Come Hell or High Desire

by Misty Dietz

  “I hadn’t heard the woman was pregnant. That’s cool. I’m sure Ann will keep us posted.” Tori turned back to Sloane. “Where is she anyway? She was pumped to see the new stuff.”

  “She’s not here yet.” Sloane gazed steadily at Zack.

  Don’t be afraid of women with balls or brains. You don’t want no box of rocks. John had been down on his knees trowling concrete with Zack’s crew of eight when he’d shared that bit of counsel so long ago.

  Why Zack should think of it now—with Sloane—he didn’t want to dwell on.

  He shifted his weight, then realized how weak that made him look. He could really do without all the unbidden Johnisms today.

  “That’s not like her. She sick?” Tori asked.

  Ann was usually conscientious to a fault. So where was she? That cryptic note was making him more bent by the minute. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable excuse.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Tori studied her nails.

  She’s lying.

  Either she knew where Ann was, or she sucked at reassuring people. Maybe both. Zack’s phone chirped to signal an incoming text from his CFO. Benji’s irate. Be here in 20 or better.

  Now what? Once he was done with Timothy Benjamin’s mall amusement park and the subs were paid, he was never going to work with a scumbag like him again. He frowned at Sloane. “Sorry for the trouble. I’m sure Ann will feel terrible about being late.”

  “We’ll be fine. But maybe you should stop by her place and scope things out? She could be ill or something.”

  It was the or something he didn’t care to think about. But since he needed to deal with Benjamin, and his office wasn’t far from Ann’s, he might as well check in. “Yeah, I’ll stop by her place in an hour or so.”

  “Be sure to have her call us so we know everything’s okay. And hey, the transplant thing’s pretty neat.”

  Her eyes smiled, making something warm pass through his chest. He nodded and made his way outside, itching to run for miles. He couldn’t decide who frustrated him more—Benjamin for making his crew hate their jobs, himself for not only being in the dark about Ann’s mystery man but also his gut-level response to Sloane—or John—for making him care about it all in the first place.

  Chapter Three

  Sloane continued to look at the back door for several moments after Zack’s departure, not sure what to think. Tori wrestled a box off a dolly and drew a box cutter across the packing tape. “Quite the eye candy, eh?”

  Sloane rubbed her hands on her bare arms. “Silky black hair, stormy green eyes, and five o’clock shadow. Tall, built, and moody. In a word? Yummy.”

  Tori smirked. “Yeah, he seems like the whole package. Besides being gorgeous and obviously altruistic, he’s successful. Samuel’s Construction is one of the largest contractors in the upper Midwest, and while Ann’s father could have had any number of front runners succeed him in the business, Zack’s been the man running the show these last few years even before John died. Thing is, Ann says women fawn all over him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. I bet he’s gay.”

  “He’s not gay.”

  “I have several male friends who you’d never think—”

  “So do I. The hetero vibe was in full force, Tori. Your loss if you missed it.”

  Tori paused in the act of lifting an ivory reproduction of Nymph and Satyr Carousing. “We’ve been friends for fifteen years, and I’ve never seen you so instantly gaga over a guy.” She pointed the carved model at Sloane. “I’d hate to see you disappointed if he’s not in your market.”

  Sloane eased the satyr out of her manager’s grasp. Definitely time to change the topic. “Speaking of men, when will Teddy be in town? You guys have been dating for a month now, and I still haven’t met him. I think you’re making him up.”

  She relaxed when Tori took the bait and launched into a diatribe about her busy, out of town boyfriend. Sloane set Nymph and Satyr on a velvet-covered pedestal and drifted from box to box, unloading freight, barely noticing the beautiful objects that normally gave her so much pleasure.

  Truth was, she was unnerved by her response to Zack Goldman. Sure, the man was a looker and—wow, obviously unselfish—but even more than that…

  He’d sent her energy. And she hadn’t even touched anything metallic. Her nerve endings were still sparking like they were having an orgy. That unexpected encounter of his energy was all…beach heat, rolling waves, and oil-slicked bodies sliding together in a dim cabana.

  It had felt delicious.

  Carnal.

  That unsettled her more than anything.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d physically touched someone who didn’t require her to envision her energy shield—that unfortunate but necessary layer of protection that prevented people from short-circuiting her equanimity. No one could see it, but Lordy, she could feel it. Especially if she was too late to initiate it.

  So what the heck had happened with Zack? That encounter left her…hungry. And wasn’t that interesting?

  Crap. What was she thinking? He was one apple she wasn’t biting. If he’d instigated that kind of reaction in her, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that to him. Anyone who glided that effortlessly through her barriers always ended up burned. Her gift was largely uncontrollable.

  A curse.

  And a source of danger to anyone who got too close.

  The cascading trickle of water in the fountain broke her reflection, and she looked up to find herself snared in one of Tori’s scowls. The I know there’s something going on and I’m going to hound you until it’s on the table kind of stare that had Sloane’s heart revving. Tori was one of a handful of people who knew about her object reading burden—that whacked liability her mother referred to as a “gift.”

  Unlike shielding herself from people’s energies, which she struggled to manage, Sloane had become quite masterful at silencing this other ability. But because Tori knew what she was capable of—touching metallic objects to infer information about their history via latent energy fields—Sloane let her guard down more easily around her. Except for times like now when it made her feel…over-exposed. Because, wow, it was really creepy when you thought about it.

  She forced a smile and moved to arrange a pile of pillows to give her hands something to do. “When Teddy’s back in town, I’ll have you guys over for supper.”

  “Knock it off. I saw you shake Zack’s hand. You read something when you touched him, didn’t you?”

  “You know I don’t like it when you bring that up.”

  Tori leaned forward. “I knew it.”

  Sloane’s hands started to sweat. She wanted away. From this conversation. From this despicable affliction that required so much effort to ignore. She marched through the storeroom and out the back door. The air clung to her skin, heavy and damp as only late summer knew best. Did this classify as pouting?

  Lord, she hated pouters.

  “Sloane?”

  She turned to find Tori’s head peeking around the steel door.

  “Your lip’s dragging. Pick it up and—” Tori burst into laughter. Sloane looked back at the parking lot to see her part-time employee Carmen Miller sauntering up to them in a straining-at-the-seams leopard print dress, wheeling an enormous purple suitcase.

  “Whew. So hot out here I about left my ass on the leather car seat. Shake a leg, girlies. I wanna see the loot.”

  Sloane closed her eyes, breathed deep, and concentrated on the beat of her heart, using the rhythm to summon the energy required to raise her protection shield before she put an arm around Tori to follow the wide-hipped redhead inside. Carmen leaned the suitcase against the wall, grabbed a handful of Kleenexes, and stuffed them into her pillowy cleavage before opening the staff refrigerator.

  Sloane gestured to the luggage. “Mind me asking what you plan to do with the mobile unit, Carm?”

  Carmen rubbed a pop can against her cheek. “I might as well face reality. No way am I gonna be able
to pass up a lot of this new stuff. And I don’t trust Miss Salad Shooter over there to not poach my digs until I can get it all home. Hence, the carry-on.”

  “Carry-on? More like semi-truck trailer. And a fugly one at that.” Tori wrinkled her nose at the beat up baggage.

  “You’re just sorry you didn’t think of it yourself, short stuff. So where’s Annie? Bet that twit’s already on the floor, huh? She was happy as a hooker on sailor’s payday to see what was comin’ in.”

  Sloane took a water bottle from the fridge. “She isn’t here yet. She’s not answering her cell or home numbers either.”

  “Really? I busted my rump to get here early so she wouldn’t get all the good stuff first. That girl likes to shop more than I do. I hope her big doin’ last night went all right.”

  Sloane frowned. “What was she going to do?”

  “Wouldn’t say. She blushed pinker than a sunburned tittie, though, which means it had to be about a man.”

  Tori began to pace. “I don’t like this.”

  Sloane didn’t either. “Oh, stop it. I’m sure she’s fine. You girls head out onto the floor and get as much unloaded as you can. I’ll help as soon as I have this paperwork in order. I want the store to look less like a war zone by the time Mr. Benjamin stops in later.”

  Sloane plopped into her desk chair, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and reached for a clipboard. “Oh, and Tori? Speaking of Mr. Benjamin, can you pull the new numbered Swarovski rhino? He wants to add it to his collection, which is excellent, since he has all but committed to sponsoring Project Broken Wings. Anything at the store he wants, he gets. Okay?”

  Not getting a response, she set the clipboard down and swiveled in her seat to find her manager staring at her. “Tori?”

  “Oh, God.”

  Sloane’s neck tingled. “What happened to the rhino?”

  “I, Ann, we… Ah, crap. Ann wanted to see how the Swarovski would look in her curio when it was all lit up. So, I told her you wouldn’t mind if she took it out on loan, to see if it would fit in with her…other…pretty things.” Tori twisted her fingers in her skirt. “But, you do mind, don’t you?”

  Sloane tried not to panic. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. Or it wouldn’t be, if so much wasn’t riding on maintaining a relationship with Timothy Benjamin. She’d have to start looking for sponsors all over again if he wouldn’t sponsor Project Broken Wings—the suicide support alliance that she’d dreamt of founding not long after her sister Megan’s tragic death.

  She rubbed a hand on her stomach. “So you’re sure Ann has it at home?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Sloane. I didn’t know Benjamin wanted it.”

  “No, of course you didn’t.” She chewed on her lip and looked at her watch. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. Benjamin most likely wouldn’t be here before the store opened at noon. Then again, it wouldn’t be out of character for him to come earlier and demand a private showing.

  Tori plucked at her skirt. “Call Ann. Even if she’s not home, Zack said he was going to stop at her place in about an hour. By the time you grab a latte, he’ll probably be there. Ann told me he has a key. Might as well give it a try.”

  “I’ll call, but how about you go?”

  “I can’t, two college summer school students are interviewing me for a class project at nine.”

  “Right, do you think Carmen would go?”

  “Naw. She hasn’t seen the crystal yet. Why does it matter who— Oh. Zack.”

  “Zip it. There’s no oh, Zack.” Sloane pretended to dig into her paperwork. After a few long seconds, Tori slipped out the door, and Sloane picked up the phone.

  Four minutes later, she sat with her head in her hands. Ann hadn’t answered either number.

  The day was rapidly deteriorating. Her choices? Face the beefcake who made her body remember she was a freak, or show up empty-handed to the man with the money and connections to make her dream come true. A dream that could help heal so many other families affected by suicide.

  A dream that straddled the fence with a secret that would never release her.

  A secret Tori didn’t even know.

  It had taken two years to get a bite from a sponsor. She had to stay in good graces with Benjamin. He would deny her the money to start her suicide support foundation if she couldn’t produce the rhino. It was exactly the sort of control game he enjoyed. So she’d either have to get used to crap like that, or start all over.

  Her legs felt wobbly as she stood. She grabbed her purse and walked to the back door, praying for a low-consequence encounter with Zack. And knowing somehow it wouldn’t be.

  Chapter Four

  Long legs, shiny hair, and eyes too sexy for their own good haunted Zack until he turned the corner to Ann’s block. A black Bentley that cost as much as a decent starter home dominated her driveway. A heavy weight settled in his gut when he parked at the curb and noted Timothy Benjamin’s startled expression as he spun away from Ann’s closed front door. Zack unclenched his teeth and stepped out of the cab.

  “Well, well, look who’s come to call. Good to know you aren’t a total recluse, Goldman, but I could’ve saved you the trouble had I known you were on your way. The lady’s not in this morning.”

  “Was she expecting you?”

  Something flickered in Benjamin’s eyes for a second. “Not entirely.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Either she invited you, or she didn’t.”

  “My wife is organizing a charity fashion show and asked me to help find models. Of course, I thought of Ann immediately.”

  “And you thought you’d drive right over to ask in person on a Sunday morning instead of calling or asking any of the next hundred times you walk into the office? How remarkably inefficient of you, Tim.”

  The loose skin around Benjamin’s eyes crinkled as his eyes narrowed. “And that’s remarkably rude of you to say. But then, I don’t really expect more out of someone like you.”

  Zack forced himself to relax his shoulders as Benjamin brushed by him. Thinly veiled references to the past didn’t hurt so much anymore. Yeah, right. He watched the back of Benjamin’s head until the car’s tail lights vanished around the block. Then he turned back to Ann’s front door feeling his shoulder muscles ball up again—the way they always had when bad shit was about to go down.

  …

  Sloane slid her SUV into park in Ann’s driveway and sat there for a moment, willing herself to open the door and get it over with. Zack pushed away from where he’d been leaning near Ann’s front door, and started walking toward her car. Her heart gave a curious tug at the lost-little-boy look he masked before halting near her front bumper.

  He waited there, one big hand scraping across his stubble, until she exited the vehicle. “What are you doing here? Did Ann call or show up at the store yet?” he asked.

  “No, but one of my part-timers came in after you left and said Ann had a date last night. Do you know her boyfriend? Maybe you could give him a call.” Lordy, were his eyes ever a complex mixture of greens. Saturated shades of rich color like the underside of a sunlit leaf.

  Those eyes clouded over. “You came here to tell me she had a date last night?”

  “Isn’t it likely they’re still together?”

  His arms folded across his chest. A really, really nice chest. And…other parts. “I don’t know about any date Ann may have had last night. Was there anything else you needed here?”

  A spurt of heat warmed her cheeks. “Actually, yes. Ann has something from the store that I need to get back for a client. Have you been inside? To make sure she’s—you know—actually gone?”

  His eyes darkened, but a bit of his bluster dissipated. “There’s nothing wrong. No sign of forced entry. No missing luggage, jewelry, art. Not even any dirty dishes in the sink to tell me the last time she ate. And her car is sitting in the damn garage.”

  “So she was picked up and stayed overnight with him.” Sloane looked to Ann’s front door, fixing on
the door handle. Her vision flickered, and she staggered forward until Zack’s warm hands grasped her arms, dispelling the gray haze in her mind. She blinked up at him. Subtle waves of energy poured into her where his hands made contact with her skin.

  “You okay?” His speech wrapped around her, warm and comforting. The sudden change in his attitude was almost as disconcerting as the psychic jolt.

  Or whatever that had been.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” She stepped back as far as good manners allowed and rubbed her upper arms. “Mind if I go inside to get what I need for the store? It’s a Limited Edition crystal rhino, about yea-big—”

  “How’d you know I’d even be here?” he asked.

  “I didn’t, but I hoped if Ann wasn’t, you might be.” He didn’t respond, and heat crept up her neck. “Look, I really need to get that rhino back. At the store, you said you were coming here after your meeting, and I took you at your word. You have a problem with that?”

  He didn’t say anything for a long while, but took her measure with those gorgeous eyes. Then he blinked, and she could breathe again.

  Until he shoved his hands in his front pockets. Oh, but the man was well-made.

  “My word’s good. But what’s this really about?” he asked.

  “What is your problem? I just told you—”

  “Lies are for cowards.”

  Her breath seized at his quiet words. If he only knew how many lies she’d had to tell over the years to protect her—

  Sssecretsss.

  She glanced to the side, looking for the source of the echoing sound, then back at Zack, but he didn’t seem to have heard it. She clasped her icy hands and faced Ann’s front door. Her peripheral vision glimmered. A rolling tightness crept from her stomach toward her esophagus. Oh, Lord, something’s really wrong here.

  And Zack was watching her. Think about Ann. Ask a few helpful questions, then you can leave in good conscience. “Is there anyone else you can call? Any other family or friends she could possibly be with?”