“Well, long story short, he and I were both at Luke Powell’s party last night, and we had a very public disagreement.”
“Oh, my God! You were invited to a party at Luke Powell’s?”
“That’s not the important part. About an hour or so after our disagreement, Max Goodwin was found dead. And I was the one who found him.”
“Wait. What? Max Goodwin’s dead?”
“Yes, and I’m a person of interest in his murder.”
“Oh, my God, Magnolia!” She was silent for a moment. “What are you going to do?”
“My mother hired an attorney, but do you remember me telling you about my high school nemesis?”
“Yeah, Emma, right? And do people really have nemeses? Isn’t that just for superheroes?”
“Emily, and call it whatever you like. She hated my guts for stealing Tanner, and she still holds a grudge. And now she’s my attorney.”
“That was like fifteen years ago.”
“Twelve,” I corrected. No sense adding to my age.
“Why would you use someone who hates you?”
“I’m completely broke after giving Griff all my money, and besides, my mom’s the one who hired her. Jody, it’s like Emily’s pulled a Single White Female and tried to slip into my old life. She and my mom are thick as thieves, and she claims she’s BFFs with Maddie, my old best friend.”
“Is she with Tanner?”
“No, he’s engaged to some super thin, tall, blonde bimbo. They were at the party too.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t trust Emily Johnson to defend me, even if she did insist she hates to lose. While I can attest that’s true, her hatred of me might trump that.”
“I can’t believe she would hold a stupid grudge over a boy . . . Oh wait. I’ve seen his photos online. Never mind. I do.”
“What do you mean you’ve seen his photos online?”
She hesitated. “I may have Facebook stalked him.”
“Oh, my God, Jody.”
“I was curious. Sue me. He’s a hottie. And Maddie is cute too.”
I stopped walking so abruptly that someone ran into my back. Jody was proof that Emily wasn’t the only person who’d been digging into my past. Would the police? Had Blake been following me through social media? That text message was an indication that someone was watching me now, whether it was him or someone else.
Why in God’s name had I let Miranda, my second roommate who had taken me to the first audition for my first commercial, convince me that my name was too perfect, too memorable to change for a stage name?
I pressed a hand to my forehead, struggling to catch my breath. Then I noticed Brady was standing directly across the street from me, staring right at me.
The blood rushed from my head, and I felt like I was about to faint. Why was he following me? What if he’d been in that deli because he was keeping tabs on me? Who was he with? The police or someone connected to my past?
“Jody. I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait! What about—?”
But I’d already hung up my phone and stuffed it into my pocket. Brady was still standing there, staring at me just as blatantly as he had been moments before.
Lucky for me—or not, depending on the outcome—I had enough piss and vinegar flowing through my veins to confront this issue head on. Keeping my eyes on his, I started to walk across the street, not paying one bit of attention to the traffic. A car screeched to a halt inches away from me. Brady’s eyes flew wide with fear, but anger trumped my regard for my personal safety. I continued to march the rest of the way across the road, ignoring the blaring horns.
I stopped in front of him and gave his solid chest a shove, but damn him, he didn’t even budge. “Why are you following me?”
He blinked, looking like he was trying to figure out what was going on. “I’m not following you.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it!” I tried to shove him again.
Good God. Were his pecs made of granite? Focus, Magnolia.
People were openly staring at us, watching our exchange—or more accurately, my assault on his chest.
“Maggie, I was walking this way,” he said in a comforting tone. “I’m on my way to the outfitter store.” He pointed down the street.
“Why were you staring at me?”
“Because you worried me outside the deli, and when I saw you stop in your tracks, I watched you to make sure you were okay. You didn’t look okay, and I was trying to decide whether to come check on you.” It all sounded so reasonable, and his voice was like warm honey, sinking through my skin and setting me at ease.
And that scared the shit out of me.
I dropped my hands and took two steps back, then turned to the small crowd that had gathered around us. “Nothing to see here. Go on about your business.”
They started to disperse, giving us backward glances, and I was sure I heard one woman whisper to her friend, “Isn’t that her?”
If Brady heard her, he didn’t let on. But he might be storing the information, filing it away for a later analysis. He was the epitome of a strong, comforting man. Just the kind of persona a man would try to use to get close to a woman and dig up her secrets.
“Maggie, what’s going on? What has you this scared?”
“Who said I was scared?”
“Both times you looked like you were about to pass out.”
For once I had no witty retort. Damn his sexy voice. I was immune to men’s wiles, so why was this one affecting me?
“Are you in trouble?” he asked, taking my silence as a good sign.
I released a sharp laugh and turned away from him. “You could say that.”
“Do you have someone to talk to?” When I didn’t respond, he said, “I have a friend at Bridges. I can call her and have her meet you somewhere to talk.”
I turned to him in shock. “Bridges Domestic Violence Center?”
He thought I was a victim of domestic violence? It meant he wasn’t a threat. He was a genuinely nice guy performing his duty to help a woman in distress. This probably wouldn’t have happened on a New York City sidewalk.
To my shock, tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back and shook my head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m fine. I promise.”
He didn’t look entirely convinced. He reached into his bag and pulled out a receipt, then grabbed a pen out of his jacket pocket and scribbled on the back of the slip. “You already know my name is Brady, and this is my cell number. If you ever need help—even if you just need someone to talk to—call me.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”
A lopsided grin lifted his mouth. “Call me a sucker for a damsel in distress.”
The title rankled. I’d spent the last ten years fending for myself. I didn’t need some man to ride in on a white horse and save me.
But his voice . . . it was like a siren song that said trust me. And damned if I didn’t . . . or at least as much as I was capable of trusting anyone. I took the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. “Thanks.”
He nodded toward me. “Put it into your phone.”
“What? I will later.” Although I hadn’t really planned to do it at all.
“You’ll lose it. Put it in now.”
I put my hand on my hip. “Are you always so bossy?”
His grin lit up his eyes. “My parents call it stubborn. My brother calls it pigheaded. And my sister calls it demanding, but you can call it bossy if you’d like. I just know you won’t have time to dig a piece of paper out of the trash if you’re in trouble. You need to have it handy.”
“Who says I’ll find myself in trouble?”
“Call it a hunch. So do it now, and I’ll let you go on about your day.”
Releasing an exaggerated sigh, I dug out my phone. As I programmed the number into my contacts, I told myself I could always delete it later. When I was finished, I showed him the screen. “Happy now?�
�
“Believe it or not, yes.” Still he didn’t make a move to leave. “Do you work down here? I haven’t seen you before.”
This told me two things. One, he either worked in this part of town or spent a lot of time here, and two, he paid attention to the people who came and went. My guard was back up.
“Thanks for your concern, Brady. I’ve got to take my mother her lunch. She’s already going to be pissed her sandwich is cold.”
I might as well have told him exactly who I was and where I “worked.” I had no doubt whatsoever he was going to pay attention to where I went anyway, but there was no reason to make it easy for him. Without another word, I spun around. This time I was more careful about crossing the street. When I gave one last look behind me, Brady was standing at the corner watching me. But instead of looking guilty, he gave me a half wave.
And damned if a flush of heat didn’t wash through me.
Crap on a cracker. I didn’t have time for a man in my life.
Too bad my body didn’t agree.
Chapter 10
The afternoon went quickly as I continued to work on the filing system, although it was easy to see that this job would only last me another day, tops. I couldn’t imagine what else Momma had planned for me. I sure as hell hoped it didn’t include sending me back out as wait staff, but I could think of a few alternative jobs that would be worse. When I was a teenager, she used to make me scrub tile grout with a toothbrush. If I were going to stick around, maybe I should start looking for a job.
Momma’s appointment was at 2:00, so she went downstairs at 1:30 to start preparing the food. I sucked in a breath as I hauled yet another stack of files to the basement. Descending the basement stairs was easier when I realized Colt was already down there, hunched over a large rectangular box.
“What are you up to?” I asked as I set the files down, trying not to spill the contents.
“I convinced Tilly that you needed more light down here. Working in such dim conditions is bound to give you wrinkles from squinting.”
My hand flew up to the corner of my eye.
He laughed. “I knew that would get you.” I shot him a glare, but he only laughed harder. “Lucky for you, Maggie Mae, I got you a floor lamp you can move next to the cabinet.” He lifted a light with three large bulbs out of the box, then looked around the dark cellar. “Now I just need to find an outlet.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
He glanced back at me, surprise on his face. “I know. You already told me that last night.”
“Then why are you doing this?” I gestured to the floor lamp.
He slowly turned to face me, shaking his head. “New York must have really warped your mind. A guy can be nice to a woman without wanting to get her into bed.”
“So you don’t want to sleep with me?”
A slow grin spread across his face. “No reason to go that far.” His eyes twinkled. “But let’s say I’m content just being friends.”
“For now.”
“That’s not in dispute, but I get the impression you think I mean to trick you into bed.” He moved toward me until he was standing just inches away, then reached up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m not sure what you’re used to up in the big city, Maggie Mae, but we’re gentlemen here. When you go to bed with me, you’ll be more than willing. No regrets.”
Griff had been a charmer, but deep down I’d always known what he was. Colt’s motives were less clear. Even if he were entirely pure of heart, I wasn’t ready to start anything with anyone. But his easygoing nature and ridiculous good looks could wear down a saint or a nun, and I was neither.
I took a step back and gave him a haughty look. “While I love a guy with confidence, I’m not too fond of men who are cocky.”
He burst out laughing. “If I weren’t a gentleman, I would make a crude remark to that. Lucky for you, I am.” He winked, then bent over and plugged in the cord. The bright light temporarily blinded me, but the area around the cabinet was still swathed in shadows.
I froze in place, terror washing over me as I stared at the sharp juncture of shadow and light, reminded of something I couldn’t remember.
“I’ll dig up an extension cord somewhere,” he said, moving closer. “That should help. Hey, you’re shaking like a leaf. Are you cold?”
He put his hand on my arm, and I jumped away from him, wrapping my arms across my chest.
He held up his hands in surrender, worry wrinkling his brow. “Easy now. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” I said a little too defensively.
Slowly lowering his hands, he gave me a grudging smile. “Yeah, I can see that.”
I hugged myself tighter. “You were right. I am cold.”
After studying me for a few seconds, he pointed over his shoulder toward the stairs. “How about I get your jacket when I go up?”
It was on my lips to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but I offered him a smile instead. “No need. I’m about to head up and get more files anyway.”
He nodded, then started for the stairs.
“Colt,” I blurted out.
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for the lamp. And . . . well . . . for everything, I guess. Thanks for being my friend. I don’t have very many left.”
“Give it time, Maggie Mae. The people from your past will be greeting you soon enough.” He trudged up the stairs, his shoes clomping on the wooden steps, while my heartbeat kicked into overdrive.
What had he meant by that?
But then I admonished myself for being so suspicious. He was talking about my old friends, of course, but he had no idea how many bridges I’d burned. How many people I’d hurt. They wouldn’t welcome me back with open arms.
When I headed back upstairs a few minutes later, my mother was in the kitchen talking to a young woman dressed in a pencil skirt and cardigan. With her Peter Pan collar, she looked straight out of an old movie. Her shoulder-length, strawberry-blonde bob and wide-eyed innocence only added to the effect.
Assuming she was my mother’s appointment, I took a step toward the stairs leading to the office, but the woman’s gaze landed on me, and my mother’s soon followed.
The young woman gasped. “Magnolia?”
I froze in place and then forced myself to turn and face her. Once again I found myself at a disadvantage. I couldn’t place her, but there was something in her eyes that looked familiar.
“Lila,” the woman gushed, pressing her fingertips to her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me she was here?”
My mother had the good sense to look embarrassed. “She just got home last night, and she’s been filing down in the basement.” Then she beckoned me forward. “Magnolia, come on over here.”
After fighting my nerves for hours in the basement, I didn’t feel up to sparring with someone from the past. It was best to just get the hell out of there.
“Oh,” I looked down at my now-dusty clothes. “I’d hate to interrupt your meeting. I’ll head upstairs.”
Momma’s eyebrows lifted. “This isn’t my client. This is Roy’s wife, Belinda.”
The young woman gave me a warm smile. “Magnolia, I am so happy to finally meet you.”
Now I recognized her—from the photo on the staircase wall, not to mention my Facebook stalking. I’d looked her up after my mother unceremoniously informed me my brother had gotten married. It had stung not to be invited to the wedding, but as my mother had so bluntly pointed out, I wouldn’t have gone anyway.
That didn’t mean I wouldn’t have liked to have been asked.
But Belinda had drastically cut her hair since their wedding, making her look younger and more innocent.
I took several hesitant steps toward them. “Nice to meet you, Belinda. I’m sorry I only sent a gift card for a wedding gift. I called Roy to ask him what you wanted and offer my congratulations, but he didn’t get back to me
.” Not that I’d expected him to—he’d refused to talk to me for years. But his marriage had seemed like the right time to reach out to him, especially since I couldn’t remember the last time we’d spoken. I was pretty sure it was when Momma had dragged him to New York with her on her first visit eight years ago.
Belinda didn’t seem concerned in the least. Her smile didn’t even waver. “Roy’s the worst with communication,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. “Why, just yesterday I found out his secretary had a baby three months ago. He’d never even told me that she was pregnant!” She laughed, a perky sound that I would have sworn was fake had she not looked so completely genuine. She circled around the stainless steel table and pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re back.” She leaned back and looked me in the eyes. “We’re going to be the best of friends. I just know it.”
My mother was giving me a warning look, but she didn’t need to be concerned. I wasn’t going to mock Belinda or whatever else she was imagining. While my new sister-in-law was coming on a little strong, I found myself intrigued. Could someone really be that nice? “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding shocked.
“Of course.”
“Then come to Bunco with me tonight.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, blinking. “Do what?”
“It’s Bunco night. I think my friend Sylvia is hosting. I know she won’t mind. Especially since you’re a Broadway star.”
I grimaced. “Oh . . . I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“It’s a brilliant idea. Do you have plans?” She turned to Momma. “Does she have plans?”
I gave my mother a look that begged for mercy, but she grinned. “It just so happens she’s free.” Then she had the audacity to flash me a huge smile.
“Perfect!” Belinda gushed, clutching her hands together. “I’ll pick you up at around 6:45. What kind of refreshments do they have at Bunco night in New York City?”
“I can honestly say I’ve never been to a Bunco night in either New York or anywhere else.” I was pretty sure my mother’s Bunco nights when I was a teen didn’t count since I wasn’t supposed to be there.
Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1 Page 11
