Cara Summers - Flirting With Temptation

“You’re sure this man is Benny Lewis?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jack said. “I’ve got several other photos of him from that time period.”

Corie felt the prick of tears at the back of her eyes. The man in the picture was so handsome, and the charm was so evident in his smile. Her mother looked so young, and so happy. She touched a finger to the woman’s face and for the first time she let herself believe that the man in the picture might indeed be her father. A rush of feeling moved through her, tightening her throat and squeezing into a little band around her heart. She would be meeting him in a little more than thirty-six hours.

Raising her eyes to meet Jack’s, she said, “I was hoping, but I didn’t really believe it before.”

He reached out and took her hand.

Linking her fingers with his, she met Jack’s gaze steadily. “I do now. I really think he’s my father. And I’m not going to let some crazy man at the airport scare me away.”

“Here! Here!” Franco said as he raised his mug in another toast.

Corie took a sip of her coffee and then said, “But Friday is two days away. Shouldn’t we be investigating something in the meantime? We could go out to the winery and look for a man with a dog wearing sunglasses and a fedora and carrying a white cane.”

Jack bit back a grin. Not only was Corie smart and determined, but she wasn’t going to be easily distracted. “If he was wearing a disguise, he won’t be wearing it the next time we see him.”

“Good point,” Franco said. “You two are about even right now.”

“And you have an appointment at Lorenzo’s at two o’clock,” Jack added.

Franco raised his glass again. “To the new Corie Benjamin.”

Jack took a long swallow of his Irish coffee. While Corie was safely occupied at Lorenzo’s, he was going to modify and expand his plan. First, he was going to have a heart to heart with D. C. Parker down at the homicide division. He needed to know exactly who was e-mailing him. Fast.

Mrs. H,

Just a little update on my research…

I have another great idea—and another great heroine for my screenplay. Renting out my apartment has not only been a financial boon, but it has also increased my creativity. Scenes are just flowing into my mind. Corie Benjamin, my latest tenant, is a whole lot more than the shy little librarian I was expecting. I have a feeling she’s more than my friend Jack was expecting, too! When they met for the first time at the airport, it was as if they were the only two people in the baggage claim area! I’m thinking West Side Story, the dance at the gym—when Tony and Maria meet for the first time and for a moment time stands still.

And it’s my job to give the little librarian a makeover. We’re at Lorenzo’s salon as I’m writing this, and then we’re off to see a personal shopper at Macy’s. Picture the shopping scene from Pretty Woman.

And she hasn’t even tried on the skirt yet! I can’t wait to see what happens when Jack sees her in it! Picture Sabrina when the chauffeur’s daughter comes back from Paris totally transformed! My agent is going to go ballistic!

Ta,

Franco

THE WAITING ROOM of Lorenzo’s salon offered a view of the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. Corie might have enjoyed it even more if it hadn’t been for the tight knot of nerves in her stomach.

She’d never experienced anything like the salon, from the red-and-gold brocade drapes and Persian rugs to the exotic scents wafting into the room at regular intervals. But Corie had a hunch that the real cause of the nerves was the fact that Jack Kincaid had taken his leave of them and headed to the Chronicle office. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Silly to feel so alone just because a man she’d met only a few hours ago had left her.

At Franco’s request, Nadia, a pencil-thin girl who had at least seven earrings in each ear, had brought her a glass of white wine. Noting that her knuckles had turned white from gripping the stem, Corie concentrated on relaxing her fingers. She had to get a grip.

At Jack’s request, Rollo, the doorman at the salon, had agreed to watch out for her and, if the need arose, ward off any blind gunmen, until Jack could return. A huge barrel of a man with a shiny bald head, Rollo had stood blocking the doorway ever since Jack had left. But it wasn’t the threat of blind gunmen with dogs that had her stomach doing flips.

“Drink up,” Franco said, clinking his glass to hers. “There’s no need to be nervous. Lorenzo had incredible talent even when I first knew him back in the Big Apple. He took a couple of acting classes with me at New York University. Lorenzo and I were theater majors. Jack was taking writing and journalism classes, so I’m not sure he would even remember Lorenzo.”

“You’ve known Jack for a long time then?” Corie asked.

“Since our first year in college.”

“Were you and Jack…” She hesitated. It really wasn’t any of her business. “Were you involved even then?”

“Involved?”

Whatever else Franco might have said was cut off as a tall, golden god swept into the room. For a moment all Corie could think of was Ian Fleming’s Goldfinger. The man—Lorenzo, she assumed—looked as if he’d been literally dipped in a rich shade of coppery gold—from the tone of his skin to the flow of hair that he wore swept back from his wide forehead. Even his eyes were a deep shade of amber.

“Lorenzo!” Franco rose and within seconds he all but disappeared into the folds of the large man’s flowing caftan.

“And you.” Lorenzo released Franco and swept down on her, grasping her hand and drawing her to her feet in one smooth motion. Then, tipping her chin up, he studied her. “You must be the little librarian.”

Corie would have nodded, but his grip on her chin was firm.

“Nadia?” He snapped the fingers of his free hand, and the pencil-thin woman whipped out a notebook. “The bones are good.” He paused to trace a finger down Corie’s cheek. “The skin is flawless. But the hair.” He lifted a strand and shuddered, sending a rippling wave through his caftan. “It will have to go.”

Corie felt the arrow of panic shoot right through her. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“How much time do I have, Franco?”

“I’ve pushed back the appointment at Macy’s until five.”

“I have only three hours?” Lorenzo drew in a deep breath. Out of the corner of her eye, Corie saw Franco and Nadia both take a quick step back. She might have herself, but Lorenzo had never released her chin.

“Well! It’s a good thing I’m a genius. Prep her, Nadia.” Dropping his hand, Lorenzo whirled and sailed from the room.

“If you’ll follow me, Ms. Benjamin?”

Corie raised a hand to her hair. She didn’t think she could move.

Franco grabbed her arm and urged her toward the door that Lorenzo had disappeared through. “He likes you.”

“He likes me?” Corie asked. “He wants to scalp me.”

“No, no, no,” Franco patted her arm as he pulled her past a long row of curtained booths. “He’s talking about a color and styling, and he’s the best.”

“Franco, I don’t think—”

He pushed her into a chair. “And you shouldn’t think. Just relax and put yourself in the hands of a master. Nadia, we need more wine.” The moment the girl disappeared, he continued, “You have that party Friday night. You do want to look your best when you meet your family.”

Corie faced herself in the mirror and barely kept herself from wincing. Even scalped, she had to look better than the way she looked now. The boring librarian look had to go. But even as Nadia reentered and pressed another glass of wine into her hand, her mother’s words echoed in her ears.