Addison Fox - Silken Threats

Title Page Silken Threats Addison Fox www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author ADDISON FOX is a Philadelphia girl transplanted to Dallas, Texas. Although her similarities to Grace Kelly stop at sharing the same place of birth, she’s often dreamed of marrying a prince and living along the Mediterranean. In the meantime, she’s more than happy penning romance novels about two strong-willed and exciting people who deserve their happy-ever-after—after she makes them work so hard for it, of course. When she’s not writing, she can be found spending time with family and friends, reading or enjoying a glass of wine. Find out more about Addison or contact her at her website— addisonfox.com —or catch up with her on Facebook ( addisonfoxauthor ) and Twitter ( @addisonfox ).

Dedication For Girlfriends. One of life’s truest joys.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Tucker Buchanan heard the scream as he moved into the last quarter mile of his run, his boxer, Bailey, beside him. He’d always shunned earphones, favoring the subtle din of early-morning ambient noise and abstractly solving quadratic equations in his head. The run both soothed and invigorated him and he was rigid in keeping this time to himself each day, even if the incessant solving of formulas only proved his geeky beginnings.

While his business partner would suggest he was still a geek, he knew damn well an early-morning scream of terror definitely did not solve for x, y or z .

Years of training kicked in and with a glance, in unison with Bailey’s, they both ran harder in the direction of the noise. As a second scream echoed through the warm, hazy Dallas dawn his gaze narrowed in on the only shop lights visible in a nearby row of storefronts.

Slim shoulders that still balanced a large tote bag and an oversize purse stood quaking as he closed the last few feet down Dragon Street. “Miss!”

Another scream died on her lips as she turned toward him, her vivid blue eyes wide. He lifted his hands as he called Bailey to a halt, and they both came to a stop a few feet away. “Are you okay?”

She took a few steps back, the fear still visible in her gaze, and he and the mutt remained in place, waiting for her to calm. Bailey dropped to a seated position, his tongue lolling, and that final action seemed to do the trick.

The woman blinked, the fear receding slightly from her eyes. “They... It...” She pointed toward the store. “Someone was in there. I can see the destruction from here.”

Tucker wished he had his gun but figured an eighty-pound dog would provide some measure of menace. “Stay here and I’ll go check it out. Do you want Bailey with you or would you rather I took him?”

“I’m going in there with you.” Her voice had calmed another notch and now that fear faded fully, replaced with sheer, stubborn grit.

“You seem pretty shaken up.”

“I only screamed the second time because I saw movement from the corner of my eye.” Her voice grew stronger, more aware. “Something skittering down the street from the garbage.”

“You’re still shaken. Why don’t you wait here?”

“My store. My rules.”

He shrugged. The likelihood anyone was still in the store was slim—especially with the clear signs of destruction evident in the window—but he pointed toward the phone in her hand to buy a few additional minutes. “Why don’t you call the police first and then we’ll check it out.”

He gave her space to make the call, moving up toward the windows with Bailey by his side. The storefront was still dark but the early-morning light brightened it enough for him to see the destruction that littered the floor in a morass of white material and what looked to be dressmakers’ forms.

Storefront , Tucker knew, wasn’t the most apt description. Dallas’s design district had evolved out of a series of old warehouses along the banks of the Trinity River. Or what had become the Trinity River after the Corps of Engineers had outfitted it with a series of levees in the 1930s.

From the detritus on the floor, he quickly processed that the woman owned what looked to be a wedding store. As his gaze took in a lavish wall of gilt-edged mirrors and lush couches, he figured he’d hit it spot-on. Any number of designers and decorators had chosen to make this corner of Dallas their own, and with the district’s renaissance in the past five years several businesses were thriving.

Hell, it was the reason he and his partner had opened their firm here. Max’s grandfather had given him an old warehouse on the south end of Dragon Street and it had seemed as good a place as any to set up shop. The past eighteen months had proven the decision was a good one and they’d worked themselves to the bone.

If those same eighteen months had been rather light on female companionship, well, starting a business was tough work. He’d heard about the neighboring wedding business—and had seen the pink truck delivering cakes all over Dallas—but hadn’t yet met the women who owned the place.

“They’re on their way. The police and my partners.” Her husky voice broke into his musings and Tucker turned, registering the tightening in his stomach at the sultry tones.

“Do you want to go in?”

“Might as well.” A small smile quirked her lips and he was pleased to see her fear had fully faded, replaced by what looked like grim determination. “So you’ve introduced Bailey but not yourself. I’m Cassidy Tate.”

“Tucker Buchanan.” He held the slim fingers, firm under his palm, and wondered how he’d missed seeing her around the neighborhood. Those blue eyes were set off by pale, creamy skin and long, curling red hair. The shade was so vivid—so full of life—there was no way he’d have passed by the delectable Cassidy Tate and not noticed.

“You and your partner own the architectural firm at the end of Dragon.”

Her quick confirmation surprised him. “We do.”

Her smile broadened, a slight hint of mischief evident. “I have two female partners in my business. It hasn’t escaped our landlady’s notice that some single male and female shop owners are only separated by a few blocks.”

“So that’s why my partner, Max, came back complaining after the last community leaders meeting.”

“ My partner Violet came back hot to trot about the same thing.”

Tucker glanced up at the wide windows. “Let’s hope this wasn’t quite what your landlady had in mind to get us introduced to each other.”

Cassidy gestured toward the door, her smile fading as she neared the destruction once more. “I suspect it wasn’t.”

“Come on, then. Where’s your alarm keypad? Or will you need to get across that mess to disarm it?”

“Oh, no.”

If possible, her pale, ethereal features turned whiter as her eyes widened until they threatened to fill up most of her face. “We never got a call. Whoever did this disarmed the system.”

* * *

Cassidy swallowed past the renewed lump of panic that tightened her throat. The initial shock of seeing the showroom floor had faded and all that remained was a sick ball of lead that seemed to grow by the second in the pit of her stomach. She raced toward the small keypad inside the door and saw the bright green lights indicating it was disarmed.

“How?”

Had she forgotten to turn on the alarm last night before leaving? She’d been the last to head home; Violet had been out on a date and Lilah on a delivery in a northern suburb. A tight weight settled on her chest and she struggled to calm and regulate her breathing.