Tula.
She was there again. Front and center in his thoughts. Her short, soft hair. Her quick grin. That dimple that continued to devastate him every time he saw it flash in her cheek. She was there with her stories about lonely children befriending rabbits. She was there, rocking Nathan in the middle of the night. She was in the kitchen, dancing to the radio as she cooked. He saw her in her tiny house in Crystal Bay. So small, yet so full of life. Of love.
Tula had waltzed into his life and turned everything he had ever known upside down.
The light changed and he walked with the crowd, a part of them, yet separate.
For days now, he and Tula and Nathan had been what he had never thought to have…a family. Laughing with the baby in the evening, holding Tula all through the night and then waking up with her curled up against him every morning. It was enough to drive a man out of his mind.
This wasn’t how Simon had planned for his life to go.
Never before had he made room in his thoughts for babies and bunnies and smart-mouthed women who kissed him as if he contained the last breath on earth. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without any of them.
And he didn’t damn well know what to do about it.
The wind off the ocean was icy, chilling the blood in his veins until he felt as cold and grim as his thoughts. Outside the restaurant, Simon actually paused and considered the situation.
If Mick was right, then going inside to face down Jacob would ruin whatever he might have with Tula. On the other hand, if he didn’t go inside and nothing came of whatever was happening between him and Tula, then he had wasted his one opportunity to get back at a man he’d spent too many years hating.
Scrubbing one hand across the back of his neck, Simon stood in the sea of constantly moving pedestrians like a boulder in the middle of a rushing stream. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what his next move should be.
For the first time ever, he wondered if he shouldn’t be putting someone else ahead of his own needs.
“Make up your damn mind,” he muttered, shifting his gaze to take in the wide windows and the diners seated in leather booths affording a view of downtown.
That’s when he saw Jacob Hawthorne.
Everything in Simon went still as ice. The old man was lording it over a group of businessmen at his table. Seated like a king before supplicants, the old thief was clearly holding court. And who knew what he was up to? Who knew which company Jacob was trying to destroy now?
Thoughts of Tula rose up in Simon’s mind as if his subconscious was combating what he was seeing. Reminding him of what he could have. What he might lose.
Tula. The daughter of his enemy. Simon shouldn’t have been able to trust her. But he did. He shouldn’t have cared about her. But he did.
Still, it wasn’t enough, he told himself, already reaching for the door handle and tugging it open.
He owed it to his father. Hell, he owed it to himself to give Jacob the set down the man had practically been begging to receive for years.
And nothing was going to stop him.
Twelve
There were posters of her latest book cover standing on easels at the front entrance of the bookstore. Management had even put her picture on the sign announcing the author reading and signing that weekend. Cringing a little, Tula tried not to look at her own image.
“Ms. Barrons!”
She turned to smile as Barbara, the employee responsible for all of this, hurried over. “Hi, nice to see you again.”
Barbara shook the hand Tula offered and then waved at the sign. “Do you approve?”
“It’s very nice,” she said, idly noting that she really needed a new publicity picture taken. “Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s no bother, believe me,” Barbara told her. “We’ve sold so many of your books already, you’ll be signing for hours this weekend.”
“Now that is good news,” Tula replied, reaching down to lift Nathan from his stroller when he started to complain. “It’s okay, sweetie, we won’t be long, then we’ll go to the park,” she promised.
“You have a beautiful son,” Barbara cooed, reaching in to take one of Nathan’s tiny hands in hers.
Pleased, Tula didn’t correct her. Instead, she felt her own heart swell with longing, pride and love. She looked at the tiny boy in her arms and smiled when he gave her a toothless grin. Kissing him tenderly, she looked at Barbara and said simply, “Thank you.”
Simon walked to Jacob’s table, dismissing the hostess who tried to intercept him. His gaze locked on the old man; he paid no attention to the other diners or even to the three older men at Jacob’s table.
All he could see was the man he’d waited years to get even with. The man who had destroyed Simon’s father and nearly cost him the business his family had built over generations.
He stopped beside the table and looked down at the man who was his enemy. Tula had gotten her blue eyes from her father, but the difference was there was no warmth in Jacob’s eyes. No silent sense of humor winking out at him. She was nothing like her father at all, Simon thought, wondering how someone as warm as Tula could have sprung from a man with ice in his veins.
“Bradley,” the older man said, glancing at him with a sniff of distaste. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought we could have a chat, Jacob,” Simon said, not bothering to acknowledge the other men at the table.
“I’m busy. Another time.” Jacob turned to the man on his right.
“Actually, now works best for me,” Simon said, keeping his voice low enough that only those at the table were privy to what he had to say.
The older man sighed dramatically, turned to face him and said, “Fine. What is it?”
For the first time, Simon glanced at the other men. “Maybe we should do this in private.”
“I don’t see any need for that,” Jacob argued. “This is a scheduled business meeting. You’re the intruder here.”
Right again. It was only thanks to Mick’s reluctantly given information that Simon had known where to find the old goat. Now he didn’t argue, he merely turned his flat, no-negotiation stare on the other men at the table. It didn’t take them long to excuse themselves and stand up.
“Five minutes,” Jacob told them.
“I don’t need even that long,” Simon assured him as the three men left, heading for the bar.
The steak house was old, moneyed and exclusive. The walls were paneled in dark oak, the carpet was bloodred and the booths and chairs were overstuffed black leather. Candles flickered on every table and wall sconces burned with low-wattage bulbs, making the place seem like a well-decorated cave.