contact with any of them? Perhaps those affiliations can be of future benefit. As our Bay Area portfolio grows, our presence will as well.”

“Quite possibly,” his father replied with a nod. “One of them has become especially successful in the ten years or so since that meeting. Though I’m glad not to have needed him. He’s a high-powered criminal defense attorney, mostly white collar. Became a judge a few years ago.”

“Who?”

“You’ve met him a time or two,” Ike Sr. answered. “Glen Taylor.”

Ike sat back, deflated. “Her father?”

“I think she put a spell on you, brother. Even out of town, you can’t get away from Quinn Taylor.” Terrell smiled broadly as he emphasized the last name and watched Ike squirm.

Ike Sr. looked between his sons. “What am I missing?”

“Terrell’s trying to be funny and not doing a good job. Quinn is the woman who hit the Ferrari and destroyed over a year’s worth of restorative work, causing about a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of damage in an instant. According to Audrey, she’s Glen’s daughter. She attended the ball, Dad. You were away from the table when Mrs. Newman introduced her to the family.”

“He’d just gotten married when I met him. Don’t remember hearing about a daughter, though our interaction has been limited. A couple golf tournaments, some charity events.”

“He’s hoping they’re not related,” Terrell explained. “Ike sued Quinn to make sure he gets paid.”

“I’m protecting my investment.”

“That’s a wise move, son. The value of rare cars like that only increases, especially those in pristine condition.” The elder Drake studied the label on the bottle of wine. “It will be a bit awkward, however, if that is his daughter.”

“Trust me, Dad. There’s no way. She’s wild, impetuous, unreasonable...”

Ike Sr. gave his son a level stare. “Have you forgotten that your mother and I raised London?”

“You tried,” Terrell responded, “but our dear sister is in a whole other category. I’m still not convinced that someone didn’t drop her off on our doorstep after spending those early formative years being raised by wolves.”

London was the youngest Drake sibling, ten years Ike’s junior and a bundle of drama from the time she was born. At thirteen, her front-page antics and headstrong defiance to parental rules had her shipped off to a prestigious boarding school. What was supposed to be a form of punishment designed to tame their wild child had the opposite effect. Just before graduating high school, she was discovered by a modeling scout and given a contract. Mere days after “Pomp and Circumstance,” she landed in Milan, dived headfirst into the party scene and continued to make headlines. During her last visit it appeared that she’d calmed down a bit. But not much.

The first course of their prix fixe meal arrived, shifting conversation from wayward women to exquisite appetizers such as beets with smoked parsnip and cocoa crumb, beef tartare with chickpeas and black olives, and smoked pork belly on a radicchio-and-pickled-apple bed. By the time desserts arrived, Terrell and Ike Sr. had all but convinced Ike Jr. that closing the Ten Drake Plaza deal was a fait accompli.

At the same time, Ike had convinced himself that love for his Ferrari was what kept Quinn on his mind. He’d also bought into the convenient illusion that Quinn and Judge Taylor were not related. Were that the case, he’d drop the suit and work out an amicable arrangement to have his car repaired. But Ike felt sure that the chances of Quinn being Glen’s daughter were none and none. There was no turning back. Quinn Taylor needed to learn a lesson. They would go to trial.

Chapter 6

Two weeks later, Ike pulled into the parking lot of the town’s municipal building ready to put the accident behind him. He’d been so immersed in the details of securing the funding from Global 100 and closing the San Francisco deal that today’s meeting had barely crossed his mind.

But Quinn had. More than he cared to admit. All the more reason to get this done. The town was small and the Drakes knew her grandmother, Maggie Newman, but Ike couldn’t imagine he and Quinn ran in the same circles. Except in passing, it was very unlikely he’d see her again. That she’d agreed to plead no contest and to the pretrial was a relief. He imagined the proceedings would be brief, repayment for the car damage and some type of probation or community service.

He entered the lobby, waved at a couple people he knew and continued across the room and down a hall to where Matthew’s assistant sat at her desk.

“Hello, Mr. Drake. Go right in. Mr. Holden has already arrived.”

“What about the defendant and her attorney?”

“Not yet, but they’re on their way.”

Ike gave a nod and opened the door to the chambers of Matthew White, the judge who’d be hearing the case. He wasn’t there. Lance was, and on his cell phone. He waved a greeting, held up a finger and continued the call. Ike sat, pulled out his phone and began to check the emails he’d ignored all morning.

Lance ended the call. “Sorry about that, Ike. I’m in the rare position of having back-to-back meetings just about all day long.”

“Business is booming, huh?”

“You might say that. Not as exciting as your life, I’m sure.”

“My life is full, but whether or not it’s exciting depends on one’s definition of the word.”

“Hey, you were this year’s grand marshal. That’s heady stuff!”

Ike chuckled. “It was an honor, but let’s face it. Paradise Cove isn’t San Francisco or LA.”

Lance began to respond but stopped when the door opened. Both men turned as attorney Joey Wang stepped back from the door to allow Quinn to enter. Ike inwardly applauded his outer expression and the ability to look passive as his insides churned. Skirt too short. Legs too long. Top too tight. Shiny stilettos that could double as stilts. In a word? She looked inappropriately dressed and amazing. Ike felt Lance rise beside him. He stood, too.

“Ms. Taylor,” he said formally as they shook hands.

“Mr. Drake,” she responded, all sugar and spice. Except for her casual attire, she was the epitome of professionalism, a total opposite of the tornado who’d whirled into his office demanding he drop all charges and pull his lawsuit.

“A positive beginning,” Joey said while looking bemused. “Let’s hope this civility continues throughout the proceedings.”

“Civil is my middle name, Joey,” Ike responded. He looked at Quinn and continued, “I’ll do my part.”

The look she returned was unreadable, but there were millions to be made if he could bottle that smile.

A side door opened. The judge entered. That he wasn’t wearing the standard black robe indicated informality. The look on his face underscored the point that informal did not mean unimportant. He walked directly to the black leather chair behind the imposing oak desk between two flags and sat down.

After taking a moment to review copies of the motions that had been placed on the desk, he began.

“Good afternoon, Attorney Wang, Attorney Holden.” They responded. “Mr. Drake.”

“Judge White.”

His voice softened. “Ms. Taylor.”

“Afternoon, Judge,” was her softly spoken reply.

“We’re here on the matter involving Ike Drake Jr. and Kristin Quinn Taylor. I have reviewed the motions set forth, and if there are no further motions or addendums thereto, am ready to render a judgment.” He looked at the attorneys.

“None here, Judge,” Lance said.

Joey shook his head.

After reading another page of legal jargon regarding Quinn’s no-contest plea, Matthew gave his decision.

“As a result of the accident and the damage sustained to Mr. Drake’s vehicle, the defendant is ordered to make full restitution regarding all repairs and/or replacement as set forth in the motion by Mr. Holden and agreed to by Mr. Wang and his client. Furthermore, I believe excessive speed played a part in this accident. Ms. Taylor testified to the presence of a dog running into the street, which caused her to swerve and her vehicle to cross into the oncoming lane. The investigation yielded no proof as to the existence of said dog.”

“He thinks I’m lying?” Quinn blurted to her attorney. And then to the judge, “There was a dog!”

“Quinn,” her attorney warned.

“Ms. Taylor,” the judge called simultaneously. “Please refrain from further outbursts. As to your question to Attorney Wang, my statement is based not on whether or not you are lying, but whether or not evidence of the dog in question was uncovered. It was not.”

Quinn huffed and crossed her arms but remained quiet.

“Thankfully no one was seriously injured, which makes this case simpler, in that what happened calls for no jail time or probation. However, due to the defendant’s previous history of driving at excessive speeds, and the traffic violations that occurred as a result, I am going to impose a penalty in addition to the monetary obligations.”

Quinn’s indignant gasp cut through the judge’s droning voice. From the corner of his eye, Ike saw Joey place a hand on her arm. To calm or warn? Probably both. Quinn turned and caught the smirk on his face. She glared. Ike’s Cheshire grin widened into a satisfied smile. He sat back and watched Quinn try to control her mounting anger. What would be her punishment? Garbage detail? Flipping burgers? Emptying bedpans as a hospital aide? The thought of her being subjugated to most people’s normal almost made Ike laugh out loud. His day had been stressful. Now he felt relief.

Judge White continued.

“Usually, this type of consequence involves some form of community service—ground clearance, graffiti removal, recycling projects and the like. But it is my belief that despite the defendant’s propensity for having what my father calls a lead foot, Ms. Taylor is an intelligent individual with analytical and persuasive skills that could be put to better use in a complementary setting. Therefore, I am ordering Ms. Taylor to complete a four-week work assignment, each week consisting of forty hours, beginning Monday of next week.

“Furthermore, while not suspended, Ms. Taylor’s driving license will be on restricted status for thirty days, during which driving is permitted to and from work only.”

Lance raised a finger. “Judge, do you have an employer lined up and will this work be monitored? How can my client be assured that this penalty is carried out and completed?”

“Good question, Lance. That’s a problem I’ve easily solved by choosing Drake Realty Plus as the business for this detail.”

Ike sat up slowly. His body rigid. His mind disbelieving.

It was Quinn’s turn to smirk.

“I don’t understand,” Joey said.

“Neither do I,” Ike intoned.

“You will supervise the work detail, Mr. Drake,” Matthew continued. “What better way to make sure that the plaintiff’s call for justice has been satisfied than to appoint him as the defendant’s supervisor?”

“Wait a minute, Judge,” Ike said, tossing out all formality, barely maintaining respect. “That can’t happen. It makes no sense at all.”

“It can’t, and it won’t,” Quinn added, with a glance toward Ike, who now spoke quietly yet fervently in Lance’s ear.

“Quinn, quiet,” Joey admonished.

“I won’t work for him,” she hissed.

Matthew proved that he’d heard her by his swift, stern response. “You’ll do that or go to jail, young lady.”

This comment brought Joey to his feet. “Your Honor, if I may approach the, um, the desk.”

Matthew gathered strewn papers into a stack and tidied his desk. “Mr. Wang, that won’t be necessary.”

The statement made Ike’s attorney pop up faster than bread in a toaster. “Your Honor, this is a thoughtful approach to rectifying an unfortunate situation. My client appreciates your diligence to justice being served. However, we regretfully cannot accept this solution. Mr. Drake is under intense pressure right now to meet a deadline for a major project with millions of dollars at stake. This is absolutely the worst time for him to be distracted with an additional responsibility. If it pleases the court, we’d like to offer an alternative location, Drake Ranch. This business includes a vineyard, stables and adequate work opportunities through which Ms. Taylor can fulfill the penalty you’ve imposed.”

“Thank you, Mr. Holden. However, this matter has already been discussed with Ike Drake Sr., who has approved the arrangement. He has the utmost confidence, as do I, that both parties will handle themselves in a manner that will prove beneficial to all.” He placed the papers he’d gathered into a folder, looked at his watch and stood. “Now, everyone, if you’ll excuse me, I’m running late for a meeting with some council members. My assistant will provide all relevant copies of the order that has been put forth.”

Before Ike, Quinn or either of the attorneys could wrap their heads around what had just happened, the judge was gone.

Chapter 7

“He’s in his study, honey.”

Ike strode past Jennifer without a proper hello. He was sure the look on his face had prompted his mother to point him in the direction of the answers he sought. The pretrial meeting had ended three hours ago. That business had precluded him from getting answers until now had only caused his anger and frustration to reach the boiling point.

He didn’t bother to knock. “Dad, what were you thinking?”

“Now hold on, son,” Ike Sr. said as he threw up a hand to ward off the verbal attack. “I know why you’re here. I know why you’re upset. Have a seat.”

“I really don’t feel like sitting, Dad.”

Ike Sr. gave his son a look as he stood and headed to an ornate cherrywood butler table bearing a crystal decanter set that had belonged to his wife’s great-grandmother. “I didn’t ask whether or not you felt like it.”

Ike plopped into a leather chair and sulked.

“Want a spot of brandy?”

“No, thanks.”

Ike stretched out his legs and forced himself to calm down. There was no hurrying Ike Drake Sr., and staying wound up wasn’t good for his health. He pulled out his cell phone and texted Warren. After leaving his parents’ home, he’d release the day’s tension by going to Warren’s ranch and helping to break in his newly purchased home gym.

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