by Cassie Miles
“That information is confidential.”
“How very convenient!” Her sarcasm lashed out. “Listen, David, if you’re here to watch over me, don’t I at least deserve to know who hired you?”
“PEI built its reputation on confidentiality. Most of our clients include names that everyone would recognize. Celebrities. High-ranking politicians. Visiting royalty. Possibly, the person who hired me to protect you is—”
“Impossible!” Now Tasha was sure somebody was pulling her leg. “I don’t know anybody famous.”
“Sure you do,” Mandy put in. “There was that actress from Aspen who came in and bought all those orchids. She’s famous.”
But she would hardly think of hiring a bodyguard as payment for flowers. The closest that Tasha got to celebrities was accepting their credit cards. She flipped the business card between her fingers. “Who’s your boss?”
“Joseph Singleton owns the agency.”
Tasha went behind the counter and picked up the telephone. Though it was after four o’clock in Denver, which meant it was after six in New York City, there must be somebody at this number she could talk with. She kept an eye on David as Mandy sidled up to him with her hugely pregnant body and offered him the tail end of the last croissant.
Instead of brushing her off, which was the way most men reacted to poor Mandy, David accepted the crumbling piece of bread. “Thank you very much,” he said.
Mandy giggled. Actually giggled! The girl was flirting, and she looked happier than she had in months.
A Brooklyn-accented voice answered the phone. “PEI.”
“Yes, I’d like to speak with Joseph Singleton, please.”
“He’s not available. I’ll take a message.”
“No,” Tasha said firmly. She wanted this matter settled. “Let me talk to someone else, someone in authority.”
“It’s after business hours. Can I take a message?”
“This is an emergency.”
“Please hold.”
The “hold” music was a radio station playing rock ‘n’ roll from the 1960s, an era that Tasha considered as ancient as classical. She stared at the floral sculpture near the door. Golden oldies. The arrangement was almost right. Golden. gold.
In a flash, Tasha knew what was missing from her work. Glitter. Sparkle. She envisioned a single strand, a golden thread, weaving amid the stems and spilling across the base in a shimmer of pyrite.
Anxious to complete the work, now that she knew what was missing, she almost hung up the phone.
A cool, deep, female voice came on the line. “This is Delia Marie Barry.”
“Natasha Lancer. I’m in Denver, and there’s a man here who claims to be my bodyguard. Is this on the level?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Who hired him?”
“I can’t divulge that information.”
Her voice rang with a firm, authoritative note that made Tasha realize argument was futile. “There must be some kind of mistake. I run a flower shop. I’m not rich, not famous, and I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Apparently, someone thinks that you do.”
“That’s nuts! I don’t know anybody in New York, and nobody there knows me.”
“Actually, we have a great deal of information on you.”
“Such as?”
“Your father was Mortimer Lancer. He’s deceased. Your mother is Martina Petrosky Lancer, who immigrated to the United States from Mother Russia in 1959. You were born in Denver, spent your early years in a fashionable southeast suburb before your parents divorced. When you were fifteen you ran away from home with—”
“That’s enough,” Tasha said. Her teen years were too painful to recount, especially when funneled through a disembodied voice from New York City. “If you can’t tell me who, at least tell me why? Why would I need a bodyguard?”
“I should think it’s obvious, Tasha. You’re in danger. Extreme danger. Please accept David’s assistance. He’s very competent at his job.”
Tasha didn’t doubt his abilities. She had the distinct impression that David was good at anything he put his hand to. As she watched him with Mandy, she couldn’t help being impressed with how quickly he had charmed the moody pregnant girl. “But I don’t want somebody following me around.”
“Have a pleasant evening, Tasha.”
“I’m not paying for this.”
“The expense has already been covered.”
“What kind of danger?”
“Allow David to do his job, and you may never need to find out.”
The phone went dead in her hand, and a chill chased up and down her spine. It was as if the cold hand of fate had grabbed her by the nape of the neck and was shaking her. Pay attention, Tasha! You’re in danger. But why? There had been times in her life, foolish times, when she’d been threatened. But there was always a reason, not an unnamed peril that intruded on her hard-won security.
She looked over at David again. He was listening to Mandy who bubbled with excitement as she explained the varying species of potted plants, dried flowers and terrariums that decorated the front area of the shop. Though he seemed to be giving her his complete attention, his eyes flicked here and there, seeking out threats.
From what? A vicious philodendron? A homicidal fern? She didn’t need a bodyguard, and she intended to send him packing. Just because some woman in New York thought there was danger didn’t mean it was true.
Tasha pulled on her gloves and found a roll of shimmering golden thread. Using a small step stool, she completed her decoration of the piece in the lacquered black vase.
“All right, Mandy. We need to take this next door. Along with the other small Aladdin’s lamp piece.”
David went to the glass front door, stared out at the pedestrian traffic on the street and frowned. “Is there a back entrance?”
“Yes, of course. But we’ll go through the front. The rear of the jewelry shop is locked up like Fort Knox.” She lifted the upper piece. “If you want to make yourself useful, David, you might carry the vase. It’s a little cumbersome and I try not to have Mandy do any lifting.”
“Fine.” He grasped the lip of the vase with one hand.
“Careful! That thing cost twenty bucks.”
“I would have guessed more.”
“I ordered it from a potter and did the painting and design myself. Please watch what you’re doing.”
He gave her a wry smile. “I think I can manage to protect a vase.”
“Then maybe I need you, after all. You can bodyguard all the crockery in my shop.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worked with crackpots.” David stepped outside and held the door for the two women. He scanned the street. Constant traffic, he thought. Too many people milling about. This was going to be a difficult assignment, especially with Tasha’s attitude.
“Aren’t you going to lock up?” he asked.
“I turned the catch. The door locks automatically. I’ve got the keys in my pocket.”
“Good.” He carried the vase in his left hand, leaving his gun hand free. Though this sun-dappled street with traffic that included minivans, Porsches and even a limo seemed totally safe, he was alert. Danger often came in unexpected surroundings. Just when you thought you were safe, pow! A bullet. An explosion.
A uniformed armed guard held open the door to Pola and Tweed Jewelry, and David felt far more comfortable when they were inside. He set the vase where Tasha instructed, then stepped back, drawing into himself, assuming an unobtrusive position.
There was less need for vigilance here, and so he watched her, trying to get a clue about who or what might be threatening this petite woman who was more spunk than smarts when it came to her own safety.
Never before had David encountered a reaction like hers. His services were usually welcomed. Though clients often bristled at what they considered limitations to their personal freedom, they were glad to have a bodyguard. But Tasha had been angry. After that first insta
nt of vulnerability when she gazed at him with bold, naked curiosity, her defenses shielded her emotions. It was almost as if she resented his presence, and he wondered if she had something to hide.
As she tidied up her floral creation, concentration consumed her. Her slender arms reached up to straighten a leaf. She twisted the stem of a tall, waxy red flower so it showed to greater advantage. Her busy hands in yellow gloves poked and plucked and adjusted the elaborate display. She darted back to study the effect. A slight frown pinched the corners of her mouth as she stared. Her huge, liquid brown eyes fascinated him. There were secrets in those eyes.
When she squatted down to wipe a nearly invisible smudge from the vase, he marveled at how she made such an ungainly posture seem almost balletic. In spite of her funky yellow miniskirt and her goofy short black hair with dangling tendrils that made it look as if she’d groomed with an eggbeater, she looked every inch a lady. Well-bred, he knew from the minimal dossier PEI had provided him with. Tasha’s mother claimed to have descended from Russian aristocracy.
Tasha herself was delicate, feminine. David stopped himself before acknowledging his opinion that she was also sexy. In his line of work, it was important to maintain a discreet distance between himself and his clients.
But she was adorable. He would have liked to hold her face in his hands, to plunge into the depths of those incredible dark eyes. He would have liked to touch the blushing softness of her cheek, to feel her slender body moving against him.
David looked away from her. He didn’t generally jump from “hello” to desire. Tasha Lancer, he decided, was remarkable.
“Hello, there,” said a high-pitched female voice. “And who might you be?”
“I might be David Marquis,” he said.
She was a full-bodied woman, dressed in Donna Karan with a tasteful hint of cleavage. Her curly blond-streaked hair was so thoroughly sprayed into place that the tresses didn’t move a millimeter when she tossed her head. “I’m Janet Pola. I own this shop.”
“Congratulations. This is a beautiful store “
“Well, it’s not usually draped in silk, but I was trying to create the effect of a desert sheikh’s opulent tent. Does it work?”
“Very nicely.”
“Are you Tasha’s new beau?”
Before David could reply, Tasha leapt between them. “He’s with me,” she said. “Everything looks splendid, Janet.”
“I’m pleased. And tonight will be a very Cherry Creek event. You’ve done the flowers. I ordered the wine from that specialty shop on Second Avenue. And catering will be done by Desiree’s Deli.”
“I’m glad you’re supporting the area.”
“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Her high-pitched voice rose another octave. “I’ve always said that the best of the best is here in Cherry Creek.”
“Not to mention that we give one another discounts.”
“That, too.” She turned back toward David. “Be sure to bring your new boyfriend tonight.”
“He’s not my…” Tasha stopped herself. How was she going to explain that David was a bodyguard? “We’ll be here.”
“Seven o’clock,” she said to David. Her voice was a shrill purr, almost a whine. “Tuxedos are optional.”
Tasha hurried David and Mandy back onto the street and returned, once again, to the sanctuary of her own shop. After she twisted the key in the lock, David reached around her to grasp the doorknob.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. At the same time, she was very much aware of how close he was.
“I’ll go first,” he said. “This is going to be standard procedure, so I suggest you get accustomed to it.”
“I never knew that rudeness could be standard procedure.”
“If you’ll allow me to explain…”
“Don’t bother.” She stalked inside her shop, then whirled around to face him. “This is the last time I’m going to say this, David. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Too late. I’ve already been hired to protect you.”
“I’ve been taking care of myself since I was fifteen, and I’m doing just fine.”
Her temper kicked in, and Tasha fought to control herself. Her sister, Anastasia, had always said that was the big difference between them. Tasha reacted with fire. Stacey was ice.
Tasha could feel the flush in her cheeks, the heat that arose to consume her common sense. “Please leave, David. I don’t want a bodyguard.”
“Here’s what I suggest,” he said calmly. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll order blinds or shades for the windows here. Tonight, I’ll go home with you and secure your apartment. Depending upon the arrangement of the building, we can decide whether or not it’s possible for me to keep an eye on you from the hall outside your door.”
“What? You’d sleep in the hall?”
“It’s best if I can be inside with you, but—”
“In my apartment? No way!”
“I’ll check out your car. And, of course, I’ll be driving you everywhere.”
“Get out!” The fire inside her erupted in a volcanic burst. Who did this guy think he was? “I’m not going to put up with this!”
“Tasha, someone has reason to believe you’re in extreme danger. I’m doing my job.”
“If you don’t leave right now, I’ll call a policeman. A real policeman. And I’ll slap you with a restraining order.”
“PEI will send someone else.”
“And I’ll get a restraining order against them, too. I’m not going to be pushed around.” She yanked off her gloves, flung them into the drawer behind the counter and slammed it. “For the last time, get out!”
“Be reasonable, Tasha. You might not know where the danger is coming from, but it’s there. Waiting for you around a dark corner, in the closet in your bedroom, in the back seat of your car. You’re vulnerable.”
“I’m not!”
“Everybody is. Nobody can go through their entire day looking over their shoulder. That’s why they hire me.”
“Tasha?” Mandy stepped forward. “Maybe he’s right. It’s better to be safe.”
“Nobody’s after me.” Tasha tried to reassure the girl who looked at her with worried eyes, and she mentally cursed David for upsetting Mandy. Being seventeen, unmarried and pregnant was hassle enough. “Don’t give this a second thought, Mandy. Come on, you know me. Why, I don’t have anything worth stealing, There’s absolutely no reason I should be in danger.”
Except for Stacey. Despite her sister’s coolness, she was wild. Sometimes her escapades landed her on the wrong side of the law. But Tasha hadn’t even seen her sister in more than five years. The last she heard, Stacey was living in London.
When Tasha patted Mandy’s shoulder, the girl flinched. She looked so very young. How could this child be about to give birth? “Don’t be concerned,” Tasha soothed. “Everything is just fine. Sugar dandy. Couldn’t be better.”
“What if David is right?”
“He’s not.” She glared at him. “He’s leaving now. Aren’t you, David?”
“I’ll wait outside.”
When the door closed behind him, Tasha said, “I could just slap him for making you nervous. You don’t need that kind of stress.”
“But I liked him. He was real nice to me.”
“I know, Mandy. But—”
“And he likes you.”
“Nonsense,” Tasha said. But she felt an annoying tingle of pleasure. “Why would you say that?”
“He was watching you. When we were over at the jewelry store. And he had that look in his eyes. You know, like he’s starving, and you’re a chocolate cake.”
“Oh, really?” Her assistant’s explanation brought a smile to Tasha’s lips. She felt her anger fading as quickly as it had arisen. “The chocolate cake look?”
Mandy stroked her protruding belly. “Believe it, Tasha. I know that look.”
“I guess you do. I keep forgetting that you’re young and old at the same time. Almost a mother.”
“I can’t wait for this to be over. I’m starving all the time. I hate being pregnant. I feel like a hippo.”
“But you’re so beautiful,” Tasha said. And she wasn’t lying. There were times when Mandy seemed to glow with a special serenity. Sometimes Tasha was almost envious. “You’re bursting with life.”
“That’s me, all right.” She treated Tasha to one of her infrequent grins. “Busting out all over.”
“Are you sure you won’t come to the premier showing tonight at the jewelry store? Might be fun.”
“Hanging out with all those snobs? I’d rather sit in poison ivy.”
“Would you do me a favor and close up the shop at six? I’d like to leave now and start getting ready.”
“Sure.”
Tasha ran the figures from the cash register, processed the charge slips and checks and deposited the extra cash in the wall safe in her office. Since there was less than five hundred dollars in cash, she wouldn’t bother with a run to the bank tonight. She wanted as much time as possible to get ready for the premier showing of the Sheikh’s Rubies. All of these potential customers would be watching her as much as they noted her floral designs. It was important to present herself well.
She bade Mandy goodbye and stepped out onto the street. David was nowhere in sight, and she felt a contrary sense of disappointment. She’d ordered him to leave, after all. She’d threatened him with a restraining order. “Good riddance,” she murmured to herself. “I should just forget him.”
But she wasn’t convinced. It might have been nice to meet him in different circumstances. He was certainly an attractive man, and she’d felt that pull when she first saw him. The only way to describe it was, Wow! Those eyes! Those shoulders! Wow!
Obviously, there was something very wrong with her. David was the first man who had truly excited her in a long time, and there he’d stood, offering to stay with her twenty-four hours a day. And what had she done? She’d thrown him out!
Maybe she should have played along. Where was the harm in pretending that she needed a bodyguard?
As always, she’d parked a few blocks away from the store. The most negative aspect of this shopping district was the lack of adequate parking, and she didn’t want to take up a precious space near her shop.
