our first official date?” he countered. “I don’t think so. I’ll pick you up at your place.”
“Fine,” she said grudgingly, knowing this was one battle she wasn’t going to win. “I’ll write down my address.”
“Oh, I know where you live.”
“What? How?” Oh, she thought. The rental agreement.
“I made it a point to find out,” he told her, then leaned across the counter, planted a quick, hard kiss on her open mouth and then winked at her. “So. See you at seven.”
“Right. Seven.”
“Excellent!” He slapped both hands against the glass counter then beat out a quick, drumlike tattoo of sound with his fingertips. “See you then.”
Bella was pretty sure she heard one of her customers give a little sigh. Or, she thought sadly, it might have been her.
Then he turned, directed a brilliant smile at the customers still watching him, lifted a hand in farewell and said, “Ladies…”
The hushed whispers started almost the instant the door swung closed behind him. Bella didn’t listen. Instead, she buried herself in work and tried not to think about the coming night.
Jesse left Bella’s shop, walked down Main Street and turned left onto Pacific Coast Highway. A small café stood on the corner, with several tiny, round chrome tables clustered together on the sidewalk. There was a great view of the beach, the pier and the men hanging a wide sign reading Surfing Exhibition—Come See the Champions.
An exhibition had been his idea. Get a few of his friends together, have some fun in the ocean and rack up some great PR for his company all in one stroke. They’d bring plenty of tourists into town for the day, lots of money would be spent in the shops and he’d get another chance at the limelight. He hated to admit it, but he sort of missed the competition. The excitement of a meet. He didn’t miss the press or the photographers, though the exhilaration of a win couldn’t be beaten.
Smiling to himself, Jesse took a seat at one of the tables, drummed his fingertips on the shining silver tabletop and waited. When a young blond woman wearing shorts and a red shirt with Christie’s Café emblazoned across her chest arrived, Jesse said, “Just a coffee, please.”
“Sure, Mr. King,” the girl said eagerly. “Hey, you’re surfing in the exhibition, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am,” he told her, though his thoughts had moved on from the exhibition itself to the woman he thought might be there on the beach watching him.
“That’s so great. Can’t wait to see you in action!” She swung her long, blond ponytail behind her back and pushed out her breasts, just in case he hadn’t noticed them.
Jesse nodded indifferently. He had. He just wasn’t interested. Not so long ago, he’d have been smiling back at her, flirting, taking advantage of the gleam in her eyes. Now the only woman he was interested in had more of battle glint in her eyes than a gleam. And that, weirdly enough, was more of a draw for him than the eager blonde.
The waitress grinned hopefully, then disappeared into the café. Jesse was alone, except for the few stragglers taking up spots at the tables. He caught an interested glance cast his way a few times, but he ignored them. One downside to celebrity, he thought—you were never really alone.
“So,” a deep voice said from behind him. “Thought we should talk.”
Jesse turned his head and watched Bella’s friend Kevin walk around him to take a seat in the chair opposite. Before he had a chance to speak, the waitress was back with Jesse’s coffee.
“Hi, Kevin,” she said. “The usual?”
“Yeah, Tiff. That’d be great.” Kevin answered, though his gaze was locked on Jesse.
When she was gone again, Jesse measured the man opposite him. He had the look of a guard dog, which made Jesse wonder just what kind of friendship Kevin and Bella shared. Were they a couple? He didn’t like the sound of that, but it was possible, because Jesse never had believed in men and women being merely “friends.” But at the same time, he didn’t think Bella was the kind of woman to be with one guy and kissing another. So just where did that leave Mr. Guard Dog? What was his interest here?
Jesse kept his irritation tightly wrapped. “What is it you want to talk about? Come to tell me you got those emerald earrings in?”
“No,” Kevin said. “Next week. This is about Bella.”
Of course it was. Just as well, though, Jesse told himself. Best to have a little talk with this guy and get a few things straightened out. He wanted to know just where Kevin stood with Bella. Not that it would make a damn bit of difference to Jesse either way. He wanted Bella and he was going to have her. But it would be good to know just how many guys he was going to have to plow through to get to her.
“Fine. Let’s talk,” Jesse said congenially. “I’ll start. Come to warn me off? Because I’ll tell you straight up, it won’t work.”
Before Kevin could answer, the blonde was back, sliding a mug of coffee with cream in front of him. “Thanks,” he muttered.
When neither of the men glanced at her again, the blonde pouted briefly and stomped off.
Finally, Kevin picked up his cup, took a sip and set it back down. “I figure Bella can tell you to take a hike if she wants to. That’s not why I’m here.”
One problem solved. “All right. Then why?”
“I want to know what’s going on with you.”
“And that’s your business because…”
“Because I care about Bella.”
Jesse didn’t like how that sounded. He didn’t like that Kevin felt he had the right to defend Bella. From him. His eyes narrowed, his gut clenched and his back teeth ground together. “You care. So, you’re here to what? Be her white knight?”
“Does she need one?”
“If she does, it won’t be you,” Jesse told him.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Had to give the guy points. He looked harmless, with his easy smile and casual pose. But there was steel inside him, too, which Jesse could admire even as he glared at him. “Have you slept with her?”
Kevin stared back. “No,” he said, his voice low and tight.
“Good.” Very good, Jesse thought. Even the idea of another man’s hands on Bella was enough to set off an unfamiliar sort of rage inside him. He wasn’t willing to question why that was. It was enough that the proprietary sensation was there. “Then if you’re not her lover, or her husband or her father, what’s this about?”
“I’m her friend. More than that,” Kevin told him, cupping his coffee cup between his palms. “We’re family.”
Jesse studied the other man. “Is that right?”
