Nowhere Safe

CHAPTER 7



The bell above Trish’s head jingled when she entered ReSolution. Her eclectic gallery was located on Las Olas Boulevard and carried new art and high-end antiques.

Her pride and joy.

Heavy brocade curtains draped the windows, and classical music played softly in the background, welcoming the customer to browse. Hundred-year-old Persian rugs covered the restored, salvaged wood floor she’d had installed to give patrons the feeling of entering an estate home.

She loved this place, but she was still so shaken by that last note from her stalker that she couldn’t relax into the ambience she’d created with so much care.

Unlike most upscale antique shops, ReSolution had a unique look with select contemporary art mixed in with the classic furnishings. Individual areas of the six-thousand-square-foot shop had been decorated to replicate intimate rooms.

When she’d been in her teens, Trish had envisioned a shop of her own that looked just this way.

That was before she’d lost both parents in one day and learned soon after that she’d been nothing more than a mistake to them. Unlike the son born nine years before her, Trish had been an unexpected inconvenience and a burden.

The dark years had followed.

And those years are behind you now.

For the first time since then, she had a group of people who sincerely cared about her, a chance to prove she belonged, and that she could turn her passion into a viable business.

That she had value.

The door had barely dinged closed behind Trish when a hunched-over, craggy old woman waddled toward her, kept moving and exited without so much as a glance.

Trish suppressed the urge to stick out her tongue. She’d waited on the obstinate woman several times and should be used to the old biddy’s cool disposition, but getting rebuffed still bothered her.

“Hey, over here,” a female voice called to her.

Trish followed the sound to where she found her best friend, Heidi Hildegard, squatted at the rear of the store next to a two-foot-square cardboard box. A compact female with bangles on her narrow wrists and a pointy nose, she had a genuine smile that made everyone want to be her friend. In one ring-covered hand Heidi held up an ultramarine-blue glass dish inlaid with brilliant dichroic slashes.

“You killed it on your last buying trip to Atlanta. This fused glass from that Peachtree City artist is exceptional.” Heidi grinned, her nose and eyebrow rings sparkling along with her personality.

“Yeah, Gail Jensen’s work is terrific. It’s a perfect compliment to our Art Nouveau room.”

Bam. Smash. Bam. Trish jumped and jerked her head up at the racket echoing from the back room.

“That’s Bunko,” Heidi said. You told him to start on the shelves today, remember?” She watched Trish with hawk eyes.

That’s right. Bunko. The twenty-six-year-old man Trish and Heidi had met at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting who was working hard to change his life. Trish had been giving him part-time hours, but he came early and stayed late more often than not.

She ran shaky fingers through her hair. Settle down or Heidi will see through your everything-is-fine pretense. Trish hid her nervous fingers inside folded arms. No chewing on her nails.

That only left screaming at the top of her lungs.

Or Arnie’s suggestion for stress relief–getting in a ring and kicking someone’s butt. Primitive, but it usually worked.

Since neither was an option, Trish cleared her throat. “Right. I forgot. Too many things on my mind.”

“Are you okay? Seem a little edgy lately.” Business partner, friend and housemate, Heidi also qualified as sister. They’d met when Trish had tried AA on and off during her earlier, bleak years. When Heidi emerged into the light, she’d grabbed Trish’s hand, refusing to leave her behind.

Only a real friend would have held on when Trish kept losing her grip and falling backwards. She owed her life to Heidi.

Heidi, Zane, Angel...Trish would never let one of them down again. They loved her and deserved her best.

Frowning, Heidi placed the glass dish back in the box and stood. “What gives, Trish? I heard you moving around downstairs in the wee hours last night. You having trouble sleeping?”

“I’m fine, Sug.” First Zane, now Heidi, who would tell Zane the minute she sniffed a problem. And finding a note stabbed with a butcher knife on a cutting board inside her kitchen qualified as a problem.

Thankfully, the original owners had built the second floor as an entirely separate living area accessed by steps up the side of the house, so Heidi was safe from Trish’s unwanted company.

No one in their neighborhood ever complained about theft or vandalism. One reason she’d chosen the older subdivision. But now she had to put “security system” on her list of things to do and people to contact.

Or would that upset her stalker?

ReSolution had been protected from day one. A basic security system that alerted the police if someone broke in or a fire erupted. God forbid.

Heidi had that I’m-not-buying-it look.

Trish told her, “It’s just been a sucky day with having to drive into Miami on top of everything else going on. And after I got there I argued with Zane.”

Heidi’s eyebrows arched together like a drifting seagull. “What’s bugging him?”

“He can’t make the Treasured Past banquet tonight.”

“Are you serious? Why can’t he go? Doesn’t he realize how big a deal this is for you?”

Always her champion. “He does, but Angel’s sick with a cold and barely getting around. She needs his help. Poor thing. She can’t take anything for the cold because of the baby. And that was no problem, because I want him to stay home and fuss over her, but he got pissy when I refused to take someone else in his place.”

“You won’t be alone. I’ll be there.”

“I told him that, but you know how he is when it comes to women. He better not send someone to act like a bodyguard.” Or her brother would land on the top of her butts-to-be-kicked list.

“He loves you.”

Yes, but his hovering didn’t make Trish’s life any easier right now. Just the opposite. “He’s smothering me,” she grumbled, then admitted, “My fault. With my track record, I don’t blame him, but–”

Heidi got all cranky. “Don’t even go there, Trish. Your track record has rocked the charts for seven solid months. Today is what counts.” Her face twisted with a scowl. “Be glad you aren’t stuck with Gunter tonight. Ugh.”

Trish should feel guilty since she was the one who’d convinced Heidi to take Gunter so he could attend. Gunter’s antiques emporium had been top notch, in its day. But he’d been in business since the eighties and had allowed his inventory to turn into a mix of antiques and junk. She had a soft place for the grumpy guy because he’d been the first merchant to introduce himself when she opened her shop. Always interested in how she was doing, he’d made it abundantly clear he wanted to go to the banquet tonight.

Trish appreciated Heidi’s sacrifice. “You’ll keep Olivia off his back. She won’t pay for a ticket, but with her contacts she’ll worm her way into the banquet.”

“Gunter only agreed to go with me because you were taking Zane. You know he’d rather be with you. He’s not my idea of a hot date. We’re like a match made in outer space. Olivia could have him if she was anything like you.”

Barely over five feet tall, Heidi made up for what she termed her boring lack of height with spiked platinum hair, four-inch elevator heels and an exposed, pierced navel. Compared to Gunter’s reserved suits and old world ways, she was a thrill ride and he was the cart pulled by a donkey.

“Gunter and I are friends,” Trish replied. She tolerated Gunter’s occasional abrupt attitude, because he offered business expertise. Not that she could use a lot of his outdated suggestions. But she had so few friends that she appreciated the ones she did have. “He’s not a bad guy, but even if he wasn’t way older than me—”

“And creepy,” Heidi added.

“Reserved. Not creepy. Anyhow, I’m not getting involved with any of the retailers.”

“Like being a retailer makes any difference?” Heidi’s face broke into one of comic disbelief. “You turn down all men. I can understand business associates, but what’s your excuse for the rest of the men in the world? And don’t feed me that I’m-too-busy BS. I’d have made time for the hunk who bought the music box for his mother last week.”

Clank—clank—clank.

Trish flinched at the vibrating wall behind the register. Bunko claimed he’d been a carpenter at one time. She hoped so. “I can’t date yet.”

“Not true. You shouldn’t get involved. You can have a life and have dinner with someone.”

Shaking her head, she had to make Heidi understand. “I can’t trust my instincts yet, sober or otherwise. Shoot, I was interested in a guy I met today who would be the worst possible choice.”

“What guy?”

“Some blond Adonis with the task force. Decked out in Armani.” The setup Zane had tried to force wasn’t a date, but Trish’s hormones had been way too interested. One evening with a flashy Super Stud like that one today would be the first step in losing all her tomorrows. “You’ll love this. He’s the one Zane wanted to send as my escort tonight.”

“No kidding? Zane was going to hook you up with some hunk? Did he have a lobotomy?” Then Heidi paused and waggled her eyebrows. “But, if Zane likes him and he’s that hot...”

“Zane sent me a text after I left telling me I was being unreasonable, because the guy was like my friend Brendan. Translation–gay. That explains why Zane was okay with it.”

Trish wouldn’t have bet on Josh’s being gay and she still had a hard time believing it. But Zane said he’d gotten the info from Leanne. Must have been what she’d whispered to Zane in the office right after Josh offered to play escort.

“Oh.” Heidi looked more disappointed than Trish had felt on hearing that news. Her friend squinted in confusion. “If that’s the case, why’d you say no?”

“I didn’t know he was gay at the time, but even so, something about him bugged me.” Like how he’d practically melted her panties off by just leaning over her in the elevator.

“He’s loony?” Heidi asked.

“No.”

“Sadistic vibes?”

“No.”

“Too feminine.”

Not even. “No. If anything, he doesn’t seem gay at all.”

Bunko walked out of the back room wearing baggy jeans and an orange Hooters T-shirt. A tribal band tattoo circled the upper part of his thick left bicep. His right arm was sleeved in tattoo art. Shaggy brown hair fell in his eyes.

He asked, “Who doesn’t seem gay?”

Heidi took one look at what Bunko had in his hand and huffed, “What are you doing with Trish’s letter opener?”

“Needed something to open a package of screws.”

She snatched it from him. “This thing is over eighty years old and it’s fragile even if it is brass. It’s not a freakin’ carpentry tool.”

Trish appreciated Heidi’s concern, but the letter opener’s greatest value was sentimental. The desk tool had been a gift from the woman who’d mentored Trish. One of the first professionals to see Trish’s abilities when she was a teen. Poor Bunko hadn’t meant any harm. “It’s not like he hurt it, Sugar.”

“I was careful with it, Trish,” Bunko said in his defense and immediately turned the attention away from him with, “So who’s not gay?”

Heidi handed the desk tool to Trish and explained, “Some hot guy Zane wants to send with Trish tonight because Zane can’t make it. But she won’t even consider him for a date even though he’s gay.”

“That’s not fair,” Trish argued.

“You’d go with Brendan, right?”

“Of course.”

“But you won’t go out with someone Brendan would date?” Heidi asked.

“That’s screwed-up logic, Heidi.”

Bunko squinted one eye. “You lost me with that.” He said to Trish, “Didn’t think you were dating until you got your one-year AA program coin.”

“I’m not.” Trish grinned. “See? Bunko understands.”

Heidi turned on him with an exaggerated sigh and calmly said, “Those are guidelines. Every woman finds her way at her own pace. Trish has made amazing progress.”

Bunko scrunched his shoulders in retreat, mumbling, “Excuse the hell out of me.”

The only answer he got from Heidi was a smirk, then she wheeled fierce determination on Trish. “As I was saying, you’re nothing like the woman you were eight months ago. No harm in dinner with a nice guy. I don’t want you going from alcoholic to workaholic.”

Trish cringed at being called any “aholic” even though it was the blunt truth. Addicts often shifted from one drug to another when trying to go sober, and those addictions sometimes included work, religion, or relationships. Her friend wasn’t saying that to slam her, just being honest–a key to beating the liquid demon. Heidi loved her like a sister, but never sugarcoated the truth.

And that was why Trish trusted anything out of Heidi’s mouth.

“What if I pick the wrong one?” Trish argued. Wrong had been the operative word in her selection of men in the past.

“You won’t. I know you and I know what you’re capable of and what you’ve had to do to get to where you are today.”

Heidi’s strong declaration lit a glow of pride. Trish hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about how far she’d come. Not when she’d worked to get here by making it through one day at a time.

Some days the battle was fought hourly.

Training with Arnie had been a tremendous confidence builder, but Trish still had those moments when alcohol called to her. Like this morning after her most recent stalker contact.

But she hadn’t stopped by the bar she knew would be open in the early hours. She’d wanted that drink, but she’d kept the urge locked down.

Hold onto that strength. Trish told Heidi, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sugar, but I think I’ll stick to my plan. My life’s much simpler without men cluttering it up.”

The doorbell dinged.

Heidi and Bunko looked past Trish toward the front of the store.

Heidi’s eyes rounded in surprise and Bunko squinted darkly at the new customer, then he caught Heidi’s reaction and frowned.

That should have been enough warning, but Trish still wasn’t prepared to turn around and find Josh–she didn’t even know his last name–standing inside ReSolution.

She did not want to face him again. Not after refusing his offer to escort her tonight.

Did that stop him from walking toward her? No. “I can’t believe he’s here.”

“Any chance that’s the Adonis from Zane’s office?” Heidi asked in a soft voice.

“That’s him.”

Heidi whispered, “You turned that down?”

“Yes.”

Bunko snickered. “He’s gay.”

Trish said under her breath, “Are you sure?”

Heidi made a disgusted noise. “No, he’s not. That’s what all guys say about men who could be Chippendales dancers.”

“They’re all gay, too,” Bunko said, dead serious.

“Some gay men are bisexual,” Heidi murmured.

Trish hadn’t considered that. “Do you think–”

“Who knows,” Heidi answered with a sigh. “But that means there’s hope.”

Bunko emitted a growling noise. “Women.”

Josh stopped several feet short of the trio. “Can we talk, Trish?”

“I’m really busy, Mr...”

“Robertson, but you can call me Josh.”

“And you can call me Patricia.”

That evidently amused him, but he ignored her, saying, “Won’t take but a few minutes, Patricia.” His swept an admiring glance around the room. “Nice shop you have. Quality selection.”

She didn’t know what to do with him yet and couldn’t get herself to think of him as Mr. Robertson when the name Josh had imprinted on her brain along with Gorgeous, Super Stud, and the smell of his cologne. But he didn’t need to know that. To buy a moment, she offered in a cheerful voice, “Why don’t you take a look around and I’ll be with you in a bit.”

His gaze whipped back to her and hung there, clearly assessing her offer before he said, “You won’t run out the back door the minute I turn around will you?”

“Run? From a man? No.”

He nodded with approval. “Sneaking out doesn’t fit the woman your brother spent twenty minutes telling me about after you rushed out of the downtown office.”

Zane had bent Super Stud’s ear about her? This was not going to end the way she hoped. “What did my brother tell you?”

“He bragged about how you’re a savvy businesswoman who faces challenges head on.” Josh paused, letting that declaration settle in the silence.

I’d rather beat my thumb with a hammer than make my brother look bad. She’d deal with Josh, but on her terms. Trish told Bunko, “Please show Mr. Robertson the shop and answer any questions he has.”

Bunko nodded, “You got it, boss.”

Josh gave a long, drawn out sigh that had clearly been for her benefit.

As the two men strolled off, Bunko asked Josh in a conspiratorial voice that carried, “Are you bisexual?”

Super Stud shot back, “Hell no.”

“Just checking.” Bunko slowed his steps and swung around to wink at Heidi then caught up to Josh and started pointing out prime pieces.

Trish closed her eyes. She prayed to be struck by lightning and fried to a crisp. That was the only way she could exit with any dignity. “I can’t believe Bunko did that.”

“That’s our Bunko.” Heidi sighed her agreement. “Not one to mince his words or beat around the bush. What a shame about the Adonis.”

“No kidding.” Trish caught herself before she licked her lips at the to-die-for view of Josh walking away. His shirt was taut across shoulders that looked even wider from the back. Her gaze kept traveling down to a great butt and long legs she bet were just as muscular as the rest of him. She ran her hand along her neck and collarbone where her skin felt hot all of a sudden. Gay? Life was not fair.

With her attention locked on the men walking around, Heidi said, “Brendan’s available. You’ll make his year, maybe even his millennium, if you introduce him to that hunk.”

Trish blew out a disgusted breath. “There is that.”

She should be happy about telling Brendan she had a smokin’ blind date for him. And she would be. She’d be elated about that, once she got over this unreasonable sense of disappointment, which made no sense if she didn’t want to go out with Josh in the first place.

And there was the heart of the lie.

She did want to go out with him. She’d spent what felt like forever content to be alone...until now. Maybe Heidi was right about going out again. Just not with someone who sent her hormones into a power spin cycle.

But tonight she’d be safe from making a stupid mistake, because she’d be in the middle of five hundred people.

And Josh was gay.

Her body snorted at that, refusing to hear any input from her brain.

One thing was clear. It was time to cowgirl up and accept the inevitable. “I’m stuck with him tonight, aren’t I?”

“Yep.” Heidi nodded, her earrings jangling when she turned to Trish. “Unless you want to have Zane so stressed out that he’ll make Angel crazy. Or have you changed your mind about loaning Bunko your car?”

“No, I want Bunko to make his AA meeting tonight and I’m not going do that to Angel for anything. Might as well get this over with and go throw in the towel.” She had to be at the banquet early and Heidi had to stay to close up, which was why Trish had planned on Zane being her ride. Stalling, she asked, “Anything come up today or calls I need to know about?”

“Nothing pressing. Oh, before I forget.” Heidi stuck her hand in the back pocket of ragged jeans that hung low on her curvy hips. “I found an envelope addressed to you under the door this morning.”

Trish reached out to take it without looking, because the men were rounding a corner and Josh paused to stare at her. He lifted an eyebrow, questioning how long she was going to play this game.

Men. “I’ll go rescue Bunko so he can finish his work,” she told Heidi, then headed to deal with her...escort.

Bunko took note immediately, said something to Josh then passed Trish on his way to the rear of the store. He mouthed the words, told you.

The door jingled and a middle-aged couple entered. Heidi scooted to the front and greeted them, directing the couple in the opposite direction of Trish.

That left her to deal with Super Stud.

She still wasn’t clear on his interest in taking her to the banquet, especially if she wasn’t his flavor for a date. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to discuss tonight. Are you afraid of me?”

She hadn’t expected that. “No. Should I be?”

“No. So what reason could you possibly have for refusing to accept my offer to join you tonight?”

For one thing, just being seen with the walking definition of a hot guy would stir up talk about the old Trish who’d been partying with a few just like him around South Beach last year.

Okay, that was bullshit. Nobody cared.

Or more importantly, she shouldn’t care what those people thought. She had no reason for refusing Josh, not one she could share anyway, so she gave the only lie she could come up with on short notice. “I’ll be focused on other things besides a guest. I just didn’t want to inconvenience you.”

His lips curved with a smile that was so sexy she had to keep telling herself it wasn’t for her, just part of the Super Stud packaging. Those blue eyes captured her, pushing everything else from view. His deep voice came out rich as warm whiskey. “Why would it inconvenience me to spend the evening with a pretty woman?”

She didn’t fall for lines, but damn that was smooth. If he kept looking at her that way she was going to go up in flames. Fine. Done. “In that case, I accept, and I appreciate your company.”

See? She could be gracious.

He nodded and looked as if he’d finally closed a deal. “I’ll need your address to pick you up.”

True, but the devil in her didn’t care for the hint of victory once again in his gaze. As if she’d been easy. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You could be a serial killer.”

Josh glanced up at the ceiling in a show of strained patience then lowered his gaze back to her. “Negotiating peace talks between two hostile countries is easier than making plans with you.”

For some reason, she enjoyed poking at him. Smiling, she pulled Zane’s ticket out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Then you should be glad you only have to endure one negotiation.”

She’d intended to follow up with her street address then bid him goodbye, which might have happened if he hadn’t slipped the ticket into his pocket then taken a step toward her.

Surprised, she backed up and bumped into the hard rear wall of her newly acquired seventeenth century armoire that was two feet taller than she was. Her heart started thumping with the hard beat of a bongo drum.

Josh stopped just inside her personal space–way too close for her peace of mind–and studied her quietly. His blue eyes televised confusion and a bit of disappointment. “Thought you said you weren’t afraid of me.”

Oh, I’m not afraid of you, sugar, but I’m terrified by the way my body keeps breaking out pheromones for you. She put steel in her voice when she said, “I’m not.”

His sigh brushed gently across her senses as if he knew she’d lied, but not why. “You know, you might just enjoy yourself tonight if you’d let go of whatever preconceived notions you have about me. I can be a lot of fun, given a chance.”

Her breasts noticed how close he was and perked up to let him know he’d gotten their attention. They wanted fun. She inhaled, and his brisk cologne conjured thoughts of what that would smell like on hot skin.

Heat curled in her lower body, breathing life into parts she could not allow to run free.

She put a hand up on his chest. Oh, Mama, was he rock solid under that shirt or what? She’d never been attracted to Brendan like this. “I have no preconceived notions. But this evening is not about fun for me. It’s work. And speaking of work, I really need to get some done before I go home to dress.”

Josh covered her hand with his much larger one. “Your address.”

His touch might as well have been a topical drug, because she rattled off her street address without thinking about it twice and mumbled, “Pick me up at five.”

“I’ll be there.” He gave her fingers a little squeeze then released her and walked away.

She had to stand there until he left.

It took that long for her to trust her legs again. Good grief. What was wrong with her, getting all hot and bothered over a man who was probably laughing his backend off over the mind games he’d just played on her because she’d pissed him off with her initial rejection.

Something Brendan would do, just to prove a point.

Damn it.

People moved into Trish’s peripheral view. Heidi gave the couple a business card and a toothy grin as she finished telling them something before they stepped out the door.

Banging started up again in the back room.

Trish let out the breath she’d been straining to hold. She lifted her hand to brush hair off her brow and realized she still held the envelope Heidi had given her.

When she pulled it into view, a chill crept through her.

The banging continued, rattling the wall. A crash in the storage area sounded as though a picture frame had shattered against the concrete floor.

“Bunko, hey!” Heidi charged toward the back.

Trish ignored the damage and racket. She held another dove-gray envelope in her trembling hands. Fear was a lethal weapon when wielded properly, something the demented note writer understood very well.

She struggled to open the flap and pulled out the note.

I’ll see you tonight. I’ll be the one wearing the black lace panties from the top drawer of your oak lingerie chest. Watch for my next move.