Chapter One

 

"Bridget!" she whispered anxiously over the information counter. "I need a favor." The bubbly redhead had a dash of freckles across her nose that made her look either cocky or sweet depending on her mood. She was an artist, carrying her leather portfolio under her arm as she moved through the museum lobby on the way to her studio.

"Nope, sorry," the museum's associate curator turned away heading back toward her office.

"Bridgey, please!" Alecia's whisper was more impatient.

Her blonde friend whipped around, "No, you're off limits," she said, sure that Alecia had some scheme in the works.

"I know, I know, but you have to help me." Two women on the far side of the lobby, hearing the disquieting conversation turned and stared. Bridget stared back at them with a pleasantly calm smile. "In my office," she said to Alecia, "but make it quick and quiet."

When the door closed behind them, Bridget turned around with a grim and determined expression on her face.

"You look so serious, Bridgey."

"I'm working, Alecia."

The official looking Bridget Fox was dressed in a smart teal green designer suit that flattered her slim body, while her blonde hair trailed behind her head in a long French plait. When it wasn't braided, she wore it loose to dangle down her back, to sway as she moved with a sensuous and innocent ease. Perhaps it was the soft bangs on her forehead that often made her look much younger than her twenty-nine years. With blue eyes twinkling, she could adopt the face of a twelve-year-old, particularly when she was getting a reprimand from her husband, Geoff. Though Bridget could be as mischievous as her friend, and was often a bundle of insecurities, at the museum, she worked to portray herself as a self-assured woman of substance-an attitude she knew was paramount in her position. She's worked hard the last two years to secure a position she often felt she wasn't suited for, but wanting it so badly-she wouldn't do anything to screw it up.

"It's just one teensy favor," Alecia squinted her nose sexily. The artist didn't have to put on airs for anyone, or dress demurely. Unlike her best friend, she could be as outrageous and silly as she wanted. After all, it was expected that artists were eccentrics.

"Tiny favors for you have only gotten me spanked," Bridget reminded her.

"But not this time, really. I promise. Cross my heart," her index fingers traced the crossed lines over her full bosom. Alecia's pale satin shirt looked a bit too small, gaping at the center so her black bra peeked out from underneath. The long black skirt below hugged her round hips closely, and just skimmed the top of black Army boots-this was 'dressed up' for the quirky painter.

"You promise the sun, the moon, and the stars, but what do I get? My ass paddled raw every time you cook up some scheme."

"This is no cooked up scheme. I'm desperate." Her eyes and mouth made a desperate looking expression to augment her desperate tone of voice; but then she instantly backed off. "I mean, not actually desperate, I just need a thousand dollars for two days."

"What!"

"Two days. That's all. I have three paintings that just sold for seventeen hundred. The money will be in my bank account by Thursday, but I need the loan until then."

"Why?"

A pained expression crossed the redhead's lips. "A debt."

"To whom?"

She squinted again making the painful admission. "Lyle McCall."

"Lyle!"

"I know it was stupid."

"But why?"

"I overspent my allowance from Charlie three months ago on that coat Maude Jaffrey made for me. I couldn't admit how much it cost. I told Charlie $500.00 and he was pissed at that. I'd have never seen the light of day if I told him how much I really spent."

"And how much was that?"

"Twenty-five hundred."

"Aw, Alecia, you didn't."

"I had no idea until she was finished. I commissioned it, what could I say?"

"That you couldn't afford it."

Alecia looked aghast. "Never!" she almost sounded angry, "besides, I bumped into Lyle, and he was so sweet, and before I realized it, I was borrowing the money. Of course, he wants it back now."

Bridget was aghast for her own reasons. "What possibly went through your mind to borrow money from that bastard?"

"It was three months ago, I thought I'd sold the collage. And, it would have worked out if that old bitty had made good. How did I know she was going to back out at the last minute?"

"Everything 'would have' worked out with you."

"But I do need you now, Bridget, please," her soulful green eyes could tug the heartstrings of a stubborn mule.

"A thousand dollars?"

"And you'll have it back in three days, four days tops."

"Why can't Lyle wait?"

"Because Lyle's an ass, and he's already waited three weeks beyond his deadline. He says he needs it now, or..." she winced, "or he'll have to get more graphic."

"Meaning he'll rough you up."

"Well, I'm not sure. Maybe. But I can't let Charlie know. Everything has been so perfect between us. Next week is our one-year anniversary. I can't screw this up." Alecia was always desperate beyond measure when she was desperate at all. The rest of the time, she was as carefree as a bird.

"You know this is against my better judgment. But..." she sighed heavily remembering Alecia's months with Lyle all too well. "I'll write you a check."

"Oh, you are saving my life. But I do need the money in cash."

"Cash?"

"We'll go to the bank after work and run it on to his office."

"Alecia, I can't."

"But you will, please," she cocked her head again, and the phone rang. Answering, Bridget was drawn into a long conversation with a major donor from which she could not escape. Before she finished, Alecia was waving her hand at her playfully and slipping out the door.