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She set off, walking surprisingly quickly for a woman in heels. For the first time in a long time, Raul wasn’t directing things. He had no idea where they were going, but he was cool with it. He was with a beautiful woman who intrigued him, in a beautiful city, going out to dinner in a city renowned for its food.
It was all good.
4
For such a macho-looking guy, Raul was surprisingly easy to be with. Emma dealt with tense alpha types all the time and you could sometimes see the waves of status anxiety coming off them. Constantly checking their surroundings to make sure they were the smartest guy in the room. Often they were, but man, at what a price.
Raul was doing his job, very aware of his surroundings. Every time someone got on the bus, Raul’s dark eyes had scrutinized him or her carefully. But most people who got onto the number 7 tram line were tourists or people who loved old trams. Often they were both, because the number 7 tram line wasn’t for transport so much as the fun of the antique trams. You didn’t catch it to get from A to B, but to enjoy the ride.
Raul had a system. Head, hands, feet. He’d check everyone who climbed the stairs into the tram super quick, then move on to the next person. He was totally focused but also able to engage in conversation.
“I don’t know Frisco that well,” he’d said, talking above the noise of the tram, as they passed Pier 39. “I drove up with some buddies for a big party when I was in college. I don’t remember it being so beautiful.”
She smiled. “It has its problems, but yeah. It’s remarkably beautiful.” It was her lucky stroke in life, to live in beautiful places. She’d lived in Shanghai, Madrid, Buenos Aires and Boston. Lucky girl. She hadn’t been lucky in family, but she’d been lucky in cities. She leaned a little toward him as they reached the end of the line. “A word to the wise. The locals don’t like the city being called ‘Frisco’. I have no idea why not. One of those mysterious things.”
“Okay,” he said easily. He mimed zipping his mouth. “Good to know. Will never do it again.”
Their eyes met. His were dark brown with amber striations, sort of like an eagle’s eyes. It had the effect of making his gaze mesmerizing, like that of a predatory animal’s.
He didn’t look away and neither did she. He was so very handsome but not handsome in the sense of the men she was used to. None of the quants were handsome. Mother Nature didn’t hand out deep math skills to those with good looks. But the upper echelons of the bankers sometimes had twits who had been blessed with good looks. An awareness of their own attraction suffused their every move.
Not Raul. He wasn’t inward focused, he was outward focused. Specifically, on her. Like being on the receiving end of a powerful tractor beam and she had to curl her hands into fists to resist the temptation of leaning into him. Though she did accept his hand when descending the steps of the tram.
How odd. She’d never needed anyone’s help in her life. She was strong. She’d been a gymnast as a girl, had even contemplated training professionally before realizing she would never be that good and anyway, it would seriously interfere with school.
She didn’t need any man’s steadying hand. Yet, here it was. It wasn’t a skeezy attempt to feel her up, it was like a guard rail. A human guard rail.If you fall, I’m here, is what it said.
Surprisingly not annoying.
Once they were on the sidewalk walking toward the Bridge, Raul had smiled and stuck his elbow out at a weird angle. It took her a second to realize that he was offering her his arm, like someone out of a Regency novel. She hesitated for a moment.
Raul smiled. “I’d really enjoy it if we could walk arm in arm on this beautiful evening. But there’s something else. I’m here undercover, in a way. You’ll be presenting me as a friend. Which I am, but I’m also here to help you. And though there’s no one to see us at the moment, as we try to figure out what’s going on, we should make sure you’re comfortable in my presence. I’ve been undercover and you don’t want to undermine yourself by the slightest twitch.”
Made sense.
“Put that way,” she murmured, “lead on, MacDuff.”
“That’s a quote isn’t it? From Shakespeare. I have a sister who teaches world lit who’d kill me because I don’t remember which play. But it has a bad guy, I remember that much.”
“Right.” Emma’s hand was right between biceps and forearm and she thrilled to feel solid muscle. “A bad guy and his wife.”
They were walking along the waterfront, the air suffused with the dying light of the sun, colors intense. They walked past an outdoor crab shack and the smell was fabulous. She realized she was hungry and was looking forward to dinner.
He glanced down at her, smiled.
“I hope they both got whacked.”
She patted his arm with her free hand. “The main bad guy was whacked. His wife offed herself. All good, and justice was served, so a twofer.”
The restaurant Emmachose was elegant and spacious, up at the top of Ghirardelli Square. It was called Red Sky and the minute they walked in, it was clear why. A long mural to the left depicted one of those classic Chinese landscapes with steep mountains rising from water against a blood red sunset. It was stunning. To the right the wall was curved glass with a view out over the Bay, bisected by the Golden Gate Bridge.
A hostess dressed in a turquoise cheongsam dress led them to a table at the window and left them with an embossed leather menu. Raul pulled out Emma’s chair because he was a gentleman and, he hated to admit, because it gave him a nice view down her cleavage. Yum.
He looked around the place, liking everything about it. It was stunning, there were amazing scents coming from the kitchen, the view outside their windows was world class. He was sitting across from the most beautiful and intriguing woman he’d been with in a long time. Maybe ever.
“This place is great.”
She smiled, her hand on the closed menu. “And apparently the food is to die for.”
