Silken Threats. Addison Fox

outside her front windows. “I’d better go get that.”

      * * *

      “I can’t believe the hottie down the lane is the one who came to your rescue,” Lilah Castle, baker extraordinaire and one of Cassidy’s two partners in Elegance and Lace, uttered for the third time from around her large latte.

      “It must have been the tall one.” Violet Richardson, partner number two, had her own coffee and a speculative gaze as she stood with a notepad near a rack of ruined gowns.

      “Define tall.” Lilah pushed a strand of cotton-candy pink behind her ear—her current color streak of choice amid a sea of blond—before letting out a rather lusty sigh. “Both owners I’ve seen are deliciously taller than average.”

      Violet turned from her inspection, her eyes lighting up like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “Let me amend my comment, then. Were you rescued by the long, rangy man with the sigh-worthy derriere and ugly dog?”

      “Hey. Bailey was cute.” Although his mushed-in face with a steady line of drool earned the term “only a mother could love,” Cassidy had a soft spot for the boxer. “And I will be forever grateful for the sense of protection emanating from that large body.”

      “The dog’s or the man’s?” Lilah’s smile was even faster than her retort.

      Cassidy reluctantly grabbed a small broom to start picking up scattered seed pearls. “You’re as bad as Mrs. Beauregard. She’s been going on and on about the men who moved in down the street and how we need to meet them.”

      “I can only hope to be as spry as Mrs. B. when I’m eighty. She’s got a good eye and she can spot a douchebag loser at twenty paces.”

      “Lilah has a point,” Violet pointed out. “Mrs. B. has impeccable taste and knows her hotties. And I’ve met the other owner, Max Baldwin.”

      “Oh. Oh!” Lilah broke in. “Is he the one with the tool belt?”

      “I believe he’s a structural engineer.” Violet’s voice had gone prim, a distinct sign, Cassidy knew, that she’d noticed the tool belt.

      “I bet Mrs. B. already has visions of matchmaking floating through her sweet little head.” Lilah downed another slug from her ever-present coffee cup.

      “I suspect it’s more than matchmaking.” Violet brightened. “Rumor has it she had a wild affair with Max’s grandfather years ago. Maybe she sees it as renewing the sexy for another generation.”

      “Where do you get this stuff?” Cassidy knew she should be surprised, but her friend had more information in her head—and significantly better connections—than half the data streams on Facebook.

      Violet’s cat-’n’-cream smile matched her equally catlike green eyes. “I’m a pillar of the community and our business representative to the neighborhood. I hear things.”

      “If ‘pillar of the community’ is code for ‘wicked gossip’ then I concur.” Lilah righted a fallen mannequin before dropping cross-legged to the floor next to it.

      “None of it changes the fact that I’ve not yet met Cassidy’s rescuer, which, if his promise to return is kept, will be remedied soon.”

      “I’m not a damn damsel in distress.” Cassidy reached for a small band in her pocket and dragged her hair into a thick ponytail.

      “No, but you did have a scare.” Lilah’s normally quick grin had faded. “I’m really glad he was here when you needed him. And I’m baking an entire tray of cupcakes for you to take there as a thank-you gift.”

      Cassidy couldn’t hold back the smile. Or the blessed feeling of normalcy that her friends could impart with a few teasing words.

      Where would she be without the two of them?

      She’d met Lilah Castle and Violet Richardson on their first day of their freshman year of college and they’d been a trio ever since. These women knew her. Got her.

      And they always had her back.

      “I bet it’s Anastasia Monroe. She’s been jealous of your latest line for the past three months.”

      Cassidy couldn’t quite hold back the shocked look at Lilah’s words as she rekeyed in to the conversation. “One, it’s not nice to go around accusing people. And two, I hardly have a line.”

      “Lilah sort of has a point. You did have three designs featured in the Brides of Dallas magazine.” Violet held the dressmakers’ dummy in place while Lilah made quick work repairing the base with a small handheld screwdriver.

      “Let go, Vi, and let’s see if it’s sturdy.” Lilah sat back on her heels and pressed a hand to the base. With a satisfied nod, she stood after it held firm. “Better than before. Which is more than I can say for this place.”

      Cassidy glanced around at Lilah’s words, their truth more than evident. The police had come and gone, leaving behind a couple of business cards and paperwork for her to fill out if there was anything missing. They had perked up when she’d mentioned the alarm and promised to look into the situation with the shop’s security provider, confirming if she’d forgotten to set it or if it had been turned off at some point. Beyond adding it to their investigation and promising a report she could turn into her insurance agent, there was little else the police could do.

      All in all, relatively small comfort or help now that she was staring at two thousand square feet of destruction.

      Tucker had left after the police departed and Lilah had arrived, but he’d promised to return with coffee and his partner, Max. Her friends’ continuous glances toward the front door weren’t lost on her.

      Violet held up a delicate veil, a large rip evident in the center of the lace. The simple veil was one of Cassidy’s favorites and—unbidden—a well of tears filled her eyes before cascading over her cheeks.

      “Why would someone do this?” Cassidy knew full well the tears were useless, but suddenly, the knowledge her sanctuary had been violated crashed over her in a wave. On a hard sob, she dropped the contents of her dustpan into a garbage can Violet had dragged to the middle of the room, then sat on one of several couches strategically positioned through the shop.

      “Oh, Cass!” Lilah moved first, her thick Crocs thwapping on the floor as she crossed the room. “It’s all right.”

      “No...no—” Another hard sob gripped her throat at the comforting arms that wrapped around her. “What if they come back? They know the alarm codes.”

      The thought had slithered through her mind, taking root as she’d begun the slow slog of cleaning up the mess left by their intruder.

      Or intruders.

      The thought of more than one criminal traipsing through the store only brought another hard knot in her throat and another hot wave of tears.

      “What if we’d been here? What were they after? And the destruction—” She broke off, struggled to catch her breath. “It’s mean. Vindictive. Evil.”

      Lilah and Violet stayed by her side, flanking her both physically and emotionally, as the tears fell. And as the moments ticked past, the adrenaline fading along with her sobs, Cassidy knew another emotion.

      Anger.

      Raw and white-hot, its steady drumbeat filled her as she slowly dried her tears.

      Someone had done this to her work. To the business she shared with her friends. To the neighborhood that had scratched and clawed its way from obscurity into a glittering jewel of commerce within the city she loved and called her home.

      The light tinkle of shop bells rang out, dragging their collective attention toward the door. Tucker stepped through first, followed by another man Cassidy assumed was his partner, Max.

      She took in their intimidating size, both large and impressively built, and could