It was the Old World charm, Meg knew. Though third generation Italian-American, Paul Loria had been raised with European manners and style. He’d tried to raise his children in the same way, but Meg’s three brothers were hopelessly contemporary, and Meg herself didn’t seem to be able to find a place where she felt comfortable.
When the waiter gathered up the menus and headed off to the kitchen, Paul nodded at their client. “Start from the beginning. Tell us everything we should know about your boss so that we can all be sure we’re doing the right thing here.”
Ms. Boradino smiled ruefully. “It’s difficult to describe Amos Pike. To say he’s a self-made man is an understatement because that only implies business success and wealth. And though he’s achieved both, his most admirable qualities have nothing to do with that. He’s a wonderful boss because he knows what he wants and he insists upon it from you, and yet he manages to help you give it to him in the way you work best.”
For someone who found it difficult to describe him, Meg thought, she was doing a thorough job. And an insightful one.
Her father apparently thought so, too. “Are you in love with him?” he asked gently.
Even Meg turned to him in surprise.
At the woman’s startled look, he replied with a kind smile, “With lives at stake, it’s important that we know everything. Relationships can make small but significant changes in our approach.”
Meg concluded that was hogwash. Her father was interested in their client and wanted to know what or who stood in his way.
Ms. Boradino shook her head. “I’m seven years older than he is.”
Paul shrugged as though that were negligible. “A young man delights in a woman with experience. Just as an older man can find rejuvenation with a younger woman.”
Meg held back a wince at her own recent proof of his claim.
Her father seemed to realize what he’d said and cast her a quick, apologetic glance.
She shrugged her forgiveness.
“We’re friends,” Ms. Boradino said. Then she seemed to reconsider. “Well, not precisely. I have trouble letting people get that close.” Then she glanced at Paul and at Meg, clearly startled that she’d admitted that much. She went on briskly. “He’s the finest man I know, as a businessman and as a human being, and I don’t want him to be hurt because of his own stubborn pride.” She seemed suddenly to notice the two halves of bread stick in her hands and dropped them onto her bread plate. Then she dusted off her fingers.
“He’s a toy manufacturer,” she said. “You’ve heard of Pike’s Pickled Pepper Toy Company?”
When Paul shook his head, Meg nodded. “Yes, you have, Dad. You bought that little boy next door the castle where you put the water in the moat and sea monsters go around in it. Remember? That was a Pike product.”
Ms. Boradino brightened. “That’s right. That was our bestseller last year.” She sobered again as quickly. “Competition for the toy market has always been very intense, but since the development of Amos’s Interactive Space Station, I’m afraid it could become...deadly.”
“Why do you say that?” Paul asked.
“It’s all been top secret, of course,” she replied calmly, though she fiddled nervously with a fork. “We even missed the February toy show in favor of this later one here in San Francisco. Amos needed to refine the software that comes with the station after NASA agreed to give him some data.” She put the fork down and met Paul’s eyes, then Meg’s. “There was a mysterious fire at our factory and a break-in at our office, and Amos was mugged by four men in his condo’s parking garage. Fortunately, one of the other residents was returning with a couple of friends and the muggers took off. I think someone was out to get the designs for the station, so Amos finally hid them. Even I don’t know what he’s done with them, or with the prototype.”
“But why the muggers?” Meg asked. “Did they think he had the plans on him?”
“Perhaps,” Ms. Boradino replied. “Or maybe it was just...revenge.”
“But that’s getting pretty personal for a business intrigue.”
Ms. Boradino spread her hands. “That was what made me suspect Jillian Chambers.”
Meg nodded, waiting for her to explain.
“She’s the CEO of Chayco Toys,” Ms. Boradino elaborated. “Pike’s only real competition in the toy market. She and Amos used to see each other—until Amos found her photographing his designs at his home one night after they’d...been together.” Ms. Boradino looked skeptical. “She still insists he misunderstood her intentions. That she was designing something similar and wanted to match the plan to hers to see if they could coordinate their designs for a joint project.”
Paul made a scornful sound. “Pretty thin excuse.”
“She’s been trying to get him back ever since,” Ms. Boradino continued, “but he doesn’t deal well with having been lied to or deceived.” She smiled wryly at Meg. “So you’ll have to be careful.”
The waiter arrived with a carafe of gewürztraminer and poured three glasses. When he left, Boradino said with a worried frown, “My real concern is that Jillian, who has always been high-strung and impulsive, has taken a dangerous turn. Her business is in trouble and I’m afraid she blames Amos for it. I wouldn’t be surprised if her intentions have changed from simply trying to get him back to ruining him. And everybody in the business is waiting to see the space station demonstrated at the upcoming toy show. The software allows a child to take trips from the space station in over a dozen directions, both factual and fictitious.”
Her voice had risen in excitement, but now fell as she added, “If Jillian can prevent him from being there with it, she can ruin him. It’s taken a great financial investment to get this far with it, and Amos has an electronics company waiting for the word to start production, depending on the reaction at the show.”
“Okay, you’re convinced the situation is desperate.” Meg leaned toward the woman. “Why is it so hard for Pike to see this? If there’s been a fire and a mugging and an attempt to copy his plans, and he still doesn’t want protection, I don’t see what we can do for him. When’s the toy show?”
“The weekend after the bachelor auction.”
Meg was confused. “What bachelor auction?”
“That’s part of the plan Ms. Boradino has come up with.” Paul raised his glass in a toast. “And it’s really rather a clever one. Shall we toast it?”
Boradino raised her glass to his.
Meg didn’t. “I think I’d like to hear the plan first.”
Paul lowered his glass with a shake of his head at their client. “Meg’s very methodical. Gets that from her mother. She’s never one to be surprised by the unknown, and exasperating as that can be for those of us in her personal life, it’s an invaluable quality in a bodyguard.”
Boradino, too, lowered her glass. “I understand completely.” She studied Meg a moment, as though measuring her ability to carry out whatever it was she had in mind. Then, apparently deciding Meg was capable, she went on to explain.
“I tried to hire bodyguards for Amos after the mugging, and he sent them away. His entire administrative staff has been worried about him. Without his knowledge, the men have taken turns following him home at night, watching his condo, watching the plant. Someone stays all night in the office.” She sighed, then smiled in self-deprecation. “We don’t really know what we’re doing, but we felt better knowing he had someone watching out for him. Then the Lost Springs Ranch for Boys called me about the bachelor auction they’re having this weekend. If they don’t get out of debt, they may have to sell out to a consortium. Amos spent eight years there as a child. They’ve invited back the former residents who