New danger in Dallas…and what one woman wants to keep hidden!

It started with a break-in. Now, after uncovering a priceless treasure hidden in the floor of her wedding catering business, Lilah Castle has a target on her back. A mastermind has made it clear that there are no limits to winning this game. As if that weren’t stressful enough, cool-eyed Detective Reed Graystone refuses to stray from her side and his reasons aren’t purely professional.

But when the increasing danger is linked to a dark secret from Lilah’s past, only Reed will be able to protect her—from peril and from herself. All Lilah has to do is trust him…before it’s too late.

He leaned toward her, his large body blocking out some of the light. She saw the small smile ghost his lips before he whispered against her ear. “Now I really do need to call Vice.”

“Why’s that?” She heard the breathy response and delighted in the raw emotion that coursed between them.

“You’ve clearly been a sugar pusher a lot longer than I realized.”

“I do have a lot of satisfied clients.”

His breath whispered over the shell of her ear before he ran his lips down the line of her jaw. “Besotted fools, just like me.”

As he finished the journey from ear to jaw, Lilah turned and met his lips with hers. The warmth of his mouth enveloped hers, the sweet moment punctuating a roller coaster of an evening.

And as she allowed the moments to swirl out like the finest threads of spun sugar, Lilah let loose on the tight reins of emotion she normally kept in check.

Here, in this moment, she was safe.

* * *

Be sure to check out the next books in the Dangerous in Dallas miniseries:

Danger and desire fill the hot Texas nights…

* * *

Dear Reader,

I’m excited to share the second book in my Dangerous in Dallas series with you: Tempting Target. Lilah Castle, is part of the trio that runs Elegance and Lace, one of Dallas’s premier wedding boutiques. Lilah struggles with the burned ashes of an abusive marriage. Now free, she’s not looking for love, and she’s certainly not looking for love with the surly (yet gorgeous!) detective assigned to their case, Reed Graystone.

I loved every minute of writing Reed and Lilah’s story. Reed’s as reluctant to get into a relationship as Lilah, so imagine his surprise when he suddenly finds the smell of sugar and vanilla an enticing aphrodisiac. As an author, I find it so enjoyable to take a mutually resistant hero and heroine, drop them into one situation after another and watch the sparks fly.

I also had a wonderful time revisiting the Design District, the setting for the series. The Design District is one of Dallas’s up-and-coming neighborhoods, and it’s great fun setting a book in an area I’ve been privileged to see flourish and grow over the last five to ten years.

I hope you’ll sit back and enjoy Lilah and Reed’s adventures. And, if you’re suddenly hungry for a cupcake by the end, don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Best,

Addison Fox

Tempting

Target

Addison Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ADDISON FOX is a Philadelphia girl transplanted to Dallas, Texas. Although her similarities to Grace Kelly stop at sharing the same place of birth, she’s often dreamed of marrying a prince and living along the Mediterranean.

In the meantime, she’s more than happy penning romance novels about two strong-willed and exciting people who deserve their happy-ever-after—after she makes them work so hard for it, of course. When she’s not writing, she can be found spending time with family and friends, reading or enjoying a glass of wine.

Find out more about Addison or contact her at her website—addisonfox.com—or catch up with her on Facebook (addisonfoxauthor) and Twitter (@addisonfox).

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For Carley

Purveyor of Dumbledore defenses, days of fun and the best damn cakes in Dallas.

Some family we’re fortunate to receive at birth and others we gather along the way.

I’m so blessed to be on the journey with you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

Extract from The Temptation of Dr. Colton by Karen Whiddon

Copyright

Chapter 1

“You hid a ruby in your shoe?”

If he weren’t increasingly irritated about that fact, Detective Reed Graystone would have found it amusing. Alluring. And strangely appealing. Especially since the woman currently storing a priceless gem in her pink Crocs was one of the most fascinating people he’d ever met.

Lilah Castle shrugged before slipping her foot back into her now-empty shoe. “I was going for diamonds but sometimes a gal’s gotta settle.”

“I don’t believe this.” Reed fought the urge to tug at the ends of his hair and watched—oddly helpless—as she picked up the bloodred stone and set it on her gleaming stainless-steel kitchen counter.

The ruby was roughly the size of a large summer strawberry. Red facets caught the light, the gem’s rich depths reflecting color back in a vivid display of nature’s power. A vibrant crimson reflected from the shiny surface of the counter, only adding to the ethereal glow of the piece.

Although large for a gemstone, the ruby and its two mates were, relatively speaking, small. They could be easily hidden in any number of places. Lilah had obviously suffered minimal discomfort with this one shoved in the toe of her shoe.

With a sharp glance around her industrial kitchen, he acknowledged she could have hidden it anywhere with no one the wiser. Sewn into the seam of her purse by her business partner, the seamstress. Effectively dropped into a file cabinet by her other partner, the wedding planner. She could have even left it in the bottom of the series of spatula containers that lined the wall of her kitchen and no one would know.

Who knew a wedding business had so many places to hide the precious and the priceless? Then again, who knew that these particular stones had lain in the floor of an old Dallas warehouse for nearly fifty years?

Half a freaking century.

Reed mentally shook his head at the improbability of that. Gemstones of immeasurable value and purported to hold a curse, hidden away in an old industrial concrete floor. Of course, improbable didn’t mean impossible.

Which brought them to today.

This case had surprisingly few answers so far for the three frightened yet determined proprietors—Lilah Castle and her two partners, Cassidy Tate and Violet Richardson.

Reed hated complications. He’d developed the distaste early—his childhood so full of them he’d lost count—and had determined he would avoid them like the proverbial plague of locusts when he grew up.

So how the hell was he caught up in the middle of a major mystery revolving around jewels gifted to the British Crown during World War Two and subsequently buried in the concrete floor of a Dallas warehouse?

It had been just over a week since Elegance and Lace had been first broken into. Five days since they’d discovered the rubies that the thieves had been after. Three since the architect, Tucker Buchanan, had saved his now-fiancée, Cassidy, from her deranged ex.

And two since Reed had glued himself to Lilah Castle.

Things had grown far more complicated than he ever could have imagined.

“You do realize you can’t keep them. This one or the ones your girlfriends have stored in safe-deposit boxes. Which, I might add, is where this one should be, too.”

“I know.” She shoved her hair behind her ear, a long pink streak twining through the blond like an invitation to touch what he instinctively knew would be silky-soft strands.

Pushing away the fanciful thoughts, his voice was a bit harder than he intended. “You sure?”

“Quite.”

“Because every time I look at you looking at that rock, I see stars in your eyes.”

“It is a priceless ruby.”

“Not nearly as priceless as your life.” As a loud shout drifted toward the kitchen, he gestured in the direction of the sounds coming from the other half of Lilah’s business, walled off from the kitchen to meet board of health codes. “All of your lives.”

“Which is why, until we figure out who’s behind this, we need to keep them safe.”

A small snort escaped his lips before he reached for a plate of chocolate-covered madeleines she had set out on the counter. He’d made no secret what he thought of their plan to keep the rubies hidden, but Reed also knew he needed to maintain the proper balance between cajoling and flat-out directing.

Their landlady owned the rubies free and clear and had put them in the care of the women for safe-keeping. Since they were hers to do with as she wished, he had no power to take the gems.

So instead, he’d stuck close, watching and waiting while the women tried to put their business back to rights and get on with their lives.

They might wish the problem had corrected itself but he knew whomever had struck, desperate to have the gems, was sure to have another go at it.

Lilah gave him the eye as he reached for another of her delicious cookies, the calculation clear in those brown depths. “You don’t like what we’re doing?”

“Hell no.” Reed eyed the madeleines, considered a third before he shoved a hand into his pocket. “The people who want those jewels mean business. And they’re not going to let anyone stand in their way.”

“The rubies give us leverage.”

“There is no leverage when you’re dead, Cupcake.”

* * *

Lilah waited for something to register—some fear at the deep, masculine voice that spoke at her, full of righteous frustration—but all she could manage was a delicious little shiver.

Despite the danger inherent in their situation and the threat that hung over them all, she still felt safe. Protected. And, if she were honest, she also felt that sly, subtle shiver of attraction that fired the blood every time she looked into those haunting gray eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes.

All because of the man standing opposite her.

Reed.

No, she mentally chided herself, it was Detective Graystone. Which really was the more professional way to think of him.

Lilah knew it bothered him she’d hung on to the ruby. His frustration had been on display multiple times since she and her business partners had found the gems buried in the concrete floor of their wedding business, yet he always maintained a professional demeanor and a polite attitude.

Which only made her want to muss him up.

She didn’t trust men who projected absolute control, yet she couldn’t deny the appeal of the stoic cop. Nor could she fully deny he was spot on with the rubies, one of which was still warm from her body heat.

A situation she knew she needed to fix, even as she couldn’t quite deny the need to keep the ruby in her possession. Yes, the stone fascinated her, the good detective wasn’t wrong about that. But it was something more.

She’d lived without any control—or a single bargaining chip—for too long. The idea of placing that control in a safe-deposit box nagged at her.

So while she battled the rational versus the instinctual, she kept the ruby buried in her shoe.

And despite their danger, she couldn’t deny how the stones had brought a sense of closure to her best friend, Cassidy.

Even more important, they’d brought with them the love of Cassidy’s life, Tucker Buchanan.

Another delicious shiver pulled her from the thoughts of Cassidy and Tucker as her gaze caught Reed’s. The man was an interesting one, she mused. Physically impressive, with a broad chest and narrow waist, he wore authority in every muscle and sinew of his body. But it was more than the physical.

Quiet, calm and decidedly by the book, he’d been assigned their case after the first break-in the week before. He’d been professional, and she, Cassidy and Violet had also seen how much he cared about his job.

Reed Graystone was a good cop.

It wove around his shoulders like a mantle, telegraphing his desire to protect and defend.

But none of it changed the ornery need to poke at him. Lilah knew it was no use to pick a fight but the tension of the past week had begun to fray everyone’s edges. So she stood her ground and allowed her eyebrows to take a decided lift north. “Cupcake? Is this the sort of sexist nickname you use with all the women in your life? Or is it some derogatory reference to my profession?”

Another cookie disappeared between his lips, followed by a wicked grin a few short moments later. “I’d never insult a woman who spins sugar into gold.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Tucker’s partner, Max Baldwin, with an empty plate in hand. He was as large as Reed—larger, actually, his figure thicker and boxy—and their impressive forms seemed to fill up her kitchen, making the vast space appear small. Max’s bright blue eyes narrowed as they roved over Reed. “Are there any more of these bacon cheese puffs, Lilah?”

She didn’t miss Reed’s raised eyebrows but the detective said nothing as she reached for a fresh tray of Max’s favorite appetizers she’d kept warming on top of the stove. “Of course I have more.” Barely. Lilah made a mental note to bake in greater quantities when Tucker and Max came over for lunch. When a second note quickly followed the first—make more madeleines for surprise visits from the detective—she swiftly pushed away cozy images of Reed Graystone regularly sitting in her industrial kitchen.

She scooped several more bacon-and-cheese-wrapped puff pastries onto the plate and passed them over to Max.

Although the casual talk of appetizers seemed silly relative to the problem they were still dealing with, Lilah knew the food helped provide a subtle sense of normalcy. Tucker and Max had spent several days with them after the destructive break-in to help fix the ruined display areas while also providing the simple reassurance of their presence. They’d also managed to subtly redesign those areas and Cassidy had been like a kid with candy as she rearranged several of her creations on a series of raised platforms.

A few treats were the least she could do.

Since the showdown a few days prior with Cassidy’s ex-fiancé, Robert Barrington, life had begun to return to normal. The need to look over shoulders or keep an eye on the large display windows that fronted their shop had begun to recede. So had the hard bundle of nerves that had settled deep in her stomach.

What they’d not yet decided was what to do about the rubies. Hence today’s visit from the good detective.

Reed’s eyebrows rose. “Jeez, Baldwin. Hungry?”

Max’s gaze drifted toward the depleted cookie plate and the smatter of crumbs on Reed’s black T-shirt. “Pot. Meet kettle.”

Cassidy’s new fiancé, Tucker, walked in. She might have half the building to herself, but Lilah didn’t think this room had seen this many men in one place since it was under construction.

“Did you seriously eat them all, Baldwin?” Tucker asked, looking at the empty plate on the counter.

Tucker’s tall form and sweet smile brought about her own grin. Cassidy had chosen well. Tucker Buchanan was a gentleman, in every sense of the word. He’d also protected Cassidy when the threat around the jewels had hit its worst, and Lilah knew they were crazy about each other.

She turned back to the stove and let her new reality settle over her once more.

There were men inside her business. In her kitchen, in fact. Large men who had seen violence and were equally capable of committing it.

That fact should have bothered her, yet they’d all made her feel safe.

Secure.

Max and Tucker were former military, part of the Army Corps of Engineers. She didn’t know all the details, but Cassidy had shared a bit of Tucker’s background and she knew his skills in architectural design were only rivaled by his ability to destroy architectural marvels.

As for Reed...

She hadn’t pegged his personality yet and she was usually very good when it came to reading others.

Usually.

Lilah shook off the old memories and focused on the matter at hand. She’d made a valiant attempt to read the detective over the past week and while she didn’t have all the answers, she couldn’t deny that he also made her feel safe.

His devotion to justice certainly went a long way toward cementing that feeling, but it was something more. Something hovering just out of reach. A sense, really, that Reed Graystone was more than the sum of his parts.

And there she had it. Where her business used to be full of estrogen and wedding talk, it had devolved into discussions centered on danger, decades-long deception and men who gave her moon eyes over her gooey, pork-infused pastries.

She wasn’t a fanciful woman—she’d lost that skill long ago—but even she wasn’t immune to that juxtaposition.

“Come on. Back in the main office so we can discuss finally getting back to normal.” She didn’t miss the matched looks of longing across all three men’s faces at the small scattering of appetizers on the warmed plate. “After, of course, I throw another batch in the oven.”

* * *

Reed snatched the last puff pastry—more to piss Max Baldwin off than any real hunger—and watched the byplay between the three women who had descended into his life like Dorothy in the middle of Oz.

While he didn’t quite feel as if he had a house on his head, he was increasingly concerned how his world had exploded in vivid Technicolor.

Speaking of color...

Lilah returned, now with a plate of desserts that drew a worshipful expression from Max, and set them down on an oversize coffee table in the main area of what Reed supposed was a bridal salon. A long wall of mirrors and elaborate-looking dressing rooms stood on the far wall and he had positioned himself in a very large velour chair in a shade of red that screamed brothel or a Louis of France. Fourteenth? Fifteenth? Who the hell knew.

Buchanan’s boxer, Bailey, watched with equally worshipful eyes until Lilah pulled a boiled soup bone from behind her back. Those solemn brown eyes nearly rolled into the back of his square head as she offered it to him.

If dogs could talk, Reed suspected he’d have heard a prayer of thanksgiving. As it were, the ugly—yet lovable—beast gently took the bone between his teeth and trotted toward a welcome mat near the front door.

The dog had lain near that door since all of them had assembled earlier, his devotion to his task only pulled away by the arrival of the food. While he didn’t consider himself a fanciful man, Reed could only think of the boxer’s behavior as sentinel duty.

He keyed in to the reassuring feel of his gun strapped to his ankle, but couldn’t deny the presence of the large dog offered a damn good bit of reassurance, as well.

He turned back to Lilah, color exploding before his eyes once more as he looked at her. It wasn’t simply the vivid pink streak that stood out in her blond hair, currently brushed behind her ear, but it was her.

The woman just transmitted pink in everything she was.

Her warm, rosy cheeks. A wide, generous mouth, with plump cherry-colored lips that had drawn his gaze more times than he could count. And her usual pair of thick pink plastic shoes that seemed her perpetual choice of footwear.

Even with her nondescript white baker’s coat and black slacks, when Reed looked at her he saw pink. The fact that he found that wash of color so enticing was only the latest surprise in a long line of them over the past few days.

“We need a plan to draw them out.”

Reed keyed back in to the discussion, his ears ringing with the mention of a plan. “I went along with you on this once but not again. You need to get those damn stones out of your possession.”

“We’ve been over this.” Lilah’s voice was quiet, her usual animation gone. “No one, not even the Dallas PD, will be able to protect all of us. And without the stones we don’t have any leverage.”

“And with them you’re all sitting ducks.” Reed was done pussyfooting around the argument. He understood the choice to hide the jewels. And while he didn’t have to like it, he also knew his jurisdiction to do anything about it was suspect.

But he’d be damned if he was going to sit there and let them talk about drawing out some criminal who was determined to get ahold of the find. Especially after their faceless enemy had proven how ruthless he was in his pursuit to acquire them.

The break-in that had started it all had devolved into a body dumped at the back door and an attempted kidnapping on Cassidy. Although they’d determined the responsible party for the body was Robert Barrington, Cassidy’s ex-fiancé, the man’s lack of history as one of Dallas’s criminal masterminds didn’t sit well with Reed.

Someone else was pulling the strings.

Reed took a cream puff and considered the rest of the players. Although he’d initially given Buchanan a second look, the man’s devotion to helping the women and his subsequent relationship with Cassidy had changed Reed’s mind.

Buchanan’s partner, Max Baldwin, was an interesting one. Stoic and stiff, he’d obviously come to understand the implications of taking possession of the stones after their discovery. And, in his remorse, had grown gruff and impatient as they worked through various scenarios.

Reed also hadn’t missed the byplay between Max and Violet. His career was all about observing people, and the two of them had something going on, even if it was just a massive case of verbal foreplay.

But none of it changed the fact Violet was mad Max accidently focused the mastermind’s attention onto the women. She was smart and sharp, but her every exchange with the man held decidedly tart edges and a layer of frustration that his impulsive act had put them in this position in the first place.

Reed rubbed the back of his neck, willing away the tension curled there. This was a case, nothing more. He had no right to be mad or frustrated with the three women who’d had their livelihood—and their lives—interrupted.

But nothing about this case had been easy or smooth and he was increasingly coming to care about what happened to this crew.

So here they were. Four days into an endlessly circulating argument that he hadn’t figured a way around.

The women had jewels that they were rightfully allowed to possess. Said jewels had a bad history and an even worse present. And none of them were willing to give them up.

Damn it.

He always knew how to figure his way around a problem. It was the Reed Graystone way of life. He was good at figuring his way around problems.

Cassidy’s phone ringing punctuated the tense silence and he saw the quick flash in her eyes that suggested she’d like to ignore it, before a reluctant sigh had her off the couch and headed for the hallway. Bailey glanced up at her with an adoring expression as she moved toward the back of the shop—another sign of just how in this together the women of Elegance and Lace and the men of Dragon Designs were.

Even the dog had adopted the women as his own.

Reed’s gaze drifted to Lilah and he fought the swell of attraction that always punctuated his interactions with her.

How had it come to this?

His thoughts had been consumed by a woman who lived and breathed pink and who perpetually smelled like vanilla frosting. And even if the vanilla was a side effect of her job as baker extraordinaire, the pink was just a flat-out choice.

He liked long, lithe women who dressed in all black and avoided commitment like the plague.

Instead, he’d found himself increasingly intrigued with a woman who looked like a cross between a guardian angel and a pixie with a Pepto-Bismol addiction.

Cassidy waved from the hallway, the dark expression on her face a match for the somber words she murmured over and over. “When? How? Who would do that?”

Tucker crossed to her, his arms around her as she continued to murmur in shocked surprise.

“What is it?” Violet spoke first as soon as Cassidy had hung up the phone.

“Robert was found dead. Out in an empty field near Fair Park.”

Robert, the ex-fiancé who’d tried to kidnap her.

“Murdered, more like.” The words were out before Reed could pull them back or soften the implication, and he was already reaching for his phone to contact the investigating officer.

Lilah spoke first, her vivid features going ashen with the question. “But wasn’t he in jail?”

“Which means whoever’s been behind all this got to him or managed to post bail for him.” Reed dropped his phone back into his pocket. The call could wait.

“Where the hell did he find a judge who would let him post bail?” Tucker’s anger exploded like a gunshot. “The bastard attempted premeditated murder.”

“That’s what I need to find out.”

* * *

Lilah busied herself in her kitchen, the long, sleek countertops shining like a homing beacon as she set out trays of ingredients. Cupcakes today, for a wedding shower in Highland Park, followed by a delivery of a luscious Italian crème cake for a ninetieth-birthday party. The grandmother of a happy bride they’d taken care of the previous spring.

It was a light day, relatively speaking, and Lilah thought she might work on a few designs for an upcoming holiday wedding. She’d tried several poinsettia designs in fondant and hadn’t yet settled on what she wanted.

Anything to keep her mind off the matter at hand.

Attempted kidnapping. Stolen jewels. Murder.

A hard shiver gripped her shoulders as she thought of Cassidy’s former fiancé. She’d never liked Robert Barrington, even if she’d never been exactly sure why, but she certainly had never wished the man dead.

Of course, that was before he’d attempted to kidnap and attack her best friend.

Lilah wrapped her arms around her midsection at the all-too-recent memory. She was deeply grateful Cassidy was okay, but knew her friend still had a long road ahead. Robert had almost gleefully shared the horrific news that Cassidy’s sister had been murdered by her husband years earlier.

Cassidy had worked so hard to move on from the loss of her sister. To have the truth revealed in such a callous manner only reinforced what an evil man Robert had truly been.

She fought off another shiver at the memories of her ex that always hovered just beneath the surface. The angry words. The dismissive statements. But when the statements had turned to fists...

“Fitzgerald shower?”

Cassidy’s statement pulled Lilah from her dark place, the memories skittering back into the shadows. “Yep.”

“Champagne frosting?”

“Of course.”

“Yum.” Cassidy ran a hand down Lilah’s back, the comforting gesture at odds with their casual words.

Lilah should have known her friend had seen the memories reflected in her eyes.

True to form, Cassidy hovered an extra moment—waiting—but when Lilah said nothing, she moved on, pouring a cup of coffee at the counter before refilling Lilah’s own mug. “I’d offer to help, but since a Betty Crocker box mix and Rice Krispies treats are the limits of my baking abilities, I’ll keep you company instead.”

“Never underestimate a woman who can microwave marshmallows.”

“It’s a gift.” Cassidy laid the coffee down.

“And the company’s always welcome.”

They drifted through odds and ends of conversation. An upcoming wedding they each had a role in. Violet’s latest report from the Design District’s last town hall, including a collective promise from the nearby businesses to help keep a closer watch. And a new boutique that had opened in Uptown that they wanted to do some advance recon on.

Normal. Comfortable. And deftly avoiding the elephant that sat on their chests like a lead weight.

“You didn’t stay on long with your mom last night.” Lilah disengaged the paddles from her hand mixer, scraping each with a spatula before giving them to Cassidy. She knew her friend and her pleading puppy-dog eyes were a match for Bailey’s. Cassidy let out a small sigh of contentment.

“No one’s batter tastes like yours.”

“Naturally.”

Lilah waited her own beat before pressing her point. “You haven’t told your mother what happened yet.”

“No.” Cassidy shook her head, her blue eyes going wide.

Lilah knew she wasn’t one to tell others how to make their family decisions, but, well, this was them. They were a unit and she’d be damned if she was going to keep her mouth shut.

The news of Robert Barrington’s death was one more confirmation that things were spiraling out of control. “You need to tell her. For her own protection, she and your father need to know.”

“She won’t keep it to herself.”

Lilah began to transfer the rich, cream-colored batter into cupcake trays. “Then we need to convince her why she has to. We’ll give her enough information to make her understand and keep the rest to ourselves.”

“She won’t. Not coming on the heels of the news about Leah.” Cassidy hesitated, her throat constricting as her eyes grew red at the rims. “I can’t tell her.”

“Then we’ll help you.”

Lilah kept her gaze focused on the neat, even rows of batter as the mixture filled each well of the muffin pan. She knew her friend struggled—from the close call with her ex to the even more startling revelation that her sister, Leah, was killed by her former brother-in-law.

The news had come as a shock—Robert’s confession coming as he attempted to kidnap Cassidy—and Reed had begun working that murder angle, as well. Not that he’d been willing to share much the night before, which had been the ostensible reason for his visit.

“You okay?”

Lilah glanced up from the pan. “Yeah, why?”

“You just looked really annoyed there for a minute.”

Willing that strange mix of frustration and intrigue over the stoic detective to stop messing with her focus, Lilah smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay. And I’m really glad Tucker is here.”

“Me, too.” Satisfied the telling moment had passed, Lilah shifted to the next pan and continued the precise deposits of batter.

“What did Robert get himself involved in?” Cassidy crossed to the sink and busied herself with rinsing off the beaters. “And how could I have been so oblivious?”

“You were in love.”

“No.” Her friend shook her head before turning at the sink. “I understand what it truly means to be in love now, and what I felt before wasn’t even close.”

“It doesn’t mean you didn’t have feelings. Or a basic belief that your fiancé was above theft, kidnapping and possible murder.”

Cassidy scrubbed at her cheeks, the tears fading in the bright morning sunlight that flooded the kitchen. “You sound so rational when you put it that way.”

“Because it is rational. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The words were honest—she meant each and every one—even as a tiny voice rose up and whispered what a hypocrite she was.

Not to mention terribly inept at taking her own advice.

“You’re right. I know you’re right. Maybe if I say it enough times I’ll believe it.”

“Don’t worry.” Lilah ran a spatula around the rim of the bowl, capturing the last bit of batter for the cupcakes. “Tucker’s hell-bent on convincing you. And what he misses, Vi and I can manage.”

“He’s surprisingly stubborn.” A tremulous smile tilted Cassidy’s lips. “Sort of like two friends I know.”

Lilah dropped the now-empty bowl into the sink, then gave Cassidy a quick squeeze. “Skills, we’ve got ʼem.”

“And you bake like an angel.” Cassidy’s arm wrapped tight around Lilah’s waist. “Is there no end to your talents?”

“Nope.”

Lilah reveled in the gentle affection, the love and comfort of her best friend going a long way toward banishing the dark memories that had accompanied her earlier.

Basking in the light of a pretty summer morning and the love of her best friend, she doggedly fought off the memories of a congenial man with the personality of a monster. The deception that lived behind a jovial wink and a knowing nod for the rest of the world.

She’d left that nightmare behind over four years ago, and there was no way in hell she was ever going back.

Chapter 2

Reed scanned the paperwork on the clipboard and tried to make sense of what he saw. A hastily scribbled signature at the bottom of official papers ensured one Robert Barrington was released from jail three days ago.

The printed name underneath the scrawl was no doubt fake, but Reed tapped it quickly into his phone before shoving it back into his pocket.

“Thanks, Gannon.”

The officer nodded, his face bright and eager, such a huge departure from the man he’d been a few years before. “Glad I could help.”

“How’s the baby?”

“Jade’s crawling already.” Gannon’s deep brown eyes sparkled brightly, a happy haze filling them up as he spoke about his daughter. A picture soon followed the words and Reed found himself oohing and aahing over a chubby little girl with mocha skin, eyes that matched her daddy’s and the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

Reed let Gannon talk—partly because he was happy for the man and partly because it was good to see his old friend engaged in life again—and smiled through a story of how the baby had managed to wedge herself behind the couch while learning to crawl. “She’s amazing.”

Reed could only nod his agreement. “Of course she is.”

He let the conversation run out naturally, ending it with a quick handshake before he headed out into the noon sun. August was blazing in full force and he briefly toyed with marching back into the office building and finding something else to work on.

He’d lived in Dallas his entire life. But even with thirty-two years of Texas summers under his belt, every time he thought he’d gotten used to the heat, about a million degrees rose up to slap him in the face.

Or give him a full body hug was more like it.

Reed slipped into his car, the quick blast of air from the vents keeping him company with his thoughts.

Thoughts that had taken a decidedly dark turn as images of three bloodred rubies rose up to edge out the heat.

He paid his way out of the downtown parking lot and then used his voice controls to call his partner.

“Jessie, it’s Reed. I need you to look up a name for me.”

He rattled off the spelling of the name Gannon had given him and the sound of tapping computer keys on the other end was audible.

“Okay, the computer’s searching. How’s Gannon doing?”

“Raving about his baby daughter with a smile that could rival a beauty queen’s.”

“I could eat that baby up with a spoon she’s so sweet.”

Reed didn’t know if he quite agreed with the analogy, but any attempt at protest faded as Jessie started in on a funny story about the three of them from high school. They’d both worried over their old friend and were happy to know Gannon’s return to civilian life from the service had begun to take a more positive turn.

He shook his head to himself at Jessie’s easy transition from cop to high school gossip. She wore one as simply as the other, and—oddly—both suited.

“Sasha and Jade are good for him. Real good.”

“That they are.”

The veteran’s organization they’d finally convinced Gannon to join had done its part, as well. An image of his friend and his wife filled Reed’s thoughts before morphing into an image of him and Lilah, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

And where the hell had that come from?

“You got anything yet, Jess?”

Her voice grew flat at his gruff bark. “Yes, bossy. It’s just coming up now.”

“Well?”

“That’s odd.” He heard her frowning through the phone before another round of key tapping, this time louder than the last.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t see any paperwork under that name. Nor do I even see any paperwork on a Robert Barrington.”

A hard clench fisted his stomach in knots and he reached for the roll of antacids he kept in a small well under the radio. “Jess, I just looked at the papers in Gannon’s hand.”

“Then we need to figure out who the hell processed Barrington, because nothing is here.”

* * *

Reed continued turning the paperwork issue over in his mind as he navigated the Design District. Jessie was already looking into who might have taken care of Barrington’s arrest and he’d decided to head back to Elegance and Lace.

The shop wasn’t that far from the jail and he mulled over the mystery of Robert Barrington’s life and death as the storefronts slowly morphed from fast food, dingy bars and bail bondsmen establishments into the more refined—yet still edgy—storefronts of antiques shops, design firms and newly built apartments.

The district sure as hell had come back. He remembered coming down here as a kid with his mother, her hunt through the endless design shops—open only to professionals—some of the longest days of his life.

She’d been a lone single mother back then, taking whatever job she could to keep them afloat, desperate to keep a roof over both their heads as she tried to get her design business off the ground.

Then she’d met Tripp Lange on the job while decorating his new home after divorce number two. Tripp had quickly tumbled into marriage number three, and Reed and his mother had moved from a small apartment in the suburbs to a mansion in the swankiest part of Dallas.

All things considered, Reed knew, things could have been far worse. Tripp wasn’t a bad guy. A bit of a caricature, with his oversize cigars and small sports car, but the man was fairly decent all the same.

Tripp had embraced Reed and his mother, and while he’d shown no interest in becoming a father again at fifty-two, he had provided a home and anything Reed could have asked for. And he’d made his mother happy, which had gone even further toward putting him in the good-guy camp.

The large windows of Elegance and Lace filled his view as he pulled into the street parking in front of Lilah’s store. The damage from a week earlier was nowhere in evidence, with mannequins covered in frothy wedding gowns back in their place of honor in the windows. Beyond that he could see the thick-cushioned couches that made up the seating area, and even farther back, Cassidy Tate was visible, carrying one of those frothy confections with the same delicate steps of the Dallas bomb squad.

Weddings.

He shook his head as he stepped out into the heat and headed into the store, a discreet security bell ringing to announce his arrival. He got marriage. And while he wasn’t anxious to dive headfirst into one, he got the idea of it all. That one person you were crazy enough about to link up with.

But a wedding?

Waste of money, as far as he could tell.

A dress you wore once. A cake someone slaved over for days. And an open bar and rich food you used to anesthetize your guests into some sort of zombie pack who danced to dopey songs, half of which the radio refused to still play.

“Detective.” Cassidy’s voice reached him over the dress in her arms as she caught sight of him from the hall. “Come on in.”

“Miss Tate?”

“Just give me a minute to put this down.” She ducked into what he knew to be a studio off the main hallway of the shop, full of all the things she used to cut, measure and sew dress after dress.

In moments she was back, dress-free, her gaze tense. “I saw that dark look on your face when you walked in. Everything okay?”

Reed glanced around her business and knew he needed to tread lightly. But his strange walk down memory lane over his mother and the odd thoughts that had gripped him as he looked up in the windows won out.

“I’m trying to figure out the appeal of a wedding.”

The tension vanished, fading away in the face of what she loved to do for a living. “You mean you’re not a fan of happily-ever-after?”

“The happy part, sure. Yeah. But the wedding part. I don’t get it.”

“It’s a celebration. A way to tell the world you’re in love and share that with the people you care about most.”

“Then why do couples fight over the guest list?” He distinctly remembered how Jessie had bitched for weeks about Dave’s family and how they’d upset several relatives who didn’t rate an invite.

“The fight’s just about the tension of the moment. People get over it. Plus—” she added a wink “—making up’s so much fun.”

Recognizing a lost cause, Reed shrugged and pointed toward the couches. “Do you mind if we talk for a few minutes? I do have some details on Barrington I’d like to ask you about.”

The warmth of her excitement faded. “I’d like Lilah to be here with me.”

“Sit down. I’ll go get her.”

* * *

Lilah smoothed another sheet of fondant, already envisioning the elaborate ivy that would rise up along the side of her latest project. The shade of green had come out perfect and the slender white lines she’d experimentally painted on a few of the leaves cut from the first sheet gave just the look she was going for.

Adrenaline kicked in her veins as the vision began its slow progression into reality and she danced toward her already-blaring docking station to switch from the always-kicky Donna Summer to some Aerosmith.

Steven Tyler’s voice had just screeched when she let out a screech of her own as a large hand settled on her shoulder.

Immediately, she swung out, her arm a hard arc against the muscled, solid chest behind her.

“Whoa!”

Fear and panic warred with confusion as Lilah twisted once more to see her attacker, reality pushing through the moment as the image of Reed Graystone registered in her mind.

He had backed up several feet and was already reaching for the music dock on the counter when she stopped, her heart racing like a Thoroughbred.

“What the hell are you doing?” His loud voice echoed even louder with the loss of music.

“What are you doing sneaking up on me?”

“I’m not sneaking! You were dancing like a manic fairy in here and I was trying to get your attention. I hollered your name about four times.”

“Oh.” Lilah stilled, the initial panic fading into a wash of embarrassment.

Which only managed to piss her off.

Her shoulders hunched and she mentally shook off the weight, standing straighter, even though her voice remained petulant and gruff when she spoke. “Why not just turn the music off, then? I regularly carry a knife in my hand. You should watch yourself, Detective.”

“So noted.” The light of battle still sparkled in his gray eyes, but she saw something else.

Concern.

“I need to talk to Cassidy about something and she’ll do better with someone with her.”

The lingering panic in her belly faded in full at the mention of her friend, along with that gentle awareness in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got some questions about Barrington. I also have an update.”

Lilah glanced at her workstation, then to Reed. “Give me a minute to cover everything and I’ll be right out.”

He followed her to the counter, his gaze on the work already laid out. “Those are gorgeous. They look like real leaves.”

“That’s sort of the point.”

“But I mean, really real. Like I could smell them if I were close enough. Are they edible?”

“Yep.”

“Can I try one?”

She lifted one of the already completed leaves with a small cake knife. “Take this and go. I’ll be right out.”

The leaf had already disappeared through his lips and Lilah struggled to hold back a smile at the grimace on his face. “It’s chewy.”

“It’s fondant.”

“Do people really like that?” That deep voice was still distinctive, even around a mouth full of gummy sugar.

“Some people do. And it makes for stunning decoration, which is why it’s one of the weapons in a baker’s arsenal.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He swallowed hard, then backed toward the door. “Speaking of weapons... Why don’t you do me a favor and leave the knives in here?”

Lilah watched him disappear through the kitchen entry into the main store. The urge to go to her friend was strong, but she gave herself a moment to give in to the equally strong urge to linger.

Every time she thought she had a handle on her reaction to Reed Graystone, the damn man showed up again and had her rethinking her position.

Nearly beating him up in the middle of her kitchen likely wasn’t lost on the good detective, either, Lilah suspected.

Ignoring the embarrassment, along with that small swirl of desire that flamed to life every time he showed up, she covered the leaves with plastic wrap and headed for the main salon.

No reason to keep the man waiting.

* * *

Lilah had known Cassidy Tate and Violet Richardson since the first day of college. The three of them had immediately bonded over their living space, their common interests and an innate ability to talk about anything and everything that struck their collective fancy.

So the wide-eyed friend who sat on the couch, her slender frame set in fragile lines, was a surprise.

Cassidy was many things, but delicate to the point of frail wasn’t it.

Lilah sat and took her hand before turning her attention fully on the detective. “What did you find out?”

“We’ve been looking into Robert Barrington’s background, especially who might have sprung for his bail.”

“His parents, I’m sure,” Cassidy said.

“I’m afraid not.”

Lilah listened to the details, shocked by the pervasive sense of something foul and malicious that filled Reed’s words. Paperwork they couldn’t quite find, signed off on by a nameless, faceless individual who had paid for Robert’s release.

All resulting in a second dead body in less than a week.

The fact they knew both of the deceased had only pushed the creep factor off the charts.

“So I need to ask you again, what knowledge do you have or could you possibly have on Robert Barrington?”

Fierce, protective urges rose up first at the leading question, stilled only when she caught the sincerity in Reed’s gaze. Measuring her words, Lilah kept her tone even. “We’ve been over this and over this. None of us had contact with Robert Barrington until he reappeared last week.”

“I understand that, but is it possible Cassidy’s former association with the man could lead to a few more strings to tug?”

“Tucker and I have discussed this, as well.” Cassidy offered up a tremulous smile before she leaned forward, her innate strength forcing itself to the surface. “And after I got over being mad at him for asking me basically the same question, I got to thinking.”

“And what conclusion did you come to?” Reed probed.

“There are connections and have been for a long time. How deep they run is the bigger question.”

Lilah sensed the shift in Cassidy’s demeanor before her friend took her hand, the grip of her fingers tight with support.

The whirling flash of panic that had come upon her in the kitchen returned in full force.

She knew that look.

It was pity veiled behind a layer of sympathy. She’d thought their relationship well past looks like that, but apparently she’d been wrong.

As wrong as thinking she could stay several steps ahead of her past.

“I think Lilah’s ex-husband, Steven DeWinter, might be the connection.”

Chapter 3

From the start, Reed had figured Lilah Castle for secrets. He made a living out of sizing up individuals with quick, precise impressions and using those impressions to figure out their true motives. He’d honed the skill young and he was good at it.

Damn good at it.

But over the past few days, he’d increasingly suspected the secrets Lilah carried held pain and abuse. The visceral shock that painted her pale face in deep, grooved lines only confirmed his instincts.

What he hadn’t counted on was the raw, pulsing fury that gripped him at the confirmation.

Shifting from his position on a plush, purple velvet chair, he took Lilah’s free side and pressed a hand to her back. “Breathe. Slowly in and out.”

He caught Cassidy’s gaze over the top of Lilah’s pink-and-blond hair, a world of acknowledgment in that one look before the same rough voice that greeted him in the kitchen barked back at him, “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are. So humor me by sitting still and taking a few deep breaths.”

The tense set of her shoulders never waned, but she did take the breaths as he’d asked. “Good. Nice and slow.”

She might have grudgingly taken the breaths, but there was no way he could miss her white-knuckled grip on Cassidy’s fingers.

But it was when her friend shifted her free hand to brush several strands of hair behind Lilah’s ear that Reed truly understood the bond between the two women. “I think it’s time we gave Detective Graystone a bit of background.”

“Like he can’t look it up if he wanted to.”

Cassidy ignored the continued gruff responses. “Oh, I don’t know. I think it might come better from you.”

He saw Lilah war with the truth of that statement as something strange worked itself into his chest. He wanted her to open up to him. Even more than that, he wanted her to believe she could trust him.

And as someone who’d spent his adult life around victims of violence, he knew trust was the very last thing Lilah Castle would ever give him.

With that fresh in his thoughts, he gave her space, returning to the gaudy chair. He kept his gaze level, focused on hers. “Cassidy’s right. I can look it up. But I’d rather hear it from you.”

The convivial baker who kept things light and breezy with a smart mouth and airy confections was nowhere in evidence as Lilah seemed to sink into herself. Even the pink streak in her hair seemed duller somehow. As if the color were a mood ring to its owner.

Ignoring the inane observation, Reed kept his focus on Lilah.

“I was married to Steven for almost two years. We met when I went to work in one of his restaurants.”

Reed nodded, encouraging her to continue. He knew the name DeWinter, but until she said restaurants, he hadn’t made the connection with the popular local restaurateur who had risen to near-stratospheric heights in the past few years.

“He was temperamental and moody and an amazing creator. His star was on the rise then and I was hooked. All that temperamental moodiness focused on me. Directed toward me. It was amazing and passionate and fiery and I fell for all of it.”

Reed would confirm the timing later, but based on what he knew of the women’s ages, he assumed Lilah was no more than twenty-two or twenty-three when the relationship took place. And while he knew no one was immune to a heady dose of passion, it was especially alluring at that age.

“There’s nothing wrong with caring for someone.”

“No.” She shook her head, her eyes dark with memories and pain. “But there is something wrong when you make excuses for the bastard every time that passionate moodiness turns dark and twisted.”

“Lilah—” Cassidy reached for her friend as if to pull her close, but Lilah was already up and off the couch.

“It’s a story as old as time and I fell for it. Bright-eyed innocent in love with an older man.”

Before either of them could stop her, Lilah was already down the back hall toward the kitchen, hollering over her shoulder, “The rest is in a nice fat juicy file at the Dallas PD. I suggest you look it up.”

Reed watched her go before he turned to Cassidy. “I’m sorry to have to dig underneath all this. I know it’s a sensitive subject.”

The slim redhead hesitated and Reed gave her the space. He knew her reluctance for what it was—loyalty to a friend—and he only admired her more for it.

“Sensitive. And incredibly raw, despite the passage of time.”

“I take it you haven’t shared your connection theory with her before.”

“No.” Cassidy shook her head. “I didn’t even put it together until Tucker and I were talking last night. And if you weren’t here, I’d likely have waited to bring it up until Violet was back and we could tell Lilah together.”

“What connection do you think there is?”

She cocked her head, interest sparking in her gaze. “You’re a Dallas native, aren’t you?”

“A dubious honor, but yes.”

“Then you know, for all its size, Dallas is a small town. Social circles overlap other social circles and all that.”

Not if you hopped circles.

Reed thought about his own childhood. The friends and life of his youth had absolutely nothing to do with the social circle cultivated for him after his mother remarried.

Brushing off the stubborn old memories, he forced his attention onto the present. “From Lilah’s comments it sounds like she met DeWinter after she went to work. I’m not making the connection with your broader social life.”

“Steven knew my late brother-in-law, Charlie.”

Seeing as how the man was still lying in the morgue, an image of Charlie McCallum rose easily in his mind. “By all accounts, DeWinter was a rising star and your brother-in-law wasn’t. What was the connection?”

Cassidy’s smile was gentle, but her voice remained flat. “It’s amazing how often wastrel behavior is excused on youth. It was only after Charlie married Leah and he maintained his inability to keep a job that we began to figure it out.”

“I still don’t follow the connection to Lilah and DeWinter.”

Cassidy shrugged. “It’s just one of those odd social-circle connections. Leah had already met Charlie and they were dating. Lilah was just out of school, working for DeWinter and crazy in love. I hadn’t met Robert yet but had heard his name mentioned a few times. And then one Friday afternoon on a rare day off for all of us, we made the connection over margaritas in Uptown.”

Reed ignored the irrational spurt of irritation at the idea of Lilah crazy in love and focused on Cassidy instead. “DeWinter and Charlie were friends?”

“Very distant cousins, actually. They had been distant as kids and then started hanging out together as they got older.”

Reed sat back, the plush velvet of his chair sucking him in just like the damn twists and turns of this case.

Who were these women?

And how was he ever going to get to the bottom of what was happening to them if the sands kept shifting?

* * *

Lilah had no interest in her fondant leaves, and after ruining half a tray with her distracted thoughts, she finally wrapped what was left and vowed to work on them later.

Lazy.

Incompetent.

Unwilling to give the work your all.

She shoved the tray into the fridge as the words looped through her mind, whip quick, and delivered in the deep male voice of her nightmares.

Steven.

Her hands fumbled over the edge of a carton of eggs as she grabbed the box, then a large container of heavy whipping cream. Still trembling, she set both on the counter and slammed the fridge door closed with her hip.

This was her kitchen. Hers.

She fought to remember that as the battle with her memories increasingly took over.

His criticisms had started in a kitchen. His kitchen.

She’d been surprised at first, hurt even, but she knew he ran his restaurant with an iron fist and had already observed how he spoke to the rest of the staff and crew. She certainly shouldn’t be immune because they were sleeping together.

So she’d worked harder. Come in earlier. Tried more elaborate creations.

And when she’d won an award as one of Dallas’s premier up-and-coming pastry chefs, Steven had exploded instead of being excited for her. He lamented her suddenly large head instead of focusing on the increased prestige that drove even more patrons into his restaurant, all determined to add several expensive desserts to their already-sizable dinner checks.

Still, she’d soldiered on. Their wedding was only a month away and their nerves were all frayed. The daily grind of the restaurant, his distracted focus with the new location he was opening across town and, of course, the four-hundred-person guest list would take a toll on anyone.

But it was the hard slam into their Sub-Zero refrigerator in their gleaming dream of a kitchen three weeks after they got married that finally began to open her eyes to the man she’d bound her life to in marriage.

He’d apologized, of course. Had told her it was an accident and he’d slipped on the floor and fell into her and, besides, he was so tired. So worn-out. So full of the work and the stress of their new life together that she had to know he hadn’t meant it.

And she’d believed.

Lilah methodically cracked and measured egg yolk after egg yolk into her mixing bowl, their rich yellow breaking on contact with the hard, ceaseless paddles. Sugar followed, blending with the eggs and thickening the mixture into a thin paste.

Not only had she believed he’d changed, but she began to believe him when he told her a new crust she’d perfected wasn’t very good. And she’d trusted when he told her he was going to get some good press when he brought in a guest pastry chef for a few weeks to create a bit of buzz around the restaurant. And she’d blindly followed when he told her he wanted his wife by his side each night greeting his guests in his restaurants and not in the kitchen.

And oh, how she’d paid.

“You want to talk?”

Lilah heard Cassidy’s voice a moment after she registered the slamming beat from her music dock had stopped. She never looked up; instead she kept her gaze on her bowl. She measured the cream by sight, adding it smoothly into the mixture. “It’s nothing we haven’t talked about before.”

“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about it again.”

“It’s the past, Cassidy. And it’s well behind me.”

“Well, that’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard and that includes the pile of bs Melinda Crosby’s cheating fiancé tried to level on me when I caught him in the dressing room with Melinda’s maid of honor.”

Lilah looked up despite herself, shocked at the news. “He was getting it on with Shanna Thomas? Why didn’t you tell Vi and I that part?”

“Because I am a discreet proprietor who can manage my clients in their less-than-stellar moments.”

Lilah shook her head, sad at the news. “And she still married the dog.”

“Despite my best efforts to gently persuade her to rethink this major life decision, yes, she did.”

“It’s not for us to fix. Even when we see the glaring signs of a future of misery.”

“Which is the reason I’m standing here, actually.”

Lilah flipped off her mixer. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You did escape a future of misery yet here you are, wallowing in it.”

A renewed shot of anger bloomed in Lilah’s stomach, a preferred counterpoint to the sickly coating of nausea that had lingered along with the bad memories. “Don’t go there with me. You have no right to go there with me.”

“I have every right. I’m your friend. And I’m here for you. And it’s my job to keep you honest when you’re falling back into the idea that you somehow brought the whole damn thing on yourself.”

“Of course I brought it on myself.”

“And there we go with the piles of crap again.” Cassidy gentled her voice before reaching out.

Lilah wanted to reject the kindness and understanding and keep on with her misery, but the promise her friends had made to her several years before echoed in her ear.

We’re here for you.

Cassidy and Violet had made the promise and they’d lived it each and every day since.

Lilah took the proffered hand and squeezed tight before pointing to her mixer. “I’m at a delicate phase.”

“Is that your Bavarian cream?”

“Yep.”

Cassidy took an exaggerated step back. “Don’t let me be the one to keep the angels from weeping. I’ll wait until you’re done.”

Lilah finished the mix quickly, the cream one of her trademarks, as she caught Cassidy’s movement from the corner of her eye. Her friend kept out of her way, crossing to one of the kitchen’s work spaces to snag a stool.

The paddles kept up their work, as well, mixing the cream into thick, stiff peaks as she dropped in the last few ingredients.

“Please tell me I can dip in a clean spoon for a taste.”

“I’ll do you one better.”

Lilah snagged a small bowl from underneath the counter and scooped out a small serving of the cream. Handing it over, she still saw the concern in Cassidy’s gaze, but was pleased to see it warred with avarice over the fresh treat.

She hated pity.

Give her a crazy bride, a demented mother-in-law and a side order of wedding drama and she’d handle it like a pro. Pull three all-nighters in a row to finish up the cake and desserts for the wedding of the season and she’d push through like nobody’s business.

But put her oldest friend with a pair of sad eyes and a concerned tone in her light Texas twang and Lilah froze all the way through.

Pity suggested weakness.

And she’d vowed after finally leaving Steven that she’d never be weak again.

“Where’s the detective?”

Cassidy smiled before licking the edge of her spoon clean. “You mean Detective Yummy?”

“I believe his last name is Graystone.” Lilah scooped her own small bowl, breaking one of her usual requirements to avoid indulging in her own creations.

“Only if you’re blind.” Cassidy’s gaze sharpened, no sign of pity in sight. “And you’re not.”

“Let’s put his attributes aside for the moment. What did you tell him?”

“The long-standing connections between Charlie and Steven. And if you add in Robert, there’s a merry little threesome going on there.”

“Two of whom are now dead.”

“Yep.” Cassidy set her empty bowl on the counter, her gaze flitting briefly to the mixer before looking away. “It’s suspicious.”

“But not that surprising. Yes, they were three men who knew each other, but they also knew a heck of a lot of other people around town. I’m not making the connection.”

“Someone didn’t just happen to know there was a cache of faked British crown jewels underneath our shop floor. Someone found out. It would make sense it was people who know us.”

Lilah shook her head, puzzling through what they already knew. “But Mrs. Beauregard said several times she and Max’s grandfather never told anyone after they buried the cache.”

“They did pull in an appraiser before they buried the fake crown jewels and the real rubies. Maybe the guy talked.”

“But he was a friend.” Lilah stopped, knowing full well it was futile to speculate. Mrs. B. and Max Senior might have said nothing, but it didn’t change the fact they brought a third person into the mix. Even someone with an innate understanding of when to keep his mouth shut couldn’t necessarily be expected to keep a secret over fifty years in the making.

“Has Reed run down the old appraiser?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Where is he, by the way?” Lilah meant the question as an innocent one, but instantly regretted the words at her friend’s sly smile.

“He had to go to the precinct. He said he’d be back later.”

“He’s nosy.”

“He’s doing his job.”

“His nosy job.”

“Lilah. This thing isn’t over. I’m glad Reed’s taken an interest in us. He’s committed to finding out who’s responsible and making sure we stay safe in the process.”

“I know. Damn it—” Lilah broke off, her ridiculous petulance fading in the light of the truth.

“Look. I know we’re in danger. And I know there’s someone out there who’d like nothing more than to remove us as a collective obstacle to getting what they want.”

“Which is why we’re going to stay one step ahead and figure out who this mystery person might be.”

“I’m sorry I wigged out over Steven.”

“I’m not.” Cassidy laid her bowl on the counter. “You’re not a robot. And hiding in here day after day or racing around town making deliveries doesn’t mean you can run from the past.”

“I’m not hiding.” At Cassidy’s wide-eyed skepticism, Lilah pressed her point. “Come on, I’m serious. I’m not hiding. This is our business and I want to see it be successful.”

“I know you do.”

“Then why the sudden accusation that I’m working too hard? Last time I checked, you and Vi clocked as many hours as I did.”

“We still find time for outside interests.”

“One week with Tucker Buchanan does not make you an expert on outside interests.”

At the mention of Tucker’s name, Cassidy seemed to come alive. Electrified from the inside out. “No, but it does make me see hearts and flowers everywhere I go. Which is why I suggest you hit on Detective Yummy as fast as you can.”

* * *

Steven DeWinter surveyed the quiet interior of his restaurant with a satisfied nod of his head. They were closed for lunch this week to manage the city’s annual Restaurant Week festivities and he had a full house scheduled for the night.

He smiled to himself as the previous evening came to light in his mind’s eye. They’d crushed it, with a packed house from five o’clock on. His sommelier had busted his ass, as well, securing several sales of some of their most expensive bottles.

It was a subtle fact Steven had learned his first year in business—people did love to spend when they felt they were being oh, so generous to the city’s homeless. Even if his only requirement for participation was a small portion of the meal. He did his part and gave his fair share to the food bank the event benefited, but the drink revenue was all his.

He glanced down at the receipts his manager had prepared, a dark cloud spoiling the good news from the dinner crowd even a few high-priced bottles of wine couldn’t assuage. The damn dessert revenue was still down.

He’d have to fire Wilhelm after this week was done. The guy did a decent soufflé, but his pastry crusts were thick as sand and about half as tasty.

A fleeting image of Lilah drifted through his mind, a quick shot of anger following on its heels. She’d been damn good. Better than he’d wanted to believe.

She’d also been his one weakness.

Her light-as-air mousse had flown off the menu and he still, even after all these years, had patrons asking about her Bavarian cream puffs.

His staff had been threatened to within an inch of their lives not to mention those same cream puffs could be had for a quick call across town to that damn warehouse hole she and her girlfriends now called a business.

Suddenly irritated, the triumph of the previous evening vanishing as if it had never been, he stomped toward the kitchen and the jovial voices of his prep team. He zeroed in on Wilhelm, the big man’s smile as wide as Texas as he mixed up a batter for his evening’s creation.

“Wilhelm.”

The man snapped to attention at the sound of his name, the smile fading in full. It was only when he belatedly realized his mixer still beat in heavy, thwapping circles that he shut off the machine. “Yes, sir?”

“Dessert sales were off last night.”

“I beg pardon, sir? We’ve got the small trios as part of each patron’s meal. I plated them myself last night. Everyone received a dessert plate.”

“We had very few add-on desserts.”

A quick slash of fear heightened the color in the man’s cheekbones as he pondered the criticism. “But we have offered dessert as part of the special menu for Restaurant Week, sir. I’ve used the desserts as a springboard for the fall menu and will be writing up the guest commentary. They were selected carefully to gain learning for fall.”

“And I’m focused on now. Today. Fall sales don’t matter to me if August sales are crap.”

Wilhelm grew quiet, his eyes wide with fear. Steven reveled in that look, the large man so stymied by common business sense he appeared on the verge of tears. None of his comrades in the kitchen staff were all that eager to help, either.

Further proof of their loyalty.

“See that you visit the tables personally this evening. I expect to see a difference in tomorrow’s receipts.”

He moved off, the quiet kitchen coming back to life with the rustle of pots as he headed for the main dining room.

Wilhelm needed to go. He toyed with firing the man on the spot, but common sense won out. They had a full set of reservations for three seatings a night through the end of the weekend. He detested the sniveling bastard but he needed him.

And he hated needing anyone.

Another shot of irritation speared through his midsection, cut off only by the hard buzz of his phone in his pocket. Steven dragged out the slim piece and nearly barked out a hello before he caught sight of the name on the screen. Pulse galloping, his throat was already dry as bones picked clean by vultures as he lifted the phone to his ear.

“DeWinter.”

“My place. Thirty minutes.”

“Of co—”

The phone had already clicked off before he could complete his sentence and Steven was oddly grateful for that fact. Conversations with the Duke were blessedly rare, but when they came it was better to take your lumps and move on.

As he dropped into the seat of his low-slung sports car five minutes later, the heat radiating around him like an oven, Steven DeWinter was forced to acknowledge the same thought in a matter of moments.

He truly hated needing anyone.

Chapter 4

Reed skimmed the police report, the sounds of the precinct fading as he dived into the data. Robert Barrington might not have a rap sheet, but Charlie McCallum wasn’t so lucky. He’d been fairly clean since hooking up with Leah Tate, Cassidy’s sister, but before that he’d had some issues.

Disturbing the peace. A few suspicious vice notations about his presence at parties with drug paraphernalia, even if he managed to slide on actual possession. And a nice big DUI the summer he got out of college. Was it possible the love of a good woman had made him go straight?

Reed fought a snort and knew the facts already gathered told a vastly different tale.

Charlie’s present home in the city morgue, along with the confession Robert gave Cassidy that Charlie had been responsible for his wife’s death, suggested McCallum had never gone straight.

He’d just gotten better at hiding it.

“So what were you doing all that time, Charlie?”

Reed brought up a state database on his laptop and fiddled with a few search queries before shifting gears to focus on the mysterious disappearance of Robert Barrington’s bond paperwork. He’d already ordered up the video feeds from that day and should have them later this afternoon.

In the meantime, he was going to do some old-fashioned detective work and go visit his mother.

While he avoided dragging her into his cases, her knowledge of Dallas’s elite from both inside and out made her an invaluable resource. And while he wouldn’t quite say Charlie McCallum and Robert Barrington had been part of the city’s elite, they’d played in that world.

Desperately wanted in, if his suspicions were correct.

Twenty minutes later he pulled into the driveway of the Park Cities home his mother and Tripp made theirs. Despite the oppressive heat, the flower beds that surrounded the massive structure were full of bright, perky flowers that practically winked in the still air.

His mother answered the door herself and he was caught—as always—by the sheer, genuine beauty in her face. Diana Graystone Lange had always seen the world in vibrant, rich colors, and those same colors seemed to reflect back on her, projecting a vivid warmth. “Reed! Darling, come in.”

She ushered him inside before dragging him into a tight hug. Her head came just below his chin and her petite frame was slight in his arms. As always, she gave him one last tight squeeze before she pulled back, her smile warm and her gray eyes sharp.

She’d always had that ability. To keep her smile as a vivid beacon of distraction while her eyes did all the work. “While I’m delighted by it, what’s brought this midday visit?”

“I can’t have lunch with my mother?”

“You can have lunch with your mother. But since you rarely do so on a random weekday, I suspect you’re here for a bit more.”

He pulled her close in a side-armed hug as they walked down the long foyer toward the kitchen. “I think they need to give you the detective’s shield.”

“I’m a mother. It amounts to the same thing.”

A large pitcher of iced tea sat on the table, a thin cotton cloth wrapped around it to catch the sweat, and she poured them two glasses. “Tripp’s not joining us?”

“He said he might, but he was still at the club when I spoke to him a few minutes ago. I think it’ll just be us today.”

While he and Tripp had come to care for each other, Reed suspected the older man understood better than he let on that he needed to give the two of them space today.

“As a matter of fact, I do need to ask you a few questions.”

She handed him the glass and gestured him toward a seat at the kitchen table. Although they had a formal dining room that could seat the Dallas Cowboys football team, when it was just the two of them, his mother always insisted on the more insular warmth of the kitchen.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I caught a case last week. One that isn’t what it appears.”

He quickly filled his mother in on the past week, surprised to realize in the retelling just how much had occurred. The seemingly run-of-the-mill break-in at Elegance and Lace that had opened the strange turn of events that included fake copies of the British crown jewels in the floor, three genuine rubies that had lain nestled in with the fakes and two dead bodies.

“The crown jewels? As in the royal family and British crown jewels?”

“According to the landlady, yes.”

His mother refilled their glasses before crossing to pick up a quiche cooling beside the stove. “You realize just how unbelievable this is? I knew there were fakes made during the war, but they’ve always been a closely guarded secret, including the hiding place of the real jewels. But to think they saved the copies and that they were buried here all this time. In Dallas, Texas. How did they even get there?”

“Josephine Beauregard. The landlady. It was her father who made the fakes.”

“So why not destroy them? I can’t believe they’d want them around after the threat of war had passed.”

“That’s what I asked. Apparently it’s got something to do with the rubies.”

“The real ones?”

“Yep. They wanted them out of England, too, so hiding them with the fakes was the method everyone settled on to get them out without suspicion.”

The large helping his mother set down before him still steamed from its time in the oven, and a fleeting image of Lilah drifted through his thoughts as he took in the feather-light mix of eggs and piecrust. Pushing the enticing picture away, he focused on the plate. “Jeez, Mom. I’m not a growing boy anymore.”

“You’ll always be a growing boy to me.” She took her seat opposite him and leaned forward, the large strand of pearls around her neck nearly in her slice of quiche. “Come on, come on. Tell me more. Have you seen the rubies?”

“Yes.”

Her back went poker straight, the pearls slamming against her chest with a thud. “Reed Edward Graystone, you’ve seen royal jewels and it took you all this time to tell me?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“And I’m a woman who loves a good piece of decoration. Tell me about them.”

“They were gifted to George and Elizabeth by a maharajah or someone of his ilk.”

His mother went off in a fit of fancy and he gave her a minute, stuffing himself with the delicious quiche while she ranted about the Queen Mother, Queen Elizabeth and him touching something that belonged to royalty.

“Can I see them?”

He glanced up from his now-empty plate, the last bite already vanished between his lips. “They’re evidence.”

“I’d still like to see them.” She lifted her fork and pointed it at him. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He washed the last of his lunch down with the iced tea and nodded his acknowledgment. “Well, they’re not mine to show. The women have the stones. The ones who own Elegance and Lace.”

“But you just said they’re evidence.”

“Technically, they’re property. Of the landlady, who is fine with the women holding on to them.”

“But you need them for this case. And if someone’s already ransacked their business, I’d think they would want the police to hold on to the jewels.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“How complicated?”

“How much time do you have?”

* * *

Lilah had forgotten the consult.

She never forgot their schedule, and the very fact she’d nearly missed the meeting Violet had scheduled for them with one of their October brides had left her already-raw nerves flustered and frayed.

“What are we going to serve Amanda and Quinn?”

“I’ve got it, Vi.” Lilah stomped around the kitchen, dragging a glass serving dish from one of the cabinets. She had the Bavarian cream and she had a tray of the thick pastries. All she needed to do was add the rich mixture and she’d have cream puffs.

“Can I help you?”

Lilah eyed Violet over her shoulder. “Touch my food and die.”

Violet’s gaze never wavered, but she finally gave one hard nod. “You sure you’re up to this today? Gabby’s coming over to cover off the catering portion, and Cassidy and I can run interference for the items Elegance and Lace is responsible for. I can come back and get the cream puffs in a few minutes.”

“Get out, Vi.”

“Lilah—”

“Out.”

Violet stalked off on the stilts she habitually wore, their heavy clicking only adding to the tension headache throbbing in her temples.

She’d be ready. She’d be fine. And she’d be brilliant, to boot.

Oh hell.

Lilah glanced down at her chest and saw the evidence that she was anything but fine. Her chef’s coat had a large smear of cream and eggs running down dead center, both of which had crusted over into an unappealing yellow roughly the color of baby vomit.

“Damn it.”

Powering through the cream puffs—she had a little over a dozen plated in moments—she then raced for the small collection of clothes she kept in her office alcove for just this reason. Her anger at Violet’s prim and annoying tone still simmered as she stomped into her office. Mad with self-righteous anger, Lilah shrugged off her unbuttoned coat and flung it on the ground as she bent over, digging through the bottom drawer of her desk.

Her hand closed around a pale pink sweater set and she grabbed the cashmere like a lifeline. Who cared if it was a billion degrees outside? Violet had the AC cranked up to roughly match the air in the frozen tundra anyway.

Fingers tight on the material, she had the sweater up and out of the drawer and was already spinning around when she came face-to-face with Reed Graystone.

As she stood, unmoving, in her pale pink bra.

* * *

She’d already given him the satisfaction of a scream that very morning and she’d be damned if she was going to do it again. But neither could she stop the jackrabbit hammer of her heart in her chest as Reed stood stock-still, those delicious gray eyes wide in his face.

“You—” he managed to get out before he took a few determined steps away from her. “You should probably change.”

Despite the awkward moment, she couldn’t quite shake the satisfaction that bloomed in her chest at his appreciative gaze. Nor could she fully shake the tight ball of heat that had taken up residence in her stomach. He was an attractive man, and at the moment, she had his full attention.

Her gaze dipped lower, pleased to see she appeared to have all of his attention.

Ignoring the small thrill that shot through her, Lilah shut the door, even if it was an unnecessary formality. He’d already turned his back and had moved into the main part of the kitchen. She slipped into the sweater set, adding a quick fluff to her hair before she opened the door once more.

And felt her breath catch as she took in the long, lean lines of him.

Damn, but the man really was a vision. Trim waist, long legs and a rather impressive set of shoulders. He wasn’t skinny, but she suspected he’d leaned that way in school. No longer. Mother Nature, puberty and what she suspected was a fair amount of gym time to keep up with his job had sculpted him into a rather impressively built man.

Shaking off the persistent attraction that stuck to her like molasses, she pushed her way into the kitchen. “Twice in one day, Detective. To what do I owe the honor?”

“I told Cassidy I was coming back this afternoon. Didn’t she mention it?”

Cassidy had mentioned it, but admitting that—or the fact that she’d watched the door for the past three hours—wasn’t on her agenda. “So here you are. And I’ve got a meeting. We’re trying hard to remember we actually do run a business around here.”

“Then go to it. I can wait.”

“You don’t have anything better to do?”

“I have several calls to make. I can do them here as easy as I can at the precinct. Mind if I use your office?”

She gestured toward the small alcove off the kitchen. “Be my guest.”

Lilah passed him, the heat of that large body warming her through the already-oppressive cashmere. Why had she selected the sweater set again?

Ignoring the discomfort and chalking it up to her penance for nearly missing the meeting, Lilah grabbed her plate of cream puffs. In her haste, she’d plated everything she had, which amounted to fourteen puffs.

With a quick glance toward the clock, she snagged a small plate from the cabinets and removed two of the pastries. She rearranged the gaps on the serving plate—Violet would never know—and handed Reed the desserts. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

* * *

Reed stared at the empty dessert plate and marveled at the pastries he’d just done his level best not to shovel into his mouth. The cream puffs had to be the best thing he’d ever tasted and he could have sworn he heard his blood humming on a satisfied sugar high as he methodically polished off both desserts.

Damn, but the woman could cook. Bake. Create. What exactly was he supposed to call the food he just ate?

He was an eater and he came from a family of foodies. One of his earliest memories after his mother married Tripp was the three of them out on a Saturday night for a steak dinner at one of Dallas’s finest restaurants the weekend before school started. He’d been wide-eyed and scared of making a mistake—both at the restaurant and at school—but Tripp had kept a bright smile on his face as he’d walked him through the various cuts of meat on the menu.

That night was one of the first times he’d recognized his stepfather wasn’t all bad. The man had been trying in his own way, and the gentle coaching that was never overbearing had gone a long way toward cementing their budding relationship.

That evening had also set him on a path as a food lover. And in a town full of some of the world’s best restaurants, he had a ready supply of offerings at his disposal.

Which was why, Reed realized, he’d been to both of Steven DeWinter’s restaurants in Dallas as well as the man’s properties in Las Vegas and Chicago. He pulled out his phone and did a quick search on the restaurateur, curious to see if the press-ready bio matched his memory. As he tapped in the search, his mind filled with the big man in the chef’s coat. Attractive and fit, DeWinter didn’t look like someone who spent his day around food.

In fact, come to think of it, DeWinter had more the build of a gym rat than a foodie.

Reed clicked into the bio, the man’s impressive list of credits, including a stint as the chef for several major events in the previous Hollywood awards season, running the length of the screen. Reed kept scrolling, curious to see any references to a personal life, only to find nothing.

Shifting, he opened a standard search app and did a deeper dive into the man’s background and that was where he found it. A small reference to having been married to a Lilah DeWinter for just shy of two years.

Which, from what he’d pieced together, made sense and matched the timeline Cassidy had provided.

A wholly irrational spear of anger lanced once more, a hot spill of frustration and—jealousy?—at the thought of Lilah married.

She was a grown woman. Of course she had a past. Hell, so did he. And while his might not come with a walk down the aisle and the proverbial picket fence, he’d had his fair share of relationships. He had no right to judge.

Or be jealous.

The distinct sound of heels interrupted his thoughts and he glanced up to a loud voice and an overall general impression of dynamic movement. A woman spoke on her cell phone, gesturing with her free hand as a loud wave of half Spanish, half English spilled from her lips.

She didn’t even realize he was there until she’d nearly sat on the edge of Lilah’s desk. Her dark brown eyes went wide in her face as she leaped up, nearly stumbling over heels that added several inches to her already-considerable height. Reed moved up to help her, steadying her motion before her windmilling arms carried her right over to the floor.

“Mama! I said I understand.” The woman gripped his hand, her long fingers curling around his before she squeezed to let him know she was fine, then she promptly marched off toward Lilah’s kitchen.

Fascinated, Reed kept his attention on the heated conversation before it finally ended with a firm “I love you and will discuss this with you later.”

Assuming she’d disappear now that her conversation had concluded, Reed was surprised to hear the sultry tones that floated down the hallway. “You can come out now, Detective Yummy.”

The moniker nearly had him stumbling as he stepped through the door. “What was that all about?”

“Parents. Mothers, more specifically. Do you like yours?”

An image of the warm, fascinating woman who’d shared lunch with him filled his mind’s eye before the answer spilled forth. “Absolutely. I love her.”

“I didn’t ask about love. I asked about like.”

“Well, yeah. I like her, too.”

“Lucky.” The woman sighed, shoving a mass of curls behind her shoulder before extending a hand. “I’m Gabriella Sanchez.”

“Are you the bride?”

Her loud snort and dark expression suggested immediately that he’d overstepped, but Reed wasn’t quite sure why. “Hardly. I’m the caterer. Although the fact I’m not the bride was half the reason for that call.” She gestured with her phone.

“I’m sorry?”

“Never mind. So you’re the dreamy detective. Violet and Cassidy can’t stop talking about you.”

Not Lilah? Forcing the thought aside, Reed decided to let the comment play out. “Oh.”

“They’ve been very impressed with your help and, I believe Violet said it, ‘your God-given patience to deal with the lot of us.’”

“They’ve had a bad scare.”

“One that’s not over.”

The buoyancy that had carried her into the kitchen—even in the midst of a heated family conversation—vanished at her words. Reed saw her conviction as clearly as he saw the exotic beauty that painted her face and shaped her long, lithe body.

And in that moment he suspected people sorely underestimated Gabriella Sanchez.

Before he could say anything, Lilah marched through the door with the now-empty tray of cream puffs. Reed was surprised at the depth of disappointment that gripped him at the evidence the pastries were gone.

“Gab. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I had to take that. It was my mother’s fifth call this afternoon and I was starting to worry something was really wrong.”

Reed didn’t miss Lilah’s penetrating gaze as she took in the sight of the two of them alone in the kitchen, but her comment was casual when she spoke. “Amanda was wrapped up in the discussion of her dress with Cassidy, and Quinn had excused himself to take a work call. No one noticed.”

When Gabriella didn’t offer up anything else, Lilah added, “Is everything okay?”

“Same old same old with my mother.”

“Who’s getting married?”

“My cousin Marcie.”

“Sorry.”

Gabby shrugged, those thick curls bouncing lightly against her back. “She’s been dating the guy forever. We all knew it was coming.”

With a quick hug for Lilah, Gabriella turned toward him and gave him an impulsive hug. “They’re lucky to have you, Detective Yummy.”

“Thanks.”

The woman moved out of the kitchen as fast as she’d come in, and it took Reed an extra moment to realize Lilah had already picked up her empty plate and crossed to the large, stainless-steel sink on the far side of the room. “Did it go well?”

“Fine. They’re excited.”

“And hungry, obviously.” Reed moved up next to her. “The desserts are gone.”

“They’re the groom’s favorites. I’m doing about forty dozen for the wedding.”

“You’re doing four hundred and eighty cream puffs for a wedding?” The words were spoken to her back as she moved toward her long counter to pick up her abandoned mixing bowls from earlier.

“There are nearly four hundred people invited to the wedding. You can count on people to take seconds and, besides—” she shrugged “—that’s how many they want.”

The number boggled his mind. “How do you package that many?”

The dark cloud that had seemed to settle over her never wavered, even as a puzzled look stole over her face. “This is what I do. I’ve got large cardboard boxes we’ll put together for the event. I’ll layer them with parchment paper and then transport the pastries in my truck along with the cake for the wedding.”

Reed realized he had no idea what went into a wedding and his always-curious mind was already thinking through the implications of how someone made that much food. “It’s impressive.”

“You want impressive, you should go see Gab’s setup. She’s the one who has to feed four hundred people an entire meal.”

“That’s what she does? Food? I didn’t realize you had a fourth partner.”

“I don’t. I mean, we don’t. But we’ve been working with Gabby for a few years now. A few odd jobs here and there and now it’s become more consistent. She can’t get into the big hotels because they want to cater on their own, but there are a ton of venues in North Texas that want wedding revenue but don’t necessarily want to manage all the catering themselves.”

“Where’s this wedding?”

“The Arboretum in October.”

Reed thought of the endlessly beautiful acres at Dallas’s botanical gardens, particularly gorgeous in fall. He let out a long, low whistle. “That must be costing them a pretty penny.”

When she said nothing, he added, “The height of wedding season at one of the city’s best venues. And with four hundred people? I’d say a small fortune, more like.”

“Weddings are expensive. And. Well.” She shrugged again. “They appear to have the money for it.”

She busied herself with the dishes and Reed found himself amused at her complete freeze-out. “You’re busy.”

“We’re always busy.” She scrubbed the mixing bowl of crusted cream. “And we lost nearly a week dealing with the break-in and—”

“And the attack on Cassidy.” He kept his words gentle, but he pushed all the same.

He didn’t want her scared—far from it—but he knew in his gut whatever had landed in their laps was far from over. Becoming complacent was the worst that could happen.

“Robert’s gone now.”

“But the person who shot him isn’t.”

She continued scrubbing and only offered up a light shrug of her shoulders. “That’s why you’re here.”

“And you’re running around in your damn underwear, letting anyone and everyone inside your shop.”

Her hands stilled on the dishes, her eyes going wide. He still only saw her profile, but even from that angle he could see her dark brown eyes were wide orbs in her face.

That shock was nothing compared to his own surprise at the harsh words that had spilled from his lips, catching him unaware.

“You have no right.”

“I have every right. I’m trying to keep you and your partners safe and you’re not taking this seriously.”

“Seriously?” She snapped the water off with a hard twist and grabbed a towel to dry her hands. “I’m not the one back here making eyes at our caterer.”

“What?”

Lilah whirled, the irritation in her voice punctuating the gesture. “You heard me. I realize she’s an attractive woman, but you couldn’t wait to flirt all over Gabby.”

Whatever self-righteous anger had carried him this far faded in the face of her resentment.

And a sudden awareness of just why she was upset.

“I wasn’t flirting with your caterer. I can’t say the same for her.”

“Just because she looks like a supermodel doesn’t mean she deserves to be objectified.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Her mouth was already open to keep on arguing when she snapped it closed at his agreement.

Without checking the impulse, Reed leaned in, delighted when those dark eyes went wide and round once more. “But I don’t think that’s why you’re upset.”

“It’s anger for my friend.”

“Oh, really.” He took a moment to just breathe her in, the light scent of sugar that hovered around her simply intoxicating.

“Of course.”

He pressed a light kiss to her cheek before dropping another along the line of her jaw. “It wouldn’t be jealousy?”

Whatever initial acceptance she might have had in the moment vanished. “It’s most certainly not that. And why don’t you ratchet down that swelled head while you’re at it?”

Reed couldn’t stop the smile, especially now that he was virtually high on the scents of vanilla and warm sugar, coupled with the cream puffs that were still humming in his veins.

Could sugar really make someone reckless?

“I wasn’t the one who called myself Detective Yummy.”

“That was—” She broke off. “Gabby was just being funny.”

“Consider me amused.”

Awareness filled her dark gaze and in that moment Reed felt something shift deep inside of him. He knew what it was to want—to need—but the look in Lilah Castle’s eyes was something more.

In her gaze he saw the desperate craving of someone who knew what they wanted yet were afraid to let go.

On sheer instinct, he closed the distance once more and dragged her small, slight frame against his own. At the actual feel of her—muscle, sinew and bone under his hands—he realized his initial estimation was spot-on.

She was a pixie.

As his lips came over hers, her head already tilted up to meet him, he amended that thought. She might be small—a mere slip in his hands—but she had a woman’s curves and a woman’s needs.

The instinct that pushed him on was greeted with full acceptance and he groaned as she opened her mouth, an invitation to deepen the kiss.

The moment was hot—desperate—and he took full advantage.

Heat radiated off her, through the thin material of her sweater. One of his hands was large enough to cover nearly the entire span of her back while the other drifted down toward her derriere, pulling her close.

Her hands gripped his waist, her fingers restless at the waistband of his slacks, and he saw a wash of stars when her stomach bumped hard against his groin.

What had begun as impulse—and a deep need to finally taste her—had turned on him, and Reed felt himself fast losing control. With one last rush of teeth and lips and tongue, he took advantage of the moment and deepened the kiss, lingering over her luscious mouth with satisfying urgency.

Then he pulled away and added a few steps of distance for good measure. As he took in the passion-glazed gaze and soft color high on her cheeks, Reed came to a startling realization.

He was wrong.

Her cream puffs weren’t the best thing he’d ever tasted. Lilah Castle was.

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