Лиза Джонс: Dangerous Secrets

He cleared his throat. “Exactly what did she say about the subject?”

Not good, Julie thought. “She seems to think you have some pieces you don’t want anyone to know about,” Julie offered in a neutral tone as she tapped her pencil on her oak desktop.

“Such as?” he asked a pinch of urgency slipping into his tone.

“She wouldn’t say,” Julie told him in a voice that was deceptively light. ”Seemed to think I was better off not knowing.”

Silence again. He was having a quiet panic attack, Julie realized with concern.

He cleared his throat again. Julie waited; still nothing. “Judge?”

“It’s not a problem,” he assured her in a very tight voice. “There are thieves who will go to great lengths to get their hands on highly sought after art. I am always quite nervous about some of my holdings becoming targets. I will have the pieces in question put somewhere safe. Give me forty-eight hours, and then call her bluff.”

“It’s not a bluff if you think she’ll act on it,” Julie argued. “And if you need forty-eight hours, that tells me you think she might. Judge, I don’t want to offend you but,” she paused to consider phrasing and decided to be direct. “I need to be sure there is nothing going on I wouldn’t want to be involved with.”

He laughed, but it sounded forced. “I’m a judge for God’s sake. Give me some credit. I have masterpieces that certain collectors would literally kill for. I don’t want those pieces of my collection made public. Now do as I say, and call her bluff.”

Bluff. There was that word again that sat all kinds of wrong in her mind. “All right, Judge. Consider it done.”

Julie’s stomach churned with a sense of dread. Nothing about this situation was done. Her gut said that this was going someplace very bad, very quickly.

Chicago O’ Hare Airport

Wednesday night, two days later

Ten minutes. That was all Julie had to get to her gate and board. Considering the snowstorm blasting across the state, she couldn’t afford to miss it, as it might well be the last plane out for days. And considering she was in charge of Lauren’s rehearsal dinner Friday night, that would be bad. Really, really bad. That frightened her enough to send Julie into a half-run. She shouldn’t have agreed to travel this close to the wedding.

She eyed the gate numbers, spotting seven, when she needed eleven. She fought to ignore the pinch of her toes in the black three-inch heels that matched her safe black travel dress, cringing at the sight of huge snowflakes outside the wall of windows to her left. They seemed to fall at an accelerated speed while she watched. Her gaze lifted to the monitors and she cringed yet again at the flashing red with the word ‘cancelled’ next to a great number of flights.

“Please don’t let mine be one of them,” she murmured, afraid to stop to check for fear seconds could cost her the seat with her name attached.

Arriving at her gate, the empty waiting room seats emphasised just how late she was for boarding. The doors to the entry ramp were still open, and that meant she’d made it on time.

Eager to confirm she was right, Julie hurried to the counter and presented the attendant behind the counter her ticket. “Please tell me I’m not too late for this flight.”

The forty-something woman smiled and pushed the rims of her black glasses back onto her face. “You’re in luck. We’ve boarded the last group, but the flight’s been delayed fifteen minutes.”

A sigh of relief slid past Julie’s lips. “Thank you. And you’re right. That’s luck because I really need to be on this flight. Do you think I dare sneak away for some food to take on the plane with me before I board?” It was nearly eight at night and divorce negotiations had been so heated, she’d never gotten her sandwich down.

“If you hurry and I do mean hurry,” she said. “Rush back.”

“I will,” Julie promised. “Thank you, again. Please don’t let them shut the doors without me.”

“I won’t,” the woman promised. “I’m going to check in with the crew and I’ll flag your name as present.” The woman rushed away and Julie stuffed her ticket inside her purse, ready to seek out the nearest restaurant.

She made it all of four or five steps before she stumbled over Lord-only-knew-what – a cord of some sort she thought – and nearly fell flat on her face. She righted her ankle, thankfully avoiding a sprain, but her briefcase took the tumble for her, sliding down her shoulder and hitting the ground. The contents spilled out.

“That’s why you should zip it,” she mumbled, holding her skirt down to squat in as much of a lady-like fashion as was possible considering the circumstances.

“Need help?”

Julie froze at the sound of a familiar male voice that couldn’t possible belong to who she thought it did, when the tingling awareness down her spine told her it was indeed exactly who she thought it was. Luke Walker, the brother of her best friend’s soon-to-be husband. Not only did Luke and his two brothers run Walker Security, they held a number of airport consulting contracts, including this one. She squeezed her eyes shut at her predicament, at having the very man she’d avoided at all cost for the last six months standing above her.

Slowly, her gaze lifted, travelling upward in what felt like slow motion. She took in muscular, denim-clad legs, a tapered waist, and an impressive chest. He bent down, a wisp of his dark hair brushing his brow, his rich, chocolate-brown stare capturing hers and leaving her speechless.

Memories of the two of them together, of a too short, heated affair that had happened when he’d been on leave from the SEALs, rushed through her. It had been a safe fling, short-lived, and without the strings and complications that she knew from experience led couples straight to divorce court. But he wasn’t a SEAL anymore, and he wasn’t leaving this time, and after struggling to shake off the impact he’d had on her ever since they’d parted ways, she’d accepted that nothing about him had ever been safe.

“How are you here when I’m here?” she whispered. The timing was impossible, regardless of his contracts.

“Luck it seems,” he said, and those full, sensual lips she knew could be both punishing and soothing in all the right ways, hinted at a smile. “I had a meeting with airport officials that ended just in time to give you a helping hand.” He reached for a large file, shoved papers inside, and then rested an elbow on his knee to offer it to her. “Shouldn’t you be in New York with the bride-to-be?”

“Yes,” she said, stuffing the file in her bag, pretty sure her own Lady Luck was playing games with her tonight. “I should. I got pressured into a negotiation that I regret.” She stood up and he followed, handing her one last file that she quickly put into her briefcase. “Thank you for your help.”

She couldn’t seem to think of what else to say. He was so close she could smell the masculine spice of his cologne. She knew the brand, knew where he sprayed it. And she knew how good it smelled when he was naked and it was the only thing he had on. She shoved the inappropriate and tantalising thought away and reached for something, anything, to say. “Are you on this flight?”

“I guess that’s where my luck runs out,” he said, glancing at the window before adding, “I’m on the next one out and I’m not optimistic with this weather.”

“You have to be back to help with the wedding, too,” she insisted. “You’re the best man. Can they convince someone to give up a seat for you?”

“The airline tried. There were no takers. I’ll get there one way or another though, even if that means catching a charter flight.”