Page 14 of High-Priority Asset

Dutch directed the delivery guy to wheel the fridge out of the van. Then he adjusted the two straps, removing them from the hand truck and retightening them around the cooling unit. He slipped his arms through the straps like someone would with a backpack and he had the delivery guy wrap the third one horizontally around the center of the fridge and Dutch’s torso, fastening it tight.

Bending at the knees, Dutch shifted the weight of the unit around before he stood and leaned over with the fridge balanced on his back and headed inside.

Isabel, Brenda and the delivery guy followed. They stood at the stairwell, marveling at Dutch carrying the fridge upstairs as though it were a death-defying circus act.

“Whoa,” the kid said low, amazement ringing in his voice.

Okay, Dutch was really strong. And smart.

“To hell with your moratorium. Are you seriously not going to give him a chance?” Brenda pointed at Dutch while staring at Isabel like she was crazy. “If you don’t want him, can I have him?”

“Hell, I’d date him,” the delivery guy chimed in.

Isabel sighed. “Maybe we can hang out. Baby steps. Get to know each other better without all the physical stuff.”

Brenda threw her an unmistakable are-you-kidding-me look. “The physical stuff is the best part.”

Isabel had jumped into bed with CNO and look where that had gotten her. “But it shouldn’t be the best part. It should be the icing on a fantastic cake, the cherry on a sundae.”

“I’d eat his cake with a spoon,” Brenda said, staring at Dutch as he came back downstairs.

Isabel shook her head. Brenda could wrap men around her little finger like twine. Except for the yoga instructor she’d set her sights on. The limber yogi was proving to be the ultimate challenge.

Then there was Dutch. He hadn’t given Brenda the once or twice-over most men did with her sunny curls and sparkling smile and swimsuit-model physique. All his attention had been focused on Isabel.

“Here you go.” Dutch handed the straps to the delivery guy who gave him a two-finger salute and left.

“Thank you so much,” Isabel said. “How can I repay you for everything?”

“The only payment I’d accept is the pleasure of your company over lunch.”

“She says yes.” Brenda shoved Isabel forward. “You two should leave right now.”

“I can’t,” Isabel said, not enjoying the sudden onslaught of pressure. “There’s too much to do before tomorrow.” The charity event was highly publicized. Who’s who of LA would be there, including the mayor. It had to go off without a hitch. Not to mention, she hated being put on the spot.

Hadn’t Brenda been listening?

Chatting over coffee was a baby step. Not lunch.

Brenda’s doe eyes shifted to her, a sad kind of pleading in their depths. “Please go,” she mouthed.

Her best friend wasn’t reckless, or impulsive, and tended to be more protective than her uncle Emilio at times. She also had great instincts.

The first time Brenda had met CNO she’d said, His aura is so dark. He skeeves me out. Doesn’t something about him give you the heebie-jeebies?

No. He’d been the sort everyone wanted her to go out with. Wealthy, owner of several businesses, wore a suit and tie, held open doors for her, spoke three languages.

He’ll show you his true colors sooner or later and when he does, run like the wind and don’t look back, Brenda had said.

In hindsight, Isabel should’ve pulled the rip cord right then.

Her internal creep-radar might be broken, but Brenda’s wasn’t. Maybe one meal with Dutch would be okay, if he got Brenda’s endorsement.

“I know you’re busy, but you’ve got to eat,” Dutch said. “As soon as we order, I’ll explain to the waiter that we’re in a rush and ask for the check, so you’re not stuck with me for too long. What do you say?”

“She’s starving and would love to,” Brenda said to him, then turned and whispered in Isabel’s ear. “Go, start living again.”

The past six months, she hadn’t been living. Only surviving.