Jackie stepped through the security line and into the rotunda of City Hall in San Francisco. And then she stopped, stunned. The marbled walls and columns danced with images of whales and seals and dolphins. She turned slowly, so very slowly, knowing she was gawking. The effect from the dozen or more projectors was magical. Simply breathtaking. She advanced into the room.
The space was already crowded with guests in gowns and tuxes. Michael’s publicity team had spread the word that Alex would be there, and the gala had sold out in the last few days. The Giants had pulled ten games out in front of every team in the division, securing their spot in the playoffs, and the city buzzed with excitement.
Michael saw her and strode across the floor.
“To say you clean up well would be an understatement,” he said with an approving nod.
“I had an immense amount of help,” she confessed as the shaky feeling slithered up her spine. This was not her arena, never would be. “Has Alex arrived?”
“Haven’t seen him.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s still early.” He offered his arm. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
They approached a group of men near the center of the room. With the exception of Mark Volkov, she knew none of them. Volkov glanced up and stared. The look he gave her sent prickles of warning through her chest. Already she was wishing she was back in her home, or her lab, or in a seal pen, anywhere but where she was. But she had a job to do tonight and she would do it with a smile.
“Dr. Brandon,” Volkov said, offering his hand. She took it and then wriggled her fingers away when he didn’t let go.
“Mr. Volkov,” she said coolly. “How good of you to come.”
He pointed to a man standing at the bar. “Your benefactor.”
The man raised his glass. Jackie had no idea who he was.
“He printed the membership brochures. For free.”
“As well as the gala invitations,” Michael added.
The crawling feeling in her gut told her that a dear price had been paid, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was. “That was generous of him.”
“A small matter.” Volkov’s eyes roved her body. “This is my colleague, Darron Bennett.” He turned to a man, about six foot seven, who made even Michael appear diminutive.
“I study your work very closely, Dr. Brandon,” Mr. Bennett said. “It’s of great interest to all of us.”
A scar ran along the side of his face. It hadn’t been well stitched, had healed poorly, and Jackie tried not to let it color her impression of the man. But his odd monotone and the way he slid his eyes to stare at her breasts made it hard to believe he was sincere.
Michael stood smiling, apparently oblivious to the men’s leering gazes. She had the sudden thought that Alex wouldn’t be fooled by the men’s faux manners.
The musicians began playing a jazz piece, and the conversations of the crowd buzzed with its rhythm. She sighed with relief when Michael excused them from the group and guided her to a clutch of colorfully gowned ladies gathered near the wine bar.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he whispered. “Alice Ellsworth is the lady in green. She likes your work. As in fifty thousand dollars’ worth of like.” He glanced at his watch again. “Speeches in twenty minutes. You’re up first, then Alex. I’ll wrap up.”
Talking to the women was easier. Though it was evident they assessed her—in a way she remembered quite well from her mother’s society friends—their questions were politely confined to queries about the Center. The little muscles in her neck relaxed as she told them about the rescue centers along the coast and about the educational efforts to see the animals as sentinels of ocean health.
At one point she shot a quick glance toward Volkov's group. To her dismay, he left them and joined her.
“A word, Dr. Brandon,” he said, taking her by the arm. At his touch, her body stiffened. Flight was impossible, so she’d have to stay and deal. He flashed a well-practiced smile at the ladies. “Please excuse us.”
Once again she tugged her arm free of his hold, and she walked with him to the near side of the rotunda.
“I’ve been thinking about the research you’ve been doing,” he said. “I’d like to fund the lab.” He slipped an envelope into her hand. “And I’m thinking that those North Bay strandings are being caused by river dredging, not fertilizer. After all, there aren’t any vineyards close by, are there? Dredging always stirs things up. And there’s probably radon in all of those hills; they were volcanic. It’ll settle down once they stop.” He tapped the check in her hand. “Wouldn’t the Center be better served if its finances were put to use directly on the animals rather than spent on chasing down some baseless theory?”
She bristled at his coercive tone. He could’ve heard about the radon in the water samples—thanks to Michael’s loose lips it had been all over the press. But he couldn’t have known about the connection between fertilizer and the radon. Questions shot through her as she fingered the envelope. Why would a man like Volkov even care about her samples or about the bay?
She batted down the frisson of warning. It was ridiculous. She was truly being paranoid now. Michael had undoubtedly told Volkov more than he should have, forgetting yet again that the initial reports weren’t to be shared with the public. And surely she’d misread the man’s tone; he was relaxed and smiling and polite. Likely she was just off balance in this setting and nervous because Alex had yet to show up. Volkov was a scientist; of course he’d be interested and curious. Though she realized, as she watched him watching her, that she’d never made time to check the man’s credentials as she’d intended.
“Thank you,” she said, deciding to take his words at face value.
“I was hoping we might have dinner together.” He’d already pulled out his phone and was tapping on the screen.
Just then, the music stopped and Michael announced her.
She nodded to Volkov. “I’m up,” she said.
She couldn’t conjure a smile.
As she walked to the microphone, she scanned the room. Hundreds of faces, smiling up at her. But no Alex.
She kept her speech brief, stuck to a couple of heartwarming stories of recent successes and tried not to be distracted by the fact that Alex was still nowhere to be seen.
When she finished speaking, the applause of the crowd felt wonderful. Glasses were raised and enthusiastic whistles and cheers gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, some of the attendees would remember the importance of the Center’s work after the buzz of the party wore off. She nodded her thanks and stepped away from the microphone.
“Been practicing?” Gage said with a jolly smile. “That’s the shortest speech you’ve ever given.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She still held the envelope that Volkov had given her.
Michael stepped past her and to the microphone.
“I regret to announce that Alex Tavonesi cannot join us this evening.” A wave of disappointed murmurs swept through the crowd. “But there’s a gourmet dinner awaiting you and I hope to see you back here for dessert and dancing afterwards.”
Jackie, hollow-hearted, stared at him.
A flush of heat burned in her cheeks. Her ribs squeezed in, and a dizzying numbness began to spread through her. She looked down at her hands—she’d crushed Volkov’s envelope into her sweating palms. She tried to shake off the empty, bottomless ache crawling into her. Standing there, in the gown, in the shoes, all she’d felt when Brett had jilted her came rushing back. Though she’d talked herself out of the thought too many times to count, underneath it all, Alex was just another ballplayer who didn’t keep his promises.
But this wasn’t a wedding, this was work. And she wasn’t on display. No one knew the depth of feeling she had for Alex. Even she hadn’t known. Not until she heard Michael’s words. She hadn’t let herself know. Or feel. Or expect. She never guessed she’d be tempted to rely on a man again. To love again.
Not that she loved hi
m. She didn’t. But she had been imagining...
She’d been imagining a lot. And none of it had been real. She stared down at her dress, at the new shoes. She should have known better.
A couple of women passed her, smiling. Congratulating her on the evening. The event was a success even without him; Jackie should be celebrating. Instead all she wanted to do was flee.
She tugged the strap of her gown up her shoulder, feeling every bit the fool. Why had she even bothered to dress up?
She found her table and took her seat. Though she listened to the stories of the people seated there, her spirit wasn’t present. When dessert was finally served and the caterers cleared the plates, couples made their way to the dance floor. But dancing held no appeal for Jackie. She slipped to the far side of the rotunda, grateful for the cool breeze drifting in from the open door.
Bradley stepped out of the crowd and over to her.
“Good party,” he said. “I think you charmed some of these folks into caring about marine life.” He smiled. He had a charming smile. It lit his eyes and made her feel worse for not returning his interest. Maybe she only liked men who didn’t show up, men who were out of reach. Impossible men.
“And you look beautiful,” he added.
“Thank you,” she said. “I mean, thanks for coming.”
“Can I take you out for a nightcap? There’s a full moon. We could go down to the wharf.”
“I’m tired, Bradley. It’s been a long week.” She wished she didn’t see the disappointment in his eyes. “Maybe some other time.”
“At least let me drive you home. I’m staying at Gage’s.”
She couldn’t refuse. She didn’t give a damn that she was fleeing. All she wanted was to get out of there before her emotions escaped the strongbox she’d locked them inside.