Page 7 of Triggered By Love
Her first reaction was to draw her hand from his, but the zinging pleasure of his grip gave her a warm feeling of belonging.
“I’m walking alone, although Alida wants me to walk with one of her football clients.”
He raised an inquiring eyebrow and gave her hand a slight squeeze.
“It’s a publicity thing,” she hastened to explain. “You know New York Brokers quarterback, Matt Swanson?”
“Everyone knows about him.” Jason’s voice was dry. “A real player, on and off the field.”
“Yeah, a bad boy of bad boys.”
“New York City is full of bad boys. What’s the angle?” Jason let go of her hand and rubbed his chin.
“We’re two of Alida’s trouble kids,” Avery said. “He needs to be seen as a hero, and I’m a basket case.”
“You don’t need him.” Jason’s brown eyes narrowed something fierce. “He might be able to throw a touchdown pass, but what good would he do if…”
“Stop.” Avery raised her hand in a halt position. “I have to believe no one’s gunning for me. I could never put Matt or the other models’ lives in danger. The event will be as safe as ever, and I’ve heard that Secret Service will be involved.”
“The president’s daughter in the show?” Jason was referring to Diamante Steele, a twenty-two-year-old model who was the nation’s treasure, having grown up in the fishbowl of the White House.
“You really do your homework, don’t you, Detective Burnett.”
“I keep myself knowledgeable on all that interests me.” His gaze on her was devouring, as if she were the sum total of all that engaged his appetite.
Too bad she couldn’t date him. He was a cop. He was too rough around the edges to bring home, and he had blood on his hands. She’d done her research too, and while he’d been cleared by the department, there were those in the community who disagreed.
“Friends,” she stated to keep him in his place. “I’m headed to a meeting with Alida. Do you want me to say ‘hi’ to her for you?”
“Not necessary,” he said, his eyes shuttering. “I’m not dating anyone these days.”
She almost said she wasn’t either, but that wouldn’t help her public appearance, and it was none of his business anyway.
Instead, she said, “Thanks for having coffee with me. Let’s do it again.”
Chapter Four
Avery hadenough time for a quick shower. Her hair was manageable, thanks to it being mostly straight, and she touched it up with a quick spritz of hairspray. Makeup, not as heavy as when she was a model, and a stylish skirt suit as becoming her businesswoman status would do.
She grimaced at a chipped fingernail on her trigger finger. There wasn’t time for a full manicure, so she touched it up with a dab of polish. Hopefully, Alida’s critical eyes would focus on the kaleidoscope-inspired pendant she’d designed for a charity art show.
She was on her way out the door when her landline phone rang. Other than telemarketers and spam calls, the only people who used it were the concierge at the front desk and other residents who preferred using the internal private line. One in particular who she couldn’t ignore.
Sighing, Avery picked up the call. “Hello? Avery here.”
She hoped it was the concierge, but the gravelly voice on the line dropped the temperature several degrees. It was Richie Overton, Congressman Overton’s playboy son. His babyish round face, boyish eyes, a smooth, clean-shaven face and overall nonthreatening demeanor was a deceptive trap to the unwary.
Avery fell into it when she dated him in her modeling days. He wasn’t a good influence on her, and he should know better than to reignite their disastrous relationship.
“Richie, I’m on my way to a meeting.”
“This will be quick. Got tickets to theSchitts of Fifth Avenue.” It was the season’s hottest Broadway show, a billionaire’s version ofWest Side Story, and tickets were hard to come by.
“Oh, Richie, that’s so kind of you to think of me, but I’m up to my ears with work preparing for Manhattan Fashion Week.” While she would have jumped at seeing the Broadway show with a best friend or even one of her brothers, she couldn’t afford to fall off the wagon and go back to Richie and his lifestyle.
“All work and no play,” Richie said with his sandpapery voice. His throat was perpetually irritated from all of the drugs he took. “Come on, Avery. Haven’t you punished me long enough?”
“I went through rehab, and you haven’t,” she said. “I’m late for a meeting. I’m sorry, but I can’t see you until you get off drugs.”
