Sooner or Later (15 page)

He walked out onto the deck, gazing at the fading moon. Pancho flopped down next to him, put his nose on his paws and closed his eyes. But Dan sat staring out into the night, listening to the soft slap of waves on the shore, thinking about the woman asleep on his sofa. And of the tough road in front of him. It was a long time before he finally went to bed.

He woke her early, with coffee and toast.

Ellie leapt to her feet, running her hands distractedly through her tangled hair. “What time is it?”

“Six. And take it easy, friend. There’s time for coffee and a shower before you go.”

She smiled at the word “friend.” Tilting her head on one side, she looked into his eyes. “Thanks, Danny Boy,” she murmured.

All he said was “You’re welcome, ma’am.” But he figured it might be tough, staying just friends with Ellie Parrish.

A
T ABOUT THE TIME THEY WERE HAVING THEIR EARLYMORNING
coffee, Buck was sprawled on a sofa in one of the Biltmore’s luxurious terry cloth bathrobes, reading the advertising pages of
USA Today
, and waiting for room service to deliver his breakfast.

The gods were with him. The ad offering a business address and telephone answering service was exactly what he needed, and the fact that it was three thousand miles away, in Miami, could not have been more perfect. He got on the phone and made the arrangements. He could receive mail there and they would answer the phone in the name of The Jensen Property Development Company, and take messages. Not that he expected any, but in case anyone should check, he was covering all bases.

Room service arrived and he devoured the oatmeal blueberry pancakes hungrily, then dressed, packed his things and checked out of the hotel. Too long a stay would make him known to the management; people would observe him, get too friendly, ask questions. Besides,
Journey’s End might take a while to sell, and he wanted to conserve money.

Back in LA, he rented a cheap studio apartment on a narrow little street, just south of Sunset. The building was a transient one, full of young people on the move, and the furnished apartment was on the ground floor with a private entrance, which suited Buck just fine.

He dumped his bags there, then drove a few blocks until he found a quick-print shop where he ordered business cards in the name of The Jensen Property Development Company, with the Miami address and phone number.

After that, he drove west to Santa Monica.

It was early evening when he got to Ellie’s Place. Again, he got lucky, a car was pulling out of a parking spot directly opposite and he slid the BMW in, cutting off the waiting green Acura. The driver mouthed an obscenity at him, but Buck ignored him. He slipped two quarters into the parking meter, then got back in the car and sat watching the cafe.

It was early, only just six, but already a couple of tables were occupied. A sexy-looking blonde was taking orders and bringing glasses of wine, but there was no sign of Ellie. The passing traffic blocked his view and he glared around, frustrated.

He was parked directly in front of a bustling little gourmet sandwich bar that was getting a lot of lively action. And their window looked directly across into Ellie’s Place.

He went in, ordered a mocha granita, then took a seat in the window. Sipping the iced drink, he concentrated his gaze on the cafe opposite.

Half an hour passed. He ordered another drink, wondering nervously what had happened to Ellie. Then he saw her, loping breathlessly down the street, long red
hair flying. She was clutching a large box and dodging passersby expertly. As he watched, she shoved through the cafe door and disappeared from sight.

“About time,” Maya greeted her, from behind the zinc counter. “I thought you must be making that coffee machine.”

“Sorry.” Ellie dropped the box onto the counter between them. “But I had to do something or the customers will be deserting us for Starbucks. Anyway, this will do until the big machine is fixed.”

She dashed into the back to check the chaos in the kitchen. Chan was slamming woks and pots around, frowning, while Terry prepped vegetables. The “soup of the day” simmered gently on the gas burner next to pans of sauces, and everything was smelling good.

“I gotta get another job,” Chef Chan greeted Ellie, scowling. “This kitchen is too small.”

“Small is good, Chan.” She wrapped a spotless white apron around her waist and tied it firmly. “You don’t have as far to walk. In a big kitchen, your feet would be killing you.” Chan’s feet were a major point, he complained endlessly about them, clomping round in wooden clogs for comfort. Capturing her hair into a ponytail, Ellie pulled on the baseball cap, then hurried out front to greet her customers.

Maya leaned against the door, blocking her way. “Not so fast, Ellie Parrish. First, tell me about last night.”

“Last night?” Ellie shrugged, grinning. “Oh, it was good. Nice, you know. Being with an old friend.”

“What’s all this old friend stuff? You were a kid when you knew him, and you were definitely not friends.”

“Well, we are now.”

“Hasn’t he asked you for another date?”

“Maya, I keep telling you, this was not a date. We had
a nice friendly dinner. He told me about his life, I caught him up on mine. Then I fell asleep and he woke me this morning with coffee and toast….”

There was a dazed look in Maya’s whiskey-brown eyes. “Wait just one minute, woman. Are you telling me you stayed over? On the first date? My God, celibacy must have wrecked your brain. Either that or he knows which buttons to push. Ellie, I think you need serious retraining in dating etiquette.”

“We just talked, that’s all. Or rather, I did the talking. He listened.”

“Listening
is always a good ploy.” Maya scowled suspiciously. “I don’t trust this guy.”

“Believe me, it’s good to be listened to for a change, instead of being lectured.” Ellie pushed past her, automatically checking tables, smiling greetings to a couple of regular customers, offering menus. The familiar nightly routine had begun.

“Just think what your grandmother would say,” Maya commented loudly as she passed her.

“Remind me to tell you later, about my grandmother’s lecture on my sex life, or lack of it,” Ellie whispered back, laughing as Maya’s brows climbed toward her hair in astonishment.

Buck walked across the road just then and into Ellie’s Place. He glanced around, looking for her, but instead, the beautiful blonde came toward him, menu in hand.

“Good evening.” Maya smiled politely. “A table for two?”

He gave her a charming smile. “I’m afraid I’m alone tonight.”

“Too bad, but you’ve come to the right place. Alone is not a problem here, and you’ll enjoy the food.” She showed him to a table in the window and added, “You
can watch the passing show outside, it’ll keep you entertained.”

He gave her another smile, taking the menu she offered him. “You certainly know how to make a person feel welcome.”

“That’s my job. I’ll just tell you tonight’s specials, then I’ll leave you to look at the menu. And of our wines by the glass, I can recommend the Vieille Ferme in a red, or if you prefer white wine, the Fess Parker chardonnay.”

Buck was polite, charming. He ordered the red wine, the
soupe au pistou
and shrimp and scallops Chan-style. He nibbled on the good bread, waiting and watching.

He was halfway through the glass of wine when Ellie emerged from the kitchen. She threw him a smile as she served the table nearby. Buck quickly drained his glass. He caught her eye as she turned. “Could I have another?” He held up the empty glass, smiling.

“Of course, sir. What were you drinking?” Her voice was sweet and soft as sugar.

“The red. I think she said it was the
Ferme
something….” He looked vague.

“The Vieille Ferme.”

“Wait a minute,” he said, pretending astonishment. “Weren’t you at the Biltmore yesterday? In Montecito?”

She looked puzzled. “Yes, but …”

“You noticed I wasn’t feeling well. You were kind enough to stop and ask if you could help me.” He looked warmly at her. “A man doesn’t forget an act of kindness like that. It’s something that’s rare these days, unfortunately.”

Ellie’s puzzled frown cleared. “Of course, I remember now. I’m glad to see you’ve recovered, anyhow.”

“It was nothing, just too much sun, I guess.”

His smile was warm and friendly, and Ellie smiled back, though she hardly thought it could be too much
sun he was suffering from. The man was as pale as a ghost.

“I’ll get that wine for you right away, sir,” she promised.

Elated, he watched her walk back to the kitchen. Humming “Dixie” under his breath, he waited for her to return, but instead the blonde brought the wine. “This glass is compliments of Ellie’s, sir,” she said. “Enjoy.”

Buck did enjoy. In fact, he couldn’t remember enjoying a meal as much in his entire life. The food was good, but the fact that he had a grandstand seat, watching Ellie, made it even better, though he was jealous of every man who spoke to her that night, every smile she donated, free, with the food.

He took his time over coffee, and the customers had thinned out when he finally got up and walked to the counter to pay his bill.

“I hope you enjoyed your meal, sir?”

He held out the cash and Ellie took it from him. For a fraction of a second, her fingers touched his. It was like detonating a stick of dynamite.

“It was very good. And so was the wine. You’re very generous.”

“We try to look after our guests, at Ellie’s Place.”

“Thank you. And my name is Ed. Ed Jensen.”

“Hope to see you again, Mr. Jensen.” She gave him that big smile and he waved a hand as he turned away.

He was well pleased with himself Phase one was under way. Contact had been established.

Back across the road again, he fed coins into the meter and got back in the car, waiting. It was a slow night on the street and at ten, the sexy blond waitress left, calling goodbyes over her shoulder. He saw Ellie turn the
Open
sign to
Closed
, then she disappeared from sight.

Chan and the sous-chef had gone home half an hour before and Ellie was alone. She leaned against the counter, sipping a glass of water, thinking about Dan, wondering if she’d revealed too much about her private feelings last night. Baring her soul to him hardly made for great entertainment, and to prove it, he hadn’t asked to see her again.

With a little “who cares” shrug, she put down the empty glass, telling herself she didn’t have the time, anyhow. Taking off her apron, she hung it on a hook, released her ponytail, and lifted her hair in her hands with a sigh of relief. Then she grabbed her jacket and bag.

As Ellie locked the door and strode rapidly down the street in the opposite direction, Buck made a quick illegal U-turn, and cruised slowly after her. After a couple of blocks, she turned right, heading for a four-story car park. He pulled into the curb, engine purring softly.

A few minutes later, Ellie drove past in a bright yellow Jeep. She halted at the intersection, indicating left, and Buck swung quickly round in another U. He was right behind her as she took off down Main.

Fatigue settled over Ellie like a heavy gray blanket; all she wanted was to get home, take a hot shower and crawl into bed. Turning right, she drove a couple of blocks up the small hill, then made a quick left. It barely registered that there was a car right behind her.

She punched the garage opener and the temperamental door swung halfway up, then stopped. It stuck there, trembling, and she gave it another angry click, breathing a sigh of relief when it slowly shuddered open. She was out of the car in a flash, pounding up the stairs, flinging her clothes off as she went.

After the shower, she went to the window and leaned her elbows on the sill, listening to the softer night
sounds. A cool breeze was blowing and in the distance, she could hear the surf, though she couldn’t see it because the night was overcast.

She thought of the pounding surf outside Pines Cottage last night, and the intimacy of the firelit room. Of Dan sitting opposite her, filling her wineglass and eating birthday cake; and of the shabby dog sleeping contentedly at his feet, its belly full of stolen steak. It was such a warm, companionable scene, she sighed with regret. Dan Cassidy was a very busy man. And she was a busy woman.

“‘And never the twain shall meet,’” she quoted, climbing into the canopied bed and closing her eyes, waiting for sleep to overtake her.

In the shadows across the street, Buck groaned with lust for her. The night was cool, but heat rushed up his spine. He was on fire.

He ran back to the car and drove to the studio apartment. Locking the door behind him, he stripped off his clothes in a frenzy. Minutes later, he was prowling the tiny apartment, wild as a caged animal, exactly the way he used to at the Hudson facility. Only this time there were no guards to observe him and say “Better get the straitjacket. There goes Buck Duveen again. Crazy as a loon.”

C
ARLOS
O
RTEGA WAS ON HIS HANDS AND KNEES, HIS FACE
pressed to a single sticklike vine, inspecting it from bottom to top, branch by branch.

“You see this, Señor.” He indicated a frail-looking twig. “These vines were budded, grafted onto the cabernet franc rootstock. Neglect and possibly bad weather spoiled them. The rootstock is good. If we baby them, treat them like little children, pamper them, caress them, love them, Señor, they will revive.”

He looked up beaming, and Dan said, “You mean I’m going to have to
love
my vines as well as give them all my money. It sounds exactly like a bad marriage, Carlos.”

“No, no, Señor, it’s not the same like loving a woman. These are your children. Is different.” He got to his feet, wafting dust from his knees with his straw sombrero. “Is good news, Señor Dan. I’m already saving you money.”

Dan was on his knees, staring at the vine. He could feel the warmth of the earth under his hands, smell its sweet, flat odor, see tiny tufts of reddish-green growth
that might almost be a bud. A surge of pride went through him. This was his land, these were his vines, his goddamn buds. Ortega was right, they were like his kids.