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them then leave them wanting?
    When Larissa returned to the shop, Garrick followed her
inside. Ramon was securing a tall display case to the wall. “The unit was
already fastened to the wall, Ramon. I checked. Why are you adding more screws?”
    “It’s heavy and with the weight of your merchandise I want
to make sure it’s really secure.” He continued working.
    “How much do you think silk panties and bras weigh?” Larissa
said, laughing. Did he expect a herd of elephants to charge through her shop
and upend the case?
    He gave her a sexy grin. “I’d rather be safe, babe.”
    Babe ? The term of endearment was friendly and seemed
natural for Ramon. At the cash register, Jordan assisted a couple young women. “Thank
you and merry Christmas,” she said as they left.
    “Were you busy?” Larissa asked.
    Jordan shook her head. “No, just those two. They bought
panties.”
    “Big sale day,” Larissa said sarcastically. “A couple
panties.”
    “Don’t worry, it’ll pick up.” Jordan reached under the
counter and brought out a gift basket with wine, chocolate, cheeses, crackers
and assorted goodies.
    “Nice. Who’s that from?”
    “From me,” Garrick said. “House warming.”
    “That was thoughtful. You didn’t have to. Thank you.”
    “Before I go I want Ramon to check your balcony.”
    “You think that same guy was on my balcony?” Larissa asked.
    “What guy?” Jordan asked. “Did he get in?”
    “She wasn’t sure if she saw anything, Jordan,” Garrick stated.
“We’re going to check it out to be sure.”
    When Larissa and the two men entered her apartment, the
temperature had dropped about ten degrees. She shivered. “Uh oh, did I leave a
window open?” she asked.
    “Damn it.” Ramon charged over to the balcony door. It was
open a crack. “I thought I fixed it.”
    “Apparently not,” Garrick said through clenched teeth. “You
need to fix more than the lock.”
    Ramon nodded sagely. “I’m on it.” He pulled out a
screwdriver from the small toolbox he carried.
    Garrick walked around the room studying her furnishings. Was
he looking for anything? “Where did you get the TV? I don’t remember seeing it
when your furniture was delivered.”
    “Jordan brought it. She said she knows people. I’ll have to
find out who so I can pay them.”
    “You look almost all unpacked.” Garrick glanced into her
bedroom. “If you need anything let me know.”
    “You’ve been very helpful. The apartment is great, even the
furnishing and artwork complement the little I brought.” She pointed to a
couple oil paintings. “Are these by a local artist? They look old.”
    Garrick stood in front of one that depicted an old Victorian
house covered in vines. Old trees shaded a cracked brick patio and lush garden
full of bright flowers. A man stood in front of the house wearing old-fashioned
clothes, black fitted jacket, black pants and a white shirt with black ascot,
probably dating from the 1800s. His long dark-brown hair fell rakishly across
his eyes. The man’s stance and magnificent body held confidence, arrogance and
strength. His eyes had a surreal blue glow as if he were staring at the artist,
or at the person admiring the painting.
    Larissa’s body heated up as she stared at it. Never had she
been so moved by a piece of artwork. How did the artist render the sensuality
of the man in that painting so intently?
    “Yes they are, but these paintings are very old. This one is
of the Beaumont House where I live.”
    Other pictures were of the bridge over the Delaware River, a
street scene in winter, a woman with long blonde hair sitting beneath a large
maple tree glowing in glorious autumn colors. All the paintings were done at
night or twilight. “The artist was talented, whoever he or she was. I wonder
who the blonde woman was.” She also wore period clothing, a long dress from the
1800s.
    “A lover or perhaps a model for the picture.” Garrick
shrugged, not meeting her gaze.
    Across the