“You’re worth it.”
I took a large gulp of my water when I felt the nearly overwhelming urge to tell her that my dad was coming to visit. She’d be an ally in convincing him of Gideon’s affection for me, but that was a selfish reason to say anything. I had no idea how she would react to Victor’s being in New York, but it was highly possible she’d be distressed, and that would make everyone’s life hell. Whatever her reasons, she preferred to have no contact with him whatsoever. I couldn’t ignore how she’d managed to avoid seeing or talking to him since I’d become old enough to communicate with him directly.
“I saw a picture of Cary on the side of a bus yesterday,” she said.
“Really?” I sat up straighter. “Where?”
“On Broadway. A jeans ad, I think it was.”
“I saw one, too,” Megumi said. “Not that I paid any attention to what he was wearing. That man is fine.”
The conversation made me smile. My mother was adept at admiring men. It was one of the many reasons they adored her—she made them feel good. Megumi was more than her match in the guy-appreciation department.
“He’s been getting recognized on the street,” I said, glad that in this case we were talking about an ad and not a tabloid candid with me. The gossips thought it was so juicy that Gideon Cross’s girlfriend lived with a sexy male model.
“Of course,” my mom said, with a slight note of chastisement. “You didn’t doubt he would eventually?”
“I’d hoped,” I qualified. “For his sake. It’s a sad fact that male models don’t make as much or work as often as the women do.” Although I’d expected Cary would break through somehow. Emotionally, he couldn’t afford not to. He’d learned to put so much value on his looks that I didn’t think he could allow himself to fail. It was one of my deepest fears that his career choice would come back to haunt him in ways neither of us could bear.
My mother took a delicate sip of her Pellegrino. The café specialized in cacao-laced menu items, but she was careful not to waste her daily calorie allotment on one meal. I was less cautious. I’d ordered a soup and sandwich combination plus a dessert that was going to cost me at least an extra hour on the treadmill later. I excused the indulgence with a mental reminder that I was on my period, which was a carte blanche chocolate zone in my opinion.
“So,” Monica smiled at Megumi, “will you be seeing your blind date again?”
“I hope so.”
“Darling, don’t leave it to chance!”
As my mom started doling out her wisdom in regard to managing men, I sat back and enjoyed the show. She was of the firm belief that every woman deserved to have a wealthy man to dote on her, and for the first time in forever, she wasn’t concentrating her matchmaking efforts on me. While I was worried about how my dad and Gideon would hit it off, I had no concerns about my mom’s feelings on the matter. We both thought I was with the right guy for me, although for different reasons.
“Your mom rocks,” Megumi said, when Monica ducked into the ladies’ room to freshen up before we left. “And you look just like her, lucky you. How bad would it suck to have a mom who’s hotter than you are?”
Laughing, I told her, “I’ll have to drag you along with us again. This worked out great.”
“I’d like that.”
When it was time to go, I looked at Clancy and the town car waiting at the curb for us and realized I wanted to walk off some of my lunch before I got back to work. “I think I’m going to hoof it back,” I told them. “I ate too much. You two go on without me.”
“I’ll go with you,” Megumi said. “I could use the air, hot as it is. That canned air in the office makes my skin dry.”
“I’ll come, too,” my mom offered.
I eyed her delicate heels skeptically, but then again, my mom wore nothing but heels. For her, walking in those was probably the same as walking in flats was to me.
We headed back to the Crossfire at the standard stride rate for Manhattan, which was something of a steady, purposeful clip. While weaving around human obstacles was usually part of the process, it was far less of an issue with my mom in the lead. Men moved reverently off to the side for her, then followed her with their eyes. In her simple, sexy wrap dress of ice blue, she looked cool and refreshing in the humid heat.
We’d just turned the corner to reach the Crossfire when she came to an abrupt halt that caused Megumi and me to crash into the back of her. She stumbled forward, wobbling, and I barely caught her by the elbow before she teetered over.
I looked at the ground to see what had held her up, but when I didn’t see anything I looked at her. She was staring at the Crossfire in a daze.
“Jesus, Mom,” I urged her out of the flow of pedestrians. “You’re white as a sheet. Is the heat getting to you? Do you feel dizzy?”
“What?” Her hand went to her throat. Her dilated gaze remained fixed to the Crossfire.
Turning my head, I followed her line of sight, trying to see whatever it was that she did.
“What are you two looking at?” Megumi asked, frowning down the street.
“Mrs. Stanton.” Clancy approached, having abandoned the town car he’d been driving at a safe but discreet distance behind us. “Is everything all right?”
“Did you see—?” she began, looking to him with her question.
“See what?” I demanded, as his head snapped up and his trained gaze raked the length of the street. The absoluteness of his focus sent a shiver down my spine.
“Let me drive you three the rest of the way,” he said quietly.
The entrance to the Crossfire was literally across the street, but something in Clancy’s tone brooked no argument. We all climbed in, with my mother taking the front seat.
“What was that about?” Megumi asked after we’d been dropped off and had moved into the cool interior of the building. “Your mom looked like she’d seen a ghost.”
“I have no idea.” But I felt ill.
Something had frightened my mother. It was going to drive me crazy until I found out what it was.
Chapter 7
My back hit the mat with enough force to knock the air from my lungs. Stunned, I blinked up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath.
Parker Smith’s face came into view. “You’re wasting my time. If you’re going to be here, be here. One hundred percent. Not a million miles away in your head somewhere.”
I grabbed the hand he extended to me, and he yanked me to my feet. Around us, a dozen more of Parker’s Krav Maga students were hard at work. The Brooklyn-based studio was alive with noise and activity.
He was right. My thoughts were still stuck on my mom and the bizarre way she’d reacted when we returned to the Crossfire after lunch.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ve got something on my mind.”
He moved like lightning, tagging me first on one knee, then my shoulder with rapid-fire slaps. “Do you think an attacker is going to wait until you’re alert and ready before he comes after you?”
I crouched, forcing myself to focus. Parker crouched as well, his brown eyes hard and watchful. His shaved head and café au lait skin gleamed beneath the overhead fluorescent lighting. The studio was in a converted warehouse, which had been left rough for both economic reasons and atmosphere. My mother and stepfather were paranoid enough to have Clancy accompany me to my classes. The neighborhood was presently undergoing revitalization, which I thought was encouraging but they thought was troubling.