adrian-run-to-you-v1 Page 5

  Megan frowns. “Well, I think he’s sweet--and apparently not yet ready to retire from the bedroom,” she adds with a giggle.

  Kat rolls her eyes. “That’s an image none of us need in our heads. You know, he’s been coming in here for the past six months and hasn’t brought his mystery woman to the shop even one time. For all we know, he’s wearing all of that lingerie himself.”

  I choke on a laugh. “Talk about an image no one needs to picture. You’re awful, Kat. And there is no way in hell he could ever squeeze his portly body into anything he’s purchased. Mr. Hennings may be a little odd, but he’s kind and easy to work with. He’s also quickly become one of our best clients.”

  “One of your best clients, you mean. That old man hardly gave me the time of day when he was in the shop yesterday. Which, for the record, is fine by me.” She folds her jacket over her arm as if she’s about to walk out the door, then pauses, tilting her head at me. “Why are you giving me that look?”

  I catch my bottom lip between my teeth. “Because I was actually hoping I might convince you to take over his account for me, now that I’m going to be committing all of my time to Avery Ross’s project these next several weeks.”

  Kat groans, tilting her head back on her shoulders before leveling a flat stare on me. “Go ahead, rub salt in my wounds. First, I miss out on landing a celebrity artist-slash-gazillionaire’s-fiancée for a client, and now you’re foisting me off on a lecherous sugar daddy. I really think I’m starting to hate you.”

  I lift my brows. “So, is that a yes?”

  She sighs. “Do I have a choice? You’re the boss.”

  “Thank you. I owe you, Kat.”

  “I know.” She gives an abrupt wave of her hand. “Well, I’ve had enough fun for one day, so off I go. Goodnight, both of you.”

  “I’ve got to run and catch my train, too,” Megan tells me. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No. I’m fine. Go on home. I won’t stay long.”

  I walk with her to the boutique’s front door, waving back at her as she hurries away on the darkened sidewalk outside. It’s after seven in the evening, but Madison Avenue is still busy with its endless flow of pedestrians and street traffic. I flip our sign to CLOSED on its brass chain, then head back to my office to pick up where I left off.

  ~ ~ ~

  I’m not sure how many hours pass before my stomach complains that I haven’t eaten anything since lunchtime. Working in blissful solitude, soft music playing in the background, I am energized and could easily keep this pace all night.

  But Kat had a point. Burning myself out with a manic burst of creative productivity probably won’t serve me well in the long run. Not to mention the project.

  And I’m liable to pass out if I don’t break for something to eat now.

  I get up and head into our small coffee room to grab a snack from the refrigerator, which is mostly stocked with beverages we keep on hand for entertaining our clients. As I’m digging past the cans of sparkling water and hundred-dollar bottles of champagne to hunt for my last cup of yogurt hidden in the back, I hear something that draws me upright. Just a small noise, coming from somewhere in the back of the store.

  I hear it again, a faint metallic rasp that sends a current of unease through me.

  Abandoning my search for food, I walk past my office and Katrina’s, toward the supply room and the rear door that opens into the small parking lot and narrow alleyway running between our building and the one behind us. The alarm is set and the door is made of steel that boasts two deadbolts, both of which are firmly seated and undisturbed.

  But I could swear the sound I heard was someone testing the door handle, trying to get in.

  I step silently forward and put my eye to the peephole. No one’s there. Nothing in the tiny lot outside except my lone Volvo parked in the faint glow of the old floodlight mounted overhead.

  I exhale a sigh. Definitely time to call it a night if my mind is starting to play tricks on me.

  Still, I can’t dismiss the odd prickle at the back of my neck as I turn away from the door and walk back to my office to straighten up so I can head home. I’ve no sooner begun than my phone rings with an incoming call. I smile when I see my friend Paige’s name on the display, not only because she’s one of my besties, but because at the moment I’m relieved to have the company.

  “Hey, girl.”

  “Hi!” Paige shouts back. Loud, throbbing club music pulses in my ear, almost drowning out her voice. “You were supposed to call me this afternoon. Where are you, Boo?”

  “Didn’t you check your texts? I’m working late at the shop tonight.” I realize I’m talking as loudly as if we both were at whatever hot nightspot she’s calling from. “Can you even hear me?”

  “What? Hold on, I can’t hear you!”

  I laugh to myself, shaking my head as she yells that she’s going to look for a quieter spot to talk to me. When she comes back on a minute later the music is muffled to a low, vibrating bass. I hear other female voices and running water, which tells me she found her way to the ladies’ room. Still noisy as hell on her end, but at least Paige and I can carry on a conversation.

  “Eve, you have to come check out this club. It’s amazing!”

  I flop into my chair and prop my bare feet on the edge of my desk. “Are you talking about that artsy weird one you like over in Brooklyn? The one with the trapeze performers and costume theme nights?”

  “No,” she says with a giggle. “That was my favorite a few months ago. Now I’m in love with this brand-new place called Muse. It’s in the Meatpacking District, just opened last weekend. Anyway, what are you doing working this late? Get your ass over here and join me, girl!”

  “Maybe another time.” As much as I enjoy spending time with Paige and the rest of my friends, I’m feeling the effects of two back-to-back 16-hour workdays in the bleariness of my eyes and the kink in my neck and shoulders. “The club sounds great, but right now, all I want is a cup of hot tea and a long soak in the tub back at my apartment.”

  “Fine,” she replies, sighing dramatically. “We’re still on for lunch tomorrow with the girls, right?”

  “Definitely. I wouldn’t miss it. How long has it been since everyone was in the city at the same time?”

  “Too long,” she agrees, shouting her reply. “Hannah spends more time in Italy than she does the States now. I don’t think she’s been over here longer than a week or two since she and Alessandro got married.”

  “Well, having seen the photos of their villa in Tuscany, I can’t say I blame her. She’s also got a baby on the way now.”

  “Fair enough, I guess. How long do you think it’ll be before Melanie starts talking about wedding bells and babies?”

  I laugh, but it’s not that I haven’t wondered the same thing. “Give her time. Mel’s only been dating Daniel for three months,” I remind Paige.

  “Yeah, but you’ve seen them together. She’s head over heels for the guy. Honestly, it’s kind of sickening how adorable and happy they seem together.”

  “I know, but I’m glad for her. Mel hasn’t had it easy. She deserves a good man.”

  “I won’t disagree with that,” Paige says. “So, I guess that leaves just you and me, Boo. Blissfully single, right? Unless you plan to do something about that hot security guard you told me about yesterday.”

  I scoff. “I never said Gabriel Noble was hot.”

  “You didn’t have to. I could hear it in your voice.”

  I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I said or what you think you heard. He was a temporary annoyance, nothing more. I’ve already forgotten about him.”

  “Well, I haven’t. Maybe you could introduce me to him. I hate to let a gorgeous hunk of prime, medal-decorated military man go to waste.”

  I can’t help but laugh, even though it rankles something inside me to picture my beautiful, bubbly, man-magnet of a friend getting anywhere close to Gabriel Noble. “I don’t know why I even me
ntioned him to you. Now I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Probably not. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re not volunteering to share.”

  “Consider it a favor. Believe me, you’d thank me la--”

  My words cut short in my throat. Because suddenly, without any warning at all, I’m sitting in the dark.

  “Eve? Are you still there?”

  “Shit. I think the power just went out in the building.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “God, it’s pitch-dark in here. I’m going to check and see if anyone else on Madison lost power.” I walk to the front of the shop while I’m talking. None of the other high-rises or street-level storefronts seem affected.

  “I thought that swanky building belongs to Dominic Baine,” Paige says. “Don’t tell me he forgot to pay the light bill.”

  “It’s probably just a blown fuse or bad circuit-breaker or something.”

  Because, yes, this is a Baine property, and I’m absolutely sure it has nothing to do with an unpaid electric bill. I also know from past experience that any utility blip or power outage trips an alarm at Baine’s corporate headquarters. And if that alarm continues for more than eight minutes, the police will be automatically dispatched to the building to investigate.

  Which means my overprotective brother will have one more reason to worry about me.

  I exhale a heavy sigh. “If it is only a fuse, maybe I can reset it.”

  “And if it’s not?” Paige makes a dubious noise on the other end of the line. “Evelyn, maybe you should get out of there.”

  She’s nervous for me. I know because she’s calling me by my given name instead of the one she’s been using since we met at a fashion show during our second year in the business together.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  But I keep her on the line with me as I carefully find my way back to the utility closet near the rear of the boutique. I locate the fuse box and use the illumination of my phone to check for blown switches. I’m only passingly handy when it comes to this kind of thing, but I can see that none of the fuses are offline.

  “Tell me what’s happening,” Paige says. “Should we hang up? I can call 911 for you.”

  “And tell them what? Your friend could use a flashlight if they don’t mind running one over to me?”

  “All right, then call your brother.”

  “No. Definitely not.” I shake my head in the pitch-darkness as I flip several of the switches on and off, hoping to jar something back to life. “It’s bad enough Andrew worries I’m going to work myself into another nervous breakdown at any moment. I’ve spent the past five years trying to prove to him that I’m better, stronger, that I’m healthy now. I don’t want him thinking I’m his responsibility, not that I ever was.”

  “Doesn’t mean he’ll ever stop caring, Eve.”

  The gentle reminder makes me pause. “I know.”

  My fingers are hovering over the fuse box switches when all at once, the lights come on.

  “Oh, thank God,” I murmur under my breath. “Problem solved. I have power again.”

  I’m fairly certain I had nothing to do with it, but I’ll take the victory, nevertheless.

  “Great,” Paige says. “Now, will you please make me feel better and get the fuck out of there?”

  “Okay, okay. I have to pack up a few things first, but then I’ll go.”

  “All right. Do it quick, okay? I know it takes a lot to scare you, but after what happened yesterday with your purse . . .”

  “That? It was no big deal,” I say, walking back to my desk. “I don’t know how it ended up leaving my office or who put it in that lingerie drawer, but at least nothing was taken.”

  “Not unless you count that gorgeous red Dior lipstick you can’t find now,” she reminds me.

  “I could’ve lost that anywhere. The point is, my wallet, ID, credit cards, my phone . . . all the important things were accounted for.”

  “I just think it’s odd that when you found your purse, your phone had been turned off.”

  “Yeah, me too.” As soon as I realized my clutch was missing, I’d used the shop’s phone to call my cell to help locate it, but every attempt went straight to voicemail. Now, I wish I hadn’t shared the whole strange incident with my friend because her paranoia was starting to make me nervous too. “I should get moving, Paige. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch, okay?”

  “Can’t wait,” she chirps. “Text me when you get home tonight.”

  “I will.”

  We end the call and I set my phone on the edge of the desk, easily within my reach as I begin organizing my project materials and straightening up to leave. I hurry, even though I tell myself it’s ridiculous to be spooked.

  But I am.

  I’m shaken, more than I care to admit. And I don’t like the feeling. I don’t like being forced to acknowledge--even to myself--that something as harmless as a misplaced purse or an unexpected power outage can make me feel anxious, off balance.

  Afraid.

  By the time I have my work put away and I’m ready to leave, my breath is coming in rapid pants. I can’t wait to get out of the shop. My fingers fumble with the alarm pad and deadbolts on the solid back door. I free the last one and pull the panel open, prepared to step out to the lot and race to my waiting car.

  But a large shape stands in my way, looming just on the other side of the door.

  Shadows cloak broad, muscular shoulders and a short crown of thick, chestnut brown hair.

  I hardly have time to halt the scream that climbs up my throat before I realize I know him.

  “Evelyn.” Gabriel Noble’s strong hands steady me, firmly grasping my arms. “Is everything all right?”

  6

  ~ Gabriel ~

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  It takes her a second to speak--about as long as it takes me to realize I still have my hands on her. I let go, though not before I register the fact that Evelyn is trembling. Absolutely shaking with fear.

  My own alarm spikes at seeing her visibly upset. “Are you okay?”

  She exhales, some of her anxiety seeming to release along with her short breath. Her rich, husky voice sounds less distressed now. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “You here by yourself?” She gives me a faint nod. I grunt in response. “It’s after ten. That’s a long day.”

  “I could say the same to you. And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here,” she adds, staring at me quizzically as I step inside the shop with her.

  “I was at Baine headquarters and saw that a sustained power failure alert had triggered here at the shop. Thought I’d swing by and check things out. I didn’t realize anyone was still working.” Primarily because L’Opale only has security cameras monitoring the sales floor, not the back offices or exterior, one of the first changes I’ll recommend. And because I’ve spent too much time in war zones, I can’t help giving the space around us a quick visual assessment as I walk farther inside to make sure there are no overt signs of trouble anywhere in the shop. “What happened with the power?”

  “I don’t know. I was on my cell talking with a friend when suddenly the lights went out.”

  As she talks, I glance into the empty offices along the short hallway. “How often do you lose power?”

  “Never. And none of the other businesses on Madison seemed to be affected, just the boutique. Anyway, it’s no big deal. You shouldn’t have wasted the trip. Everything came back on a few minutes later.”

  “If it hadn’t come back up, right now the cops would be here too,” I tell her. I’ve spent the day combing over every security system and procedure put in place at the various properties under the Baine umbrella. I have things to sort out and learn, but I’ve already got a list of improvements I plan to propose when I meet with Nick and Beck. For reasons I assure myself are purely professional, I’ve just put Evelyn’s boutique at the top of the priority list.

/>   “Thank God the police weren’t dispatched,” she says. “That would mean my brother probably wouldn’t be far behind them.” At my questioning look, she adds, “Technically, L’Opale belongs to Andrew. He loaned me the money to open the shop a few years ago when I needed some . . . help.”

  I nod, unaware of the business arrangement she and her brother may have. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s confiding in me about any of it, but she seems to be talking out of anxiety more than anything else right now. I can’t imagine the confident, capable woman I met yesterday ever allowing herself to be in the position of owing something to anyone--even a family member. I also can’t imagine that a few minutes without power would rattle Evelyn Beckham the way it seems to have done tonight.

  I glance back and find her still standing near the exit, her arms crossed over herself. “Did something else happen here tonight? Something you’re not saying?”

  She stares at me, uncertainty in her gaze. “I’m sure it was nothing. I’m sure I was only imagining--”

  “Evelyn. Tell me.”

  “I thought I heard a strange noise,” she relents. “It was sometime before the lights went out.”

  “What kind of noise?”

  “I’m not sure. It sounded like someone was at the back door. Like someone may have been trying to get in.”

  “Coworker?”

  She shakes her head. “They’d both caught the subway home hours earlier. Normally, I’m not this paranoid but--”

  I’m in motion even before she finishes saying the words. “Stay here.”

  Freeing the snap on my gun’s holster in automatic reflex, I step outside to inspect the double-bolted steel door and look for any evidence that someone had been there before I arrived. I see nothing to give me pause, other than the cramped parking area that’s too damn dark by half.

  My Lexus and Evelyn’s Volvo are the only vehicles there. An old floodlight mounted to the side of the building throws a thin wash of illumination onto the pavement. And outside the door to the shop, nothing but gloom and shadows. Plenty of cover for anyone to try to get in--or to wait for someone to come out alone into the dark.