Patricia Rosemoor: Saving Grace

“Well, he’s put a lot into Voodoo, which is his real love,” Grace said. “He’s been working for other people for years and finally got his own business off the ground. You don’t really believe a man suddenly shooting to the top of his profession would involve himself in blackmail, do you?”

Thinking blackmail money might be just the thing to get that commercial building up and running—not to mention Voodoo, possibly the reason Raphael gave a trust-fund baby work—Declan said, “Hard to say what anyone would do where money is involved. I’ll be checking on his other properties, see what’s going on. Who else works in your building?”

“There are a couple other businesses, but I don’t know any of those people—I can’t imagine they even know I’m around.

As to Max,” Grace went on evenly, “she has a part-time photography assistant who sets up the set. She works when needed and that’s it. Usually Max has a full-time employee who does some of everything—reception, billing, secretarial—but she let Eva go and hasn’t talked about replacing her. I don’t think it was Eva’s work. I suspect Max couldn’t afford to keep her.”

Making the photographer another suspect, Declan thought. “I’m going to need a list of everyone who works in the building so I can run security checks on them.”

“Okay, I can put that together for you.”

“Good. If you add the building employees, that offers more variables to the situation. Lots of people who have access to the studio and therefore the dressing room.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“How about we start by finding the camera—assuming it’s still in place. If we’re lucky we can track it back to its source.”

Grace shuddered. “The studio isn’t open.”

“Even better.”

“You want to break in?”

“The security guard—will it be the one who was on duty earlier?”

“Eula? I’m not sure.”

“Well, hope she is. She seemed to like you.”

“She’s always been friendly to me.”

“Then chances are you can talk our way back into the place.”

On the way back to the studio, Declan couldn’t erase the photograph in his mind. He tried—really—but his libido was stronger than his will, at least in this case. He kept seeing Grace in undergarments that begged to be removed.

So when he opened the door of the taxi he’d hailed for her and she sort of ducked so as not to touch him as she slid inside, he was a bit relieved. But when he noticed that Grace was practically huddling against the opposite door leaving two feet of space between them, Declan tried not to take offense.

“So what’s this event we’re going to later?” he asked, thinking talking would relax her.

“It’s a bipartisan fund-raiser for the local schools. Mama was on the committee that put it together.”

“It doesn’t sound like your kind of scene.”

“It isn’t. But I support my family. And the kids. The schools still don’t have everything they need. If I can do something to make it happen, you bet I will.”

The fervor in her voice got to Declan. So Grace was more than a pretty face.

The taxi stopped at the studio. While Declan paid, Grace let herself out. She went inside and raced up the steps to the second floor. Sure enough, Eula was still at the security desk.

“Miss Grace, what you doin’ back here?” she asked. “Don’t tell me Ms. Babin is makin’ you work tonight.”

“Oh, no. I’m not working. I’m going to a party tonight. That’s the problem—I can’t find my invitation. I must have left it in the dressing room.”

“You need an invitation to get in?”

“It’s sort of an invitation-receipt for the school fund-raiser. My mother is on the committee and wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t show up.”

“Your mama’s a smart lady,” Eula said to her while eyeing Declan with suspicion. “I hear she’s gonna be a judge.”

“She’s hoping. At any rate, I was showing the invitation to my cousin and I guess I never put it back in my bag. Can you let me in, Eula?”

“Sure, no problem.” The security guard stepped out from behind her desk. “Follow me.” But when Declan started off, as well, Eula gave him another piercing look. “Where do you think you’re goin'?”

Seeing that Eula’s bristles were up, Declan winked at her. “I can’t let this woman out of my sight. I’m sure you know how that is.”

But Eula didn’t relax until Declan slipped an arm around Grace’s waist. Then it was Grace who became instantly uptight. He felt the tension the moment he touched her. Still, she forced a convincing smile.

“Declan’s helping me will make the search go faster, Eula,” she choked out.

“Okay, okay,” Eula muttered, leading the way to the Gotcha! entrance.

Declan took a quick look at Grace, who wiggled out from the protection of his arm. Tension was evident in her beautiful features.

Just from his touching her?

Stopping in front of the photography studio door, Eula sorted through keys on a heavy ring until she found the right one. Seconds later, the door stood open.

“Okay, there you go now.”

Grace gave the other woman a warm smile. “Thank you,

Eula.”

Declan let Grace take the lead inside, but he made sure to close the door behind them.

Declan reached past her and turned the doorknob. “Ladies first.”

When he pulled back, he brushed her in the process. She practically jumped away from him. For a second, her gaze went blank, as though she were somewhere else. Declan was hit by a sense of panic that didn’t make any sense. Then Grace quickly gathered herself and went inside the dressing room. She flicked on the light, then slowly turned, her gaze furtively darting around the room.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Slow down. Think about the angle from which the photograph was taken. The camera had to be in front of you. So which way were you facing?”

“The mirror.”

“The camera wasn’t straight on—”

“It was up a little,” she finished for him.

They both looked up, over the mirror.

Declan’s gaze settled on the mirror frame itself—about four inches wide with a shiny black finish. Tall enough to reach over, he ran his fingers along the edge of the mirror.

“Got it,” he muttered, “and it’s Wi-Fi.” He ran his fingers over the front of the frame, then tapped the spot where a small chunk of wood had been drilled out. “The lens such as it is lines up right here.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“The shiny black paint presents you with an optical illusion, but there is a peephole. If you look closely, you can see it.”

Grace moved closer so that she was almost touching him. “There it is. Wireless, huh? It’ll make it easier to pull out.”

“We don’t want to do that. If all else fails, we might be able to trap whoever did this with his own camera.”

“In the meantime, there’s an unwanted set of eyes in the dressing room.”

“So don’t dress in front of the mirror.” What he was really thinking was that she shouldn’t play out her fantasies except in the privacy of her own home, but he didn’t think she would appreciate the advice. She’d already learned the hard way. “Just in case, let me check the room over. And the powder room.”

“All right,” Grace conceded, aiming a resentful glare at the hiding place as she sank into a chair.

Declan felt her eyes on him as he searched every nook and cranny. And her emotions. They were in a whirl. Anger mixed with hurt. He realized she couldn’t conceive of anyone betraying her like this. He wanted to put his arms around her and tell her that he would catch the creep and stop the blackmail and everything would be all right. Only he wasn’t sure it would be that easy. And, from her attitude toward him, she apparently didn’t want him to touch her.