She froze, her thumb hovering over the one name that could offer genuine assistance.
If only he didn’t consider her a life form barely above a mold spore.
Chapter Three
December 21, California
The cottage was far enough from the beach to avoid the hordes of tourists who flocked to California every year, and hidden from the neighbors behind tall fences to offer a sense of privacy. The actual home had once been a traditional farmhouse with a screened-in porch and massive stone fireplaces. It also had a second floor where Griffin Archer had converted the cramped rooms into a spacious master suite when he’d moved in three years ago.
At the moment, Griff was seated at the shaded patio table that was perched near the drought-tolerant garden he’d chosen instead of the predictable pool. The landscaper he’d hired to design the yard had regarded him with a horror that Griff thought was excessive when he’d refused to contemplate even a shallow koi pond.
Rich people were supposed to be addicted to excess.
Griff liked things simple.
Polishing off his usual breakfast of a warm bagel with cream cheese and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, he studied his companion.
Rylan Cooper was a lean man with angular features and golden brown eyes. His hair had been bleached light blond by the California sun and his skin was richly tanned despite the fact the younger man had recently returned to Missouri to live with his new wife, Jaci.
Since the day the two men had moved to the West Coast to set up their tech firm, which specialized in cutting-edge software for law enforcement, Rylan had looked perfectly at home.
Rylan had bought the elegant condo on the beach. He wore designer clothes that were perfectly tailored. And dated scantily clad models.
The clichéd California dude. At least until he’d returned home to marry the girl next door.
Griff, on the other hand, had never truly fit in. His brown hair was always a few weeks past needing a trim. This morning it was worse than usual, flopping onto his wide brow and curling over his ears. His skin was pale despite the fact he never missed his early morning run on the beach. He assumed it had something to do with being born in Chicago. Chi-Town skin was made for icy winters and dreary summer days, not sun-drenched beaches.
His face was average, with the usual nose and mouth. He’d always considered his eyes his best feature. Like his mother’s, they were a dark brown and framed by thick lashes. Still, more than one woman had complained that they always looked distracted. As if he was thinking about something besides them.
They were right.
Oh, he liked women. A lot. But when he was working on a project, he found it difficult to think about anything else.
This morning he was wearing his running shorts and a loose sweatshirt. But even when he tried to dress up, he never could pull off Rylan’s sleek sophistication.
And the truth of the matter was that he didn’t care.
There was a reason Rylan was in charge of sales, while Griff concentrated on creating the actual product.
Thankfully unaware of Griff ’s inane thoughts, Rylan glanced at his wrist.
“I think that’s all,” he said. “I want to get to the airport early. This time a year it’s always a pain in the ass to travel.”
Griff set aside his orange juice. The two men had spent the past few weeks working on a new program that might very well revolutionize how countries around the world could track money that ended up in the hands of terrorists. Which meant Rylan had racked up enough frequent flyer miles to buy an airline.
“I want to schedule another round of tests before we start to install it.”
Rylan rolled his eyes. Griff knew his friend and partner thought he was being obsessive. They’d run hundreds of simulations and the program had performed flawlessly.
“Homeland Security wants to have the program installed and ready to go by the first of March,” Rylan said, as if Griff might have forgotten the looming deadline.
“They’ll have to wait until I’m satisfied every bug is worked out,” Griff said, his tone stubborn. “You know my philosophy.”
“Yeah, yeah. Perfection is always possible.” With a sigh, Rylan rose to his feet. He knew when Griff wasn’t going to budge. “I’ll give my contact a call.” Planting his hands on his hips, Rylan glanced down at Griff. “At least tell me you aren’t planning to work during the holidays?”
A lie hovered on his lips.
Rylan was his best friend. Hell, he was Griff ’s only truly close friend. But there were times when he nagged like he was Griff ’s grandmother, not his partner.
He wasn’t really in the mood for a lecture.
But meeting his friend’s steady gaze, he heaved a resigned sigh. Rylan could smell bullshit a mile away.
“I plan to catch up on some side projects that I put on the back burner over the past few months,” Griff admitted.
Rylan narrowed his gaze. He was gearing up for a sermon. Probably one he’d already rehearsed in his head. Then, catching a glimpse of Griff ’s long-suffering expression, he threw his hands up in resignation.
“Jaci is never going to forgive you if you miss Christmas dinner,” he instead warned.
“I’m not an expert on women,” Griff said, ignoring Rylan’s choked laugh. “But I suspect that your beautiful new bride would prefer to spend her first Christmas alone with her husband. Especially after she’s had to share you for the past six weeks.”
“That’s what you would think, right?” Rylan demanded. “What woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to serve me a romantic dinner in bed and then unwrap me like a Christmas present?”
Griff blasted his friend with an appalled glare. “Christ, Rylan, that’s not a visual I want stuck in my head.”
The younger man sniffed, conjuring up a wounded expression. “Instead, my wife has spent the past week cooking enough food to feed an army and complaining that I haven’t tried hard enough to strong-arm you into traveling to Missouri.” He paused, clearly hoping to instill maximum guilt. “She insists the holidays won’t be the same without our family together.”
“Family?”
Rylan smiled. The two men had met in college, and later moved to California.
“That’s how she sees you,” he assured his companion. “You got a problem with that?”
Griff ’s heart swelled with warmth. He hadn’t been acquainted with Jaci until his friend had married her. But in the months since the wedding, he’d had the chance to get to know the sweet, levelheaded woman who’d instantly claimed him as an honorary brother.
He’d never openly admit that deep inside he’d been worried that once Rylan was married he’d turn his back on the business and his old friend. That’s what usually happened when men fell in love.
Instead, he’d gained a little sister.
“No,” he said. “No problem.”
“Then you’ll be there for dinner?” Rylan smoothly pounced.
Griff released a short laugh. There was a reason his friend was such a successful businessman.
“You just don’t give up.”
Rylan shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.”
About to inform Rylan that his charm was a figment of his imagination, Griff was distracted by the buzz of his phone.
His lips tightened, his fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to knock it off the table.
The calls had started yesterday. One glance at the name flashing on his screen and he’d sent them straight to voice mail. He’d hoped that after a dozen tries the woman would get the hint.
Futile, of course.
Carmen Jacobs was nothing if not determined.
Rylan glanced at him in puzzlement, easily reading the annoyance that was etched on Griff ’s face.
“A dissatisfied client?”
“Carmen Jacobs,” he answered in clipped tones.
Rylan frowned. “Do I know her?”
“She wrote the book The Heart of a Predator,” he reminded his companion.
“Ah. I remember.” Rylan paused, studying Griff ’s clenched features. “She wanted to interview you, didn’t she?”
Griff abruptly rose to his feet. As if going from sitting to standing could halt the image of Carmen Jacobs from searing through his mind.