Meg’s father walked around to seat her with courtly charm. She stared at him a moment, then thanked him.
“You’re very young,” she said to Meg as her father took his place at a right angle to them. “I’m not sure this will work. Mr. Loria, I explained that the situation is dangerous.”
Meg drew a breath for patience and smiled. Rejection on all fronts was making her weirdly philosophical.
“I’m twenty-six, Ms. Boradino,” she confided. “A better shot than my brothers, and I can take you down faster than my father could.” At the woman’s startled look and her father’s quick clearing of his throat, she added quickly, “Not that he’d try to, of course. And...not you, specifically.”
Despite Ms. Boradino’s very formal manner, amusement flickered in her eyes. “Thank you for clarifying that. But when you’re forty-one, twenty-six is very young. And I don’t mean to diminish your skills, but the people I’m hiring protection against are ruthless and rather large. And...if my boss found out who you are...” She suddenly lost her air of control, reached to the middle of the table for a bread stick and snapped it in half. “Let’s just say the bad guys won’t be your only problem.”
Meg smiled flatly at her father. “Thanks, Dad. I’ve always wanted an assignment where I’m in danger from our client as well as whoever’s threatening him.”
“Now, let’s just think about this,” Paul began placatingly. “There’s no reason he has to find out you’re protecting him.” He smiled at Ms. Boradino. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? He doesn’t want protection?”
The discussion was halted temporarily when a waiter arrived with menus and to take their order for beverages. Her father, familiar with the menu, decided they should select their lunch choices, too, and made suggestions to Ms. Boradino, who looked at him as though completely fascinated.
It was the Old World charm, Meg knew. Though third generation Italian-American, Paul Loria had been raised with European manners and style. He’d tried to raise his children in the same way, but Meg’s three brothers were hopelessly contemporary, and Meg herself didn’t seem to be able to find a place where she felt comfortable.
When the waiter gathered up the menus and headed off to the kitchen, Paul nodded at their client. “Start from the beginning. Tell us everything we should know about your boss so that we can all be sure we’re doing the right thing here.”
Ms. Boradino smiled ruefully. “It’s difficult to describe Amos Pike. To say he’s a self-made man is an understatement because that only implies business success and wealth. And though he’s achieved both, his most admirable qualities have nothing to do with that. He’s a wonderful boss because he knows what he wants and he insists upon it from you, and yet he manages to help you give it to him in the way you work best.”
For someone who found it difficult to describe him, Meg thought, she was doing a thorough job. And an insightful one.
Her father apparently thought so, too. “Are you in love with him?” he asked gently.
Even Meg turned to him in surprise.
At the woman’s startled look, he replied with a kind smile, “With lives at stake, it’s important that we know everything. Relationships can make small but significant changes in our approach.”
Meg concluded that was hogwash. Her father was interested in their client and wanted to know what or who stood in his way.
Ms. Boradino shook her head. “I’m seven years older than he is.”
Paul shrugged as though that were negligible. “A young man delights in a woman with experience. Just as an older man can find rejuvenation with a younger woman.”
Meg held back a wince at her own recent proof of his claim.
Her father seemed to realize what he’d said and cast her a quick, apologetic glance.
She shrugged her forgiveness.
“We’re friends,” Ms. Boradino said. Then she seemed to reconsider. “Well, not precisely. I have trouble letting people get that close.” Then she glanced at Paul and at Meg, clearly startled that she’d admitted that much. She went on briskly. “He’s the finest man I know, as a businessman and as a human being, and I don’t want him to be hurt because of his own stubborn pride.” She seemed suddenly to notice the two halves of bread stick in her hands and dropped them onto her bread plate. Then she dusted off her fingers.
“He’s a toy manufacturer,” she said. “You’ve heard of Pike’s Pickled Pepper Toy Company?”
When Paul shook his head, Meg nodded. “Yes, you have, Dad. You bought that little boy next door the castle where you put the water in the moat and sea monsters go around in it. Remember? That was a Pike product.”
Ms. Boradino brightened. “That’s right. That was our bestseller last year.” She sobered again as quickly. “Competition for the toy market has always been very intense, but since the development of Amos’s Interactive Space Station, I’m afraid it could become...deadly.”
“Why do you say that?” Paul asked.
“It’s all been top secret, of course,” she replied calmly, though she fiddled nervously with a fork. “We even missed the February toy show in favor of this later one here in San Francisco. Amos needed to refine the software that comes with the station after NASA agreed to give him some data.” She put the fork down and met Paul’s eyes, then Meg’s. “There was a mysterious fire at our factory and a break-in at our office, and Amos was mugged by four men in his condo’s parking garage. Fortunately, one of the other residents was returning with a couple of friends and the muggers took off. I think someone was out to get the designs for the station, so Amos finally hid them. Even I don’t know what he’s done with them, or with the prototype.”
“But why the muggers?” Meg asked. “Did they think he had the plans on him?”
“Perhaps,” Ms. Boradino replied. “Or maybe it was just...revenge.”
“But that’s getting pretty personal for a business intrigue.”
Ms. Boradino spread her hands. “That was what made me suspect Jillian Chambers.”
Meg nodded, waiting for her to explain.
“She’s the CEO of Chayco Toys,” Ms. Boradino elaborated. “Pike’s only real competition in the toy market. She and Amos used to see each other—until Amos found her photographing his designs at his home one night after they’d...been together.” Ms. Boradino looked skeptical. “She still insists he misunderstood her intentions. That she was designing something similar and wanted to match the plan to hers to see if they could coordinate their designs for a joint project.”
Paul made a scornful sound. “Pretty thin excuse.”
“She’s been trying to get him back ever since,” Ms. Boradino continued, “but he doesn’t deal well with having been lied to or deceived.” She smiled wryly at Meg. “So you’ll have to be careful.”
The waiter arrived with a carafe of gewürztraminer and poured three glasses. When he left, Boradino said with a worried frown, “My real concern is that Jillian, who has always been high-strung and impulsive, has taken a dangerous turn. Her business
