Page 25 of High-Priority Asset

“It’s haunting,” the mayor said about the abstract expressionist painting, yanking her from her thoughts. “This artist has the depth and passion of Jackson Pollock. I’ll take it.”

“Fantastic.” She plastered on a hollow smile. Pulling off her biggest event of the year with such a resounding success should’ve made her happy. But there was a gaping hole in her life. If only she knew how to fill it. “Thank you so much for your support.”

The mayor shook her hand and they held the pose for a photo op in front of the painting. With any luck, the picture would make the front of the Art and Entertainment section of the Sunday newspaper.

Isabel directed the mayor’s assistant to Brenda to complete the purchase.

One painting left.

The phone rang. Isabel made her way through the milling crowd to the front desk and answered. “Kismet art gallery.” She pressed her opposite ear closed so she could hear over the murmur of conversations in the background. “Isabel Vargas speaking. How may I help you?”

Heavy breathing rasped through the phone. Isabel’s stomach plummeted, her muscles tightening. Long breaths in and out over the line in her ear, deep, slow grunting.

Her hand fluttered to her neck and she fiddled with the string of pearls she wore.

“I hate your lipstick,” an altered male voice groaned, and the cold lump in her throat swelled to the size of a bowling ball. “That shade of red makes you look like a harlot. But I love the dress.”

First, he’d shown up at the restaurant and now he was making harassing phone calls again. No matter how he disguised his voice, she knew it was him. Chad Ellis.

“Sophisticated, yet, enticing. A second skin against your body, showcasing your curves.” He grunted, his breath growing heavier, deeper, viler. “You look beautiful tonight. Nice touch with the pearls. Such a tease.”

Bile burned up the back of Isabel’s throat as she dropped her hand from her neck and looked around out the front window. He wouldn’t be easy to spot. That maniac was hiding in the darkness, where no one else would be able to see him.

No witnesses.

“I bet you smell even better,” he said, dragging out each syllable in an eerie way that raised goose bumps on her skin, but she swallowed the bitter taste filling her mouth. “Maybe I’ll come closer to take a whiff. I miss you. Can you feel my eyes on you? Like a physical touch you crave. Watching you makes me so hot—”

“Get a life, you sick pervert, and stay out of mine!” Isabel slammed the phone down and caught the shocked glances of those around her.

Embarrassment heated her face, her heart fluttering. “Sorry.” She raised a trembling hand in apology. “Excuse me.”

She was done. No more hanging up in silence. No more running away. No more living half a life because she thought there was something wrong with her. She wasn’t the problem.

He was.

“Everything all right?”

Isabel turned around, freezing midspin. Dutch stood beside her, dressed in a slate-gray shirt buttoned almost all the way to the top and dark slacks. His face was tense, concern stamped across his features. The surprise was so pleasant and shocking she threw herself against his chest, hugging him.

An immediate spark of heat rushed over her skin at the contact, but she dismissed it as a histrionic reaction after the disturbing phone call from Chad. Still, Dutch’s warmth and strength engulfing her took the chill away from her bones, nonetheless.

He held her, his arms banding tight around her in a comforting embrace.

“You came,” she gasped.

Stroking her hair, he said, “All the work and worry you were putting into this event, how could I not come?”

She pulled back, regaining her composure, and looked up at him.

The relief in seeing his face and beaming smile was like a gift she’d prayed for but had given up hope on ever getting.

“When I walked in, you sounded upset on the phone. Who were you talking to?”

Isabel dropped her gaze to her peep-toed shoes. “No one worth discussing.”

Brenda shimmied through the crowd and slid up next to her. “We just sold the last painting to that Hollywood producer.”

“That’s great,” Isabel said, her voice flat and devoid of excitement.