Jo Leigh - One-Click Buy - September Harlequin Blaze

“How long ago did she stop?” Izzie asked, feeling a sharp sense of pity for the man. She sensed Harry needed to build up to telling them the worst of it.

“A few years ago when she turned forty. Right after we got married.” Opening his desk drawer, Harry reached in and grabbed a silver flask and a shot glass. He poured himself a drink, raising a brow toward Nick and Izzie to see if they wanted one.

Neither took him up on it. Izzie because she was already feeling queasy at the story Harry was telling them. Nick…well, probably because he was already on a low simmer in the chair next to her. Throwing alcohol on a slow burn could make it erupt.

“And what, she thought if she could get rid of your headliner, you’d suddenly put her back on stage? That makes no sense,” Nick said, disgust dripping from his words.

“Not to you. Not to me,” Harry said with a sigh. “But to her.” Growing slightly pink in the cheeks, he added, “I, uh, think there might have been a little more to it, though. I guess I talk a lot about you Rose…Izzie,” he clarified, calling her by her real name for the first time since he’d hired her. “And I think Dee got a bit jealous, thinking my interest was something other than professional.” Almost blushing to the roots of his balding head now, he quickly added, “That wasn’t at all true. I’m as proud of you as if you were my own daughter…but Dee didn’t get that.”

The man had never even looked at her the wrong way. Izzie didn’t doubt he was being truthful.

“Was she responsible for the roses?”

Harry nodded, taking another deep sip of his drink. “She put some kind of bug powder on them. And before you ask, yes, she did the chair too. I got her to admit to both of those things, as well as putting some kind of syrup-Ipecac-in the chocolates.”

This time Izzie was the one to call the other woman a bitch under her breath. She simply couldn’t help it. Again, Harry didn’t make any effort to defend his wife.

“Why’d she come clean?” Izzie asked.

“I suspected as soon as I saw the box of candy. Dee loves that kind. And she came home with some of that syrup a couple of days ago, saying she wanted it on hand in case one of her nieces or nephews came over and swallowed something poisonous.”

Nick shifted a little, his arms still cross, his body still rigid. “So you confronted her?”

Harry nodded. “And she confessed. When she saw how sick Leah was, she felt awful.”

“Wonder if she’d have felt that way if it had been Izzie lying on the floor,” Nick snapped.

He sounded very protective. Which made Izzie feel all warm and gooshy inside, even though she told herself that was stupid.

“I dunno,” Harry admitted. “Maybe not.”

Gee, it was nice to be liked.

Nick finally sat up and leaned toward the desk. Fixing a firm eye on Harry he said, “Have you called the police?”

The man slowly shook his head. But before Nick could confront him on it, he added, “I went to Leah first and told her everything. She and Jackie decided to press charges, and they made the call to the police themselves.”

Nick relaxed. A little.

“I understand why that needed to happen.” Tears rose in Harry’s gray eyes and oozed a little onto his round cheeks. “But I couldn’t be the one to turn my wife in.”

Izzie reached over and put her hand on Nick’s leg, sensing he was about to make another comment about Delilah. She squeezed his thigh, warning him not to. Harry was suffering enough. He didn’t need to be told he was a fool for loving someone so hateful. “I understand,” she murmured.

“I hope you do. And I hope you’ll understand that I’m going to see her through this. She’ll be facing assault charges.”

“At the very least,” Nick mumbled.

“I know this might make you want to leave, Ro…Izzie. But I wish you wouldn’t.” The man smiled weakly. “You’re family.”

Huh. If poison was the way Delilah treated members of her family, Izzie would hate to see what she did to her enemies.

“I know that, too,” Izzie said, slowly pulling her hand away from Nick’s warm thigh, already missing the contact. Already missing him. “You love her. That’s what people who love each other do…they support one another, even when they make what other people might see as bad or foolish decisions.” Hearing a quiver in her voice as the subject touched much too close to home, Izzie offered Harry a tremulous smile.

Nick she didn’t even look at.

“Thank you for telling me, Harry. I’m going to go get ready for my next number.” Without another word to either of them, Izzie walked out and went back to work.

And Nick didn’t come anywhere near her for the rest of the night.

WHEN BRIDGET WENT back to the dealership on Monday morning, she looked for Ted, wondering if he’d have the nerve to show up.

He didn’t. That was good.

Neither did Dean. That wasn’t good.

Hopefully Ted had been scared off, either by Dean, or by the ramifications of his own stupid actions.

Hopefully Dean had not been scared off and was just stuck in traffic.

Bridget had spent all Sunday night wondering what on earth she was going to say to him-how she was going to climb that wall he’d erected between them after he’d kissed her so passionately in the office. But for nothing. He wasn’t there.

She trudged through her day, going through the same song and dance with Marty about the books. She found problems. He waved them off as unimportant. A typical day in the life.

“I am so gonna quit this job,” she muttered that afternoon.

Soon. Maybe she’d even give her notice today. After all, she’d only stayed to see if something was going to happen between her and Dean Willis. Judging by yesterday, it seemed pretty clear nothing was.

She went so far as to open up a document on her computer to type her resignation letter. She’d give two weeks notice, even though she had no other job lined up. She had enough of a cushion to be unemployed for a while. And if she didn’t come up with another bookkeeping job quickly, she’d lay money that Izzie would hire her on at the bakery, just to pay the rent.

But before she’d typed so much as the date, Bridget heard a commotion-shouts, coming from the sales floor. Her first thought was that Ted had come back and was making a scene. But there were several voices, all yelling at once.

She grabbed her purse and threw it under her desk, then wondered if she should crawl under after it…this could be a robbery. But when the door to the office flew open and she saw a uniformed police officer, she didn’t.

“Is anyone in here with you?” the officer barked.

“N-no. Just me.”

“You need to come with me, ma’am.”

Dazed, Bridget followed the officer, seeing all the other employees being herded together by other policemen. All of them were gathered just inside the front door, and Marty was shouting loud enough to break the glass in the windows.

Everyone was talking-demanding answers. Everyone but Bridget. She didn’t have to. Because the second she saw Dean Willis-dressed in a perfectly fitted dark blue suit-talking to other dark-suited men right outside the front door, she knew what was going on.

He was no car salesman.

“Sir, you’ll have an opportunity to call your attorney soon,” one of the officers said, trying to calm Marty down.

It worked for a brief second, until Dean walked through the door. When Marty saw him with the rest of the investigators, he started ranting and struggling against the officer trying to handcuff him. Another one jumped in to help and between them they got the livid man into custody.

Dean looked her way once. His nice blue eyes were frigid. His smile absent. His tousled blond hair was slicked down and parted on the side-conservative, professional. And his clothes were immaculate, right down to his shiny black wing-tip shoes.