Flirting With Disaster

She’d driven crosstown as fast as she’d dared—she’d already received warnings from several easily charmed Charleston policemen. The extra speed had given her just enough time to wash her face, brush out her hair and add a touch of lipstick and gloss before she heard Josh coming in the front door.

He’d pulled on a navy blue T-shirt and tucked it into his jeans, but the additional clothing hadn’t done a thing to take the edge off his sex appeal. Too bad. She’d been hoping her reaction, which had centered on his bare chest, would vanish once that chest was suitably attired.

She studied his face as he stood in the middle of the main room and surveyed it from top to bottom. She couldn’t tell for sure if he was looking at the art and sculptures, the antiques or the renovations, but she was on edge as she tried to gauge his reaction to any of it. Why she wanted this man’s approval was beyond her. She doubted he knew anything at all about art, possibly even less about antiques. He did, however, know renovations, so maybe that was why she was so edgy. Then again Cord had said she’d done an excellent job.

“Well?” she prodded when she couldn’t stand it a moment longer.

“Do you have any before pictures?”

“A whole scrapbook full,” she said, leading him over to the leather-bound volume she kept on a desk near the front door. Josh flipped the pages, glanced up several times as if to make comparisons, then slowly whistled.

“Is that approval?” she asked tentatively.

“Well, the place is definitely not what I expected,” he said at last.

Maggie couldn’t interpret the comment or his expression. “Meaning?”

“I’m not exactly an expert on galleries,” he said, turning slowly to take in the rest of the room, “but the ones I’ve been in were a little cold, a little too, I don’t know, impressed with themselves.”

“Yes,” Maggie said cautiously. That was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid.

“I feel at home here,” Josh said. “I felt it the minute I came in the door. This place makes me want to buy something so my home will feel the same way. Those other places just make you want to possess something because someone else has judged it to be great art.”

Maggie was so overwhelmed by his insight that she only barely resisted the urge to throw her arms around him. “That’s exactly what I wanted people to feel when they walked in here,” she said. Maybe she’d have to take back all the thickheaded, macho labels she’d been pinning on him.

He nodded distractedly and hunkered down on one knee beside the baseboards. “These are original?”

“Most of them. I had to replace some.”

“Do you know which ones?”

She grinned. “Do you?”

“Looks like a perfect match to me,” he admitted.

“Cord was able to find me some from the same time period at another site.”

“Atlanta,” Josh said at once, his expression oddly triumphant. “Damn, I knew this looked familiar. We had some old baseboards left over and they disappeared one day. No one would own up to taking them. I never thought to ask Cord.”

Maggie winced. “Sorry. I hope you didn’t need them.”

“Cord wouldn’t have taken them if we had, but it was a mystery that kept nagging at me.” He stood up and met her gaze. “So, did you and Cord have a thing before he got together with Dinah? He said he’s known you practically forever.”

Maggie was thrown by the out-of-the-blue question. She debated how to answer it, then settled for the truth. “I was attracted to Cord for a while, but he never even gave me a second glance. Dinah’s the only woman he ever had eyes for.”

“You don’t seem weighed down with regret,” Josh noted.

“Not over Cord,” she agreed.

He studied her intently. “Over someone else?”

Her pulse scrambled under that steady, speculative gaze. “Does it matter?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

She liked his honesty. “Let me know when you decide.”

“Until then, you don’t want to share any deep dark secrets?”

Maggie chuckled. “There’s nothing especially dark or secret about it. Half of Charleston knows the story of my pitiful love life.”

“Then why keep it from me?”

“It would only bore you to tears, unless you decide you’re fascinated by me.” She recalled what Dinah had said to her about putting her flirting skills to better use. She tilted her head and looked deep into Josh’s eyes. “Are you fascinated, Josh?”

To her chagrin, he laughed. “Miss Maggie, you could fascinate the pants off a saint, and I am only a humble, mortal man. I am most definitely intrigued.”

She rested her hand lightly on his chest and kept her gaze locked with his. “In that case …”

A tiny little muscle in his jaw worked. “Yes?”

“Could I persuade you to let me help on the construction team next week? Don’t you think I’ve proved myself?”

A startled grin spread across his face. “Sugar, just the thought of you with a hammer in your hands makes my heart palpitate.”

She studied him warily. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“As much as I’m going to miss those little fruit garnishes, it’s a yes. But I balk at letting you anywhere near a circular saw.”

Maggie was about to tell him that she was quite an expert with a circular saw, but decided to leave that battle for another day. She might as well savor one victory at a time. She had a feeling they were all going to be hard won.

5

After she closed Images on Sunday afternoon, Maggie decided she had time to pay that impromptu visit to Ellie to try once again to persuade the talented young artist to schedule a showing at the gallery. Until now Ellie had been reluctant to do anything more than bring in an occasional painting. Maggie attributed her hesitance to insecurity. She was determined to put that to rest and build her employee’s confidence once and for all.

She knew that Ellie lived in a loft apartment that had been created in an old warehouse along the waterfront. Since it wasn’t that far from the shop and the humidity wasn’t too oppressive, Maggie walked over, pausing along the way to chat with neighbors and customers who were taking advantage of the break in the weather to get some work done in their gardens.

It was nearly seven when she reached Ellie’s, but there was plenty of summer daylight left.

As the creaky old elevator neared the top floor, Maggie could hear an unmistakably angry argument. It was loud enough and heated enough that she decided to go right back down and come another day when her visit wouldn’t wind up embarrassing Ellie.

Before she could begin her descent, she heard a crash and the shattering of glass. That was enough to change her mind. Ellie’s embarrassment was a small price to pay to be sure that the young woman was safe.

Locking the elevator so it would be available for a quick departure, Maggie stepped off, ran to Ellie’s door and pounded on it. “Ellie, it’s Maggie. Are you in there? Is everything okay?” When there was no reply, she pounded some more. “Ellie, open this door, dammit, or I’ll call the police!”

The door swung open and a towering man stood there, his rugged face contorted with rage. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Though she was trembling inside, Maggie defiantly stood her ground and tried not to let him see even a flicker of emotion on her face. She took a slow survey of his features—the dark eyes, thick golden brown hair, thin slash of lips. She wanted to remember every detail in case she ever had to describe him to the police. He wore jeans and a grubby formfitting T-shirt.