Silken Threats (4 page)

“You didn’t mention the hole in the floor, either.”

“It’s Mrs. B.’s building. As far as we know, it’s empty.”

“They were both omissions.”

“It wasn’t relevant to the questions.”

Panic bloomed, chasing away the light, airy butterflies he’d created with his smile.

She’d been questioned before. Remembered how it felt to have someone stare at you as if you were nothing. Or worse.

As if you’d done something to be ashamed of.

She’d lived through that once and she’d be damned if she was going to go under the microscope again.

Tucker leaned forward, his dark eyes urgent. “Can you honestly sit there and tell me you think a hidden, sealed hole in the concrete floor of your office is empty? That you’re not in danger and that whoever was in there once won’t try again?”

With swift efficiency, she bricked up her emotions. This wasn’t the same as before. No matter what they ended up discovering about the break-in and the concrete floor and even Mrs. B.’s attack, this would
never
be the same.

“It’s not my building. It’s not my business to say anything until we’ve spoken to Mrs. B. Besides, we’ve been there for nearly three years and nothing’s happened.”

“Yet someone came and ruined your things—
your
business—to make a point.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“By keeping the cops in the dark?” His big shoulders hunched, and he stood to pace. She watched the long, trim lines of his body and couldn’t help wondering what had suddenly spooked him.

“You’ve been my partner all day and suddenly you’re playing judge and jury. What gives?”

“This isn’t a joke. Someone with access to your building wants something inside of it. I’d think you’d take it a bit more seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously.” The shift from easygoing flirt to fierce protector caught her more off guard than she wanted to admit, and Cassidy heard the quaver in her voice. Swallowing hard, she firmed up her tone. “I just spent two hours with a cop taking it seriously.”

“Then prove it.”

“I don’t need to prove anything and I don’t appreciate round two of an afternoon interrogation. While I appreciate the partnership, this isn’t your problem. Violet, Lilah and I are more than capable of handling it.”

“Handling it?”

She knew sparks arced between them—could practically see them float in the air—but Cassidy held her ground. It was embarrassing enough to be treated like a criminal by the detective. She’d be damned if she was going to take it from the one person who’d been with her all day.

Before she could say another word, those same sparks thickened, then exploded in a rush.

Tucker had his hands on her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. Somewhere inside she knew she should protest that she’d be fine. That she could take care of herself. That she could deal with whatever the hell was going on.

But as those large, capable hands pulled her close, she had to admit that Tucker Buchanan might be a bit more than she could handle.

Chapter 4

T
ucker had no idea why her omission to the detective had him so riled, but now that it had, he couldn’t quite stop the raging need to touch her and assure himself she was whole.

Unspoiled.

He’d seen the destruction this morning in her shop. And he’d seen her corresponding fear, sharp and pointed in that bright blue gaze. Someone had violated her space and ruined her work. And then they’d found Mrs. Beauregard.

What had seemed like a run-of-the-mill break-in at her shop had morphed into something far more serious. A threat hovered around Cassidy and, by extension, her partners. For reasons he couldn’t name or begin to understand, that nameless, faceless danger had every instinct he possessed on high alert.

His gaze roamed over her face once more. Although that wild-eyed fear from earlier was nowhere in evidence, she had gone still, her gaze too bright as she anticipated his reaction.

Tucker gave himself that moment to simply look his fill. Her skin was so pale, a soft cream that spoke of elegance and refinement. His fingers gentle, he ran the pad of his thumb over the fine bones of her cheek. “You need to take this more seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously, but I want to give Mrs. B. a chance to explain what we found.” It was as though wisps of smoke curled around the edges of her voice, the register low and husky. “I owe her that much.”

Fascinated by the softness of her cheek, he skimmed his thumb toward her jawline, tracing the firm length. “Don’t you think she owes you the truth of why it’s there in the first place?”

The moment hovered between them, their bodies close even as their battle of wills kept them at an emotional distance.

“She’s an old woman. I hardly think she’s hiding secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets, Cassidy.” He shifted closer before bending his head to press his lips along the same path his thumb had traveled. The light sigh that floated between them encouraged him, and he ran his lips over her slightly open ones, capturing the end of that small exhalation with his mouth.

Her hesitance vanished, and suddenly she was as in the moment as he was as they explored each other. Her hands settled on his hips before tangling in the material of his shirt where it bunched at his waist, and she moved closer in his arms.

Their bodies flush, Tucker felt that age-old rush of satisfaction as she came to him.

And in mere moments, he had to admit to himself that he was lost. His role as frustrated he-man—not his usual style
at all
—faded as he went from actively aggressive to humbly enthralled. The slim woman in his arms had turned his attraction on its ear and now stood toe-to-toe with him, giving as good as she got.

Their mouths met and clashed with a fierce urgency that gripped them both, drove them both.

Destroyed them both.

Her soft lips were lush under his, begging him to drink his fill. But when she turned on him, taking his bottom lip between hers, Tucker knew a moment of such deep-seated weakness his knees nearly buckled.

Who was this woman?

Drawing back, he stared at her, dazzled by the fierce urgency that had consumed them, locking them in a moment rife with power and need.

A witchy little smile tinged those bee-stung lips. “You look surprised, Lancelot.”

“Lancelot?”

That smile broadened as she cocked her head. “You were the one with the white-knight complex this morning.”

“I’m not feeling very pure and honorable at the moment.”

“That makes two of us.” Her temptress’s smile shifted, gentled, as she released her hold on his waist. “But it doesn’t change the fact we don’t know each other very well.”

He knew he was staring, unable to look away from the vivid, bright woman standing before him. But he also knew she had secrets.

And some level of fear that ran deeper than even she likely understood.

Willing his raging blood to cool, Tucker took a step back of his own, seeking some sort of equilibrium in that extra degree of space.

“I can at least buy you dinner. You up for burgers?”

“A man after my own heart.”

A funny little tingle settled low in his gut at the mention of her heart, but he ignored it. Instead, he grabbed her hand—unable to
not
touch her after what they’d shared—and pulled her toward the door. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Cassidy snagged a crisp French fry, loaded with cheese, bacon and ranch dressing, and avoided a low moan as the combination passed her lips.

“These are good.” Tucker shoved about three fries to her one in his mouth, his head nodding as he chewed. “Really good.”

“Angry Dog makes one of the best burgers in town. And their cheese fries are to die for. I have to promise cleansings and salads for a week to even get Vi to consider this place.”

A lone eyebrow raised across the scarred wooden table. “Do I dare ask what’s involved in a cleansing?”

“Not if you want to enjoy that burger that’s about to be set in front of you.” Cassidy glanced at their waitress, who hovered over them with two plates loaded with juicy burgers and even more of those delicious golden French fries. Their waitress settled the plates, and Cassidy didn’t miss the appreciative glance the young woman gave Tucker.

Nor did she miss Tucker’s abstract smile when he nodded for another iced tea.

Cassidy waited a beat until the woman was out of earshot before she spoke. “I think you wounded her.”

“I’m sorry?” He glanced up from the ketchup bottle, confusion stamped clearly in his dark eyes.

“Our waitress. She was getting her flirt on and you seemed oblivious.”

“She wasn’t flirting. She asked me if I wanted a refill on my drink.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“She wasn’t flirting, and even if she was, I’m here with you. Why would I make eyes at her?”

Cassidy nearly fumbled her bun as she layered on her own spread of ketchup. Who was this man?

She’d been single longer than she wanted to admit, but even in her periods of active dating she’d struggled with men who seemed to have a wandering eye, always looking for something better to come along. Hell, even Robert had always acted like there was something better waiting around the corner.

And then he’d gone and proven it.

When she said nothing, Tucker pressed his point. “You look confused at my statement.”

“I’m not confused. Surprised, maybe, is a better word.”

“I’m full of them.” A cocky grin quirked his lips along with something else she couldn’t quite name.

Courtesy?

Humor?

Or maybe it was just another facet of that air of chivalry that seemed to hover around him like a cloak.

Either way, she couldn’t hide the fact that she found it appealing. Found
him
appealing.

“So tell me about your business.” Tucker split his attention between his juicy burger and her, and again Cassidy couldn’t quite fight the sense that he was unique. “Violet made a few comments about the business while we were cleaning up this morning but I didn’t get a full sense of your place.”

“We started Elegance and Lace several years ago, snagging jobs where we could. Violet’s always been an event planner and was working for a woman who can only be kindly referred to as a bitch.”

“Ow.”

“Exactly.” Cassidy nodded, remembering more than one round of after-work martinis that involved as many tears as anger-fueled words. “And Lilah did some time in a restaurant before going to work for a bakery and then doing her own stuff on the side where she could.”

“And you?”

“I’ve always designed but never thought I could make a career of it.”

“Why not?” Half his burger had vanished and she hadn’t even started on her own. Her uneaten dinner gave her a chance to hesitate for a moment as she figured out how best to answer his probing question.

Even as she worked through what she wanted to say, long-ago fights sprang up as fresh memories.

You’re meant to wear a wedding dress, not design them for spoiled socialites.

If you want a career so damn bad, the least you could do is invest in something worth your time. Law or banking instead of fripperies and lace.

My sister, down on her knees before Dallas’s brides, hemming their skirts.

“Cassidy?” The dim lighting inside the pub had turned Tucker’s eyes such a dark brown they were almost black. The color was rich and inviting, as were the small crinkles that bracketed his mouth in a smile. “You in there?”

“Yes. Sorry.” She fiddled with a fry before taking a deep breath. “Designing dresses was seen as a frivolous thing to do. In my family’s estimation.”

“Frivolous?”

“In the extreme. While waiting to marry well a woman should make herself useful by doing some staid, corporate thing like working at a bank. Then you’ll be sure to make enough money to squander it properly on a variety of items no one really needs.”

The words were out before she could pull them back. And where the
hell
had they come from?

She did okay for herself and had the benefit of pursuing something she loved at the same time. And she’d stopped worrying long ago about other people’s choices, even if they were her family.

So she had no small measure of surprise when Tucker bypassed the money comment completely.

“You would look cute in a button-down blouse and pencil skirt.” His gaze roamed over her face, and she felt the heat rising at the careful perusal. “But it doesn’t suit you.”

Surprise at his quick assessment banished the storm clouds that thoughts of her family always brought. “Most don’t agree.”

“Then they don’t see what I do.”

The urge to ask him what he meant rose up on the swiftest of feet, but before she could ask what he saw, he pressed on.

“So how’d you break free?”

“I designed on the side and got lucky.”

“Nothing wrong with a little luck. Especially when you’ve done all the prep work in advance.”

Flashes of silk and seed pearls drifted through her thoughts as she popped another fry in her mouth. Cassidy still wasn’t sure Violet hadn’t had a hand in things, despite her friend’s denials to this day, but Tucker was right about one thing.

She
had
been prepared.

“A girl I went to school with had to stop by my apartment to pick something up. My father had made a donation to a Junior League function and I had an envelope for her.”

“What exactly is Junior League? And do you graduate to senior varsity or something?”

“I keep forgetting you’re not from the South.”

“No, ma’am.” His grin was broad and she saw the mischief that had replaced concern in his gaze. “Which is why I walk around in a perpetual state of confusion every time I attempt polite conversation with a client.”

“Junior League is a charity organization, not a sporting event.”

“And here I pictured sweet, refined young women mud wrestling.”

She laughed at that, images of the women she’d grown up with rolling around in mud and ruining their perfectly manicured hair and nails.

“We only sling mud of the verbal kind, and even then, it’s rare. Most of the women I know are dedicated to the cause.”

“Be that as it may, I still don’t understand how that ties to a wedding dress.”

“It was a silly coincidence, nothing more. But Suzy had come for a check my father had made out for a table at an upcoming function and I said I’d get it to her. I had a dress I was making laid out on the dining-room table. I hadn’t even expected her to come in, but we’d started talking and she was excited about having gotten engaged the weekend before.”

“Decibel levels too high to keep the conversation in the hallway?”

His smile was broad, and she couldn’t quite fault him for the tease. In fact, she realized, back to her earlier thought, most men wouldn’t have even given the story another moment of their time, yet he seemed genuinely interested.

“Pretty much. So she comes in and sees the dress I was making and that was it. She demanded I design her wedding dress for her on the spot.”

“Off to the races, then.”

“Off to the races. It didn’t hurt that her spring wedding was one of the most covered in Dallas. Nor did it hurt that Violet was her wedding planner. It gave me a bit of street cred to get some interest in dresses from other brides, and gave us the experience to pitch for a small-business loan.”

“Funny that your father making a donation took you on a path away from a ‘proper’ life, especially if he didn’t support what you were doing.”

Tucker’s words were casual, his gaze focused on his last few fries, before he glanced back up at her. But way down deep in those dark depths, she saw just how serious he was.

They’d spent all day in each other’s company—a day full of any number of intense experiences, from danger to attraction—yet this moment seemed the most significant somehow. Because in that moment she
knew
, without a doubt, that Tucker Buchanan wasn’t casual. Or simple. Nor did he miss much.

And he fully understood the irony of seeing her success come out of the simple action of an unsupportive parent.

“He’s gotten over it.”

“Parents usually do. The bigger question is, have you?”

* * *

Josephine Beauregard came awake to dim lighting and the dull scent of antiseptic. She became aware of a steady beeping somewhere behind her head and tried to figure out where she was. Recognition hovered just out of her reach—like she should know where she was but was too happy floating in a sea of blissful ignorance.

Should she open her eyes? Wait...they were already open.

With a series of rapid blinks she tried to pull the room into focus but her pupils hadn’t adjusted fully to the darkened room.

She wanted to panic. Should she panic? But the blanket around her was warm and she felt an odd sense of safety surrounding her.

Blanket?

The question hit her, tunneling through her disorientation and the fierce edges of a headache she was slowly coming to realize she had.

Why did she have a blanket? It was Dallas in summertime and she hadn’t had a blanket wrapped around her since the freak ice storm they’d battled the previous March.