Baby Bombshell Read online

  He turned and gazed first at her hair, then at the topaz earrings she slipped into place. “Just because it’s repeated, doesn’t mean it can’t be true twice. But the first view is better than the second.”

  Anna shook her head. “Men.”

  Evan shrugged, his eyes unrepentant. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She turned and walked over to the table that held her purse. “And starving, too.”

  “You recover your appetite quick. And your good looks,” Evan said, setting the wineglass on the table as he followed her. “The third view is the best of all.”

  She hoped he didn’t see the flush that crept up her cheeks. His opinion didn’t matter. Not anymore. “Thanks, but flattery will get you nowhere.”

  Evan laughed. “Are you kidding? It gets me everywhere.”

  She shot him a glance, then picked up her keys and put them in her purse.

  “What?” he asked. “You think I have hidden motives?”

  “That goes without saying.” Grabbing a light gray poplin coat from the closet, she motioned to the door. But before she could move forward, Evan took her coat from her and held it open. For a second as she put it on, she was close to him and could smell the tang of his aftershave again. She swallowed and pulled away, belting the garment around her waist.

  “Such a gentleman.” She kept her tone faintly mocking. “Trying to impress me, McKenzie?”

  “You, Berzani? Why bother?” he asked with a scoff. “I know better than that.”

  Anna pursed her lips, opened the door and led the way out of her apartment.

  “We can get a taxi on Market. It’s just a couple of blocks,” she said as they exited the lobby.

  As they rounded the corner, Evan pointed to the cable car that was slowly revolving around on a huge turntable. “What about riding on that?”

  “Are you kidding? Nobody takes them.”

  “Really,” he said. One eyebrow rose as he surveyed the queue waiting to board. “Somebody better tell all those poor ignorant people.”

  Anna had to laugh. She made a show of looking around for eavesdroppers, then said in a low voice, “Those are tourists. Don’t tell them, but no one from here takes cable cars unless we have out-of-town visitors. It’s against the rules.” She raised a hand and a taxi slid to the curb next to them. “California and Grant, please,” she told the driver.

  Minutes later, they arrived at the ornate Dragon’s Gate that marked the southern edge of Chinatown. The gate was shadowed, as the sun set behind the buildings, but numerous shop signs backlit the golden dragons raging across the top. On the gate’s green-tile roof, large fish leaped in the last rays of the sun, while smaller carvings in front swam in darkness. The passage was teeming with people of every ethnicity, jostling one another as they entered and exited Chinatown.

  Anna dived in and up the steps through the gate, weaving expertly through the throng. Evan followed, grabbing her arm.

  “Slow down, Annie. Did I miss the starting gun?”

  “Sorry. I’m just used to walking here alone.”

  “What, you don’t get any hot dates for pot stickers and fried rice?” he asked as he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. She tugged away, but he put his hand over hers and smiled down at her. “Don’t be difficult. I can’t afford to lose you in this crowd. You’re shorter than most of the natives.”

  “I am not,” she said testily.

  He merely grinned at her without comment. She glared up at him, then turned and led him along Grant Street. As they walked, he slowed occasionally and took in the chaos of the shops that lined the streets. Tables of porcelain figurines, brass incense burners, paper fans and numerous curios spilled out of many shop doors. The windows above the tables were crowded with all kinds of goods for sale, from bamboo steamers to paintings of cherry blossoms on silk.

  “Is it always this busy?” he asked.

  “No. Sometimes it’s worse.” Anna dodged a man and a woman hunched over a display of wooden Buddhas. “Weekends are the craziest, especially on the tourist streets. I usually come over on Saturdays and do my shopping on the side streets. The vegetable vendors have some incredible stuff.”

  As they made their way up the sidewalk, Anna tried not to enjoy getting jostled against Evan. The same mix of exhilaration and irritation that had plagued her earlier returned. She told herself it was natural. He was an attractive man and she wasn’t immune to his charms. More than one woman had turned to stare at Evan. One went so far as to deliberately step into his path, feigning an accidental collision, hoping to catch him with her beguiling smile. The fact that he was with another woman meant nothing to her. She was simply a moth to his flame.

  When Evan returned her daring look with nothing more than a nod, Anna was surprised. For a moment, she felt a rush of satisfaction. Had he ignored the other women simply because he was with her? The feeling was quickly smothered when she concluded that Evan was ignoring her, too. He was completely taken by the seductive bustle and chaos of Chinatown.

  Anna grit her teeth and told herself it didn’t matter. This was not a date. But she couldn’t help the words that popped out of her mouth. “She looked like your girlfriend. What’s her name again? Dippy?”

  Evan scowled. “Kippy. And she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

  “Oh? Too bad,” Anna said casually, though her pulse had picked up pace at this news.

  “Not really. Why limit myself to one fish, when there’s a whole ocean,” Evan said with a grin and a wink. Then his focus shifted and he stopped at a display of good-luck charms, a bowl filled with flat, polished rocks etched with Chinese characters. “What do you suppose these say?”

  Anna smiled wryly to herself, even while her heart felt a pang of sadness. If she wanted proof of her folly in being attracted to Evan, here it was in plain English: no one woman would ever be special to this man. She pushed her foolish fantasies to the back of her mind and answered him in an even tone, “Probably ‘long life,’ ‘wisdom,’ ‘lots of luck,’ that sort of thing.”

  “Right.” Evan snorted. He looked over at Anna, his green eyes dancing with amusement. “I bet they say ‘Eat at Chan’s’ or ‘Go Home Stupid Tourist.’”

  Anna had to laugh. “The English-speaking world may never know the truth.”

  “Hey, how about that place?” Evan said, pointing to a restaurant with a line out the door. “It was recommended by the hotel.”

  “Too busy and too touristy.” Anna shook her head and kept moving up the street. “The Pan-king has good food, but it’s always packed. I know another place up a few blocks and off the main drag. It’s the real thing. Trust me.”

  “You’re a genuine San Franciscan, aren’t you?”

  “And proud of it.”

  “No regrets about leaving family so far away?”

  “Nope. We like each other better from a distance.”

  “They miss you, you know.”

  “Don’t start, Evan,” she said with a sigh. Anna felt a pang as she spoke, but shook it off. They walked in silence for a while. She was grateful to see the sign for the restaurant loom brightly in the darkness. “We’re here.”

  They stood at the top of stairs that descended into the basement of a three-story building. The sign of lit red Chinese characters was the only indication that the place was actually open—or that there might be a business here at all.

  “Are you sure about this place?” Evan whispered as he followed her down the steps.

  “Trust me,” she repeated.

  “It’s the restaurant I don’t trust. Does the health department even know it’s down here?”

  She laughed. “I never knew you were so persnickety about food.” Anna pushed through a door into a dimly lit entrance with dark red walls and black trim.

  “I just like to know what I’m eating.”

  A short, middle-aged, stoic-faced hostess appeared from behind a screen. “Two?”

  “Please,” Anna said.

  The woman pi
cked up menus and motioned them to follow. She escorted them to a booth on one side of the dining room. Many of the other tables were full. Several of the large, round ones held what looked like extended families, from swaddled babies to ancient grandparents. A mixture of chattered languages filled the room. At the table, Evan helped Anna slip off her coat, then slid into the booth opposite her.

  When they were seated, the hostess gave them the menus, bowed and left them alone. Seconds later, a young man in an apron brought a white teapot to the table. He turned their cups over, poured tea into both, then set the pot on the table between them. Scooping up the extra two place settings, he left without uttering a word.

  “What’s the name of this hidden establishment?” Evan asked.

  “Actually, I don’t know. I don’t read Chinese.” When Evan looked doubtfully at her, Anna shrugged and picked up the menu. “So what looks good to you?”

  “Your guess is better than mine. I can’t read Chinese, either,” Evan said, putting his menu aside and sipping the small cup of tea. “I’ll eat anything that isn’t wiggling.”

  “Okay, that leaves out the dancing shrimp.”

  “Live shrimp?” Evan grimaced. “And I thought I was only joking.”

  “You have to be careful what you order. Just about anything goes,” Anna said with a grin. “They don’t serve them here, but I know a place that does. They’re brought in a bowl and you pull the heads off, peel and eat them on the spot.”

  “Okay, maybe not.” He obviously found the idea revolting.

  “What? You eat raw oysters, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes. That’s different.”

  “How so?” She cocked her head to one side, pursing her lips skeptically. “Oysters don’t dance.”

  “If they could, I bet they would.” Anna leaned forward, unable to stop herself from torturing him. “Doing the fox-trot all the way down your throat.”

  Evan stared at her in surprise, then laughed. “You still have an overactive imagination. San Francisco hasn’t changed that.”

  Anna laughed, too, then perused the menu in front of her, reading the convenient English translation for each dish. Usually their banter was more savage, cutting even, but tonight it seemed that each had retracted the claws and fangs. She felt flushed. This evening was turning out far differently than she had expected. Despite her earlier admonishments to herself, she couldn’t deny herself the tantalizing pleasure of enjoying Evan’s company.

  “I’ll pick the wine. You choose the well-cooked delicacies,” he said, his green eyes pinning her with a mock-stern stare.

  “Coward. Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

  “It stops shy of food that’s trying to escape,” he said, scrutinizing the wine selections. “White?”

  “As long as it’s dry.”

  The waiter arrived at that moment. “Good evening. Something to drink?” His voice was thickly accented, but quite precise, with a touch of British Hong Kong.

  “A bottle of your Luna Napa pinot grigio, please,” Evan said.

  “Okay,” the waiter said, scratching on his pad. “You want appetizer?”

  “We’ll have the shrimp pot stickers,” Anna said, flashing a glance at Evan. “And the tofu with cilantro, please.”

  “Bok choy with spicy radish pickle is very good. Fresh tonight.”

  “We’ll have that, too,” Evan said. As the waiter scribbled furiously on his pad then hurried off to the kitchen, Evan added, “There’s no such thing as too much Chinese food.”

  “Fine by me. Whatever we don’t eat will be my lunch tomorrow.” Anna pulled the chopsticks and fork out of her folded napkin, then spread the cloth over her lap. Evan followed suit.

  “How in the world did you find this place?” he asked.

  Anna shrugged. “Like I find all the best spots in Chinatown. I was wandering around with a friend and we saw several people going down the stairs and decided to try it.”

  The waiter appeared with a wine bottle, showed it to them, expertly uncorked it and filled both their glasses. Evan picked his up and toasted Anna. “To new adventures.”

  “I’m not sure I want to toast that,” Anna said with a frown.

  He reached over and tapped his glass against hers anyway. “Sure you do.”

  She sipped her wine, watching him warily. Lowering her glass to the table, she said, “Sorry, Evan. My answer is still no. I already told Patrick that, too.”

  Evan leaned forward, his elbows on the table. His lips tilted in a slight smile, obviously amused by her bluntness. “Come on, don’t you want to help your poor old parents? They really need it.”

  Anna had to laugh at his wheedling tone. “You are such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

  “Yes, but a charming one,” he said, eyes laughing at her over the rim of his glass as he took a drink.

  “More persistent than charming,” Anna countered drily. “Level with me, Evan. What’s in this for you?”

  “For one, I expect to get a healthy return on the money and time I put into the deal. But I’m mostly doing it for your folks. They’ve done a lot for me. And it makes sense for them.”

  Anna frowned and looked away for a moment. “You know, you don’t need me to design anything. Any local architect can do the job.”

  Evan returned his glass to the table and twisted the stem back and forth, his gaze on the tawny liquid inside. He narrowed his eyes a little when he looked up at her. “Maybe,” he conceded, “but you’re the one we want. Look, your parents built A&E Marine from virtually nothing. For twenty-two years, they poured their blood and sweat into that boatyard.”

  “I know the story, Evan.” Anna sighed impatiently. “I’ve heard it a thousand times. I lived it, for—”

  “Wait a minute and hear me out, Annie,” he said. “The only thing on this earth more important to Antonio and Elaine Berzani than that business is their children and grandchildren. Family is everything to them. You know that. Like it or not, that includes you. Why do you think they meddle in your life all the time?”

  “To drive me slowly insane?” Anna muttered.

  Evan ignored her and continued, “Because your happiness matters to them. And because they want—they expect—to participate in their children’s lives. Just as they expect their children to participate in theirs.”

  “I let my mother set me up on blind dates, don’t I?”

  “And bitch every minute, too. But that’s not my point.”

  “So, what is the point, then?”

  “They need more from you now, Anna. From all their children. It’s time for A&E Marine to change, and though he realizes the truth of that, it’s still going to be hard for your dad. Your mom’s having trouble with it, too. It hurts because the reality they’re having to face is that they are getting old and no one wants to take over the boatyard as it stands. Not Patrick and not Ian, even though they’ve been running it for the past few years. They both have other plans for their lives. You and Jeannie certainly don’t want to take over. If we don’t do something now, it will die a slow, sad death while everyone wrangles about who’s going to take responsibility. So, to survive, it has to change. To change, your parents need to let go. That’s only going to happen if their children help them make the transition.” Evan speared her with a sharp look, his expression as serious as she had ever seen it. “All of their children.”

  Anna sighed and took a healthy drink from her glass.

  “Bottom line,” Evan added. “Patrick and I think your parents won’t cooperate with any other architect but you.”

  Anna set her glass down, avoiding looking at him. She toyed with her chopsticks, waiting for him to go on, but he was silent. Finally, she glanced up and met his gaze. “How long have you worked on this speech? It’s very good.”

  “It’s also very true.”

  “You make it tough to say no.” She glared at him, but he simply looked back at her.

  “I want to make it impossible. Let me add that you, more than a
ny other architect, can put the family stamp on a design. You could make sure the Berzani character and tradition is preserved in whatever we build. That would mean a lot to your dad. To your mom, too.”

  “Any good architect can do that.”

  “I doubt it. They’re certainly not going to do it as well as you can. Besides, your parents trust you more than they’d trust some stranger.”

  “They can learn to trust someone else,” she said with an exasperated huff. “Not likely.”

  The waiter brought their appetizers and set them on the table before Evan could speak. When the man asked for their dinner order, Anna gave it: shrimp egg-foo-yung, deep-fried catfish, Chinese vegetables and spicy Hunan pork. When he was gone, she scooped up two of the pot stickers and handed the plate to Evan. Between them they divided the food.

  “You’re going to say yes, Annie. Why not just get it over with?” Evan asked as he sliced a pot sticker in two. He looked over at her, his eyes dancing with humor. “By the way, I packed a tent and a sleeping bag. I’m camping out in your lobby and badgering you until you do.”

  She didn’t want to be charmed, but she had to admit he was getting to her. Not that she would ever admit it. Picking up a piece of tofu with her chopsticks, Anna popped it into her mouth. It had a fresh, slightly bitter flavor. When she had chewed and swallowed, she said with a slight smile, “Trust me, you haven’t said anything new that would change my mind. Why don’t you just let me enjoy my meal?”

  “We’d both enjoy it more if you just admitted I’m right, Annie Berzani.” His face was earnest, his tone chirping, a perfect imitation of Anna’s mother.

  Anna stared at him, then lowered her chopsticks to the table and laughed loudly. “It’s scary how good you are at that.”

  Evan grinned. Anna shook her head and dabbed tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes with her napkin. Still chuckling, she took up her chopsticks again and they ate in silence for a while.

  Drizzling soy sauce on her plate and dipping a piece of pickled radish in it, she asked, “You know if I say yes, it will be all the encouragement my dad needs.”

  “What do you mean? Encouragement?” Evan raised an eyebrow as he ate a bite of tofu.