A Little Too Hot

Chapter Thirty-Two

THE SME LL OF frying bacon wakes me, and when I stumble out of my room the next morning, Blake is already finished with his workout. He’s freshly showered and his hair is sticking up every which way as he moves around the kitchen.

“Morning,” I say, making a beeline for the coffeepot and filling my Alcatraz mug to the rim. On the counter are our abalone shells. Blake said I could keep them, though I have no idea what I’m going to do with them. I worked most of the night after dinner cleaning them. Inside the shell, under where the abalone was, there’s a beautiful prism of shimmering blue and green. It reminds me of my dragonfly’s wings.

He smiles up at me as I lift my mug to my face and gulp. “Just in time.” He slides on an oven mitt and reaches into the oven, pulling out a plate mounded with French toast.

“Wow. Are you expecting Jenkins or something?”

He arranges three slices on a plate, sprinkles powdered sugar over the top, and hands it over the counter to me. “He’s been outside all night. If there’s any left, I’ll bring him up a plate.”

I help myself to a few slices of bacon and pour too much syrup over everything. “Why did you want someone out there last night?”

His eyes flick to me as he serves himself. “Just a precaution.”

“Because of what happened last time we left the house?”

“Partly.” He steps around the counter and slips onto the stool next to me. “Arroyo has pled out, and with the murder charge off the table, there’s nothing you can do to hurt him anymore. I just want to make sure he knows that before we let you go.”

“How will you know he knows that?”

“His lawyers will take him through the evidence. Nowhere in any of the racketeering evidence does your name appear. He should figure it out pretty quick. But . . .” He trails off and I look up at him. “We got Sayavong, Sam. It’s starting to fall like a house of cards. The FBI got the manifest for a container ship that Sayavong contracted with under the name of Chang in the past. There were some inconsistencies, and when the Bureau pushed, the company caved and handed over the records. With the help of local officials the FBI was able to locate the girl who went missing from Benny’s. He shipped her to Central America, and from there flew her to a buyer in Brazil.”

There’s a full minute that I can’t breathe. “Are you serious? You found her?”

A smile blooms on his face. “Thanks to you. And there were others, Sam. We’ve located four other American girls and a handful of Mexicans and Central Americans. Your information has taken down the ring. You’ve probably saved dozens of girls.”

“I didn’t do it. You said the FBI was already looking at him, right?”

“But you put the pieces together for them,” he says with a flash of admiration in his eyes.

Even if I helped a little bit, it feels like, maybe for the first time in my life, I’ve done something worthwhile. I prop my elbows on the counter and drop my head into my hands. “Are they okay?”

His voice is wary. “They’ve been through a lot, but now that they’re coming home, they can get the help they need.”

It makes me think of Sabrina, and I wonder how she’s doing. Can any of them ever be right again?

I can’t really eat, so we barely make a dent in the French toast, but I can’t keep from picking at the bacon, so Jenkins’s plate only has one slice on it when Blake brings it up to him. When he comes back, I’m on the balcony, looking out over the view I’m going to miss so much when this is over. He steps up to the rail next to me and leans his elbows on it. “Looks a little windy out there,” he says, his eyes on the bay. “Wonder if it’s windy in the city.”

“Probably,” I say absently, turning my face up to the sun and drinking it in. “At least there’s no fog this morning.”

“A nice day for a wedding, don’t you think?”

A wedding.

Trent and Lexie.

With everything that’s happened, I’d lost track, but today is their wedding.

“I suppose.” I brace myself for the wave of hurt or betrayal or anger, so when what I feel isn’t any those things, it takes me a second to get a grasp on what it is. And when I realize it’s excitement, I breathe out a laugh. Lexie is getting married today. My best friend. But on the heels of the excitement there’s disappointment that I won’t be there.

“C’mere,” Blake says, taking my hand and towing me into the living room. He picks up a garment bag that’s draped over the back of the armchair and hands it to me. “Open it.”

I unzip the bag, and inside is a champagne-colored halter dress with bling around the collar and down the front.

“The invitation says seven o’clock. I thought this was appropriate for an evening wedding.”

I lift the dress out of the bag and hold it up against me. “Oh my God. It’s beautiful.” I look up at him. “They said I could go?”

The hint of a mischievous smile tugs at his mouth. “It took a little arm twisting, because it’s possible Arroyo’s men might know this woman is a friend of yours, but Special Agent in Charge Navarro agreed to let us go for an hour.”

“Us?” I ask, surprised.

His gaze turns cautions. “I have to go with you, Sam. And Cooper will be posted outside. I don’t think there’s any real danger, but if anything were to happen . . .”

“The reception,” I say as he trails off.

He looks a question at me.

“If we can only go for an hour, I want to go to the reception so I can talk to people.”

“You still can’t say anything . . .” he warns, “about any of this.”

“I won’t. But my friend Katie will be there, I’m sure. And . . .” I put the dress down and look at it. “. . . if I only get to wear this for an hour, I want it to be an hour that counts.”

He looks at me for a beat, then nods. “The reception. But you can’t RSVP. No one can know you’re coming.”

I scowl at him. “I couldn’t RSVP if I wanted to. You’ve got the only phone.”

He flashes me a dazzling smile and I feel myself melt in the glow of it.

I wish I could see Jonathan. It still eats at me every day that he knows I didn’t believe in him. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to make up for that. But seeing my old friends from high school will be so amazing. And it will give me something else to think about for a while.

I need this so much right now.

“If we’re not concerned about making the wedding,” Blake says, “we should wait until after dark to leave.”

“So, what time?”

“Nine?”

I scoop up the dress and head toward my room. “I have some things to do to get ready.”

He leans against the counter and watches after me, that cocky almost-smile on his face. “Careful, or you’ll outshine the bride.”

I turn back at my door and smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His eyebrow arches. “I don’t think there’s anything you’re going to be able to do about it.”

I manage to keep the giddy smile off my face until I’m through my door. I close it and hug the dress, spinning a circle and trying not to giggle like a sixth grader.

WHEN I UNPACK the garment bag after my shower, in addition to the dress, I find matching four-inch heels, silk stockings, and a garter belt. Seems Blake thought of everything. The whole ensemble is sex on a stick.

I wax my legs, massage in lotion, and give myself a pedicure and manicure. I experiment with my makeup and find I’m able to almost completely cover the scar on my cheek. In dim light it shouldn’t be noticeable.

The dress is shimmering champagne and hugs every curve, with a tie at the neck and an open back. It’s got a tapered hem and a slit up the front. It’s elegant and sexy all at the same time, and much nicer than anything I’ve ever owned. I slip it on, and, looking at myself in the dress that Blake bought me, for the first time I can honestly say I’m glad I’m not with Trent. I’m glad it never went that far.

I scoop my hair up and experiment with how I want to wear it. After all these weeks pent up here, this feels like dress-up—like Cinderella getting ready for the ball. Blake is my fairy godmother.

When I come out of my room a few minutes before nine, the view leaves me breathless—and I’m not talking about the lights of the city and the bay below. Blake is standing in the middle of the family room in charcoal pinstripe slacks over black cowboy boots. His black shirt is open at the collar, and over it he wears a medium gray vest and a black leather suit jacket. I’m gaping at him as I try to catch my breath.

“You look . . .” He gives his head one slow shake. “Stunning doesn’t do you justice.”

“You too,” I finally say, moving forward in a little bit of a daze. Blake just turned from my fairy godmother into Prince Charming, and it’s everything I can do not to drool.

His hair has gotten longer, I just now notice, because I can clearly see streaks of blond in the sandy brown. And it’s beach tousled. The whole package just makes me want to unwrap it.

“After you, mademoiselle,” he says with a flourish toward the elevator. He presses the button as I step up next to him.

“We’re really doing this?”

He smiles and nods. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

I look at him a second, my eyes scanning from the hair to the face and down the suit, and I seriously think about it. But then I shake my head and step into the elevator. “Let’s go.”

He escorts me to the Escalade and opens my door, taking my hand and helping me in. I watch him as he walks around to his side, struck again by how he moves. Just like with his kata, everything he does looks effortless. He slips into his seat and shoots me a conspiratorial smile as he starts the engine. “Ready to crash a reception?”