Silken Threats. Addison Fox

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.

      The destruction was even worse than she’d originally thought, yet another swift reminder that whoever had been here had meant business. Several delicate chairs, designed for those waiting to fuss over a bride-to-be, were scattered on their sides, and a wall rack of gowns lay on the floor. Since she’d done a few chin-ups on that bar to confirm it was solidly attached to the wall, it must have been pulled down with considerable force.

      Her gaze caught on a large pool of shattered glass—the remains of a small crystal bowl she used to keep pins in for alterations—and that small act of destruction penetrated her panic. With one hand on Tucker’s arm, she reached past him to grab Bailey’s collar. “He’s going to get something in his paws. Stay here and I’ll get something to gate him up.”

      Tucker’s easygoing, friendly manner from the street had vanished the moment they walked through the door. “You stay here and tell me what to look for.”

      Her hand tingled where she touched his arm, and she snatched it away as if singed, using the momentum to point toward the far end of the showroom. “I’ve got a baby gate in the back storeroom, just inside the door. We use it every so often for guests.”

      “Be right back.”

      She watched him move, the tight outline of his butt evident just beneath the hem of his gray T-shirt. A large outline of a dragon filled the material over his back, and she watched, fascinated, as it rippled with his movement. The words Dragon Designs spanned the width of his shoulders.

      This was the last moment she should be noticing her rangy neighbor with the broad shoulders, but that subtle spark of interest went a long way toward making her feel a bit more settled.

      More normal.

      It was normal to feel a subtle flutter of attraction for an attractive man. It was not normal to walk into one’s store and find it burgled and destroyed.

      Bailey—momentarily forgotten next to her—nudged her knee as he sat down.

      Dropping to a crouch, she pulled him close, her hand still wrapped in his collar while she stroked his short, brindled fur with her free hand. “You’re a sweet boy.”

      His tongue lolled once more as his solemn brown eyes roamed over her face.

      A protector.

      The word flitted through her mind, swift and immediate, and she somehow knew Bailey had a lot in common with his owner.

      “He likes you.”

      “The feeling’s mutual.” She glanced up to see Tucker heading her way with the baby gate. “I’ve got a small dressing area over here, and we can put him in one of the rooms.”

      “First time you’ve had a dog in your dressing room, I’d wager.”

      “Only if you don’t count the handbag dogs several society matrons have carried in here. Oh, or the cheating fiancé I caught in there with a bridesmaid a few months back.”

      Tucker’s eyes widened as he leaned over and took Bailey’s collar in hand. “Seriously?”

      “There’s something amorous about the smell of tulle, I’m told.”

      Confusion stamped itself in the depths of his brown eyes, and she put him out of his misery. “Sorry. Bad wedding joke. But you would be surprised what I’ve caught people doing in here.”

      “In a dress shop?”

      “Yep. Something about the thought of happy ever after seems to bring out the strangest reactions in people. Sex. Fights. Makeup sex. My partner Lilah has had it worse, I think. She caught a couple in her kitchen having sex with a vat of icing.”

      Tucker fastened the baby gate to the fitting-room door and patted a whining Bailey on the head. “Sounds like a break-in is the least of your problems.”

      The reminder of what had happened hit her with swift fists, and Cassidy let her gaze roam around the room. “I’m not so sure about that.”

      “I’m sorry. Really sorry. That was insensitive. Come on, let’s take a look. The damage in the back doesn’t look nearly so bad and I did a quick look around when I got the gate. No one’s here.”

      She let out her first easy breath and followed him toward the back of the store.

      “You mentioned your partners but I don’t see their stuff.”

      Cassidy kicked a seed pearl with the toe of her shoe, the small bead tinkling as it lightly skimmed the floor. “Violet uses an office in the back next to my studio, and Lilah’s store is technically next door, even though it’s the same building. We keep her kitchen officially separate.”

      “Health codes?”

      “Yep.”

      “Or should I say, health codes so long as no one’s having sex in there.”

      “Pretty much.”

      He halted in front of a large rack of wedding dresses. “Any idea why someone would target you? Do you keep a lot of cash on hand?”

      “No, hardly any.”

      “How much are these gowns worth on the black market?”

      Cassidy turned his words over in her mind. She carried merchandised stock from several major designers, as well as her own creations. Although she’d been written up in several bridal magazines and had been steadily building her reputation since getting out of college, she hardly considered her store a mecca of high-value goods.

      “A fair amount, I suppose, if you added up all my current stock. But it doesn’t make sense. If someone wanted the dresses, then why didn’t they take them? I’ll have to do inventory, but I don’t immediately see any that are obviously missing. And that one over there—” she pointed out one of the well-known designers “—is worth quite a bit and is untouched. Other than a heck of a lot of destruction I don’t see what they were after.”

      Another round of anxiety coated her stomach in acid. She had several fittings this week and three bridesmaids were scheduled to pick up their gowns later that day. She raced toward the small area where she kept completed alterations, pleased to see the dresses were all there.

      One or two might need pressing, but she didn’t have to brace herself for upset phone calls with stressed-out brides.

      “A competitor, then? Someone who would want to see your business suffer.”

      Cassidy pulled her attention from the rack of gowns, mentally cataloging the ones she’d press first. She knew his was a valid question—had already run through any number of similar thoughts—but it just didn’t play. Her showroom felt as if it had been searched, even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on why she felt that way. “I can’t explain the instinct, but it seems like a long shot that someone would do this out of competitive spite. I haven’t even spoken to anyone in the business since a local bridal show in June. Two months is a long time to hold a grudge without any escalating behavior.”

      “Anyone who would have the code to your alarm?” His voice was quiet—steady—and she appreciated he didn’t shy away from the difficult.

      “No one beyond my partners and myself.”

      He rubbed a hand over her shoulder, the small gesture as soothing as it was intoxicating. “I’ll call my buddy down. We’ll help you get everything cleaned up after the police go through here.”

      “You don’t need to do that. Lilah and Violet can—”

      His gaze narrowed, drinking her in, and she swallowed the last of her words.

      “We’ll help.” A small smile crinkled the corners