Nowhere Safe

CHAPTER 16



Trish hugged her mug of coffee and leaned on the counter in the showroom of ReSolution, trying not to accept defeat mentally before it had actually been delivered to her. Her brother would say, “Can’t win ‘em all, honey.”

She didn’t want them all. But she had to have this one. Needed this consulting position, or she had real concerns about making it through a full year with ReSolution.

If she didn’t, everyone would just chalk it up to another Trish failure. Except this would be a really, really expensive one.

The naysayers were probably booking bets on how long she’d last without drinking. Her biggest customer draws right now were consignment pieces she’d acquired since gaining recognition in the preliminary rounds of this competition. Those would go away first if she stumbled.

One mistake would cost her everything.

No longer walking around in an alcohol-dulled haze, she couldn’t face another failure. Sobriety sharpened everything, but most of all her emotions. She wanted this win.

Just once, she wanted to kick ass on her own merits, and not need anybody to pick her up and carry her to the finish. Was that too much to ask?

She’d aced everything the television group had handed her so far, but now she stared at what they expected next, detailed neatly in her packet of instructions. This had all seemed doable yesterday.

While the couple she’d helped earlier still strolled around the showroom, Trish studied the forms in her packet. With the fifteenth century as her specialty, she had to find someone knowledgeable about the famous Amber Room. Her first thought was to wonder whether the show had a bona fide artifact or not, but that might be the real test–the ability to differentiate real from bogus.

Many collectors of World War II items were familiar with the Amber Room’s history, but to evaluate an actual piece required someone with exceptional ability.

Oh, and that person had to be a celebrity.

Trish had come up with one celebrity guest who might give her an edge over Xavier in this last round.

A ding-a-ling from the front door drew her attention. The female of the young couple waved at Trish and said, “Thanks for the background on that armoire. Love your shop. I made notes for when I come back.”

“Thank you and have a nice day.” Trish didn’t like pushy sales people so she gave customers space to meander. She’d always been a people person and enjoyed spending time with everyone who came in.

Well, almost everyone.

Her least favorite customer entered as the couple left.

Calling the old woman a customer was a stretch since she had yet to spend anything except time.

Decisions, decisions. Arrange inanimate metal sculptures–guaranteed not to give Trish grief–or attempt to assist the elderly woman she’d privately nicknamed Pruneface, who lived for ruining an otherwise promising day? Suck it up and be the better person.

Trish sidled over to where Pruneface scowled at Heidi’s jubilant display of hand-cast sterling-silver flatware and color-splashed dishes that added flair to quality antiques. Pruneface browsed through ReSolution for the third time in two weeks. For what purpose, Trish had no idea, because the old bat had yet to find anything that met with her satisfaction.

Patience. The woman walked bent over as if she suffered from some form of osteoporosis.

“May I help you?” Trish asked, infusing a heavy dose of peppy tone.

Pruneface cocked up her garish face. Thick makeup covered her haggish features. Severe rouge slashed her cheeks and poorly applied, rust-colored lipstick had been stroked across her perpetual frown.

“You don’t have any antiques with pelicans,” the old biddy stated in a gritty voice.

Guilty as charged. Trish kept her smile plastered in place. Easy to do with her teeth clenched. She couldn’t take much more abuse this week. If the old biddy wanted pelicans, she’d send her to Gunter’s shop.

“You might want to check out Dynasty Treasures about two blocks down. They have some wonderfully eclectic pieces.” And if Gunter didn’t move into the twenty-first century soon his struggling business was going to be left behind. But he did possess sets of extremely rare, handcrafted antique silver place settings from around the world, some of which had belonged to royalty.

Who knew, maybe Pruneface was an eccentric millionairess who would love Gunter’s shop and bring enough friends to put him on the cover of Forbes.

Sure, and Florida would never get hit by a hurricane again.

“You’re right.” The old woman actually smiled, well, sneered was more like it. “That place sounds like it has a better selection.”

Trish thought she recognized something in the woman’s voice that she couldn’t pin down, but she dismissed it. Three times in two weeks the woman had been in her shop. No way to forget someone this gaudy and irritating.

Bad enough that Pruneface had managed to further deflate Trish’s already sagging attitude, but the blatant slam against ReSolution was akin to making a derogatory remark about a person’s only child.

Some people lived to offend others.

Trish kept her I-will-not-be-baited smile in place. “I’m sorry we couldn’t help you. I hope you find what you’re looking for at Dynasty Treasures. The owner is a wonderful man.”

“Hmph.” The hunched figure tottered around and shuffle-stomped across the floor and out of the shop.

“Nice dismissal, but sending people away isn’t going to help our bottom line,” Heidi said, emerging from the storage room.

“Yeah, I know, but she wasn’t going to spend money here. She doesn’t like me or our merchandise,” Trish grumbled. She swung around to find her friend holding a long cardboard box.

“It’s not you,” Heidi said. “She hates life in general.”

“You’re probably right, Sug. What’s in the box?”

Heidi’s teeth clicked together in a cheery smile. She removed the lid. “Found this outside the delivery door in the back. Looks like you got flowers.”

Trish took the box containing a dozen yellow roses in a vase and carried it over to place on the counter. She pulled the small envelope off a plastic holder.

Small, dove-gray envelope.

She heard a buzzing in her ears.

Heidi’s eyes were bright with anticipation.

Trish didn’t want to open this in front of her but she had no choice. When her hand shook, Heidi grinned even more, no doubt misinterpreting Trish’s tremble as excitement.

When she got the card free of the envelope, she made a show of reading the message out loud. “Thanks for a great time. Your secret admirer.”

Heidi snorted. “A little hokey, but sweet.”

Hammering started in the back room. Bunko building the shelves.

Heidi rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering, “I don’t know that we’re saving any money with him playing carpenter.”

Trish waited until Heidi was out of sight before she lifted the card to read the actual text:

Roses are yellow for a little hello. I’ve done something nice for you. Now you will do something for me little pawn. Keep your phone handy.

This stalking had to stop.

She wiped her mouth with a shaky hand and licked her lips. The buzzing in her ears got louder. One drink would calm her nerves. She could almost taste the bourbon and craved that first hit when the alcohol drenched her stress.

Don’t think about drinking.

Maybe she should go to an AA meeting tonight.

She’d missed the last few because she’d been traveling, and crazy busy with the competition.

When Heidi stepped out from the back again, Trish shoved the card and envelope into her jacket pocket. “How long before Bunko is done?”

“Are we talking days or millenia?”

Glad to have a different topic, Trish forced a chuckle out of her tight throat. “Come on, Heidi, give him some credit.”

“He’s only supposed to be part-time. Every time I turn around he’s here.”

Trish was starting to think Bunko’s interest in ReSolution had more to do with Heidi than the little bit of money Trish paid him. “Don’t you think he’s nice?”

Heidi’s gaze drifted toward the back of the shop with a warmth Trish hadn’t seen before then Heidi shrugged. “He’s okay.” She glanced over at the unfinished forms Trish had been working on. “What rare antique did you end up having to find talent for?”

“A panel from the Amber Room.”

“That’s great, right?”

“I guess so,” Trish hesitated, then said, “That room was considered the eighth wonder of the world before it was destroyed.”

“Then why do you sound concerned? You should have this nailed.” Heidi grinned.

True, and Trish had spent plenty of hours studying the history surrounding that room. “It’s not the panel that has me worried. The producers are testing to see how extensive our resource database is and how adept we are at convincing celebrities to come on the show. I dug through my old files from when I was working with Mrs. Bromley.”

“Did you find someone?”

“Maybe. Senator Dixon has been a long time collector of artifacts surrounding World War II. I surfed the net this morning and found an article on him from last year where he said that he has a particular fascination with the Amber Room so he’s a good fit, but that doesn’t mean he’s an expert or that he’ll be charismatic on camera.” Which made him a risky choice.

“Have you called his office?”

“Yes and it took a few tries, but I finally reached his assistant. I was told the Senator’s schedule was booked for months.”

“But you didn’t talk to the man himself, did you?”

“No.”

“He might do it. You have to at least get past the gatekeepers and find out for sure before you give up on him.”

Heidi was right, but Trish couldn’t see why the Senator would consider this when he was so busy. She’d been hoping to ask one of the celebrity collectors she’d researched whose ratings had dropped in the last few years and who might need the publicity. “I have to do something. Xavier has the edge with Big Charlie in her corner. He’ll give her access to an international database and pull out all the stops to help her win.”

“Screw Chuck and you can run circles around Xavier when it comes to knowing your stuff. She depends too much on her looks.”

Trish smiled over Heidi’s unwavering support. “Xavier‘s got her certification, and she’s my only rival since the producers are choosing one female and one male. If she comes up with a strong celebrity guest, I’m screwed.”

The door jingled at the same time Heidi said, “Uh oh.” Her eyebrows jumped up and down.

“What?”

“He does not look happy. Maybe you should have sent him flowers.”

Trish turned around to find Josh bearing down on her. “Crap.”

“So you know why he looks that way, huh?” Heidi asked then added, “Think I’ll supervise the shelf building.”

“Heidi...” But she was gone.

Trish crossed her arms, refusing to let Josh know her insides turned to jelly every time she relived last night’s kiss.

Now was the time to be firm and send him away, not melt in a puddle of longing at his feet. Especially now that she knew he was definitely available and their chemistry could power all of Miami.

Josh’s long strides ate up the distance from the door to her. He had on an open-collar cream shirt and dark sport coat with khaki pants. She had the urge to brush her fingers through his windblown hair.

Bad idea. No hair touching. No kissing. When he reached her, she said in her most curt tone, “What can I do for you?”

“You could start by returning a phone call or the texts I’ve sent.”

“I was busy.” Avoiding you. She’d hoped he would get annoyed enough he’d give up and move on to someone more promising. She hadn’t trusted herself not to fold if she talked to him. Sad to admit that she had no more self-control than that, but he brought her erogenous zones to life with just a look.

“No one is that busy unless they work the emergency room.”

He had a point, but admitting it would be incriminating. As long as he was here, he could answer a question she’d been worrying over. “Did you discuss last night with my brother?”

“Yes. I told him we had a wonderful time and you were going to help me choose antiques for a sunroom back home that I plan to redecorate. Somewhere I could work on my watercolor art.” His eyes twinkled with humor.

“Are you an artist?”

There was the scowl she’d seen last night when she’d asked him if he was sure he wasn’t gay.

Josh made a growling sound. “No, I’m not an artist and don’t have a sunroom. I was just reinforcing what your brother believes.”

“Did Zane mention that another friend of mine does have a sunroom I helped redecorate?”

“As a matter of fact, he did. Somebody named Brendan.” Josh watched her face. “Who is he?”

“A friend,” she repeated. “Did you discuss anything else?”

“No, Zane left in a hurry. Leanne said he had to fly out with one of his new pilots.”

Leanne.

Trish would bet money that Leanne could figure out how to reach the Senator. “Is Leanne in the office all day?”

“I have no idea, but she’ll probably be back for a meeting at five. Why?”

She didn’t want to start up a new subject when she needed Josh to leave so she could contact Leanne. “Just curious. You never said why you were trying to get in touch with me.”

“I originally wanted to take you to lunch, but that passed two hours ago so we’re down to dinner. I was thinking we’d ride over to South Beach tonight, eat dinner and take a walk.”

Why did he have to be so charming and sexy and determined now? Why couldn’t he have shown up in her life later on after she felt like she was ready for this? “Sorry I didn’t get back to you before lunch, but I’m not available.”

“Now? Or ever?”

He just had to push her. “Ever.”

“Why are we going to do this again?”

The bell rang again and a man with an Alfred Hitchcock profile entered, glanced around, then meandered off to the right.

Trish had stuck her head past Josh, letting him know she had more important things to do than discuss dinner with him. When the customer disappeared behind tall furniture, she told Josh, “We’re not doing anything and that’s the point. I appreciate your offer to get together with no pressure, but I’m going to pass.”

“And here I thought you’d want to show your appreciation.”

“For what?”

“Me suffering through the third degree with your brother on how last night went. Zane wanted details. All of them.”

Like the police showing up. He didn’t say it, but that’s what he meant. And she’d forgotten about that...

Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. She hadn’t forgotten really. It was just that watching police snoop through her shop for a bogus drug dealing tip had actually fallen down her worry list behind the stalker, the competition and Josh’s four messages.

Trish asked, “What’d you tell Zane?”

“That you managed to look elegant and professional at the same time last night.”

She refused to let him slide inside her defenses with his smooth charm. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

He took a step closer. “You mean did I rat you out on the police visit? No.”

When he put it like that, she did sort of owe him, dammit.

But what if the stalker saw her with Josh and targeted him?

On the other hand, what if Zane found out about the police being sent to her shop for drugs? Zane would show up and suffocate her with round-the-clock protection.

And wouldn’t that go over big with the stupid stalker?

The stalker had probably sent the police to her shop to punish her for going to see Zane. A second warning might not be as benign.

Keeping Zane away from ReSolution was paramount, second only to keeping him away from her, period.

The longer she stood here arguing, the less time she had to contact Leanne without chancing Zane’s being nearby when Trish called.

Josh had found the perfect way to manipulate her into dinner. Would he really keep his hands and lips to himself if they went for a walk on the beach?

Do you really want him to?

That had to be her hormones talking. Mouthy bunch.

She finally said, “Okay. What time do you want to go?”

He muttered, “I asked you to dinner. Not to clean my apartment.”’

Agreeing wasn’t enough for Super Stud? He expected enthusiasm, too? She gave smiling her best effort. “Sorry. Long day. Dinner sounds wonderful.”

The look he gave her said she hadn’t convinced him, but he let it pass. “I’ll pick you up here at six.” His gaze ran over her and paused at her face. He reached up and touched her hair, toying with the curls. “You don’t mind the top down on my car do you?”

His finger moved from her hair to her neck where he stroked lightly down the side of it.

She hadn’t known a straight line of nerves ran from her neck to her breasts, but her nipples puckered. Breathing became difficult. Thinking was even more taxing. “Um...”

When his fingers slipped around under her chin and lifted gently, he leaned down.

Her lips parted. Her body ached, waiting for more of his touch. Just as he got close enough to kiss her, he moved his mouth to the side and kissed her cheek. His voice came out low and rough. “Don’t even think about standing me up. See you at six.”

With that threat hanging in the air, he walked out of the shop.

Trish stood there, trying to regain control of her body that was on high alert for sex and wanted to send her after Josh like a heat-seeking missile. She had to find some way to discourage him from any more dates.

Because he had mistake written all over him. She liked being with Josh, loved the way he kissed and the feel of his hands. But he was leaving in two weeks and, if that wasn’t deterrent enough, he was with the task force. She loved her brother, but she didn’t want someone who had to keep what he did a secret. She wanted a man who would share his world with her.

Nothing good could come of her and Josh getting to know each other better.

But right now, she was running out of time to line up a celebrity collector for the television show. She hurried to the sales desk where she grabbed her cell phone to text a message asking Leanne if she had time to talk about something confidential today.

Leanne sent back that she had a window of time at quarter after four if Trish wanted to come down then. Trish started to send back that she’d rather talk by phone, but considering that Leanne worked for the DEA and her father was a politician, Leanne might hesitate to answer Trish’s questions over a cell phone about how to reach a senator.

She sent another text asking when Zane would be back and Leanne replied that she didn’t expect him until five-thirty.

That was plenty of time. Trish confirmed the meeting.

And prayed that Zane did not return to his office before Trish left. She had to declare her celebrity guest by six today or forfeit her position.

Leanne would help her. Had to. If Xavier got the television position, Trish’s chances of keeping ReSolution out of Big Charlie’s hands wouldn’t be worth calculating. She could not lose this shop. This was the reason she got up every day and fought her demons.

Thinking of demons, she thought again about the stalker.

Her fingers trembled when she ran them through her hair. Would the stalker know that Zane wasn’t in the office?