Wendy Etherington - Sizzle in the City

She found Victoria next to the windows of the twenty-ninth-floor suite and offered her appetizer selections to her fellow conspirator, whose eyes were uncharacteristically dazed.

“I love New York,” Victoria said, staring in Trevor’s direction.

“He has an English accent, too.”

Victoria’s eyelashes fluttered as her face glowed with pleasure. “Oh, my.”

“However …” Shelby said sharply, striving to bring Victoria back to her senses, “he seems pretty friendly with Max, so no matter how beautiful he is, he’s now moved to second on the list of suspicious characters in this room.”

“He’s number one in my book,” Victoria said, licking her lips.

“Helloo?” Shelby waved her hand in front of her friend’s face. “Revenge? Vigilante justice? Any of these concepts sound familiar? Max is Project Robin Hood’s Enemy Number One. He’s our Sheriff Nottingham, our Al Capone. And anybody who cozies up to him is an accessory simply on principle.”

“You’re right,” Victoria said slowly. She took a step in Trevor’s direction. “I’ll do some up-close and personal investigation.”

Shelby caught her friend’s arm. “Not so fast, Eliot Ness. I think observation is the best plan for now. Besides, I’ve already made contact.”

“So?”

“I saw him first.”

Victoria crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”

“His name is Trevor.”

“Trevor what?”

Blushing, Shelby shrugged.

“You can’t be that committed to him. A conversation that didn’t last long enough to get his full name? Get a hold of yourself. I thought he was Enemy Number Two.”

Even more embarrassed, Shelby recalled her conversation that morning with her mom, who’d sounded so tired and defeated. The doctors had increased her anti-anxiety meds, and she was having a hard time adjusting. Not daring to glance at the object of her and Victoria’s conversation, she rolled her shoulders. “He is,” she said firmly.

And he was.

Except he was also the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on.

No one could tell her fate wasn’t enjoying a hilarious and cruel joke at her expense.

“Go chat him up,” Shelby said to Victoria. “Maybe you can get his last name.”

“Oh, no. This one’s all yours.” With a knowing smile, Victoria took Shelby’s tray and glided away.

Well, she’d asked for it. She ought to be woman enough to take it.

After sending a glare toward Victoria’s retreating back, Shelby started across the room toward Max and Trevor. Along the way, several guests stopped her to compliment the culinary offerings and ask if there were more. She assured everyone there was and indicated Victoria, who, despite her smart-ass tendencies, was one of her best and most loyal friends.

A definite BFF, since she’d gracefully conceded the path to Trevor and was currently doing Shelby’s job, as well.

Trevor is a bad, bad man, her conscience reminded her.

Actually, she didn’t know that for sure. Probable, but not certain.

She could only help her parents through this hardship if she knew the facts. This investigation was her duty as a daughter. This was business, not romance.

On the way toward her prey, she noted an unbalanced collection of the female population surrounding Trevor and Max. This phenomenon could be easily explained. Because, while Max had Trevor’s dark coloring, his eyes were a muddy brown, he was shorter and more rotund than the sophisticated Englishman she’d met earlier, and there was a distinct shiftiness in his eyes.

Wow. She really needed to focus on what she was supposed to be doing here.

Yet another guest stopped her. “I’m dying for one of those delicious crab cakes,” the clearly desperate woman pleaded.

Shelby cast a glance at her gorgeous goal. Like she’d get his attention in her wilted white chef’s apron and limp hair anyway. However, he’d seemed to enjoy the crab cakes … “Okay, sure,” she said to the desperate guest.

Retreating to the prep room, she assembled another tray of crab, but halfway through her task, she was startled by hot and mysterious Trevor walking in, then closing the door behind him.

“How do you know Max?” he asked without delay.

“I’m his caterer.” His curiosity only furthered her suspicions of him. He was protective of Max. Meeting that alluring, blue-eyed gaze boldly, she added, “How do you know Max? You two seem like old friends.”

“We know each other well,” he returned vaguely as he moved toward her. “What about the writer and the icy brunette? You’re friends with them.”

“How do you know that?” she accused, wincing, as she realized she’d inadvertently confirmed his assumptions.

Some secret agent she was.

He smiled, confident and tempting. “I saw you talking to them earlier, just as you obviously saw me with Max. The brunette even refilled your food tray.”

“You’re observant.”

“I like watching you.” He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead in a surprising, quick and intimate gesture that made her mouth go dry. “You stand out in a crowd.”

“You, too,” she managed to whisper.

His penetrating stare unnerved her nearly as much as his proximity.

He was a friend of her enemy. He shouldn’t fascinate her. She wasn’t one of those women who went after bad boys, hoping to change them. She wasn’t intrigued by danger or darkness.

And more turmoil she certainly didn’t need.

But she didn’t step back. If anything, this endeavor of justice was about standing her ground, standing up for her parents, who couldn’t endure alone.

She wasn’t about to retreat now.

TREVOR FOUGHT AGAINST THE impulse to slide his arms around the beautiful redheaded caterer. To find out the source of the worry behind her intriguing hazel eyes. To forget that he was only present to save Max from yet another of his follies.

But he was certainly losing the battle.

He wanted a taste of her as surely as he’d savored her food. Not so many years ago, he’d have indulged in the impulse to sweep her from the party, no matter about either of their obligations.

But he’d grown up, grown smarter and more successful along the way. Yet, as hard-won as his control had been, Shelby Dixon, with her fiery locks and petite frame, somehow tested it.

Reminding himself there were things in life more important than his own pleasure, he stepped back.

“You weren’t suspicious when the owner of a hotel asked an outside service to cater his party?” he asked, hoping to get the conversation back to business.

She shrugged. “He’s shorthanded in the kitchen.” She paused a long moment before adding, “And my friend Victoria—the brunette who helped me earlier—is looking to get his PR business. I offered to help out.”

That explanation made sense. He might be reading too much into this party and everyone attending … but then he had plenty of reasons for being suspicious of Max and anyone in his circle. “You’ll certainly get future bookings after tonight, including ones from me.”

“Good to know. What business are you in?”

This lot was a curious one. “Transportation, but I was thinking of personal needs.”

Her eyes widened.

He smiled. “Mmm. Those, too. Though at the moment I was referring to social events. How do you feel about dinner parties?”

“As long as the check clears, I feel pretty great about them.”

Beautiful and practical. He was smitten already. “A wise decision.”

She walked over to a canvas bag sitting on the desk and pulled out a cell phone. “What day were you thinking about?” she asked, tapping the screen.