Nowhere Safe

by Dianna Love

  I want to practice basketball slam-dunks with your head.

  There she was across the room, that backless silver gown drawing the attention of every male she passed and smoking the redhead, hands down.

  Polite smile in place, Trish paused to speak and shake hands, but her dark eyes swept back and forth as if searching for someone.

  Me? Not a chance. She’d obviously circled outside the banquet hall to come back in on the opposite side where she thought he wouldn’t see her. Josh had no intention of letting her avoid him.

  He moved in her direction.

  She melted into the human sea, but not out of sight.

  He tracked the head full of dark curls floating through the crowd. She zigzagged, stalling out next to the loud circle of men hovering near the bar.

  And that damned Ryder was angling a path toward Trish.

  Chapter 11

  “What’s it gonna take, missy? I’ve made you a reasonable offer for that dinky business you’re tryin’ to run.”

  Trish fought not to clench her fists. She wouldn’t give Big Charlie Larraby the satisfaction of knowing he could get to her. He’d already made two offers to buy her out.

  He wanted her location so he could take the spot next door, knock out a wall and make a huge antiques showroom.

  She’d burn ReSolution to the ground before she’d sell to him.

  “Which offer was that, Charlie?” Trish replied sweetly. “The pitiful one or the ridiculous one?”

  He had the good ol’ southern boy shtick down, considering Charlie had a business degree from Stanford and grew up in California. Of the four locations he owned in Houston, he’d picked up one from Mrs. Betta Bromley, the woman who had been Trish’s mentor during her teens. Mrs. Bromley had owned a premier gallery and auction house in Houston. She’d called Trish gifted and made her feel special for the first time in her life. She’d also taught Trish how to appraise fine antiques and how to spot a fake.

  And Mrs. Bromley had detested Big Charlie Larraby, because he’d preyed on anyone he considered weak. She admitted once to Trish that she’d acquired a rare piece Charlie wanted and that was the real reason he badgered Mrs. Bromley constantly to sell her business...for peanuts. When Trish’s mentor had a fatal heart attack, Big Charlie finally succeeded in his quest when clueless grandnieces and grandnephews were only too happy to sell Bromley’s Finest to him for a fraction of its value.

  Trish had no proof of wrongdoing, but she blamed Big Charlie for Mrs. Bromley’s heart attack and for shutting down Bromley’s Finest once he’d gutted the inventory.

  Now he wanted to steal ReSolution. Or did he just want to harass Trish?

  Could Charlie be stalking her?

  God, she hoped not. Just the thought of him being in her house, pawing through her lingerie to find her black lace panties was...she managed to not screw up her face into a disgusted grimace, but...ew. Besides, he’d always been an in-your-face opponent.

  Why would he change tactics now?

  She’d fought tougher battles and won. So far.

  Which only reminded her of how much she wanted a drink right now. Smooth bourbon. That had been her poison. She could smell it in the air.

  Charlie hefted his considerable bulk another inch higher and yanked on a belt buckle the size of her hand and snorted–a bull threatening to charge, but too lazy to make the effort. “Listen here, missy. I seen your place. You ain’t goin’ to make it past a year. We carry the same quality of furnishings as you, but a bigger inventory. Customers want choice. I have eighteen stores to your one. That buys credibility. I can afford national ad campaigns. That’s what it takes to survive on Las Olas. Sell it or lose it.”

  “Chuck, honey,” she said in a voice loaded with faux charm. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m here to stay. However, I do wish you luck with your endeavors.”

  She left him scowling behind her and walked away, only to encounter Olivia Dent next.

  Blow off the snake, land in front of an alley cat.

  Olivia cooed, “My, my, aren’t we the flashy one decked out in silver?” The sultry bleached-blond held a martini in one delicate hand with perfectly manicured blaze-red nails long enough to be claws–a fitting image for a feline in attack mode.

  “There is no we to it, Olivia. You’re the queen of flash. I’m just a pale second.” Trish smiled to make it sound real and waged a war not to roll her eyes when Olivia preened under the jaded compliment. The woman’s scarlet Oscar de la Renta gown cost more than a month’s lease payment for ReSolution.

  If Kellie hadn’t loaned Trish the sparkling gown she wore, she’d have come dressed in her usual business attire. When she’d first met Kellie at a Miami Businesswomen’s small business luncheon, Trish had been impressed by the spirited woman’s competence. But when the redhead had shown up in jeans with no makeup to pitch in at a women’s shelter where Trish also volunteered, they’d bonded instantly.

  “Yes, you are a pale second.” Olivia lifted her head, making it possible to actually look down her nose. The witch probably practiced that in front of mirrors. “I don’t know what Gunter sees in you.”

  “Maybe he enjoys being around a woman who treats him as a friend. You might try that.” Take that.

  Olivia’s gaze narrowed for an instant. Long enough to confirm a direct hit, but not deep enough to induce wrinkling.

  Screw her and the broom she rode in on.

  Trish smiled graciously and continued on to the bar, doing her best to walk as though her insides hadn’t dissolved into a mass of jelly.

  What had the stalker meant by watch for my next move?

  Please don’t ruin this for me.

  She was having a difficult enough time trying not to think about how close all that free alcohol was and how much she could use something to settle her nerves.

  The bartender poured two glasses of wine for a couple ahead of her. Trish eyed the top-shelf bourbon behind him and fought the urge to slide her tongue across her teeth. She pressed her fidgeting hands into fists against her thighs, closed her eyes and swallowed. One minute at a time, if that was what it took to beat the addiction monster.

  She could do this.

  “What will the lovely lady have?”

  Her eyes snapped open and she unfurled her fingers against her dress. Looking slowly to the left, she came face-to-face with a beaming Josh.

  “I can get my own, but thanks.” Trish moved up to the bar and requested her usual club soda with a lime. Once she had her drink and they moved away from the bar line, she wondered if Josh had figured out that she’d been avoiding him. If he was gay, she was misreading everything he said and the way he touched her. And it would explain why he’d backed off earlier.

  He could just be very affectionate.

  Every female cell in her body screamed NOT!

  “Hell of a party,” Josh said, his hand at the small of her back again. “Are you excited?”

  “I suppose. This has been going on for five weeks. Mostly I’d just like for it to be over,” she admitted. “I’m ready for the final decision.” Answering him would be easier if she didn’t quiver at the feel of his palm on her skin.

  “When will they make the final decision?”

  “Next week.” She didn’t want to be rude to him, especially when he was being so nice, but he was too freaking attractive in that tux for her peace of mind.

  Standing this close to all that hotness just confused her hormones and made her feel stupid for being attracted to him. Plus, Josh shouldn’t have to be stuck with her all night.

  Not when he could find someone he’d really enjoy.

  She moved away from his hand and turned to face him with a polite smile. “Thanks for coming here tonight to appease my brother, but you don’t have to hang out with me the whole time.”

  Something dark shifted in Josh’s gaze before he pulled his reaction under control and leaned close. “Are you going to do this all night?”

  “Do what?”

 
“Push me aside.”

  “I just thought you might like to, uh, meet other people, maybe find somebody you’d enjoy.”

  He clamped his lips shut. Muscles in his jaw flexed in and out. He lifted up, drew in a long, slow breath and let it out, then gave her a smile the wolf probably showed Little Red Riding Hood before he had her for dinner. “I came here to be with you tonight.”

  She had a hot flash when he said it that way, as if he wanted to be alone with her, and in that moment she wanted to find a place to be alone with him. Had to be nerves sending her hormones way beyond haywire around this guy. If she thought about it, Brendan would toy with her the same way if he didn’t know her and didn’t care. He was a flirt extraordinaire and he enjoyed women.

  Maybe Josh was no different. If she’d just loosen up and play along with Josh, she might have as good a time as she normally had with Brendan. “My apologies. I’m not trying to push you away. I was only letting you know I didn’t expect you to be at my side every second.”

  “No apology necessary. You’re keeping me on my toes. I must need the practice.” He broke out one of those high-wattage smiles and her body hummed in response.

  She’d once been a sucker for sweet talking guys with bedroom smiles who’d seduced her into making stupid choices.

  But she couldn’t blame Josh for what he was, or for going along with her brother’s setup.

  Nope. This crazy attraction was all hers and damned uncomfortable. Zane had probably assumed that because Josh was gay, he would be boring. She was not bored.

  Trish’s body was screaming out loud that Josh was not only lined up on her side of the straight-gay fifty-yard line, he was immediate touchdown material.

  There wasn’t a thing boring about that mouth of his when all she could think about was what he could do with it besides talking.

  Like kissing.

  Bad brain. Bad! Rebel hormones had cut off all oxygen supply in an attempt to overthrow her good sense.

  Josh took her by the elbow to lead her around the room. “Tell me why you’re doing this.”

  She floundered mentally until she realized he meant the competition, but his easy tone and slow pace relaxed her. “To fast track my reputation in the antiques appraisal community. It takes a long time to build a following and respect for your ability. I’m a little late out of the gate, but I do know what I’m doing.” She took a step toward a table filled with hors d’oeuvres.

  “Not doing this to be television star?”

  She snickered and turned to him. “No way. This is a behind-the-scenes opportunity, which suits me fine. I want to be the skill in the background, not a celebrity.”

  He gave her a thoughtful look, as though seeing her in a new light. “Their loss. You’re obviously talented if you’ve made it to this point in the competition, and far too striking to leave in the shadows.”

  A compliment without calling her cute. Her brain had to be turning to mush, because she could swear he was flirting with her. Her body thought so. All engines were on go.

  Where was Brendan when she needed someone to ask about Josh?

  She’d never had a thing for gay guys in the past. Her gaydar had been dead accurate. Faced with one of Brendan’s stunning friends, her hormones had flatlined.

  So why this tingling in her belly just from standing close to Josh? She hadn’t felt this way since she was a teenager.

  A man who ran a close second to him in the sexy department strolled toward them with a look of recognition that said he knew Josh. The tawny-haired guy might be thirty. He beamed a dazzling smile at her as he spoke to Josh. “Hey, buddy. Introduce me to this delicious creature.”

  She welcomed the interruption, but Josh didn’t appear happy to see his buddy. Josh muttered something like, “Again?” then introduced the new guy. “Trish Jackson meet Ryder Brown.”

  Ryder’s smile bumped up in intensity. “Definitely my pleasure, Miss Jackson. It is miss, right?” He offered his hand.

  “Yes. Nice to meet you.” She shook with Handsome Number Two who was clearly flirting and holding her hand longer than necessary, but she didn’t feel any more drawn to him than when Brendan teased her.

  “Let. Go. Ryder.”

  Ignoring Josh, Ryder said, “You have soft hands. Seems like there’s a saying, soft hands, soft heart.”

  She laughed at the blatant flirt and withdrew her hand before Josh’s gaze turned any darker. “Nice to meet you.”

  She considered the way Josh was snapping at Ryder and Ryder was laughing, practically busting Josh’s chops.

  Could this be Josh’s life partner? Maybe they were having a domestic squabble and that could be why Josh hadn’t wanted to mingle.

  Maybe her attraction to Josh wasn’t her fault.

  Maybe Josh was putting out mixed pheromone signals.

  A chemical imbalance. Not a clinical theory, but she was going with it. She asked Josh, “Are you two ... partners?”

  Ryder said, “Actually–”

  Josh snapped, “Not tonight.”

  What did that mean? She waited for Ryder to explain but instead he asked, “What happens this evening, Trish?”

  Why was Ryder here if he didn’t know what was going on? How had he gotten a ticket?

  She didn’t care and answered, “This is fanfare for the new Treasured Past television show. They’ve narrowed down the field to two females and two males from all those who’ve applied for a chance to be a consultant on the show. They’ll call us each up on stage tonight and give us our individual tasks. Sort of like a final test to determine which two they consider the best.”

  Ryder started to ask another question, but Josh cut in. “How do they choose the final two?”

  “We’re given an item from our area of expertise. We’ve been providing written appraisals of items for weeks now that will be compared, because first and foremost, a consultant has to be capable of assessing real value. Then it’s up to us to find an individual who is a private collector and convince that person to come on the show as a guest host.”

  “How much time are you given to find this guest host?”

  “Twenty-four hours to book a guest who has to come here next Monday for filming.”

  Ryder sounded enthusiastic when he said, “That sounds tough, but you must be damned good to have made it this far.”

  “We’ll see.” Trish pretended not to notice the glare Josh shoved at Ryder since Ryder ignored it. She explained, “The key is showing the producers who has resources and can bring in celebrity collectors. Finding an expert knowledgeable on unusual or rare antiques and artifacts is one thing, but a celebrity who can draw viewers is a challenge.”

  Crossing his arms and looking like he belonged in jeans and outdoors instead of a stiff party, Ryder asked, “Does the celebrity win money?”

  “Yes and no. The guests do engage in competition against pros, but in these first four pilot programs the money won will be awarded to the celebrity’s chosen charity.”

  “Do you know celebrities?” Josh asked, curious, not challenging.

  “I know collectors and some are celebrities, but I don’t know anyone well enough to pick up a phone so I’m a little apprehensive about that part,” Trish stated. “I mentored under a woman who taught me knowledge was more powerful than money. She was a brilliant businesswoman and knew everyone of consequence in this business.”

  Ryder was listening, but also tugging at his sleeves every so often. He didn’t wear a tux as comfortably as Josh did. Not that he was a slouch. Anything but. Ryder should be modeling clothes, but something rugged. Not evening wear.

  Nothing distracted Josh. He wore a tux with the ease of a second skin while still giving the impression that he would look extraordinary in anything. Jeans. Tattered shirt. Boxers.

  Ryder quipped, “Sounds like a reality show.”

  Trish had thought so, too, in the beginning and wouldn’t have signed up to do this if she hadn’t been given a nudge. “Sort of, but without all the drama.�
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  She sure hoped that was the case.

  On that point, her life had to stay drama free for any chance of being chosen for the show. She’d signed papers that clearly stated in heavy legalese that the show would boot anyone with negative press.

  Josh was speaking in a low, terse voice to Ryder. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  Ryder shook his head and continued smiling at Trish, clearly set on aggravating Josh. “Do you get anything besides a consulting contract if you win? A car? Vacation?”

  “I have an antiques shop on Las Olas. My name and business would be listed in the credits for each show, but the consultants receive a signing bonus, plus a major advertising package comes with winning a position. I’d have a thirty-second commercial spot played during each program, and one in the Good Morning Florida show for three months, plus a drive-time ad spot on three radio networks.” She’d be able to get her business off the ground and pay back what Zane and Angel had loaned her. “I’m working on my appraisal certification. All of this would help move me forward.”

  “Do you work with anyone international?” Ryder asked.

  That struck her as an odd question. “No. I’ll be happy to build a local and national clientele.”

  “But your expertise is in fifteenth century European history and antiques, right?”

  She couldn’t hide her surprise. “How’d you know that?”

  “Heard someone mention it. You’re a hot topic in this place.” Ryder boosted his rating with another smile and added, “I’m not familiar with that era. Maybe I could–”

  “Give it a rest, Ryder,” Josh finished for him. He leveled a threatening gaze at Ryder. “We won’t keep you from catching up with someone else.”

  Trish could practically feel the friction between these two and, for some reason, believed she was part of the problem. Eager to get away, she looked around and caught sight of Heidi in the area of their table. That gave her the perfect opportunity to scoot away without leaving Josh alone. He and Ryder could work out their issues on their own.

  Trish said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. I see my business manager.”

  She got six steps away before a warm hand touched her arm. Josh had caught up with her. His deep voice whispered close to her ear. “Not trying to get rid of me, again, are you?”