Deadly Exposure

by Linda Turner

“Talk to your lawyer,” his uncle suggested again. “He’ll tell you if you’ve got a fighting chance. Then do what you can live with.”

  It was sound advice. Because whatever he decided to do, he wasn’t the only one who would have to live with the consequences. Ten years from now, he didn’t want Quentin blaming him for a miserable childhood.

  Two days later, Angelo was waiting for him when he walked into the restaurant after a meeting with David Lye, his lawyer. “Well?” Angelo asked, arching a grizzled eyebrow. “How did it go?”

  “Just about the way I expected,” he said with a grimace. “The courts generally like a child to stay with the mother until they’re at least twelve.”

  “But he’s still your son! How can Janice just drag Quentin off to Florida without your permission?”

  “David felt that was a good question to put before the court. Janice has the right to live her own life, but that doesn’t mean she can take Quentin out of state, away from me and the court, without even discussing it.”

  “So he thinks you have a shot at winning custody?” he said with a sigh of relief”

  “Don’t start celebrating yet,” Tony cautioned. “This isn’t going to be easy. Custody battles are very expensive, and David warned me there’s a good chance I could lose.”

  “You won’t lose,” Angelo assured him. “Just remember—you’re doing the right thing for Quentin.”

  “I know,” he said gruffly. “I don’t care what it costs—I’ve got to stop her.”

  “Don’t worry about the money. I’ll loan you whatever you need.”

  Surprised, Tony blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me,” Angelo growled. “I love that boy, too. I want to help you keep him. I’ve got the money. Why shouldn’t I loan it to you?”

  “Because you might need it,” he replied. “You never know what’s going to happen. You could get sick or have some kind of accident—”

  “And I could win the lottery!”

  Tony grinned. “First you have to play.”

  Not the least amused, Angelo scowled. “I want to help, dammit! What good is money if I can’t use it to help someone I love?”

  “If you want to help me, give me a job instead of a loan so I can work off the money,” Tony told him. “David said I could make payments, just like I did for the divorce, but I still want to pay him off as quickly as possible. In order to do that, I’ve got to take a second job. If I wait tables here during the day and work my regular shift at the police department at night, I’ll be able to get by and hopefully still pay David off within three or four months.”

  “But what about Quentin?” Angelo pointed out. “You’re not going to be able to see him very much if you’re working round the clock.”

  “It’s only until I pay David off,” he replied. “And I can adjust my schedule at the precinct so I can spend some quality time with him. I don’t want to do the same thing to him that Janice is doing. And that may not be an issue, anyway. David’s starting the paperwork immediately, but if he isn’t able to stop Janice from taking him to Florida before the custody issue is settled, I won’t be able to see Quentin, anyway.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that. David sounds like he knows what he’s doing.”

  “I’m counting on it,” he said grimly. “I can’t even think about losing Quentin.”

  “Good. Because it’s not going to happen.” Squeezing his shoulder, Angelo blinked back tears. “You’re a good man. I wish Leo had lived to see you grown. He would have been so proud of you.”

  “He and Mom died too young,” Tony said huskily. “They weren’t even forty.”

  “Thankfully, they didn’t suffer,” his uncle said. “I don’t think they even saw the truck that hit them until it was too late.” With a sigh, he shook off the sad memory and smiled. “They crazy about you as you are about Quentin. I wish they were here to help you, but since they’re not, I am. Even working two jobs, you’re going to have a tough time paying your bills and paying David off early…which is why I’m going to reduce your rent.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t! I can’t let you do that.”

  “You can’t stop me,” Angelo retorted with a grin. “It’s my building. I can lower the rent if I want to.”

  “But you need that income—”

  Snorting, he said, “Please! The building’s paid for and the restaurant’s making money hand over fist. You could live here the rest of my life without paying a nickel rent and I’d never miss the money.”

  “I would never do that, and you know it.”

  Angelo chuckled. “Like I said, you’re just like your father.”

  “I don’t want your money,” he said stubbornly.

  “I won’t touch my savings if you’ll let me lower your rent. You’ll be able to pay David off quicker, and I’ll feel like I’m doing something to help you keep Quentin. Please, Tony, let me help.”

  Put like that, Tony couldn’t refuse him. “Okay. If you insist.”

  “I do.” Pleased, he grinned again, his green eyes twinkling. “Now, back to that job you were asking about. You’re just the kind of waiter I’ve been looking for. If you don’t show up for work, I know where you live. When can you start?”

  For an answer, Tony smiled and reached for an apron hanging on a hook by the door. “How about now?”

  Later that evening, Lily walked into Angelo’s restaurant with a smile as big as Texas lighting her face. Champagne. She wanted champagne! After the day she’d had, she deserved it. And a steak, she decided, already tasting it. One of Angelo’s specialties was a grilled steak that smelled incredible, and she’d been promising herself that one day soon, she’d try it. Today was the day. She might even order dessert.

  “Somebody must have had a good day. You’re beaming.”

  Her thoughts on dessert, Lily looked up to find Tony Giovanni standing before her dressed in black slacks and a white shirt, with a waiter’s white apron tied around his waist. She hadn’t seen him since he’d helped her move in two weeks ago, but she would have known that sexy grin of his on the dark side of the moon. Every time she stepped into the stairwell, she thought of him and, like it or not, found herself smiling.

  For that reason alone, she shouldn’t have been pleased to see him, but nothing could dampen her spirits today. Flashing her dimples at him, she said, “I had an incredible day. The best! What about you? What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting on you,” he said simply.

  “You work here?”

  “Starting today,” he said. He arched an eyebrow at her. “I’re celebrating?”

  “You bet we are, Mr. Giovanni. I need champagne. Lots of champagne.”

  He grinned. “That can be arranged. But call me Tony. All my dates do.”

  Too happy to take exception to his flirting, she said, “But we’re not dating. Remember? I’ve just got too much to do.”

  “Then we should take advantage of the moment. I’m here, you’re here, and we’re in that great Italian restaurant I told you about. So what if I’m working? Let’s take what we can get.”

  She should have said no. Her heart was already pounding, and the man was far too easy on the eyes. To make matters worse, he was far too good at flirting. A wise woman would have taken one look at that glint in his eye and requested another waiter, or, better yet, gone to a different restaurant. But what harm could a little flirting do? He was working and this was probably the closest they would ever come to a date. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it?

  “You know, you’re absolutely right,” she said with a smile. “What’s the fun of celebrating alone? It’s a beautiful evening. Is there an available table on the patio? I’d love to eat under the stars.”

  “Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets.” Grabbing a menu from the stack on the counter near the front door, he led her out to the patio and a table for two. With a charming smile, he pulled her chair out for her. “You know, you really do look fantastic. So what are we celebrat
ing? Did you get a raise? A new car? Win the lottery? Whatever it is, you’d make a fortune if you could figure out a way to bottle it.”

  Bursting to share her good news, she confided, “I just had a meeting with the owner of the gallery around the corner.”

  “Susan Richards?” he said, surprised. “She comes in here all the time.”

  “I know. She said she’d known Angelo for twenty years. She’s going to hang two of my photographs in her gallery.”

  Confused, Tony frowned. “I didn’t know you were a photographer. I could have sworn Angelo said you were an accountant.”

  “I was,” she admitted with a smile. “In my other life. Then I had a midlife crisis and decided that if I was ever going to do what I wanted to do instead of what my father thought was best for me, I’d better get started.”

  “It sounds like you made a wise move. Susan has a reputation for accepting nothing but the best. You must have really impressed her.” Nodding at the portfolio she’d laid on the table, he asked, “Mind if I take a look?”

  In the past, she’d never been shy about showing her photos to her friends and anyone else who cared to see them, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, she hesitated to show them to Tony. Idiot, she chided herself. There was no reason to be nervous. His opinion was just that—an opinion. He was certainly entitled to it, but it didn’t mean any more to her than anyone else’s.

  Still, she could feel a blush stealing into her cheeks as she said, “I don’t have copies of the ones from the gallery with me—I left them with San—but I have some others from the same roll of film.”

  When she handed him the portfolio, Tony was amazed to see how shy she was. He wouldn’t have thought she was a woman who ever lacked confidence about anything. Then he opened the portfolio and found himself amazed all over again.

  Glancing up sharply, he said, “You did these? I thought you were a beginner.”

  A slow smile spread from her mouth to her eyes. “I guess you could say I’m a late bloomer. I’ve been studying photography for years, going to conventions, entering contests…that kind of thing. I loved it, but I never felt like I was quite ready to try my hand at it professionally. Then I went to my high-school reunion this summer and everything changed.”

  “You realized that life was passing you by?”

  “Something like that,” she replied with a rueful smile. “All I ever really wanted to be was a photographer. If I was ever going to be happy, I had to take a chance and turn professional. So I did.”

  “And today proved you’ve got what it takes.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far, but it certainly proved that I was right to believe in myself. Of course, I’m still learning, still taking classes, still picking the brains of professional contacts I’ve made over the years and trying to be the best I can be.”

  From what Tony could see, she was already damn good. Studying the black-and-white photos that had been taken in the park on a rainy afternoon, he couldn’t get over the quality of the prints. He knew the street where she’d taken the pictures—it formed the southern boundary of Rock Creek Park—and over the years he’d jogged through that same area hundreds of times. He’d seen it every which way there was to see it and would have sworn he knew it backward and forward, but he’d never seen it the way Lily had captured it on film.

  When she’d taken the picture, a thunderstorm had obviously just blown through. It was late afternoon, but the sky was dark and the streetlights had sprung on. The normally busy entrance to the park was deserted—joggers and vendors had vanished—and a hot-dog cart that had been hastily shut down had been left behind. Rain still dripped from the trees, but it was the steam that rose in a wispy mist from the warm sidewalk and pavement that drew the eye.

  It was a lonely scene, haunting. Somehow, Lily had made the image grainy, which only added to the mood. With no effort whatsoever, Tony could almost smell the rain on the hot pavement and feel the humidity in the air.

  “These are incredible,” he said huskily, turning to the next picture, then the next. “Did Susan see these? I can’t believe she didn’t take them all.”

  She smiled at that. “She wanted to start slowly and give me time to finish the rest of the classes I’m taking. She also wanted to give me time to build up a portfolio of work. If everything goes well, she’s talking about doing a show in the spring.”

  Not surprised, Tony grinned. “Aha. I knew it! Susan’s pretty sharp at spotting talent, and you’ve got to know you’ve got it in spades.”

  “I hoped,” she said with a mest shrug. “But I’m prejudiced. I was afraid I was just seeing what I wanted to see.”

  “You can stop worrying about that. You’ve got a great eye.” Closing the portfolio, he laid it on the table, then straightened with a grin. “Now, about the celebration. You know, if you put yourself in my hands, you won’t regret it.”

  “Yeah, right,” she chuckled, her blue eyes twinkling. “I bet you say that to all your dates.”

  Caught off guard, he burst out laughing. “That’s quite an impression you have of me. I’ll have you know I haven’t been out on a date in six months!”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Not at all. And the only woman I asked out in all that time turned me down flat,” he confided. Mischief dancing in his eyes, he added, “I don’t understand it. I was charming, helpful—I even helped her move into her new apartment. And what did she say when I asked her to dinner? She was too busy! Can you believe it? I was devastated.”

  She grinned. “Maybe she was busy.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “Maybe she’ll give me a second chance.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe she will. I guess you’ll have to ask her again sometime and find out.”

  “You know, I think I’ll do that. So…now that you’ve put yourself in my hands—”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “For your celebration,” he reminded her. “Just sit back and let me take care of everything. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  Fighting a smile, Lily studied him through narrowed eyes. “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to have to watch you like a hawk?”

  “Me?” he said innocently. “I’m harmless.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said. “And I’m Lucille Ball. Okay, Harmless, I’m in your hands…for dinner. I know you’ll make sure it’s wonderful.”

  His gaze drifting to her mouth, Tony hardly heard her. Damn, she was cute when she laughed. Her whole face seemed to light up. So why didn’t she do it more often? She was celebrating tonight, and with good reason, but he had a feeling that most of the time she was far too serious.

  He’d like to see her let down her hair and kick up her heels and enjoy life. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he just might ask her out again—he hoped she hadn’t been, either. He’d take her somewhere fun—

  Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he swore silently. Dammit, he had been working too hard if he was seriously thinking about asking her out again. Hadn’t he had enough trouble with women? Janice had caused him nothing but one heartache after another, and now she was threatening to take his son. He had a hell of a court fight ahead of him, a second job, and with every other thought, he worried about losing his son. The last thing he needed right now was to get involved with someone else, even on a casual basis.

  Still, he was tempted. And that was reason he needed to walk away. “I’ll be right back with your champagne,” he told her quietly, and hurried to the kitchen to put in her order, then collected a chilled bottle of champagne and a champagne glass from the bar.

  When he returned with the wine, Lily almost asked him to stay. Celebrating by herself didn’t seem like much fun. She could have called her father, but he would only spoil the moment for her by pointing out that in spite of the fact that she had somehow managed to land some of her pictures in a gallery, she had yet to sell anything. Tony, at least, seemed to appreciate what she had accomplished so far. Maybe she’d ask hi
m to join her on his break.

  But even as he delivered her champagne, the opportunity was lost. A large crowd swarmed through the door at that moment, drawing him away. Watching him as he seated the boisterous group and joked with them, she told herself it was for the best. Susan Richards may have given her her first break, but she still had a long way to go to establish herself as a photographer. All her energy needed to be focused on that, not a charming flirt like Anthony Giovanni.

  Still on cloud nine, Lily hardly slept that night. She still couldn’t believe her photographs were hanging in a gallery. Six years ago, when she’d met Jeffry Garrison, an agent at a photography convention, and he’d told her he could get her work in a gallery if she ever wanted to turn professional, she hadn’t really believed him. But after she’d had the rolls of film she’d taken in the park developed and she’d seen how good the pictures were, she’d called Jeffry immediately. When he’d set up a meeting with Susan Richards, she still hadn’t believed that he or anyone else would be able to get her work in a gallery so soon after she’d turned professional. Obviously, she’d been wrong.

  Just thinking about how that single phone call to Jeffry could eventually change her life kept her awake for hours.

  Finally drifting off to sleep around three, she should have slept in the following morning—it was Saturday, and she didn’t have anything to do but clean her apartment and do laundry. Instead, she was up with the sun. It was a beautiful day and she couldn’t make herself stay inside, doing housework. So she made a mad dash through the apartment, picking things up and vacuuming while she did several quick loads of laundry. By ten o’clock, she had everything done and was checking her camera bag to make sure she had plenty of film. A few moments later, she hit the streets.

  There was nothing she loved more than Saturday morning in the park. The playground was always teaming with kids, joggers pounded down the trails, and inevitably, someone somewhere was playing Frisbee with their dog. She could spend hours there and never run out of subjects for her pictures.

  But even as she turned the corner and headed for the park at a brisk walk, she found herself thinking about her meeting yesterday with Susan Richards. With a will of their own, her feet turned toward the gallery. She wouldn’t stay long, she promised herself. She just had to see her pictures hanging on the wall one more time. Susan would probably laugh at her, but that was okay. She had to make sure she hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. Maybe while she was there, she’d take a picture of her pictures hanging on the wall.