Guarding Miranda Page 6

  “Lack of discipline in your ranks?” Asked Russ.

  “Not anymore,” said Brian. “At least, not often. I find that if you make a good enough example out of a lazy few, the rest abandon suit.”

  “Lynn, a hand in the kitchen, please!” Nancee called from the direction of the kitchen. “Russ, a nice chardonnay to go with the chicken, please!”

  For a small woman, thought Brian, she’s got a rather large voice.

  He guessed that no matter how large-and-in-charge Russ appeared to be, Nancee had the final say on the goings-on of the Gundy household.

  It was no wonder, then, that Russ didn’t want to fully disclose the findings of the investigation with her. She would probably give him the vicious brow beating that he might even deserve.

  “Is your firm very large?” Miranda asked of him, though not looking directly into his intense grey eyes.

  “Well, I’ve got sixty two – no, sixty four – security guards under my employ.” Brian began, with shrug. “I don’t know – is that large?” When no one answered, he added, “I’ve three men who install and maintain security alarms full time, a secretary, Caroline and an accountant who comes to do the books at month’s end.”

  Miranda gave this a moment of thought.

  “So if they compose the security component of your firm, who does the investigations?” She asked.

  “That would be me and a select handful of the guards trained in the specialty.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Curious little bugger, aren’t you?”

  “Just making conversation.” Miranda replied with a warm smile. “So what part of Australia are you from, anyway?”

  “Sydney. I’m a city boy at heart.” He grinned. “I haven’t seen much in the way of sheep in my lifetime, nor have I ever wrestled a crocodile, in case you were about to ask just that.”

  “I wasn’t.” Miranda laughed. “Do people often get that impression from you?”

  “What, that I should be a sheep-trimmer or croc wrestler? Sometimes. If your Australian, you have to take the jokes with a pinch of salt.”

  “How long have you lived in San Francisco?”

  “Since college,” he confessed, with a smile. “And how about you, Miranda? Have you always lived in San Francisco?”

  “I used to live with my parents and brother in Mill Valley, just outside the city by a few minutes. After they passed, I moved in here with Uncle Russ, Nancee and Lynn.”

  “How old were you, when you lost your parents?” He asked her, in a soft, endearing tone.

  “Sixteen.” She felt the familiar ache of loss in her chest.

  “I lost mine when I was twelve.” Brian’s voice lowered, to a compassionate tone. “I lived with my eccentric Aunt Bernie well into my twenties.”

  “Eccentric how?” Miranda was curious.

  “Well…”

  “Supper is served,” called Lynn cheerfully as she entered the dining room with a platter of savory spiced chicken breasts in her hands.

  Nancee followed her red headed daughter with a ceramic pot of scalloped potatoes in her oven mitted hands.

  The large bowl of garden salad was already on the table, with several flavors of salad dressings arranged.

  “It’s Saturday,” Nancee explained apologetically, “So the cook and the housekeeper have the night off. I forewarn you, we did the cooking ourselves, Lynn and I.”

  “I brought the wine, so let us dine,” Russ re-entered the room and was licking his lips in anticipation of the meal.

  “Smells great, Aunt Nancee.”

  “It certainly does,” said Brian.

  “It’s an old family recipe and a good one at that.” The tiny blond promised. “Now dig in.”

  And so they ate, of Cajun spiced chicken breast and creamy scalloped potatoes, of crisp garden salad, tangy marinated baby vegetables and savory garlic dinner rolls.

  Conversation flowed from their tongues with light hearted good nature, as plentifully as the chardonnay did from its bottle.

  Once the main courses were done, out came the dessert, pre-portioned in dainty glass cups, a thick, rich chocolate mousse decorated with fresh raspberries and mint leaves.

  “I don’t know if I have room for dessert, Mrs. Gundy.” Brian gingerly touched his washboard stomach.

  “Make room.” Russ advised, already into his dessert. “It’s heavenly.”

  Miranda knew that it was.

  She loved the Saturdays that the cook had off.

  Roberto was good chef by any standard but nothing could beat her aunt Nancee’s scalloped potatoes and chocolate mousse.

  It was comfort food at its best!

  Miranda adored her aunt Nancee, in so many ways.

  Long before her father and Russ had made their fortunes in the Computer Operating System Software Company or COSSCO, as it was known around the globe, Nancee had been a loving and doting housewife.

  Fame and fortune had not made a snob of her aunt...

  Even though she was oft to apologize for it, Nancee sincerely thrilled at having the kitchen to herself on Saturdays and still oversaw the running of the large household.

  Everything from the calling of the pool boy to the approval of the grocery budget was under her domain.

  She kept herself busy with charity work and community development boards while her husband was away minding COSSCO.

  Miranda glanced at her Uncle Russ, who was shamelessly licking his dessert spoon.

  Now there was a character.

  As good natured as he was impulsive, as intelligent as he was bossy, there were few things he loved more than running his company. Those few things were his wife, daughter and a good game of chess.

  He finished the L.A. Times crossword every morning prior to leaving for work, usually before the time it took the average player to complete.

  Not that he actually he had to work anymore.

  With his stake in COSSCO, Russ a millionaire several times over.

  Yet to leave the helm of COSSCO to the steering of strangers or minions as he like to call his staff and board… it simply wasn’t the control freak’s style.

  Miranda looked to her red headed cousin Lynn, sitting on the opposite side of the table.

  She was boldly staring at Brian Logan, curling a long tendril of hair around her finger. The dreamy look on her face was laughable, not that Miranda could blame her.

  He was a very, very attractive man.

  His nearness was a heady experience, causing her to wonder at her awareness of his every move. It was like some kind of eerie rada.

  Her ears were acting as though they had been attuned to listen closely to his every word.

  Guilt loomed in the back of her mind, guilt over Richard and that she could respond to someone so soon after losing him and with such intensity.

  Intensity.

  It was a word that described her attraction to Brian rather well...

  “Tell me, Brian,” she began softly, daring to glance into his lead grey eyes. “As an investigator, if you were going to try to find the man who killed my fiancé, where would you begin?”

  Brian froze.

  It was the last question he had been expecting to be asked tonight.

  Part of him wanted to pound his fist on the table and lay curses on the dead scumbag’s soul. It was the part of him that wanted to clear off the dinner table with a sweep of his arm, send the Gundys out of the room, pluck Miranda out of her chair and make love to her on the antique oak.

  Brian rolled the idea over in his mind a moment, finding it a delectable dessert option.

  He hoped that his hesitation in offering a reply only gave the appearance that he was giving it a moment of thought.

  He then replied, “Wherever the police left off with their resources. I’d interview his friends, family and co-workers. See if he had any enemies, anyone who might want to do him harm.” He paused. “Anyone named Barry would be a suspect, unless of course that’s a nickname.”

  Alarmed, Miranda ask
ed: “How did you know about Barry?”

  She had told no one but the police and her family...

  “Uh – I told him,” said Russ quickly.

  Good cover, thought Brian. Let’s see where you go with this.

  “Why?” Miranda countered, as calmly as she could manage.

  The police had said it was sensitive information...

  It was not supposed to be told to just anyone!

  “I’ve, uh, had Brian working on the case,” said Russ, red faced.

  Brian supposed it was close enough to the truth.

  “That’s right,” he said cautiously. “I’ve been investigating the relationship between Barry and Richard.”

  “So there is a relationship?” Miranda’s heart began to thud in her chest. Had Brian discovered something the police had not? “What have you learned?”

  “Not alot.” His words were very nearly a mumble.

  Brian felt awkward in the intensity of her curious gaze.

  He felt as though her green eyed scrutiny could see right through his cool facade, pick apart his calm words and find the truth there.

  Her fiancé had been scum of the worst kind.

  He wondered how long it would be before she found that out...

  Russ had made it clear to him.

  She was not to find out about Richard’s dark side.

  Not if they could help it.

  Nancee had told Russ to freeze the investigation, that they should let Miranda cherish her memory of Richard, not loathe it.

  “Well, what do you know?” Miranda’s full attention was on Brian.

  Brian hated having to lie to her. “That, according to you, a man named Barry shot Richard. And you.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” Russ said but was otherwise speechless.

  Nancee was glaring at him from across the table.

  If Miranda noticed her Aunt’s icy stare, she gave no indication of it.

  “It’s like this, love – the police still haven’t found this Barry character and I don’t think I’ll fare much better myself.”

  “He’s no doubt gone into hiding,” said Russ, in a knowledgeable tone of voice. “Murder and attempted murder causing bodily harm – those are rather serious charges.”

  Nancee continued to stare daggers at Russ but was sweet voiced and even tempered when she offered, “More wine, Brian?”

  “No, no – a half glass is all I ever have.” Brian checked the wide watch that adorned his thick right wrist. “I should actually get going. I have a few things to do at nine and it’s eight-thirty now.”

  “Are you sure?” Lynn pouted.

  “I’m sure.” Brian scanned the dining room, smiling at everyone in their turn. “Thank you so much for the invitation to dinner.”

  Pulling back from the large table, he rose from his seat.

  As he did, his thigh again brushed Miranda’s.

  She warmed at the contact and was again ashamed of her reaction, of the physical stimulation that his nearness caused her.

  “Sorry,” he said, smiling down at her from his great height. “I’ve the thighs of a distance runner.”

  “No problem.” Miranda blushed lightly over the attention he had drawn to their physical contact.

  Could her family tell how his presence was affecting her?

  She glanced up at Brian – big mistake.

  She was trapped in his glance like a deer before the headlights of an approaching Mack truck.

  She swallowed an endearment and tore her glance away from the intimacy of his stormy grey eyes.

  His gaze was simply too much for her to hold, the intensity of the dark depths of those eyes a force that threatened her better judgement.

  “Take care,” she mumbled.

  “I will.” Brian smiled at her and she was glad to immerse herself in a study of the wildflowers of the table cloth. “Again, thank you so much for supper, Mrs. Gundy. I won’t eat for a week.”

  Nancee, the ever-gracious hostess, smiled at her guest. “Always a pleasure, Brian.”

  “And it was a pleasure finally meeting you, Miranda. Formally, as it were.”

  She felt his dark eyes burning a hole into her head and decided to risk a glance up.

  It was the polite thing to do.

  Why did he have to be so attractive?

  She swallowed nervously and somehow found the voice to say, “Likewise.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door.” Russ offered, also rising from his seat.

  “Goodnight, Brian.” Lynn again rested her chin lightly upon her fist. Her light green eyes seemed distant as Miranda looked into them. The girl was clearly quite taken with the man who towered over her father. “Keep in touch.”

  “Goodnight, Gundys.” Brian walked out of the room with Russ, headed for the front door.

  Lynn was rapt in her chair as she watched the retreat of bodyguard’s glorious derriere.

  As soon as the men were out of earshot, Lynn clasped her hand over her heart, rolled her luminous sea foam green eyes and cooed to her cousin and mother, “I think I’m in love.”

  “Not until you’re finished University, you aren’t.” Nancee scolded, tucking a loosed tendril of blond hair behind one of her tiny ears.

  “What a man!” Lynn continued, eyes full of wonder. “So big and strong and—“

  “-far too old for you, Lynn,” said Nancee to Miranda’s laughter as she cleared away her dessert bowl. “Goodness, girl – he’s thirty-six!”

  “He’s perfect!” She countered with a sigh.

  Nancee laughed. “Get your head out of the clouds and help me clear the table.”

  At the sound of the front door closing, Miranda rose from her chair and helped the bantering Gundy women with the clearing of the table. She managed to grasp the salad bowl firmly in her right hand, for all the uselessness her left arm was in its sling.

  With her free left arm she grasped a salad dressing by the neck.

  “So?” Asked Lynn, eyes sparkling, face full of mischief.

  “So what?” Miranda replied, walking with her to the huge gourmet kitchen.

  “What did you think of Brian?”

  “He was all right, Lynn. Very polite, very gracious. Seemed intelligent enough and quite capable of carrying his end of a conversation.”

  Her cousin rolled her young eyes skyward. “I meant his body, Miranda. His body! Isn’t he to die for?”

  “Sure, he’s attractive, yeah but he’s no Richard.” Her voice lowered to echo the painful ache in her heart. “There was only one Richard.”

  “Yes, Richard.” Lynn fought to keep the grimace off of her face.

  Like her mother, she was privy to a certain amount of truth about Miranda’s former fiancé.

  Swallowing that unflattering truth, Lynn instead forced a wide, false smile and said, “He was... definitely one of a kind.”

  Lynn turned her back on her cousin and frowned into the dishwasher.

  How long was she expected to keep the secret from Miranda?

  Richard had been a criminal of the worst sort, his plans for her cousin nefarious ones.

  His ties to the drug underworld had very nearly cost Miranda her life.

  She chewed the pink lip gloss from her lower lip as she considered telling Miranda what a bastard her fiancé had truly been, in life.

  It seemed such a shame to Lynn, that a woman so attractive, so full of life would be in such deep and painful mourning for a lout who would have seen her death as a means to collect a small fortune in insurance money.

  If not to collect the fortune Miranda had inherited from her parents’ estate and the twenty percent stake in COSSCO as well!

  “Bastard.” Lynn muttered, under her breath.

  “Pardon?” Miranda wore a mask of confusion on her furrowed brow.

  “Stubbed my toe,” the red head lied, though in her mind she silently damned Richard Alba to the Hell that he deserved.

  Chapter Five

  It was t
he fourth time Miranda had been mugged by reporters since leaving the hospital.

  As the only heir to the Fowler family fortune she was very much the Silicon Valley equivalent of royalty and therefor the public property of the kingdom of San Francisco. Her father had co-founded COSSCO with her uncle and so Miranda had been raised in the public eye.

  The tragic death of her parents and brother in her sixteenth year had been further fuel for the fire that burned in the heart of the public.

  Everybody loved a tragedy.

  Images of her grieving her loss had been plastered across newspapers and magazines alike.

  The tabloids had made fortunes from her tears, her loss.

  Now, it was the death of Richard augmented by news of her own injury that was bringing her yet another claim to fame on gossip blogs and paparazzi websites.

  Speculation made in the past week that his shipping business had criminal ties had resulted in the gathering of newshounds at the Gundy’s residence at Fifteen Micmac Crescent, waiting to capture an image of her in her state of mourning.

  She had yet to make a comment to the media.

  Their public eagerly awaited her reaction to the scandal.

  There were few things San Francisco loved more than a scandal.

  Especially a Silicon Valley scandal...

  Miranda was in a surly mood as a result.

  The night after supper with Brian, she had left the house with Lynn to go shopping for a friend’s bridal shower.

  They had not even made it to Lynn’s Mitsubishi Eclipse before the cameras started flashing.

  The paparazzi had come from out of thin air, a horde of them, brandishing video cameras and digital cameras, their barrage of shouted questions audible even in the confines of Lynn’s car.

  Careful not to run anyone over, Lynn had sped away as hastily as she dared, leaving them behind in a squeal of road-hugging tires.

  It was the beginning of what was going to be a very bad day for Miranda.

  Everywhere she went, she saw the headlines.

  Alba Enterprises - Shipping Crime Syndicate!

  Illegal Drug Exports Behind Death of Richard Alba, Criminal Mastermind