Читать книгу Summer Vows - Rochelle Alers, Rochelle Alers - Страница 11

Chapter 3

Jacob carried the last two bags up the staircase, leaving them outside the door as promised. He hadn’t lied to Ana when he said he knew about her. Diego had given him particulars on her, while confirming assertions that she was more than formidable as the head of the record company. Many of the clients preferred dealing with Jason because of his low-key, relaxed demeanor, whereas Ana’s in-your-face approach was a lot more intimidating. His friend had also confided that he’d asked Ana to come to work for the family-owned import/export, real estate conglomerate, but she’d declined, saying she preferred the ongoing excitement and changes within the music industry.

And Jacob wasn’t fooled by her willingness to follow his demands. Ana was used to giving orders, not taking them, and that meant he couldn’t afford to let down his guard when interacting with her. Fortunately there was enough room in the two-story house where they wouldn’t have to bump into each other at every turn. Ana would have the run of the entire second floor because he planned to sleep in the alcove off the family room at the rear of the house. The small but cozy space also contained a half bath that was just a little more than a water closet. There was just enough space for a shower and commode. Once Jacob had decided to utilize the alcove, he’d purchased a queen-size storage bed with drawer space for linens and several changes of clothes.

He wasn’t too concerned about break-ins because the property was monitored by surveillance cameras. And like Ana, he hoped the shooter would be caught sooner rather than later. The longer the perpetrator was on the loose the lower the odds of capturing him.

Returning to the kitchen, Jacob stored his holstered handgun in a drawer under the island countertop, then opened the refrigerator and removed a labeled package of fish filets he’d taken out of the freezer before leaving for the airport. After he’d closed up his Miami apartment he’d driven to a local supermarket to buy enough food to stock the pantry and refrigerator for at least two weeks. He’d planned to alternate cooking for himself and dining in some of his favorite restaurants in the Keys. That was before he’d gotten the call from Diego.

Jacob still had to decide how much he wanted to expose Ana to the public because he wanted her to keep a low profile. Confining her to the house was certain to push both of them over the edge. And if they did go out, then a hat and sunglasses for her would be the norm rather than the exception.

A smile parted his lips when he recalled her saying she’d planned to run away from home to live in Key West. He didn’t live in Key West, but it was close enough for him to drive her there to show her some of the historic cottages and restored century-old Conch houses. With the influx of tourists mingling with the locals they were certain to blend in enough to enjoy the nightlife.

Over the next forty minutes he busied himself uncovering the deck furniture, hosing down the deck, and then opened several umbrellas, positioning one near the table and the other two behind cushioned recliners. Jacob tried, but he was unsuccessful in erasing the image of Ana’s eyes whenever she gave him a direct stare. There was something about her eyes that reflected a boldness and wisdom that made him believe she was much older than thirty-three. Perhaps, he mused, it was the role she’d taken on as CEO of a very successful recording label. If she had been any woman other than David Cole’s daughter she never would’ve been able to achieve the business success Ana had accomplished since she’d assumed control of Serenity Records. Jacob smiled. Her father had taught her well. He checked on the large dog in the crate that lifted his head from between his paws with his approach.

Bending slightly, he said, “Don’t worry, boy. I hope to have you out of there sometime tomorrow.”

Jacob had removed the fish from the packaging and had placed them in a bowl of cold water when the soft chiming of the telephone garnered his attention. He punched the speaker feature on the wall phone before the third ring.

“Hello.”

“Jacob. It’s your mother.”

“How are you, Mrs. Deavers?”

There was a slight pause before Gloria Deavers’s soft voice came through the speaker. “Why are you so formal?”

Resting a hip against the countertop, Jacob crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at the skylight in the kitchen. “You are Mrs. Deavers, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been married to Henry for almost fifteen years, and yet you still haven’t let me forget it.”

“Mom, I know you didn’t call me to talk about your husband.”

“You’re right. I called because when I contacted your office they told me you were on vacation leave. Are you all right?”

The lines of tension in Jacob’s face softened. “I’m fine. It was mandated that if I didn’t take at least half of my accrued vacation, then I would lose it.”

“How much time is that?”

“Eight weeks.”

There was another pause from Gloria. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”

Jacob shook his head although his mother couldn’t see him. “I can’t remember. It has to be more than five or six years.” He’d accrued not only vacation leave, but also compensatory time.

“Maybe I’ll take a few days off and come down to see you.”

Now it was Jacob’s turn to find himself at a loss for words. “When do you want to come?”

“It probably won’t be until mid-July. That is if you don’t have anything planned for that time,” Gloria said quickly.

He quickly calculated. It was now the second week in June and he’d hoped it wouldn’t take six weeks to catch the man who’d attempted to kill Ana. “That sounds good, Mom. However, if my plans change, then I’ll call you.”

“I know you don’t like me asking, but I’m going to do it anyway. Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, Mom.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have the time. At least not right now,” he added truthfully. Even if he wanted to he couldn’t see anyone—not with Ana living with him.

“When are you going to have time, son? Thirty is in the rearview mirror and you’re fast approaching forty and you’re still single. I would like to have a couple of grandkids before I die.”

Exhaling an audible sigh, Jacob closed his eyes. Every time he had a conversation with his mother invariably the topic of his single status would come up. He wanted to tell her he had yet to celebrate his thirty-sixth birthday, but then she would come back with “I happen to know the year, day and hour you were born.”

“You’ll be the first to know when I find the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Jacob?”

“What is it, Mom?”

“Nelson was picked up by the police yesterday.”

“Picked up or arrested?”

“He was arrested.”

“What did he do this time?” His stepbrother couldn’t stay out of trouble if someone paid him a million dollars.

“They claim he and some other boys stole a car and then robbed a convenience store. A cashier was shot—”

“Stop right there, Mom,” Jacob interrupted. “I’m not getting involved with this. Nelson Deavers is trouble and the sooner you and Henry accept that fact the better you’ll sleep at night. The last time I intervened and got the police to drop the charges Nelson promised me he wouldn’t get into trouble again. Stealing cars and shooting people are not misdemeanors and that means he’s going to prison. Tell Henry I’m sorry, but his boy is on his own.” He saw movement out the side of his eye and picked up the telephone receiver when Ana walked into the kitchen. “Mom, can I call you back later?”

“Of course you can. Please don’t forget to call me.”

His eyes met those of the petite woman in a tank top, shorts and flip-flops before glancing at the swell of breasts in the revealing top. Jacob didn’t want to believe that an oversize T-shirt and jeans had concealed a lush, tiny, curvy, compact body. Even Ana’s legs and feet were perfect.

“I won’t.” Jacob hung up, unaware that he’d been staring.

Ana’s hand went to her head as she attempted to fluff up the short, wet hair clinging to her scalp. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

“It’s all right. I was going to hang up anyway.” Even if Ana hadn’t come into the kitchen Jacob had planned to end the conversation he had with his mother. It hurt Jacob that she only called when she needed his help with her stepsons. “Did you need something?”

She nodded. “I don’t have enough hangers.”

He forced himself not to look at the outfit that showed a little too much skin while hoping Ana wasn’t going to make it a habit of prancing around in next to nothing because it was going to make it hard for him to remember why she was living with him.

“How many do you need?”

“I’m not certain, but it has to be at least another twenty.”

“What?”

A slight smile touched the corners of Ana’s mouth when she saw his shocked expression. “I’ll take ten, but that would mean doubling up some of my things.”

“I have a few. But if you need more then you’ll have to wait until tomorrow when I go out.”

Ana lifted her shoulders. “I suppose I’ll have to wait to hang up what’s leftover.”

“Why did you bring so many clothes?”

She took several steps, bringing them closer. “I didn’t know whether you’d have a washing machine—”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if I did or didn’t, because you claim you don’t know how to use it.” Jacob saw a wave of color darken her face. “If you want I can show you how to use the washer and dryer.” When Ana stared at him, he thought of the saying that if looks could kill then he definitely would’ve stopped breathing. “Suit yourself,” he mumbled under his breath, “if you don’t want to grow up.”

“I’m definitely grown, Jacob. I can’t get any more grown, just older,” she retorted.

“Grown women I know do laundry, shop for groceries, cook and clean up after themselves.”

Ana didn’t intend to get into a verbal confrontation with Jacob over a lifestyle that had served her well with a minimum of angst. She knew who and what she was—privileged—and she wasn’t about to apologize to anyone about it, and especially not to him.

“Can you please tell me or show me where the hangers are?”

“You’ll find more in the bedroom across from the bathroom.”

Ana flashed a dimpled smile. “Thanks.” Spinning on her toes, she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Jacob felt as if he’d been punched hard in the solar plexus when he gaped numbly at the firm roundness of her bottom in the revealing shorts. There was hardly enough fabric to conceal her buttocks.

“Ana.”

She stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yes?”

He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. Jacob wanted to tell his houseguest that what she considered something cooler was downright indecent. And it wasn’t that he was a prude—far from it—but seeing her dress like that made him aware of how long it’d been since he’d slept with a woman.

“Would you be opposed to dining outdoors?” he said instead.

Ana peered at him over her shoulder, smiling. “Of course not, Jacob. In fact I was going to suggest it. As soon as I finish hanging up my clothes I’ll be down to help you put dinner together.”

“Make certain you put on sunscreen before we go outside. You’ve exposed a lot of skin,” he explained when she gave him a questioning look, “and the UV index is quite high today.”

A frown marred her smooth forehead. “I didn’t bring any. Do you happen to have some?”

Jacob’s smile was triumphant. “No, I don’t.” It faded as quickly as it’d appeared. “Did you bring a cover-up with you?”

Ana chewed her lip. “No. In fact I didn’t bring a swimsuit. But you may be able to help me out.”

“How’s that?” Jacob asked.

“If you’re willing to give up your rather garish shirt it could double as a cover-up.”

He glanced down at his shirt. “My shirt may be a little colorful, but it’s hardly garish.”

Ana bit back a smile. “Surely you jest. It’s loud and gaudy.”

His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “It’s garish, gaudy and loud, yet you want to wear it?”

She extended her hand. “I’ll take it now if you don’t mind.”

“You want me to take it off now?”

“Why not? It’s only going to take me a few minutes to hang up the rest of my clothes before I come back and set the table. You do use the table on the deck, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Jacob countered. “I’m not into lap trays.” Ana reached out to unbutton his shirt, but he caught her wrist, holding it in a firm but gentle grip. “I’ll give you another shirt and I’ll make certain it’s somewhat less loud.”

Coward! Jacob silently berated himself. Why couldn’t he just tell her that seeing her dressed that way made him uncomfortable? In fact he was quite turned on by her curves. First the call from his mother had disturbed him, and now it was seeing a woman with whom he would spend days or perhaps even weeks with who thought nothing of dressing provocatively that had him on edge.

“I’m not going to strip for you, Ana. Go upstairs and hang up your clothes. And when you come down I’ll have something for you to put on.”

Ana wrested her wrist from his loose grip with a minimum of effort. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Jacob’s expression became a mask of stone. “Do what?”

Going on tiptoe, she thrust her face close enough for him to feel her moist breath on his jaw. “Talk to me as if I were either a child or an idiot.”

Seeing her close-up, inhaling the subtle scent of her perfume made him aware of things that he hadn’t noticed before. Her eyes weren’t dark, but a clear brown with glints of gold. The color amber came to mind. She was short, much shorter than she appeared because of her slimness, and her damp hair was coal-black, the perfect contrast to her olive complexion. Not only was she beautiful, she was exotic.

It was Jacob’s turn to swallow the acerbic words poised on the tip of his tongue. Diego had cautioned him that Ana was going to be defiant and challenging. She’d chosen a career dominated by men and she’d somehow learned to navigate the testosterone-filled waters with relative ease. That is until now. She’d run into a juggernaut when dealing with Basil Irvine, because apparently the man had not taken kindly to a woman besting him.

“I am not one of your employees or a performer in the Serenity Records stable, so however you interpret what I say to you is a personal problem, Ana. I’m also not accustomed to dealing with spoiled brats who expect people to genuflect before them. I am giving up the next two months of my life, where I’d planned to sleep as late as I want, fish, sail down to the islands and if I feel the need for female companionship, then I’d find a woman to spend some quality time with who won’t bitch and moan because things aren’t going her way.

“I promised Diego that I would look after you, and I always keep my promises. Not to do so would make me less than honorable. And that’s not going to happen because you decide to throw a hissy fit. Now, please finish putting your clothes away, and when you come back I’ll have something for you to put on that will give you some protection from the sun.” He paused, watching the expressions on Ana’s face change from anger to shock. “Does this meet with your approval, Princess?”

* * *

Ana engaged in what could only be interpreted as a stare-down when she glared at Jacob. Not only was he arrogant, but also insufferable, and she wondered how long she would be able to live with him before calling her father and telling him she was willing to go to Brazil. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have other options, because she did. There was her cousin’s horse farm in the western part of Virginia. Security on the farm was so tight, no one entered or left without being monitored.

If not Nicholas, then she could stay with another cousin in a remote region of North Carolina. Celia and her husband, FBI special agent Gavin Faulkner lived in a mountain retreat near the Tennessee border. In fact she had family members all over the country where she could stay in relative anonymity. Her brother Gabriel lived on Cape Cod with his ex-DEA agent wife, her sister’s husband was a training specialist for the CIA, and there were enough former military intelligence relatives to set up their own agency. But her father and cousin had decided U.S. Marshal Jacob Jones would be the better candidate to protect her in the States because he wasn’t family.

She continued to glare at Jacob. “I’m immune to bullying,” she whispered, then turned on her heels and walked out of the kitchen, feeling the heat from his gaze on her back. If her host was looking for a fight, then she was going to disappoint him and not give in to his goading. If Ana had learned anything in life, it was how to deal with men with enormous egos coupled with an overabundance of arrogance.

First and foremost there had been her grandfather. Samuel Claridge Cole put the a in arrogance. Purportedly the first black billionaire—his actual wealth a closely guarded family secret—he used intelligence and intimidation to build his empire. His drive for success was passed along to his offspring who refused to accept defeat. And for Ana it was the same. She wasn’t that bitch, skirt or any other derogative term attributed to women in positions of power, but someone ready and willing to conduct business in the most professional way possible.

She didn’t entertain gossip, read the tabloids or grant interviews. What she did do was attend most music industry award shows with her brother, while wearing haute couture and mouthing the appropriate phrases. Once she’d assumed control of Serenity Records her love life and her personal life were kept out of the spotlight, leading entertainment journalists to create whatever spin needed to sell magazines or increase TV ratings.

If Jacob thought he was going to browbeat her or break her will, then he was in for a shocker. After all, she was a Cole woman and they ruled while their men served.

Ana found the hangers in the master bedroom’s walk-in closet. Heavy mahogany furniture, furnishings and accent pillows in dramatic colors of chocolate, sand-beige and sea-foam-green pulled it all together. She found the space as masculine as its occupant.

A wide smile crinkled the skin around her eyes. She’d misjudged Jacob. He had a good sense for fashion. She counted at least half a dozen beautifully tailored suits in different colors. Racks held shoes ranging from slip-ons to wing tips. Shirts with monogrammed cuffs, slacks and jackets were hung neatly on racks along with a collection of ties. When, she mused, did he have the time to wear the tailored clothing and where? It was apparent her protector wasn’t what he presented to her.

He claimed he knew everything about her when she knew nothing about him other than his name, occupation and marital status. “Okay, Mr. Jones,” she whispered as she gathered the remaining hangers, “now it’s time for me to find out what you’re all about.”

Ana returned to the bedroom she would occupy during her stay in Long Key, hung up the remaining garments tossed on the bed and then retraced her steps along a catwalk to the staircase leading to the first floor.

She had to admit to herself that she liked the layout of the house. Unlike many homes built in the state it contained two levels. Her parents’ home was constructed in three one-story sections. They occupied one section, which included a guest wing. Four bedroom suites, one for each of their children, took up another section, and the third contained a state-of-the-art recording studio and what had been Serenity’s corporate office before David moved it to a Boca Raton downtown office building.

Although she knew Jason was more than capable of running the company, Ana wanted to be there just to feel the pulsing energy from prerecorded music playing softly throughout the offices. It hadn’t mattered whether it was soft jazz, R&B, blues, pop, country, classical, hip hop or occasionally gospel, Serenity was always about music.

Her thoughts returned to her host and protector. Jacob had admitted he cleaned his own house and she had discerned at least one thing about him: he was a neat-freak. The floors were spotless; there was no dust on any flat surface and even her adjoining spa-inspired bathroom was impeccable. It was no wonder he didn’t have a wife or girlfriend. He was more than capable of taking care of his own needs. And she didn’t want to believe he could be so vulgar to mention that if he needed a woman to take care of his physical needs, then he’d just go out and find one to spend some quality time with. She would never go out and pick up a man if she felt the need for sexual release, because engaging in risky behavior was against her principles. It didn’t mean she didn’t have urges, but that was only when she was sexually active. But lately she’d undergone a sexual drought, because she loathed hooking up with a man just for sex. The women she’d planned to accompany on their vacation to Puerto Rico had made a pact that they would sleep with at least one man before returning to the mainland. She’d been the only one who hadn’t agreed. They hadn’t begrudged her for not going along with their scheme, and that’s why she’d remained friends with them for so long. The motto between the five women was: judge not. They were very supportive of one another, and whenever one had a crisis they came together as one to provide emotional support.

Well, right about now Ana needed their support more than at any time in her life. Just seeing their faces or hearing their voices was like a soothing sedative. She’d promised Jacob she would help prepare dinner, but first things first. She had to call one of her girlfriends and let her know she would not be accompanying them to Puerto Rico.

* * *

Jacob was at the cooking island, chopping onions and red and green bell peppers. Several cloves of garlic were next to the colorful, finely minced veggies. His head popped up when she walked into the kitchen. Ana noticed that he’d exchanged his Hawaiian shirt for a white tee. Her jaw dropped, and mouth gaping she stared mutely at the breadth of his broad shoulders and muscular upper body. She was transfixed, watching the flex of muscle in his bulging biceps as he deftly diced strips of peppers.

Smiling, Jacob gestured to his colorful shirt hanging on the back of a high stool. “You can either use the loud and garish shirt, or there’s a tee on the seat of the stool.”

Ana forced her feet to move as she walked woodenly to pick up the T-shirt and pulled it on. The sleeves came past her elbows and the hem inches above her knees. “It’s just a trifle bit large.”

Jacob went back to cutting the garlic into minute pieces. “It’s enough to protect your skin.”

“It’s the perfect nightshirt.”

“I have more if you need nightshirts.”

Ana walked over and stood next to him. He’d exchanged his jeans for a pair of khaki walking shorts. “No, thanks. I have my own.” She stared at his large hands with long, slender fingers, noticing his nails were groomed. One of her pet peeves was men who either bit their nails or didn’t file them. Jacob’s were smooth and square-cut. “I’d like to use your phone to call someone.”

He stopped chopping, placing the sharp knife on the butcher block countertop. “Whoever you talk to, please do not divulge where you are.”

Resisting the urge to salute him, Ana wrinkled her nose instead. “I think I know the drill.”

“My number will not be displayed on their caller ID, so they won’t be able to call you back,” he called out as she walked to the wall phone.

“That’s okay,” she said over her shoulder. Resting a hip against the countertop, she removed the phone from its cradle and punched in the number of her friend who operated her business out of her home and was available 24/7.

Ana counted off the rings before she heard the familiar greeting. “Good afternoon. You have reached Creative Editorial Services. This is Samantha.”

“Sam, Ana.”

“Ana! Where the hell are you? And why haven’t you been answering your cell? You know I’ve been worried sick when I saw the news about someone shooting your cousin.”

She couldn’t help smiling. She’d met Samantha Mickelson when both were in the same college freshman English class. The fast-talking former book editor was open, friendly, spontaneous and her best friend. Ana had graduated and enrolled in law school while Samantha moved to New York City with the dream of becoming an editor. She’d managed to secure a position with a major publisher, working her way up from editorial assistant to an associate editor.

She discovered a brilliant mystery writer when she picked up his unsolicited manuscript from a slush pile and the rest was history. Their relationship went from editor and writer to husband and wife. Unfortunately for Sam her husband took his overnight success a step further when he literally became a literary rock star. Paul was always surrounded by groupies and that escalated rumors of him cheating to a tabloid exposé with photos of him in a hotel room with a barely legal nubile television actress.

Samantha had him served with divorce papers and, following a quiet divorce with a generous settlement, she returned to Florida and set up a freelance editorial service. Her reputation had preceded her, so she was never at a loss for clients wishing to break into publishing.

“I’m okay.”

“Where are you? I called your folks and your mom wouldn’t give me any information. I also called Jason at his office and he was just as mum. What’s up?”

Ana and Jacob exchanged a long, penetrating stare. She placed her hand on the mouthpiece. “Can you please give me a few minutes of privacy?” she whispered.

Jacob shook his head. “Nope. My house. My phone. My rules. I get to monitor all incoming and outgoing telephone calls.”

She glared at him. “That is so rude.”

“That is your opinion,” he countered.

“Ana, are you still there?”

She resisted the urge to suck her teeth—a habit her mother detested, and turned her back instead. “I’m still here. Look, Sam, I’m not going to be able to go down to Puerto Rico with you. And I was so looking forward to this trip.”

There came a pregnant pause. “Is something going on that you can’t talk about?”

Samantha was one of the most perceptive women Ana knew. There were times when she’d told the book editor that she could double as a psychic. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the same when it came to Samantha’s own future.

“Yes.”

There was another pause. “Is someone there listening in on what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“The fact that no one in your family is talking and you can’t tell me where you are reminds me of a mystery novel. I get it and respect that, but the only thing I want to know is if you’re safe.”

“Affirmative again,” Ana answered, lowering her voice.

“Well, that makes me feel better and hopefully I can get a full night’s sleep without waking up every few hours thinking about you. You know you’re my girl, Ana. I never would’ve made it through my divorce without your support.”

“Yes, you would’ve, Sam.”

Samantha’s husky laugh came through the earpiece. “I’m not going to debate that because I know I’ll lose. I love you to death, Ana, but if there is anything I can do just call.”

“I love you, too, but right now I’m in a very good place emotionally. If anything changes, then you’ll be the first to know. Give my best to the rest of the gang and tell them I’ll be with them in spirit.”

Samantha laughed again. “We’ll be certain to raise a couple of glasses of mojitos, piña coladas, cosmos and one or two extra-dirty martinis to toast your absence.”

“And don’t forget Jack and Coke.”

“Please don’t mention Jack and Coke. That’s what got me into trouble where I’d lost my mind and wound up married to that fool.”

Ana smiled. “Then scratch the Jack and Coke.” She quickly sobered when she shifted and saw Jacob frowning at her. “Look, Sam, I have to go. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks.” She ended the call, replaced the receiver on the cradle and then turned to meet her protector’s angry scowl. “What’s the matter now?”

The seconds ticked as they engaged in what could only be determined as a stare-down. Ana knew instinctually that Jacob hadn’t wanted her to make phone calls, but there was no way he could completely shut her off from the outside world.

“I would prefer that you not make any calls, and if you do then limit them to a minute or less.”

A smug smile touched her lips. So, she was right. He didn’t want her using the phone. “That call was necessary because I had to tell my friend that my vacation plans had changed.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jacob continued to stare at her, brows drawing together as he continued to frown. “What you’re going to have to accept is that your entire life will change until the person or persons who want you eliminated is either caught or killed.”

A shiver eddied up Ana’s spine at the same time she closed her eyes. Killed. The single word was uttered as softly as a pleasant greeting. But then she couldn’t afford to forget that the man with whom she would live with for who knew how long carried a firearm and had been trained to use it with deadly force when necessary. And she said a silent prayer that whoever was responsible for shooting Tyler would be apprehended alive. After all, dead people couldn’t talk.

It hadn’t been a week since that fateful day when she stood in the restaurant parking lot with her cousin, but Ana wanted it over. Perhaps when she went to sleep and woke up she would realize it’d been a bad dream. That she’d read one of the mystery novels Samantha had edited and everything that’d happened was because of an overactive imagination.

But she knew she couldn’t blink and will it away because of the incredibly virile man standing only feet away. Despite the turmoil going on in her life that had impacted her family she did not want to think about sharing a roof with a man as attractive as Jacob. Why, she mused, couldn’t he be short, fat, balding and smelling of liniment? But he wasn’t, and that made her uncomfortable. She also wondered how long it would take before she would go completely stir-crazy from the inactivity.

Ana was used to getting up every morning and working out in her condominium’s health club before she prepared to go into her office. She and Jason alternated chairing bi-weekly staff meetings where they brought everyone employed by the recording company up on what was going on with their artists. And once she’d taken control as CEO she’d established an open-door policy. There hadn’t been a time when she did not entertain someone’s suggestion, whether she believed it would or wouldn’t benefit the company, whenever the executives held their brainstorming sessions.

“I know you see me as an imposition—”

“You’re not,” Jacob said, interrupting her. “If I thought of you as an imposition, then I never would’ve agreed to let you come and stay here.”

“Why did you agree?”

He smiled, the expression reminding Ana of a ray of sunshine warming her face and she wanted to tell him that it was something he should do more often.

“Because there are very few things I wouldn’t do for Diego.”

Her eyebrows lifted at this disclosure. “Did you and Diego go to college together?” She’d asked because her cousin had attended college in Miami.

“No. Diego has three years on me.”

Ana quickly did the math. Diego was going to celebrate his thirty-ninth birthday, so he had to be at least thirty-five or six.

“I’ll be thirty-six September seventeenth,” Jacob confirmed.