A Bridge to Dreams (3 page)

“Then don't tell him. You're going to have your vacation.”

“But I can't afford to go anywhere.”

“You can take a vacation right here.”

“This isn't a vacation. This is home. I don't want to waste another perfectly good vacation sitting around in my apartment cleaning the closets.”

“Who said anything about cleaning closets? Thousands
of people come to San Francisco every year. Songs have been written about this place. It's one of the most romantic, exciting cities in the world. If you want a taste of Asia, it's here. A suggestion of the French wine country, it's here. A quaint, cliffside city by the sea like Italy's Portofino, it's across the Bay. Why should you go anywhere else?”

“To get away from my brothers.”

“Turn off your phone. Tell them you're leaving town, if that's what it takes. Take a fresh look at this place. Have you ever looked at the Golden Gate Bridge at twilight?” His own enthusiasm was definitely mounting as the impulsive notion took hold. He hadn't felt this carefree and excited in all the months since his father's heart attack. He was talking with the fervor of a tour guide. The chamber of commerce would love him. “Well,” he persisted. “Have you?”

“Every night when I'm stuck in traffic.”

“But have you ever really seen it?”

“Not really,” she murmured.

“Then for one entire, fun-filled week you and I are going on vacation in San Francisco.”

She looked thunderstruck. To be perfectly honest, he was feeling a little that way himself.

“You?”
she whispered.

Brad shrugged. “Why not? I've been noble for the past year myself. Even you said so. I deserve a vacation,” he said emphatically.

“But you could go anywhere.”

“I could,” he admitted readily. “But I can't imagine a better way to spend a vacation than with a woman who just bought her very first, very flashy convertible.”

The words rolled off his tongue with all of his practiced charm, but to his amazement he realized that somewhere deep inside he'd never meant anything more in his life. Seeing the world through her fresh, unjaded eyes just might turn out to be the best investment of time he'd ever made. Maybe they'd even turn up a few dragons for him to slay.

K
aryn had never made an impetuous, throw-caution-to-the-winds decision in her life. She'd certainly never had to make one involving a man who was heart-stoppingly handsome, witty, rich and apparently famous enough to know at least half a dozen very sexy actors, if the framed photos and clippings on the wall were any indication. But during twenty-six years of nonstop struggling just to survive, the longing for adventure and storybook romance had flourished. She'd never quite gotten over “Cinderella.” From what she'd observed, the man sitting across from her had all the qualifications of a handsome prince.

She studied him closely as she considered his unexpectedly tempting suggestion. She ticked off his attributes with the nervous anticipation of a certified public accountant hoping a column of figures would add up correctly. He had spoken of his father with genuine affection, despite the sacrifices he'd made on his behalf. He was boldly confident without being arrogant. He was impeccably dressed without being flashy. And there
was an energy and vitality about him that counter-pointed her own quiet personality.

Most important, he seemed to be trustworthy, even if points were deducted for that unnerving glint in his eyes. She had a feeling that glint was exactly the sort of thing her brothers had been worrying about since she'd reached adolescence. She rather liked the champagne-sparkly feelings those eyes set off inside her.

He'd been very kind, very compassionate to her. She had felt an almost instantaneous rapport with him, which was all the more incredible considering the man apparently traveled in celebrity-studded circles. The closest she'd ever come before to anyone famous was when she'd subbed for the executive secretary to the senior partner in her law firm on the day his picture had been in the
Chronicle
.

There was, of course, a negative side to all that fame and obvious sophistication: Brad was probably very experienced at portraying whatever image circumstances called for. Maybe in his circles it was even acceptable for him to pick up and discard women as casually as other people tossed aside old clothes. Since Karyn had never followed auto racing, she had no way of knowing for sure what sort of reputation the Brad Willis of those bold sports page headlines had in the more scandalous tabloids. Just thinking about the possibilities made her doubt her own judgment. She hadn't exactly dated extensively. She hadn't had time. Would she even recognize a rogue before it was too late?

Still, she reminded herself, there were only cars and men in all those pictures on his office wall, no women. She glanced instinctively at his ring finger. It was
tanned, well-manicured and unadorned. That was promising, but hardly conclusive.

“Are you married, Mr. Willis?” she asked with the sort of bluntness she'd heard her boss use successfully in taking depositions and cross-examining witnesses in court.

It didn't seem to rattle him in the slightest. He grinned, in fact. “It's Brad,” he corrected pointedly, “and obviously some of your brothers' caution has worn off on you.”

The evasive response made her nervous. Though Karyn kept her tone light, she persisted with a deliberateness that would have done her brothers and her bosses proud. “Isn't it considered proper to know a little about the person one plans to spend an entire vacation with? Even if we aren't going to be sharing hotel rooms, surely it's important to know if we have anything in common.”

“So you want to know if we have my marital status in common?”

The return of that devilish glint of amusement in his eyes was plain. Karyn hoped that was a good sign. “Something like that,” she admitted. “Doesn't it matter to you whether or not I'm married?”

“We wouldn't be having this conversation if you were.”

“How do you know, though? You didn't ask.”

“No ring.”

“Not conclusive.”

“No hovering husband on the car lot to poke his head under the hood.”

“Maybe I'm mechanical. After all, I did keep a '68 VW alive.”

“Joe did that,” he said, his knock-your-socks-off smile emerging again.

“Which still doesn't answer my question.”

“Which one? How I knew you weren't married or whether I am?”

“Both, but if I have to make a choice, the latter.”

Brad folded his hands on his desk, leaned forward, met her gaze intently and said solemnly, “No, Karyn Chambers, I am not married. There are not even any serious entanglements to speak of, now or ever. I'm afraid I've lived in the fast lane in more ways than one.”

There was an intriguing note of regret in the honest admission. “Do you still?” she asked with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

“Live in the fast lane? I told you I'd given up racing.”

“And women?”

“I'm not a monk, but the times are changing, in case you haven't heard. And I'm older and wiser.”

She felt like purring with satisfaction. She doubted her brothers would view the comment the same way. “How much older?”

“I'm thirty-two. Want to see my birth certificate?”

“No. Your driver's license will do.”

Never taking his eyes from hers, Brad reached for his wallet. He moved very slowly, obviously expecting her to back down from the impertinent request. Karyn determinedly held out her hand. “I'm not about to let a total stranger drive my new car until I'm sure he has a valid driver's license.”

Laughing, Brad handed over his wallet. It had enough credit cards in it to charge the entire stock of clothing at Nordstrom without putting a dent in his
credit limit. The license told her far more than his driving status in the state of California, badly minimizing some of his best points and elaborating on a few of her own impressions.

His eyes, which she could see for herself, were a rich, fascinating shade of emerald and were listed simply as green. Obviously the clerk who'd put it down had no imagination. He was six foot two inches tall, one hundred eighty pounds and, by her assessment, all muscle. He lived in Malibu at an address that inspired images of redwood sun decks, which were draped in vibrant pink and purple bougainvillea and opened onto wide expanses of sandy beaches. His birth date, May 15, told her he was a stubborn Taurus, which suggested that she might as well give in now about this vacation.

She'd known for the past fifteen minutes she was going to do it anyway.

Her brothers were going to kill her. Or maybe they'd kill Brad, she conceded, if they ever found out about him.

“What's the itinerary?” she asked before she could start worrying about how Brad would fend off the six angry Chambers men, who made up in sheer numbers and street-fighting savvy what they lacked in health-club fitness.

“You haven't said when your vacation begins.”

“Technically, a week from Monday.”

“Perfect. That gives me time to get back down to L.A., take care of a few details and free up my own time. You just leave the itinerary to me. I promise you the vacation of a lifetime.”

“I'm not sure I can afford anything that dramatic.”

“I promise this will be first-class all the way and it won't cost you a dime.”

“If you can accomplish that, maybe you should go into the travel business.”

“I have more business than I'd like now. I certainly don't want to get into another one.”

That statement raised a nagging concern. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” Karyn asked. “Maybe you ought to think about it. I mean, it's a lovely gesture, but you don't even know me.”

He stretched a hand across the desk, palm up, and waited for her to put her hand in his. When she did, he folded his long fingers around it in a grip that was warm and strong and reassuring. “I've never wanted to do anything so much in my entire life.”

His voice practically throbbed with apparent sincerity. Karyn's unsophisticated pulse skipped several beats and a pleasant warmth stole through her. This was definitely a man with a knack for selling. She was about to take the charm with a grain of salt, until she looked into his eyes.

His green eyes glinted with golden sparks and his gaze never wavered. This was not the cold sheen of a precious metal, but the romantic allure of the moon and the brightness of a thousand stars.

This was the magic she'd been waiting for all her life.

* * *

Trying to explain her vacation plans to her brothers, who were sprawled around her tiny studio apartment like so many muscular, intense security guards, went about as well as Karyn had anticipated. They probed. She evaded. If it had been a chess game, they would
have played to a draw. If only circumstances hadn't kept her living at home so many years longer than most of her friends, Karyn thought with a sigh. Her brothers had gotten into the habit of watching over her. She'd been so busy trying to manage school and work, she'd had little time for dating, anyway. Their protectiveness had never mattered all that much. Breaking them of it now was going to take either extraordinary tact or dynamite. Judging from their scowling, wary expressions, she should probably start hunting for someplace to buy the dynamite.

“I thought you had to cancel Hawaii to get the car,” said Frank, the eldest and the one who'd led all family discussions since her father's death when she was still in elementary school. He had obviously sounded the alarm for the others the instant he'd realized that she was going ahead with her vacation. They had arrived on her doorstep within fifteen minutes of each other. Not one of them had been surprised to find the others there. Unity was a Chambers motto, especially where their baby sister was concerned. Maybe it would have been better if she'd been a gloriously tall, assertive redhead, instead of a barely over five-foot shrimp. Maybe then, they'd understand that she was way past due to take charge of her own social life.

“I did cancel the trip,” she admitted.

“Then what are you going to do?” asked Peter.

“Stay right here,” she said.

The cheerful tone was obviously a mistake. Jared regarded her suspiciously. “I don't get it. I thought you'd be upset about this.”

“She was upset,” Daniel confirmed. “When I was here last Saturday, she was moping around.”

“Yeah,” Kevin agreed. “When I called on Sunday, she sounded real depressed.”

Karyn rolled her eyes as they continued to discuss her recent moods as if she'd left the room and they all had degrees in psychology. Eventually, they'd get back to her. They always did. It was Frank who finally turned to her again and said, “Okay, sis, what happened to perk you up?”

She shrugged with exaggerated innocence. “Nothing happened. I'm just resigned to my fate, if you must know. What's wrong with that?” Resignation was so far removed from the tingles that swept through her every time she thought of Brad Willis, it was all Karyn could do to keep a sappy, lovesick grin off her face.

“Nothing,” Timothy interceded quickly. If Timothy had had half a chance to go to an Ivy League college, he'd have been a perfect diplomat. He was wasting his skills as a transit worker, handing out transfers and reminding tourists which stop was closest to Ghirardelli Square. By the time he worked his way through college at night, he'd probably be too old to go traipsing around the globe for the State Department.

“I'm sure Karyn can find lots of things to do right here in San Francisco,” he said.

“Well, of course, she can,” Jared grumbled. “For one thing this apartment needs to be painted. Why don't we all come over tomorrow night and help? I can get the paint on sale.”