Navy Seal Bodyguard. Tawny Weber
chosen San Francisco.
All the way across the country from them.
Too far away for drop-in visits. Yet no distance was too far from nagging phone calls.
“Mia, you should listen to your sister. She warned you about that girl.”
“Jessica is my roommate and she’s twenty-six, Mother. A year older than me. It’s okay to call us women now.”
“Girl. Woman.” Her mother pshawed. “You’ll always be my baby.”
God help her.
“But that isn’t the point. Your sister’s concerns are the point. I told you, she thinks this Jessica girl is mean and nasty and vindictive. She’s a bad influence, a backstabber and someone who surely has it in for you.”
“Because I was crowned homecoming queen instead of her? Mom, that’s ridiculous.”
“Don’t forget that you were valedictorian, too. Marley said this girl holds grudges. There’s no way she forgot that you swept into that school and knocked her right off the pedestal.”
And off she went, in the style only Anne Cade could. Ranting with half facts, high drama and a heaping helping of guilt. Mia let the words roll over her while she went back to searching for a way to fit an extra fifty seats into a dining room for the upcoming charity ball. She’d managed to squeeze in thirty by the time her mother wound down.
“Look, Jessica is fine. She’s nice. She’s safe. She has a good job. She pays rent, helps with the bills. She’s not luring me into bars or doing drugs. No wild parties, no illicit affairs, no disreputable men.”
And just like that, her mother turned on a dime.
“You could do with meeting some men, Mia. You’re a good-looking girl, smart and fun, and your table manners are exquisite.”
“Can’t forget those table manners.”
“Speaking of, I know the perfect man for you. He’s good-looking, six foot six and very clever with languages. He fixed my computer last week. Remember the trouble I was having with it? It’s so handy to have a man around who can fix things, don’t you think? And didn’t you say you needed a new computer?”
Not enough to want a man to go with it.
“What’s his rank?”
“Petty officer,” her mother replied, biting off the last word in obvious frustration. “Now don’t be silly, Mia. Your bias against military men is ridiculous. Are you going to throw away the opportunity to meet the perfect man just because he serves his country?”
In a heartbeat.
“I don’t have time for dating, Mother,” Mia sidestepped, knowing her perfectly justified arguments always fell on deaf ears. “I’m super busy with work. And speaking of—”
“Fine, fine. If you want to refuse to meet the perfect man, that’s your choice. That’s not why I called, anyway,” her mother said dismissively. “Your uncle will be in town later this month, meeting with donors and attending a climate change event. I can count on you to be a proper hostess, can’t I? Show him around, keep him company?”
Of course she’d take care of her uncle, US Senator Luis Penz, who’d spent as many years in California as she’d been alive, show him around and keep the poor, bored-with-nothing-to-do man company.
A part of her wanted to offer that sarcastic thought aloud. To point out that she was an independent adult, a professional with a good head on her shoulders, solid social skills and a strong sense of responsibility.
But that wouldn’t stop the nagging interference. It’d only irritate her mother into bringing in backups, usually in the form of Mia’s siblings. Or worse, her father.
So she kept her thoughts to herself, settling for a roll of her eyes and an innocuous, “Of course, Mother.”
“As you can see, it’s poor timing for you to have that woman living with you.”
“It’s not like Uncle Luis would stay in my apartment, Mom. There’s not enough room for his suits.” To say nothing of his security detail.
“I don’t want him meeting this woman, Mia. She’s bad news.”
“Because she lost the homecoming crown?”
“No,” her mother snapped. “Because she works for a criminal.”
Mia grimaced. “Actually, she works for a businessman. Santiago Alcosta is totally on the up-and-up, Mom.” Not an idiot, Mia had researched the man as soon as she heard who Jessica worked for. “He’s built his business in real estate, and Alcosta International is above reproach. Sure, he has a few family members who got in trouble, but who doesn’t? Your own sister was arrested last month.”
“A few family members? His father was considered a drug lord. His brother was arrested for smuggling. Mia, your Aunt Phoebe shoplifts cat toys to donate to the local shelters.”
But Alcosta wasn’t his father or brother, Mia wanted to point out. And being a smart businesswoman, she had done her due diligence. Not only had she done a standard background check on the man, she’d asked around. She’d used her resources, she’d checked with other event coordinators, with her social contacts and best of all, she’d grilled her roommate. As the man’s personal assistant, Jessica was a font of information. She’d not only filled Mia in on Alcosta’s preferences and tastes as it applied to possible events, she’d discussed his work habits, his feelings about his criminal relatives and his hopes for helping others.
But Mia knew, just like any protests she made pointing out her own independence and maturity, the words would fall on deaf ears.
So before her mother could launch into one of her lectures on the depth of family roots, Mia changed the subject. “I have to go now. I’ve got a lot of work to do. Why don’t you call Megan? I heard she’s having the twins tested for ADD.”
“ADD?” Anne snapped. “They’re not even a year old yet.”
“I know, right.” And with that, Mia sicced her mother on her sister and ended the call with a grin.
The key to winning a battle, her father always said, was knowing the enemy’s weakness. In her mother’s case, that weakness was a chance to boss people around.
Yet another reason for putting a country between them. A great choice, she decided yet again, resting her elbow on the table to support her chin as she stared out the wide plate-glass window of her apartment at the misty view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
She loved it here—the weather, the people, the variety of things to do and, most of all, the generous altruism of the charitable community. It was an event coordinator’s dream. The Bay Area—and Northern California, in general—was home to some of the wealthiest people in the country, many of whom loved to give back. To their community. To the needy. To research, to civil servants, to causes, and to people and charities.
That’s where Mia came in.
All those years with her family made her especially aware of how much need there was in the world and how impossible it would be for her to fix it all by herself.
So she’d turned her organizational skills, people savvy and gift for smoothing the waters, combined with her bent for out-of-the-box thinking, into a career as a premier freelance event coordinator, serving some of the top international charities in the country.
And she was kicking butt.
Okay, she thought, looking at the files stacked like walls around her laptop, which was sitting on the kitchen table, maybe she wasn’t quite kicking butt yet. But after three years, she was definitely getting closer. Was there any such thing as nudging butt?
But a little more time building her reputation and event portfolio, a few more big clients on retainer, and a handful of successful, high-dollar fund-raisers,