The Life She Wants
Jo McNally
She's fought hard for this life, and won't give it up!Gallant Lake, New York, is the perfect place for former supermodel Melanie Lowery. It's slow-paced and far from the limelight. Her peace is disrupted, though, when hotshot sports agent Shane Brannigan comes to town with his young golf star client. Melanie sees herself in the rebellious teen struggling with fame, and she can’t help stepping in and getting to know Shane in the process. But Shane’s chasing the same jet-set world that she left behind—a world that could reawaken demons Melanie's fought hard to conquer. Yet with Shane leaving Gallant Lake any day, her heart is putting up a fight of its own…
She’s fought hard for this life, and won’t give it up!
Gallant Lake, New York, is the perfect place for former supermodel Melanie Lowery. It’s slow-paced and far from the limelight. Her peace is disrupted, though, when hotshot sports agent Shane Brannigan comes to town with his young golf star client. Melanie sees herself in the rebellious teen struggling with fame, and she can’t help stepping in and getting to know Shane in the process. But Shane’s chasing the same jet-set world that she left behind—a world that could reawaken demons Melanie’s fought hard to conquer. Yet with Shane leaving Gallant Lake any day, her heart is putting up a fight of its own...
JO McNALLY lives in coastal North Carolina with one hundred pounds of dog and two hundred pounds of husband—her slice of the bed is very small. When she’s not writing or reading romance novels (or clinging to the edge of the bed), she can often be found on the back porch sipping wine with friends while listening to great music. If the weather is absolutely perfect, Jo might join her husband on the golf course, where she tends to feel far more competitive than her actual skill level would suggest.
She likes writing stories about strong women and the men who love them. She’s a true believer that love can conquer all if given just half a chance.
You can follow Jo pretty much anywhere on social media (and she’d love it if you did!), but you can start at her website, jomcnallyromance.com (http://www.jomcnallyromance.com).
Also By Jo McNally (#uaabea830-f75d-5745-b7f4-ecfd8cbdee1a)
Nora’s Guy Next Door
She’s Far From Hollywood
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Life She Wants
Jo McNally
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08471-0
THE LIFE SHE WANTS
© 2018 Jo McNally
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
He had no doubt that this woman might rip his life, and his heart, apart if he let her.
And still...he wanted her. He wanted her to be his.
A furrow appeared between her brows.
“Shane...” His name was a whisper on her lips.
“Say that again.”
Melanie’s eyes darkened, and the furrow faded as a smile teased her lips. Her voice was stronger this time.
“Shane. What are we doing?”
“Damned if I know, but I’m not stopping unless you tell me to.”
He waited, and she didn’t say a word. His head dropped until his lips touched hers. He waited again, until she tipped her head up to meet his. Her lips parted for him with a sigh, and still he hesitated. Was he afraid for her? Or for himself? This moment...this moment felt big. She murmured his name against his lips, her arms wrapping around his neck. And he was a goner.
Dear Reader (#uaabea830-f75d-5745-b7f4-ecfd8cbdee1a),
This book is the third and final book in my The Lowery Women series. This book is also one of the last four Superromances to ever be released from Harlequin. There have been so many terrific Superromances through the years, written by wonderful authors (my “Super Sisters”) and edited by some of the best in the business. My emotions are all over the place between pride and sorrow to be in this final group of Supers.
I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my two Superromance editors. Victoria Curran is the person who said “yes!” to my debut novel, She’s Far From Hollywood. I will never forget her enthusiasm and wise advice. And speaking of wise advice, my current editor, Karen Reid, got me through books two and three with wonderful guidance and vision.
As they say, when one door closes, another opens. If you enjoy the small-town setting of Gallant Lake, New York (the setting for this book as well as Nora’s Guy Next Door), I’m happy to say I’ll be writing more Gallant Lake stories for Harlequin Special Edition.
So...this is truly bittersweet. I’m thrilled to be part of Special Edition going forward, and very sad to be saying goodbye to Superromance. I hope you enjoy this story, and that you’ll want to read more about the people of Gallant Lake.
Wishing you forever love,
Jo McNally
Writing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It takes a team, and I’ve had the best possible team for The Lowery Women series.
To Victoria and Karen with gratitude.
Contents
Cover (#ufcc78e7d-eb0c-5d90-9b78-68b87c8b03d8)
Back Cover Text (#uefe3d473-eac8-5db0-a01b-7b7fdd3b24e5)
About the Author (#ua9646e6e-91cf-5650-91bb-6abc18b8b838)
Booklist (#u34eff139-e3fe-537f-8459-c23f8d9e230b)
Title Page (#u7bf45a48-e12b-5e68-ad29-1218a5690376)
Copyright (#u2ead8403-25a2-570d-bcab-71a9f40fa274)
Introduction (#ud2cbb4d1-434e-5a27-b1be-a8526394dc69)
Dear Reader (#u3fe3e76c-613d-5bad-80a0-fcf54a4259fe)
Dedication (#ud49786e0-6b06-5d1a-861b-fab72626d65a)
CHAPTER ONE (#u29e66b78-235d-5dcc-89f7-d0068ded9660)
CHAPTER TWO (#u2bab6232-f171-5d6d-acdb-1c0f55d2c467)
CHAPTER THREE (#u10b029cf-0f42-5c84-be79-f6f6703a98a6)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ucc0eefae-40b7-5e27-ae6d-af5063639d16)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u6e0d0e3a-4e9e-5fb2-8670-3aa0fb902f92)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uaabea830-f75d-5745-b7f4-ecfd8cbdee1a)
“MELANIE, CAN I skip this necklace? It seems like overkill to me.”
“Mel, you don’t really expect me to wear these shoes, do you?”
“Melanie, this dress is way too short for a grandmother.”
“Mel...”
Melanie Lowery closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath.
If this was Paris or New York City, this type of fashion-model rebellion would never be tolerated. But Mel wasn’t in Paris. And while technically in New York state, she was nowhere near the fashion district. The three women in front of her were not professional models. They were her cousins, and they had volunteered to help her market this collection.
They were doing her a favor.
She could not scream at them.
One more deep breath.
“Amanda,” she said—as calmly as possible—to the petite blonde in the blue sheath, “it’s not a necklace, it’s an extension of the dress that happens to fasten around your neck. That jeweled bib is what makes the dress special. So please. Just. Put. It. On.”
The tall redhead standing by the door wore a flowing floral gown. Bright orange stilettos dangled from her fingers. Bree’s face said it all, but Mel stopped the inevitable flow of opinions before it began.
“Bree, I picked those shoes specifically for that dress. They match the clutch you’ll be carrying. It’s almost like I planned it that way.” She tried to keep the sarcastic edge from her voice, but failed.
“Pull in your claws, Mel. It’s not the color I’m worried about, it’s the crazy heels. I can’t walk in these things.”
“Seriously? I’ve seen you walk Hollywood red carpets in higher.”
“That was a lifetime ago. There’s not much call for stilettos on the farm.” Bree patted her protruding belly. “And don’t forget my passengers. Twins, babe. Twins. They’re wreaking havoc with my balance, not to mention my ankles.”
“Okay, Bree, I get it. Twins.”
Her business partner and best friend, Luis Alvarado, was already digging through a tangled pile of accessories in the corner of the room. These were his dresses her cousins were wearing to the charity gala tonight. Well, his with a little influence from her. Actually... Bree’s dress was nearly all Melanie. It had been her idea to go old-school with a beribboned empire waist and the flowing organza to accommodate Bree’s pregnant figure. With her dark red hair falling free and her sun-kissed skin draped in the colorful poppy print on ivory, Bree looked like an exotic goddess.
“Here we go!” Luis stood triumphantly. “Wear these nude flats, honey. Just watch the length of the dress. I don’t want you to trip over it.” Mel bit back a smile when Luis held out the delicate shoes in his meaty hand. His muscular build made him look more like a linebacker than a fashion designer. Of course, with his long, dark hair and that milk chocolate skin, he could also be the cover model on some romance novel. But the man was a genius with fabric. He was already respected in smaller circles, and soon the entire fashion world would know his name.
“Nora.” Mel turned to face her eldest cousin, who was frowning at herself in the mirror while tugging at the hem of the dark red cocktail dress. “You may be a grandmother, but you’re forty, not eighty. That length makes your legs go on forever, so please stop yanking it out of shape!”
Amanda slipped her arm around Melanie’s waist. “Mel, you’re not even dressed yet, and dinner is in half an hour. We may not be models like you, but we’ll be fine. Go get your dress on, and we’ll all meet outside the ballroom in thirty, okay?” Amanda turned serious, giving her a quick squeeze. Mel knew what was coming next. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. There’s adrenaline happening, but it’s good adrenaline so far. No temptations. A two at most.” Amanda nodded at the use of their code. “Two” meant Mel was completely under control. No one was more concerned about her ability to cope with a pseudo fashion show than she was. This might be a charity event with loved ones by her side, but it was still bringing her perilously close to a world that nearly destroyed her the first time around. Tonight was a test, and everyone in this room knew that. Luis came up behind her.
“You may be at level two, but you’re putting me at DEFCON twelve in that outfit. Go change! Dios mio, my reputation will be ruined if you wear that getup tonight.” He nodded at her black leggings and bright green Gallant Lake T-shirt. Her damp hair was covered with a white towel. Maybe Luis had a point—she was cutting it pretty close.
She patted the hand he’d rested on her shoulder. “My makeup is done. All I have to do is put my hair up, shimmy into that magical dress you designed and I’ll be good to go.”
Luis nodded toward the door. “Go get yourself magical in a hurry, girl, and I’ll go check on the real models.”
Tonight was an unconventional fashion show, happening concurrently with the awards gala that capped off four days of golf and other events at the Gallant Lake Resort. Everything benefited the Travis Foundation for Veterans, founded by Mel’s cousin Bree a year ago. Since many of the attendees were well-heeled socialites and celebrities, Bree had asked Melanie to come up with a unique fashion event that would make the women happy while not boring their husbands. She and Luis had hired ten models to stroll silently around the tables tonight wearing fashions from their new collection. Her cousins, who were all on the foundation’s board of directors, would also be wearing Alvarado designs.
“Earth to Mel? Stop daydreaming and get dressed.” Luis gave her a friendly smack on the behind. He was the only man on this planet who could get away with touching her like that.
“Okay, okay!” She reached out to straighten Bree’s hair on her way by, and got a scathing look in return that froze her hand in midair. Those pregnancy hormones were making Bree downright scary. “Right. See you all downstairs.”
The suite she was using as a dressing room tonight was at the other end of the hall. She’d had too many years of changing her clothes while people watched to ever do it again, even with family. Mel was just swiping the room key when she heard low voices coming from around the corner, where the larger suites were located. The female voice sounded young. It also sounded tense, which was what caught Mel’s attention.
“I don’t want to go to this dinner, Gary. I don’t feel like parading around in front of a bunch of old people again. Please?”
The answering voice was smooth, but with an undercurrent of anger that set off all kinds of alarms for Mel.
“Shane says you’re going, so you’re going, cupcake. If you behave yourself, maybe we’ll start practice a little late tomorrow. And I’ll take you to breakfast, okay, Tori?”
Mel’s entire body went still, including her lungs and her heart. The words were innocent enough, but the tone was off. And it was much too familiar.
Mellie, baby, why don’t you stop by my place before the photo shoot, and we’ll work on some of your poses, okay?
She swallowed hard. This wasn’t about her. It was about Tori. A girl she didn’t know, hadn’t even seen yet. She moved closer to the corner, trying to decide what to do.
“Umm...sure, Gary. But I still don’t want to... What are you doing? Let go...”
Oh, hell no. Mel quickly stepped around the corner and took in the scene. Tori was fifteen or so, with a tall, athletic build and thick blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a Hello Kitty T-shirt that was two sizes too small, as if she didn’t know she’d grown breasts, and skintight running shorts. Her arms were folded across her stomach.
Gary was probably in his fifties, with graying hair and a slim build, barely as tall as Tori. He stepped away from her the minute he saw Mel, his facial expression morphing from anger to a smarmy smile. Unfortunately for him, Mel had a PhD in smarmy men. Especially smarmy men who took advantage of teenage girls. Blood was pounding in her ears, and sweat tickled her scalp.
You need to loosen up a little or these photos won’t work. Come over here and let me give you a little back rub, kiddo. And help yourself to the champagne. No one’s watching...
She’d spent years with men like Gary, with no one watching out for her. She’d be damned if she’d let another girl be put at risk behind closed doors or hidden around corners where no one was watching.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Gary raised his hands in innocence. “Everything’s fine here, miss. You know how kids are. I’m just trying to get her to dinner on time.”
Was this just a family squabble? If so, was it any of Mel’s business if the guy was being gruff? Did all families fight like this? She really had no idea. She just knew Tori was being pushed to do something she didn’t want to do, and Melanie couldn’t ignore that.
“Are you her father?”
“No.” Tori answered quickly and quietly, moving closer to Mel, her eyes focused tightly on the carpeting. The hair on the nape of Mel’s neck stood on end. She’d developed a well-honed “weasel alert” over the years, and it was clanging loudly in her head right now. This guy was bad news.
Mel didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t exactly drag Tori away—that would be kidnapping. Or would it be a rescue mission? She could call her cousin, since Amanda and her husband owned the resort. Blake Randall would know how to handle this and would have the authority to do something.
She was reaching for her phone when a rough voice from behind her broke the charged silence.
“Is there a problem here?”
Her first thought was that she was now in a hidden hallway, trapped between two men she didn’t know. She took a steadying breath and turned coolly on her heel, as if she was totally in control of the situation. Years walking a runway had taught her that trick—she and Luis called it “body acting.” But any sense of control she had, real or faked, evaporated when she took in the stranger who’d walked up behind her. Very close behind her.
He was a big man, not only tall but broad-shouldered and rock-solid. He was older than her—probably midthirties. His red hair was just long enough to brush the collar of his white dress shirt. His nose was a little crooked, as if it had been broken, and he definitely looked like the type of guy who might get into a fistfight or two. Even with that flawed nose, he was attractive—in a slightly brutish way. The reddish stubble on his chin completed the “bad boy” look, which was softened only by his striking blue eyes, now narrowed in on Tori. His mouth hardened into a straight line.
“Seriously? You’re still not dressed? You’re killing me, kid. Get moving.”
Big Ginger gave Melanie that once-over men were so good at—a quick toe-to-head survey to see if she was worth his interest or not. Considering how she was dressed, and the fact that she still had her hair wrapped in a towel, she was surprised to see a tiny flare of heat in his eyes before he gave her a barely polite nod and turned to Gary.
“I told you to make sure she got ready.”
“I’m her golf coach, Shane, not her damned nanny.”
Tori’s voice was full of dramatic teenaged whine. “Please, Shane. I’m so tired of being nice to people.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up briefly. Melanie wondered how often women threw themselves at Shane’s feet because of that crooked smile and those eyes. Just because she’d sworn off men didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a hot hunk of man when she saw one.
“I know it’s a bore, kid, but we have to be nice to the people who pay money to support your career.” He glanced over to Mel, gave her a quick, smooth smile and extended his hand. “Shane Brannigan. And you are...?”
“Melanie. Are you related to Tori?”
“I... What? No. Tori’s on the women’s golf tour. I’m her agent. Gary Jenkins here is her coach. Is there something I can help you with?”
Ice sliced through her veins. He was an agent. Great.
Look, Mellie, you know I have your best interests at heart. Everyone needs topless shots in their portfolio, so stop fighting Marcello on this.
Mel surprised herself as much as she did Shane when she poked her finger hard into the center of his chest.
“You can ‘help’ me by explaining why you let her walk to her room alone with this guy! How old is she? Where are her parents? Where’s her chaperone? Who’s watching out for this girl?”
* * *
OF ALL THE things Shane could have imagined happening today, being physically assaulted by a lunatic with razor-sharp purple fingernails was not one of them. He wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood with that stab in the chest, and it took all his self-control to keep from checking.
Instead, he stared into her shockingly violet eyes while determining his next move.
He’d spotted her the minute he stepped off the elevator—tall and somehow elegant, even in leggings, a T-shirt and flip-flops. The white towel twisted around her head made her look even taller. From behind, she’d looked like a very sexy space alien.
But when she’d tiptoed closer to the corner, his attention had shifted. The only rooms around that corner were Tori’s suite and his suite. What the hell was she up to? She was so busy listening to Tori and Gary she hadn’t even known he was approaching. Was she a reporter digging for dirt? Or perhaps a fan crossing the line of acceptable behavior?
Before he could ask, she was gone—leaping around the corner with him hot on her heels. And now here she was, lighting into him like a pit bull about “watching out for Tori.” It was his goddamn job to watch out for Tori Sutter, and Shane was very good at his job. And he didn’t take criticism well. Especially from strangers. Not even strangers who had curves everywhere a man wanted to see curves. Smoky gray makeup surrounded her dark eyes, and glossy lipstick made her full lips inviting. Well, they would be inviting if they weren’t currently pursed in displeasure. With him. Yeah, well, tough luck, lady.
“I’m sorry, Miss...?” He waited.
“Melanie Lowery.” She spat the name at him, but he’d gotten her to speak. He was a master negotiator, and he was going to take control of this conversation. He nodded and smiled, but his smile didn’t have its usual effect. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Her whole body was tense, and for some reason the word brittle came to mind.
“Miss Lowery, I don’t know what you think is going on, but my client is in good hands here...” She snorted at his word choice, but he plowed ahead. “Look, we’re running late and, frankly, Tori’s not your concern.” He was hoping she’d take the hint and leave, but no such luck. Indignation rolled off the woman in waves.
“Any time a girl is at risk, it’s my concern, Mr. Brannigan. It’s also the concern of hotel management and the police. Would you like me to make a call or two? I know the resort owners very well.”
Shane swallowed the angry words begging to be said. His right temple started to throb. The last thing Tori needed was more negative press. This was what he got for taking on a kid for a client—headaches. Then again, all his clients were giving him headaches these days. That seemed to be his specialty—taking on the clients no one else wanted. Time to turn the Brannigan charm up to full strength. He splayed his hands in surrender. “There’s no need for that. I can assure you no one here is at risk. Right, Gary?”
“Of course not! I was just trying to get Tori to dinner on time—right, Tori?” Shane didn’t like the way Gary looked everywhere but at him. But the guy was a golf coach. It wasn’t exactly a sport prone to shouting and drama.
Tori shrugged in response to Gary’s question. Great. Big help, kid.
Shane turned to Melanie with his best smile. “See? Everything’s fine. Tori, honey, I need you to start getting ready, okay?”
Tori moved closer to the Lowery woman, her eyes wide and suddenly adoring for some reason. “Oh, my God! I know who you are! You’re here for the gala, right?” Melanie nodded, the towel bobbing on her head. How did Tori know her? The girl turned back to him, suddenly defiant. God help him, he’d never be able to keep up with her moods. “I’ll only go if I can sit with her. I don’t want to sit with you guys.” She glanced at Gary. Shane caught the look, and so did Miss Busy-Body.
“Tori, two of your sponsors will be at our table. You have to sit with us. I’m sure Miss Lowery has other...”
The woman’s violet eyes never left his, but she spoke to Tori. “I have some official duties to take care of, but I’ll come find you after dinner, okay?”
Shane frowned. He didn’t need some stranger inserting herself into Tori’s life. “I’m sorry, but our table is full. Tori, go get dressed. Now.” He pointed toward her door, and she was smart enough to read his tone, heading into her suite after a quick wave to Melanie. Gary excused himself so quickly he almost left smoke in his wake, leaving Shane and Melanie alone in the hallway.
She rolled her eyes and moved to go past him. He didn’t budge, not blocking her exit but forcing her to step to the side to get by. It was a petty power play on his part, but really, it was her own damned fault—she’d attacked him first. He figured she’d fold now that she didn’t have an audience.
She didn’t fold, but she also didn’t engage. She straightened her shoulders and moved to walk by without making eye contact. A retreat, but a strong one. He caught a whiff of her soft, flowery perfume as she brushed by. He wouldn’t have expected her to be the floral type, but the scent made his head swim with visions of luxurious flowers on bent stems. She smelled like springtime and rain and...and memories. Something from his childhood? Yes, of course.
“Lilacs.”
She’d almost gone past him, but the word, which he hadn’t intended to say out loud, brought her to a halt. Her head turned slowly and her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “Excuse me?”
Well, he was in it now. “You smell like lilacs. My grandmother had lilacs.” Shane Brannigan didn’t talk about flowers and childhood memories. Ever. This was not a good power play at all, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “It reminds me of her cottage on the Cape. There was a big stand of lilac trees loaded with blossoms. After a rain, she’d open the windows and the scent would fill the whole house.”
Her eyes softened, and he realized their color could be considered lilac, too. Nana would have loved that... Whoa. What the hell was wrong with him? He gave himself a mental shake and shoved Nana and her lilacs out of his head.
“Sorry. Admiring your perfume is a little creepy, isn’t it? I...I’m sorry.” Definitely not a power position, Brannigan. Babbling is never a win. Neither was apologizing. Time to walk away while he still had a shred of dignity. “There’s no need for you to join us tonight. Tori’s rehabbing from an injury and she’s just tired.”
“I made her a promise. And I keep my promises.”
“That’s admirable, but...”
“Her coach put his hands on her.”
“He what? You saw that?” Shane couldn’t believe it. Gary seemed like such a mouse.
She hesitated. “No, but...”
“Tori told you that?”
“No, but...”
“Then I’d be careful tossing around accusations, Miss Lowery. Gary’s reputation is spotless.”
She paled, and her gaze went unfocused for a minute, as if she was so far lost in thought that she was barely present. Then she shook her head and looked up at him—but not very far up, since she was close to six feet tall, even in those flip-flops.
“You don’t see a problem with two grown men acting as chaperones for a teenage girl?”
He frowned. When he’d taken Tori on as a client last month, he’d assumed her family would be around a lot more, but she was the oldest of five kids. They had their hands full with the crowd at home, and were trusting others to look after Tori. They were trusting him.
“Yes, two grown men are chaperoning a mature young woman who has an entire suite to herself. She’s my responsibility, and I’m handling it.”
Melanie gave him a slow once-over, then turned and walked away, her footwear making slapping sounds despite the carpeted floors. It didn’t diminish her brittle dignity one ounce. It also did nothing to take the steel out of her words.
“Yeah? Well, you’re doing a piss-poor job from what I can see.”
CHAPTER TWO (#uaabea830-f75d-5745-b7f4-ecfd8cbdee1a)
AMANDA WAS THE only one still waiting when Melanie rushed to the ballroom doors ten minutes late, breathlessly apologizing. Amanda just laughed.
“Damn, girl! You look fierce.”
Melanie glanced at the hallway mirror, still amazed she’d managed to make it down here so quickly after the melodrama upstairs. It was a good thing she’d had plenty of experience changing clothes in a flash. But that color in her cheeks wasn’t just from cosmetics or her mad dash to get here. It was the result of her interaction with a certain blue-eyed ginger. Something about the man got under her skin, and it showed. She blew out a breath and assessed her appearance. In her agitated state, she wouldn’t be surprised to find she’d put the dress on backward or something.
But no, the pewter metallic gown clung to every curve and swirled like silk. Between the draped neckline and plunging back, Luis’s design left little to the imagination. She’d pulled her hair into a low, messy knot—the best she could do with the limited time she’d had. Since the dress was such a showstopper, the only jewelry she wore besides a wide silver cuff on her wrist, were simple diamond studs set in platinum. The earrings had been a gift from the photo shoot where she’d met Luis four years ago, and she’d always felt they brought her luck. After all, Luis had saved her life.
“You’re seven freaking feet tall! What are you—oh, no wonder.” Amanda glanced down at Mel’s shiny black Louboutins. “Thanks for making me look like a shrimp, cuz. Let’s go, everyone else is inside.”
Silver iridescent walls shimmered softly in the recently remodeled ballroom. Thousands of pink and white fairy lights were strung across the ceiling and wound around the light fixtures. Gallant Lake and the Catskill Mountains surrounding it glowed in the mid-June twilight beyond a wall of windows. Tall glass doors opened onto a large veranda overlooking the lake.
The crowd was an eclectic mix of wealthy businesspeople, celebrities, athletes and military veterans with various disabilities. Some of the vets had obvious injuries, such as missing limbs or burns. Some, like Bree’s husband, Cole, had less visible wounds—head trauma or PTSD. The fund-raising event had been a smashing success, and they were on track to raise more than half a million dollars to help injured veterans transition to civilian life.
Her cousins were seated together at a table near the stage, where Bree was already giving her pre-dinner address, thanking everyone for their participation, as Mel slid into a chair next to Luis. Bree explained how the silent fashion show would work, with models wandering among the tables during dinner. A sketch of each design was in the printed program, along with information on how to contact Luis Alvarado Fashions. She asked Luis to stand, along with Amanda, Nora and Melanie, to show off their dresses. Camera flashes went off around the room as enthusiastic applause began, and Luis gave Melanie a wink. Between the press coverage and social media, some of his designs were sure to get attention.
As dinner began, Luis set a glass in front of Melanie. It was clear and sparkling, with a slice of lime. She nodded her thanks. With a full glass in her hand, people were far less likely to offer her a cocktail.
Cole jumped to his feet and pulled out a chair when Bree came back to the table. She beamed at him, kissing him on the cheek before settling her pregnant body with a sigh. Normally soldier-stoic in public, Cole leaned over and kissed the top of Bree’s head, whispering something in her ear that made her blush. Mel watched her cousins and their men as they laughed and talked together. Bree had Cole. Nora had her fiancé, Asher, who was clearly appreciating Nora’s red cocktail dress. He couldn’t keep his eyes, or his hands, off her.
And then there was Amanda and her husband. Blake was tall, with black hair and dark eyes—a stark contrast to Amanda’s petite build and blond curls. He’d be intimidating if it wasn’t for his easy smile and obvious love for his wife. They were that couple. Beautiful, successful and happily building a family in their historic mansion, right next door to their five-star resort. Whenever they looked at each other, the love in their eyes made Melanie’s chest tighten.
She was thrilled her cousins were finding happiness and starting families. Really. She was thrilled. Thrilled. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt her heart sometimes to watch. Most of her energy was focused on sobriety and finding a place in the world outside of modeling, and that was okay. But once in a while, usually at the darkest point of her often sleepless nights, she longed for what her cousins had found. Loving partners to spend the rest of their lives with. She just couldn’t see that happening for her.
Luis’s low voice broke through her melancholy. “You and that dress were made for each other, chica. You look different tonight—like you’re ready for battle. It’s a good look on you.”
That look of battle-readiness probably came more from her confrontation with Big Ginger than the dress. He’d managed to ignite a fire inside her, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or dangerous. She didn’t want Luis to worry, so she kept that to herself.
“I have to admit, I feel pretty invincible in this gown. It’s going to be the star of your collection.”
“Our collection, Mel. It’s your company, too. Your hand is in every one of these pieces.”
She just shrugged in response. For most of her life, she’d received praise for only her looks, which she had no control over, so the compliments meant nothing. She didn’t know how to handle praise for something she actually helped create.
Luis frowned. “You doing okay?”
Being dressed up and on display, being in a crowded room, being near an open bar... There were a lot of triggers here tonight, and Luis knew it. She gave him a bright smile. “I’m alright. Maybe a four, but no worse.”
“You tell me the minute it climbs above a six, okay?”
“I promise.”
Tori and Shane came into the ballroom halfway through dinner, walking to a table on the opposite side of the room. Neither of them looked happy. Tori was wearing a neon-orange dress that was far too tight and short. And...bright green high-top sneakers. Her hair was teased up into some crazy kind of pigtails. This kid’s fashion style was stuck somewhere between Miley Cyrus and Bride of Frankenstein. She may as well have been wearing a flashing sign that said Unhappy Teenager.
Shane’s expression made him look like he’d been sucking on lemons, and Mel was pretty sure Tori was responsible. He escorted Tori to a seat and rolled his eyes behind her as she sat. Yeah, the two were definitely arguing. She felt a pang of sympathy for Tori.
But she was surprised to feel a touch of concern for Shane, too. He looked down at Tori in confusion and showed a quick glimpse of that vulnerability he’d surprised Mel with upstairs with his talk of lilacs and his grandmother. Those words had hit her heart, since she wore the pricey Amouage scent because it reminded her of her own grandmother. She excused herself and headed for their table.
People stopped her along the way, and she accepted their compliments and autograph requests with a practiced smile. A man in uniform stopped her to thank her for being on the cover of Sports Quarterly’s swimsuit issue three years ago. He pulled the well-worn folded page from his pocket and asked if she’d autograph it for him. It took every ounce of her strength not to dwell on how awful that Cozumel photo shoot had been. Between the sand fleas and a particularly lecherous photographer, it had been one of the worst jobs she’d ever taken.
By the time she got to their table, Shane was headed toward the bar with a sandy-haired man walking with a barely perceptible limp. Gary was nowhere to be seen. Tori was talking with an older woman. More accurately, the older woman was talking, and Tori was nodding sullenly. The girl’s shoulders were rounded, and she was tugging at her dress. But when she saw Melanie, she jumped up to greet her, pigtails bouncing like springs on her head.
“You’re here! I told Shane you’d come!”
“Oh, my goodness! You’re that model! You did the Coastal Jeans campaign, right?” The woman Tori had been talking to now joined them. “You know Tori?”
Tori nodded, her sulking long forgotten. “Yes, Mrs. Covington, this is Mellie Low. We’re...” She hesitated and Melanie jumped in.
“Tori and I are friends. And I go by Melanie Lowery now. Or just Mel.”
Mellie Low died a long time ago.
Tori beamed as Melanie extended her hand to the woman. Susan Covington explained that her husband was CEO of Covington Golf, and they were one of Tori’s equipment sponsors on the women’s golf tour. She introduced Mel to another couple at the table, the founders of Winthrop Athletic, a clothing company. Helen Winthrop was nowhere near as pleasant as Susan and had barely released Mel’s hand when she started in.
“Mellie, you’re in the fashion business, so please, God, can you give Tori some much-needed fashion advice?” Tori yanked at the hem of her dress. Mel gritted her teeth. What this girl needed was compassion, not cat claws.
“Please call me Mel. And, actually, Tori’s outfit reflects popular urban fashion for teens right now. She’s following a trend.”
Tori’s shy smile had Mel reaching to squeeze her hand, which also kept her from fidgeting with her dress. Helen gave Tori another once-over.
“Hmm. Perhaps it’s the ‘urban’ part I don’t get. We need Tori to reflect our company’s values, not those of the Kardashians.”
Melanie, I don’t care if it’s your favorite shirt or not, you can’t wear it. Nothing is about you anymore—it’s about our clients, and you represent them every waking minute of the day, so get used to it.
Helen turned away to say something to Susan, who rolled her eyes at Mel in sympathy when Helen wasn’t looking. Tori tugged at Mel’s hand and whispered to her.
“Everyone’s staring at me. I was just trying to get back at Shane for making me come to this dinner, but now I feel like an idiot. I never thought he’d let me wear this.”
Melanie could draw only two conclusions. Either that boulder of a man was clueless and thought Tori really wanted to come to dinner in this getup or he’d decided to let her embarrass herself deliberately to teach her a lesson. Either way, the girl was feeling humiliated, and that wasn’t going to happen while Mel was around. Phones were already aimed at Tori from around the room. Social media would have a field day with that outfit.
She leaned over and whispered in Tori’s ear, “I just happen to know where there’s a room full of clothes and accessories that could tone this up or down any way you’d like. If you’re interested.”
Tori’s eager nod was all she needed. Shane was still at the bar with the other guy, paying no attention to his client. She couldn’t wait to see his face when Tori turned the tables on him.
* * *
“YOU LOOK LIKE you’re ready to kill someone, Shane. Lighten up, will you?” Tim slapped his back a little too hard. “We’re here to have a good time, remember? And make money. By being nice to people. Ring any bells?”
Shane nodded absently. He made his living as a sports agent by schmoozing his way through rooms like this one. The Dealmaker. That’s what they’d called him in Boston when he’d come out of nowhere and signed a Beantown deal for one of the hottest basketball players in the league. It was a crazy scheme hatched in college, where he’d first met Marquis Jackson. They’d become friends, and Shane, a cocky law student, had sat at Marquis’s side once he’d declared himself eligible for the draft. When Marquis got himself arrested for a barroom scuffle and then mouthed off to some reporters afterward, some of those people had backed away. But not Shane. He’d started making calls to NBA teams himself, to Boston specifically, and had ended up working out the deal that had made Marquis a star. The two of them had landed on the cover of a Boston sports magazine.
Nana had loved the headline, where he’d been referred to as “The Dealmaker” for the first time. So much so that she’d framed it and hung it on her wall. He frowned. Weird. That was the second time today his tiny Irish grandmother had come into his thoughts. It was all because of that violet-eyed beauty and her damned perfume. Or was it the way Melanie Lowery had stood up to him to protect Tori? That was something his feisty nana would have done. At his side, his best friend and business partner flagged down the bartender.
“I remember why we came.” Shane straightened his shoulders. “I came here to kick your ass in the golf tournament today.”
Tim barked out a laugh. “I hate to break it to you, pal, but you failed. I warned you this new stored-energy prosthetic foot has been killer for my golf swing. The rotation unit is kick-ass, and you owe me a hundred bucks, Brannigan.”
“Whatever. You only won because you were lucky enough to get paired with the club’s pro golfer.”
“Lucky. Sure.” Tim snorted and stepped away to order. “Drinks are on you.”
His buddy being paired with Cody Brooks for the tournament was something Shane had quietly arranged. That was his special talent, making quiet arrangements behind closed doors. He’d also arranged for himself to be partnered with Carter Patterson. A hotshot college quarterback, Carter entered the pros a few years ago in a burst of publicity and attention that proved too much for a kid from Wisconsin. He’d let the pressure get to him and started making ridiculous mistakes on the field. The fans on social media had turned him into a joke. One team after another had cut him, and his agent was doing nothing to help the guy. But Patterson was only twenty-six and had plenty of career left if he could get his head straight. Shane’s deal-making had paid off well today—Tim and Cody had won the charity tournament, and Patterson had agreed to set up a meeting with Shane soon.
The only blemish on the day had been the skirmish upstairs before dinner. Then again, confronting the enigmatic Miss Lowery had been the most energizing moment of the whole day, as well.
“Dude, seriously, put away the resting bitch face.” Tim handed him a drink. “Come on, look at all the gorgeous women here! If I was into that sort of thing, I could totally score tonight.” Tim nodded toward a blonde leaning against the bar. “But you could do alright, man.”
Shane smirked. “I already scored today with Patterson. He could be our golden ticket if we can keep him focused. Now, if I can just get Tori to behave herself, we could be in good shape.”
At that, Tim put on his business face. Shane was The Dealmaker, but Tim was the money guy. And the resident worrier. “Do we need to be concerned about her reputation? The social media crowd is really going after her partying ways, calling her ‘Slutter Sutter.’”
Shane winced. “Yeah, I know. It may have been a mistake to take her on.” Tim had tried to tell him as much when Tori’s parents had called, begging for help managing her skyrocketing career and the mess she was making of her online presence. “What the hell do I know about teenagers? Especially girl ones?”
Her clothing choices were a huge challenge, and one of the reasons she got so much flak online. She was a pretty girl, but one day she’d be photographed shopping in a skirt so short she was at constant risk of exposing herself, and the next day she’d be in baggy jeans drooping around her hips, like Bieber. At last year’s ESPYs, she’d shown up in a butt-ugly dress made out of strips of paper, á la early Gaga. He had no clue how he was going to turn her fashion fails around.
“Have you seen the mystery lady who tried to invite herself to our table tonight?” Tim asked.
Smoky eyes immediately came to mind. And long legs. And a sharp tongue.
“The Lowery woman? No. She probably won’t show. She was just trying to be a good Samaritan or something when she heard Tori and Gary arguing. And speaking of that...”
“Yeah, I know. Her parents might trust the guy, but he doesn’t give me the warm-and-fuzzies.”
“The woman said he grabbed Tori.”
Tim stiffened. “You think it’s true?”
He thought about the way Gary had shuffled around and avoided eye contact. But, no, a guy in his position wouldn’t do anything so stupid. At the same time, Shane had been relieved when Gary had begged off from dinner tonight.
“She didn’t actually see anything. She was probably overreacting.” Melanie’s words poked at him. Who’s watching out for this girl? “I’m going to talk to Gary tomorrow, though. He might be pushing Tori too hard.”
Everyone had agreed Gallant Lake was the perfect spot for Tori to heal her bruised ribs out of the larger, national spotlight and away from her parasitic “friends.” The new golf course at the resort was a great place for her to work on getting her swing back in shape. In a few weeks, she’d be ready to rejoin the tour. Shane and Tim had been so busy out on the West Coast the past few weeks trying to keep baseball’s hottest third baseman’s career from imploding—again—that Gary had been left in charge of Tori’s schedule. And Shane didn’t like anyone being in charge but him.
Tim nodded in agreement, then cocked his head to the side. “That outfit you let her wear tonight isn’t helping her reputation any, you know. That hot mess will be all over the internet by midnight.”
His grip tightened on the glass he was holding. “Don’t remind me. I made her change twice, and each outfit was worse than the last. She was hoping I’d cave and let her stay up in her room, but I called her bluff.” No one outsmarts Shane Brannigan, especially some kid. Tori had looked horrified when he’d accepted the glow-in-the-dark dress. She’d tried to backpedal, but he hadn’t given her a chance to change. That would teach her a lesson for trying to play games with the king of gamesmanship. He’d regretted it as soon as they’d walked into the ballroom. He’d felt her stiffen at his side, but it had been too late.
Tim nudged him and suggested they spend some time with Tori’s sponsors, so they headed back the table. He did his best not to overreact when he didn’t see Tori there. Damn it, if that kid sneaked out and went back up to her room... He glanced out to the veranda and realized with a jolt that a better man would be concerned about her safety first. What if she’d followed some creepster out to the now-dark lakeshore? What if someone had followed her up to her room because she was alone? How long had he and Tim been at the bar? Who’s watching out for this girl? He was starting to feel a sincere sense of panic when Tim made an odd strangled sound. Shane followed his gaze and nearly choked on his whiskey.
Melanie Lowery and Tori Sutter walked into the ballroom, and heads everywhere were turning. Tori’s crazy getup had been transformed, and so had she. Her tangled hair had been slicked back and up into a tight twist on top of her head, secured with what looked like chopsticks. Her makeup had been toned down, and her lips were soft peach instead of the nearly black shade she’d been wearing earlier. She still had that crazy orange dress on. At least, he thought it was the same dress. The top was visible under a short white jacket, but the bottom was covered with some kind of colorful fabric wrapped and knotted at Tori’s hip. It allowed a peek of the short dress beneath where it was tied, but just a peek, as the rest of it fell to sweep the floor. The sneakers were gone, replaced by orange stilettos. The kid suddenly looked like the young woman she kept insisting she was.
Mrs. Covington jumped up and hugged Tori, who was relaxed and smiling. She twirled to show off the outfit. Even cranky old Mrs. Winthrop seemed to approve. Melanie, sipping from the drink in her hand, nodded at something Mrs. Covington said, then raised her head. Her gaze slammed into his before she headed his way.
Her hair had been hidden under a towel earlier, but now he could see it was dark and, although it was knotted together at the back of her head, there were enough strands falling free that he could see it was long and wavy. In those crazy shoes, she was as tall as he was.
Her dress swirled like liquid mercury around her ankles, and it looked as if polished steel had been poured over her body, hugging every long line of her. It was a dress a kick-ass female superhero would wear. He half expected her to whip out a jeweled sword and strike a battle pose. Instead, she just stopped and looked at him, violet eyes assessing. A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth, painted to match her eyes, and his breath hitched. So that was her superpower—a smile that could paralyze a man.
Her hand rested on her waist in a challenge, but she was smart enough not to be the first one to speak. In negotiation, everyone knew the first one who talked was the loser. Shane was impressed. He was also not about to say anything.
It was Tim who finally broke the silence.
“I apologize for my friend. I think that dress may have caused him to have a stroke.” Tim winked at her as he took her hand. “I’m Tim Monroe, and you are a sorceress based on the transformation of Miss Sutter over there.”
She laughed, and Shane discovered superpower number two. Her laugh was deep and husky. It was a whiskey laugh, and it warmed his skin the same way whiskey warmed his throat.
Tim was still holding her hand. “You know, when Shane told me he met a woman named Melanie, it never occurred to me that it could be Mellie Low. It’s great to meet you.”
Shane frowned. Tori had recognized her upstairs earlier. Was she famous or something? She gave the briefest of glances down toward Tim’s artificial leg.
“I go by Melanie Lowery now, and my friends call me Mel. Did you serve?”
“Two and a half tours in Afghanistan, ma’am. Mostly in the western mountains. Army Rangers. Our chopper went down in a storm.” Tim wasn’t usually chatty about his service time. He’d almost died on some godforsaken Afghan mountain five years ago, and even with good financial resources and the support of family and friends, he’d had a tough time of it when he’d first come home.
But Tim wasn’t done sharing. “I’ll tell you something, Miss Low...Miss Lowery. The winters were long and cold over there, and more than one guy had that cover shot of you in nothing but paint taped up next to his bunk to keep him warm.”
Her laugh now seemed more self-deprecating than pleased. That made sense, since Tim was basically implying soldiers did impure things to themselves in front of her likeness. Not Tim, of course. Tim would have been keeping himself warm to a clandestine picture of Matt Bomer. But it finally clicked where he’d seen Melanie before. She’d been on the cover of that bathing suit issue a few years back in a painted-on bikini. Literally painted on, without a stitch of actual fabric. He hadn’t known her name at the time, but the photo was unforgettable. It had been locker-room talk for weeks. He cleared his throat, anxious to take back control of the conversation.
“I appreciate what you did to help Tori with her dress, Melanie, but I was trying to have a teaching moment with her. Tori needs to show a little more maturity.” Christ, he sounded pompous to his own ears, so he could only imagine how it sounded to everyone else.
“So you thought it was a good idea to ‘teach’ a teenage girl by humiliating her in a room full of people and cameras? Brilliant move, Socrates.”
“Yeah, brilliant move, Socrates.” Tim rolled his eyes at him before turning back to Melanie. “You’ll have to forgive him, Melanie, he tends to say really stupid shit in front of pretty women.” Shane started to object but stopped when Tim’s foot—the titanium foot—came down on his toes. Tim pressed on, “He was basically left at the altar by one of you not long ago, so...”
Melanie’s eyes went wide.
A low growl came from Shane’s throat. Karina had split when Shane “stopped being fun.” Funny how the death of a man’s father could do that.
“How convenient to blame all women for the actions of your runaway bride rather than looking in the mirror.” Her smile was deadly now.
The truth of her words, and the fact that she’d had the guts to say them right to his face, left him silent, torn between rage and admiration. Maybe Melanie was more than a pretty face, after all. Maybe she was a damned flamethrower dressed in steel. Tori joined them before he could come up with a reply.
“Shane, isn’t this awesome?” She waved her hand down toward her clothing. “Mel did this in, like, ten minutes! It was like having a fairy godmother or something. And she said she’ll help me find makeup for tournaments that won’t melt away in the sun. She lives here in Gallant Lake, right above that coffee shop you love, and I’m going to do yoga with her tomorrow morning. She says it’ll be good for my focus.”
Shane pressed his lips together and shot a suspicious glance at Melanie. Just because she was famous didn’t mean her interest in Tori was healthy. And his experience with models wasn’t exactly stellar—they loved to latch onto rich athletes. Too many young bucks were happy to hand over their dough just to have a gorgeous woman as arm candy. Was Melanie doing some twisted kind of attention-seeking by attaching herself to Tori? Maybe he’d made one deal too many, but in his world people expected payback for their so-called favors. He just had to figure out what her angle was.
“Tori, I’m sure Melanie has other things to do than be your BFF.”
There was a hush, and he knew he’d gone from sounding pompous to sounding like a grumpy old man. Both were unwelcome reminders of his father. Tori looked crestfallen, and Melanie and Tim were glaring at him, so he quickly reversed course. “But we can try to work something out. You look really nice. I...uh...like your hair.” Tori beamed, then bounced off to sign some autographs and pose for selfies with some fans at a nearby table.
He aimed his best smile at Melanie, and knew in a heartbeat she saw right through it. Interesting.
“Thank you for helping our girl. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you after tonight. She has a full schedule.”
Melanie stiffened. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, and I’m expecting her to show up. You’re pushing her too hard. She needs a break.”
There might be some truth in that. Tori could burn out if they weren’t careful. There was just one problem—Shane didn’t take well to lectures. He’d been listening to lectures from his father all his life. He sure as hell wasn’t going to listen to one from some fashion model.
“Let me guess—you think posing naked on the cover of a sports magazine makes you a sports expert, right? Why don’t you just leave Tori’s career to people who know...”
Helen Winthrop walked up, forcing him to shut his mouth in a hurry. That may have been a good thing, since Tim was making a slicing motion across his neck and Melanie had been puffing up in indignation with every word.
“Shane!” Mrs. Winthrop grabbed his hand, her husband, Mark, a step behind her and silent. Mark might run the company, but it was pretty clear who ran Mark. They were paying Tori big money to be the fresh young face of their golf-clothing line. “I was absolutely shocked when Tori came into dinner earlier looking like she did...”
Shane lost track of the woman’s complaints when Melanie stepped away to greet a mountain of a guy who’d just walked up. The dark-skinned man had his hair pulled back into a man bun. Dressed in a trim dark suit, he handed Mel a fresh drink and spoke softly in her ear, earning an affectionate smile from her that made Shane’s chest go tight. She held up five fingers, making the other guy shake his head, but she patted him on the arm. Was she telling him how many drinks she’d had? The man gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before walking away. Mrs. Winthrop’s voice droned its way back into his brain.
“...and, honestly, after some of Tori’s very public misbehavior lately, Mark and I were wondering if we’d made a mistake. But it was brilliant to bring in someone like Mellie Low to mentor Tori, and what a way to demonstrate it! She worked a miracle, and just look at Tori now!”
They turned to watch Tori laughing with a woman and her young daughter, who was clearly a fan. Tori looked like an average kid having fun. He felt a jab of guilt. She was just a kid, and he suspected Gary wasn’t providing a lot of fun in her schedule. He’d been treating her like a thirty-year-old pro. Maybe Shane had been, too. Who’s watching out for this girl? Damn it to hell. It wasn’t like him to make that kind of mistake.
“I can’t thank you enough for hiring Mellie to show us what Tori can be with a little guidance. Very smart move, Shane. And she should be a fabulous influence on Tori’s style.”
Wait. What? Tim was coughing behind him, and he could have sworn he heard laughter in that cough. Shane finally caught up with the conversation. The Covingtons thought he’d hired Melanie to work with Tori? He watched Melanie walk over to join Tori’s growing audience. She tossed her head back and laughed at something Tori said, and Tori reached out to hold her hand. Here he was working on ways to get the woman away from Tori, and his biggest sponsor wanted him to pay her to give freakin’ beauty tips to his client.
“Um, that’s not exactly what I had in mind, Mrs. Winthrop. I’d rather Tori work on her rehab and golf swing.”
“Did you know Mellie Low had over half a million followers on Instagram before she dropped out of the public eye? She knows how to use social media to build a brand, and if she can help Tori learn some self-control, it will be good for all of us, don’t you think?”
Shane had a feeling the last thing Melanie Lowery was going to be was good for all of them.
Especially him.
CHAPTER THREE (#uaabea830-f75d-5745-b7f4-ecfd8cbdee1a)
THE RINGING ALARM made Melanie wince and groan at the same time. She’d be fine once she got to her feet, but the moments between alarm and arising were never easy. All those years in modeling had totally screwed up her sleeping patterns, and it wasn’t at all unusual for her to end up wide-awake in the middle of the night. But her chronic insomnia hadn’t been the problem last night.
No, last night she’d slept. And dreamed. Of ginger and blue. Of a rough voice pushing her and challenging her. In some dreams, Big Ginger had been an adversary, but in some... She stretched and sighed. In some he’d touched her with gentle hands. Held her with strong arms. Kissed her...
Mel sat up abruptly, her pulse racing. Enough of that nonsense! No more men for a while, remember? If she was home in Miami, she’d work off some of this agitation at the gym. Maybe take a kickboxing class or a spinning session. She tossed off the sheet and sat on the edge of the bed. Miami wasn’t home anymore. After her accountant had squandered most of her earnings, the beachfront condo had been all she’d had left. At twenty-nine, she’d made and lost a fortune. The condo was a stark reminder of the places and people that weren’t healthy for her anymore. So she’d sold it and invested in Luis’s new fashion line.
She stood and stretched, looking across her cousin’s loft and out to Gallant Lake, silver-blue in the soft morning light. Wisps of fog clung to the tops of the mountains. She’d moved into Nora’s vacant apartment a month ago. It was supposed to be temporary, of course, until she could find a place in the city, closer to Luis’s studio in the fashion district. Gallant Lake was as close to her former stomping grounds as she could handle for now.
Someone rapped on the door downstairs, and it opened, meaning it could only be one person—her landlord. Nora’s voice carried easily through the loft apartment. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! I bring coffee!”
Her one remaining vice was caffeine, but she’d forgiven herself for that one long ago. That was a good thing, since she now lived directly above Nora’s coffee shop, the Gallant Brew. She grabbed a pair of yoga pants, calling over the railing to the room below, “I love you for the coffee. And hate you for the hour.”
“Hey, yoga girl, it was your idea to teach me this stuff. What’s got you in a twist this morning?”
Her cousins were all as close as sisters, but no way was she sharing that she’d dreamed of Shane Brannigan last night. She’d never hear the end of it, and they’d all be playing matchmaker for the only unattached cousin left. Besides, Big Ginger was all wrong for her. She hadn’t missed the glass of whiskey in his hand, or his need to be in charge. Two major triggers for her, and she wasn’t going down that road. Not again.
She’d barely taken a sip of the double espresso Nora had delivered when there was a light knock on her door. Nora shrugged when their eyes met. “Asher’s on his way to Albany to meet with a client, so it’s not him. Maybe Becky decided to join us, but I thought she was going to church with the baby and meeting us at the resort later.”
It wasn’t Nora’s daughter who was waiting when Melanie opened the door. Instead, she found Tori Sutter smiling brightly. And standing right next to her was Shane Brannigan, who was not smiling. Mel did a quick mental inventory of her appearance—had she even brushed her hair before coming downstairs? Oh, Lord, she was barefoot, wearing leggings and had on a cropped top that barely covered her sports bra. And no makeup. This was not her usual meet-a-handsome-if-annoying-man look. She felt her face warming, but Tori didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m not too late, am I? You said around seven for yoga, right?” Tori brushed by Mel, who was still staring at Shane. And he was staring right back. The corner of his mouth rose in a crooked smile.
“You seem surprised to see us, Miss Lowery. You were so adamant last night that Tori honor your invitation. Are you having regrets now that the liquor has burned off?”
She hissed in a sharp breath. He thought she’d been drunk last night? Well, if he did, it was her own fault. That’s why she drank tonic water with lime at parties. No one ever questioned whether it contained alcohol or not, avoiding awkward explanations, pitying looks or the inevitable person who insisted that “just one drink won’t hurt.” Apparently her ruse worked, because Shane assumed she’d been pounding back vodka all night. She decided not to set him straight, since it was none of his business.
“I’m not at all surprised to see Tori. But I am surprised to see you, since I don’t recall extending you an invitation. Are you interested in yoga, Mr. Brannigan?”
He shook his head, looking bemused. “Yesterday you ripped into me for not caring enough about my client’s well-being, and now you’re surprised I want to see where she’s going for yoga lessons?” He stepped inside and looked around. She had to concede he made a good point. But before she could say so, he opened his mouth and spoiled it. “I mean, all I know about you is you pose for pictures and like to eavesdrop on conversations.”
“I don’t ‘pose for pictures’ anymore. And any time I hear a young girl being pushed around by someone, I’m going to do something about it.” His blue eyes went icy, but before he could reply, Tori cut him off.
“He’s just grumpy because Mrs. Winthrop thinks he hired you to help me, and he can’t figure out how to deal.”
Shane glared at Tori, then closed his eyes tightly and sighed.
“You have a big mouth, kid. Do your thing with Melanie and come downstairs when you’re done. You’ve got thirty minutes.” He turned to leave, but Mel stopped him with a hand on his arm. His very solid, well-muscled arm that tensed when her fingers touched it. She felt a surprising little zing of attraction zip down her spine but did her best to ignore it. She was in the midst of a very long dry spell, so her physical reactions simply couldn’t be trusted.
“Explain that comment about Mrs. Winthrop.”
Tori jumped in again. “She thought Shane staged my makeover last night.”
“Really? How wonderfully sexist of her to give him the credit.”
His eyes lit up with amusement as Tori giggled behind her.
“I know, right? She thinks you’ve been hired to improve my image.”
Mel looked at her, ignoring Nora’s delighted expression behind her. Her cousin was going to be giving her the third degree later, no doubt.
“And why exactly does your image need improving?”
Tori’s bravado faltered, then recovered everywhere but her eyes. “Haven’t you heard? I’m golf’s ‘wild child,’ whatever that means. Shane’s worried about my sponsors.”
He stared at Melanie’s hand on his forearm as he spoke. “Shane’s worried about your career. That’s my job.” Mel pulled her hand back, and he frowned. “Go do your yoga thing. I need coffee. Scratch that—I need a triple shot of espresso.”
After he left, Mel taught Nora and Tori a few basic stress-reducing poses, learning through trial and error which ones Tori could do without causing pain in her bruised ribs. The girl talked about dealing with her new life after winning her first women’s tournament last year at fifteen, then defeating several male pros at an invitational “skins” game in Las Vegas. One of those men happened to be one of the top five PGA players worldwide, and the entire sports world had turned their attention to the phenom from Cleveland.
Melanie helped Tori with the extended triangle pose, thinking how similar their stories were. She’d been thrust into the limelight at sixteen after being “discovered” on a Florida beach. The agency rep had told her everything she’d wanted to hear: she was beautiful; she could be famous; she could make a lot of money; she could live a life of glamour and travel to exotic places. And sure enough, she’d found fame. But like Tori, she’d discovered it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. A teenager without a good support system could so easily be led astray.
“This apartment is sick.” Tori looked from the bright black-and-white kitchen to the living room with two-story windows looking out over Main Street and the lake. The furniture belonged to Nora, who’d left the apartment to live with Asher in the mountain home he’d built.
Mel shrugged. “It’s very bricky.”
“Hey—I love that brick!” Nora laughed, falling over in the middle of a boat pose. The century-old building’s original brick walls were exposed on both sides of the apartment. It was cozy, but it was nothing like Mel’s sleek glass-and-chrome condo in Miami.
Tori sat on the carpet next to Nora, and Mel joined them.
“It’s like a city loft in the middle of this cute little village,” Tori said, looking up at the exposed beams.
“You like Gallant Lake?”
Tori nodded at Mel’s question. “It’s okay. There’s no press hounding me here.”
“How’d you hurt your ribs?”
Tori went quiet, staring out the windows for a beat before speaking. “Nothing dramatic. I tripped and fell on some stairs.”
Mel and Nora looked at each other. Had Tori injured herself on purpose to avoid competing? She’d seen it happen with models who would intentionally gain weight or change their hair just to avoid a certain fashion shoot or catwalk. Or had something more sinister happened? God, she’d turned into such a cynic.
“How long has Shane been your agent?” As an agent, he was only in this to line his own pockets. He needed Tori healthy, but that didn’t mean he was watching out for her the way he should be.
“Shane? Only a few weeks. It was right before the accident. My first agent was a lawyer friend of my parents. She was nice but kinda clueless. Shane said the sponsors I have came to me in spite of her, and he said that’s not the way it’s supposed to work.”
“Do you like him?”
Nora gave her a curious look. Tori thought for a moment before answering.
“I guess. But he’s always traveling, so I don’t see him much.”
Mellie, I can’t be here every freaking minute to hold your hand. Grow up, do what people tell you to do and stop asking about when you’ll get home. You’ll get there when you get there, okay?
“That didn’t really answer my question, Tori. Do you like him? And Gary? Do you miss your family? Do they ever visit? When were you home last?” Tori frowned at the burst of personal questions, and Nora jumped in.
“Don’t mind her, honey. She doesn’t function real well in the morning. I think what she meant to ask was, are you okay?”
Nora gave Mel a hard look. Using the code question wasn’t exactly subtle. That was how Luis and her cousins gauged Mel’s stress level—their subtle way of asking if she was at a two or an eight. And, yes, even at this hour, her number was in the danger range. Between sexy dreams, arrogant men and a girl in trouble, she was spending too much energy fighting off the past. She took a deep breath and nodded to her cousin. She could step back. She had to.
Tori looked confused and gave another shrug. That seemed to be the kid’s go-to move when she wasn’t sure of herself.
“Am I okay? Sure, I guess.” She picked at a cuticle on her thumb. “I miss my family.”
“They don’t visit?”
Another shrug.
“When they can. They’re in Cleveland. They try to come every other weekend, but it doesn’t always work.”
“Why do your rehab so far from home?”
“It was Shane’s idea. He says my friends are a bad influence on my career.”
Mellie, forget your stupid prom, okay? You’re going to be partying in Morocco while those losers listen to canned music in a smelly gymnasium. Seriously, where would you rather be?
Why were Shane and Gary intentionally isolating this girl?
“Hey, Nora, would you mind showing Tori some cool-down stretches for a few minutes? And maybe get her a glass of juice? I have to run downstairs.” She stood and turned for the door before remembering her fresh-out-of-bed appearance. She was too angry to waste time going upstairs to change. What she was about to do didn’t require anything more than the ability to deliver some very pointed words. She grabbed a loosely woven blue sweater that was draped over a chair. It fell to her thighs. She often wore it at night when she was watching television, because it was so big she could curl her legs up underneath it.
Her bed-head hair was hopeless, so she stuffed it under a Gallant Lake ball cap she kept on hand for late-night walks. Luckily she always kept lipstick by the front door, so she glammed up her look with a splash of matte pink. She flashed the girls a quick smile and was out the door before Nora could ask any of the questions clearly burning her lips.
Shane was alone at a table, which was good. His table was all the way to the front of the busy coffee shop, which was not good. She was going to have to march across the shop looking like a Gallant Lake vagrant. His head came up the minute she stepped out of the back hall and into the café. Hoo-boy, she’d forgotten how intense those blue eyes were. Something warmed deep in her belly, and she almost stumbled when she recognized it as desire. She was not supposed to be feeling desire for anyone, damn it. She narrowed her eyes, but that just made him smile.
By the time she got to his table, she was fuming and he was fighting laughter.
“That’s quite a look. Are you entering the witness protection program? Do you need a ride to the bus station?”
“I might need protection with you...” As soon as the words were out, she knew they were a mistake.
“I think it’s a little early in our relationship to be discussing protection, don’t you?”
“Ha ha.” She reached for an empty chair, and Shane leapt to his feet to hold it for her, not releasing it until she was seated. The looks of a bad boy with the manners of a gentleman. It was a heady combination, and her brows furrowed as she tried to remember why she was here. Oh, yeah—Tori.
He’d returned to his own chair, nodding to Cathy working behind the counter. She waved, already filling a mug for Mel. She brought it to the table with a plate of mini scones.
He sat back and waited. He was good at that—waiting for the other person to speak. She was tempted to see how long he’d hold out, but this was too important.
“Why are you isolating Tori from her family and friends?”
His brows shot upward and his mouth dropped open, then he scowled at her.
“Is that what she told you?”
“No, she didn’t tell...well, yes, she did in a way, but only in answer to my questions.”
He shook his head, looking at the ceiling before meeting her gaze. “Why do you care so much about this kid, Mellie?”
“Don’t call me that.” Her voice was sharper than she intended. She’d left Mellie behind when she’d walked away from the make-believe world Mellie existed in, and she didn’t need any reminders of that life. “Call me Mel. Or Melanie. And you haven’t answered my question.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face in frustration.
“Alright, fine. You want to know why? Because her so-called friends at home are little assholes. They put her out there on social media to make themselves look cool, and it makes Tori look like some kind of party animal. Golf is a conservative, wholesome sport, and those cling-ons are dragging her down.”
“But her family is there—why keep her away from them?”
“I’m not. I thought they’d be visiting every week, but... I don’t know. I think they have their hands full with their other kids and figure Tim and I will take care of her. And we are...”
He didn’t sound very sure of himself. Mel sat back, sipping her coffee and nibbling on a scone.
“It sounds like Tori’s friends acted like typical teenagers. They’re girls. They’re full of hormones and bad decisions. But they’re still her friends. You can’t isolate her just because they did some dumb things. Did you try talking to them?”
Shane’s eyes went wide. “Talk to her friends? I don’t know anything about teenage girls. What the hell would I say?”
“No females at all in your life? Sisters? Cousins? Nieces?”
“I’m an only child. The only women were my mom and my nana. Mom’s a proper Boston blue blood. Nana, God rest her soul, was a tough-talking saint of a woman. But girls? No. As a teenage boy, my only contact with teenage girls involved convincing them to let me get past second base.”
Mel shook her head. Men.
“So how on earth did you end up with a teenage girl as a client?”
“Her parents saw how we handled a situation for a rookie basketball player who got in hot water in Cleveland, and they reached out to us. I didn’t want to do it, but they begged, and Tori was on her best behavior the first time we met. I had no idea what I was getting into.”
Mel almost felt sorry for the guy.
He looked out the window, where the village of Gallant Lake was beginning to come to life. People were strolling the sidewalks and coming in for their Sunday morning coffee. Shane looked back to Mel, his blue eyes solemn.
“Tori got famous overnight, and her family wasn’t ready. They hired some local attorney to manage her career, and the woman knew nothing about sports. Tori’s contract with Winthrop Athletic is a joke. She should be sponsored by a much bigger name and making a lot more money.” Shane shook his head. “When Gary came along and offered to take over her career by becoming her golf coach, her parents jumped at the chance to hand off responsibility. But he can’t control her behavior, and it’s really not his job to do that. Tori’s laser-focused on the course, but then she’ll act out like a two-year-old over something like what to wear to a public event.”
Mel thought about the outfit Tori had worn to the gala last night. “She’s trying to figure out who she is and how to assert herself so she doesn’t get lost.”
Trust me, Mellie, I know a lot more about this business than you, and if you’ll just stop fighting me and do what I say, you’ll be famous. Isn’t that what you want?
Tori was tougher than she’d been at that age. The girl was fighting to maintain some kind of control over what her life should look like. Mel had handed over control early on in her modeling career, trusting the adults around her. If she’d maintained her childhood friends—stayed in touch, hung out with them to talk about boys and makeup and music—maybe she wouldn’t have been so insecure and easy to manipulate.
Shane scrubbed his face once more, then ran his fingers through that ginger hair until it was standing on end.
“Tori’s a good kid,” he said. “I want to do the right thing by her, and not just because it’s my job.” He tapped his finger against his coffee cup, drumming to some unknown beat in his head. “You say she’s trying not to get lost, but I’m the one who’s lost. I’m used to working with guys who are at least old enough to have graduated high school. I can cuss at them and boss ’em around and bust their balls, and we all laugh it off. If they don’t like my decisions, they tell me to go screw myself, we argue and we settle it. Out in the open. No mystery involved. I can handle that. But I have no idea how to handle a young girl dressing like a hooker in some sort of protest against me for some unknown reason. I’m not a damned mind reader, you know?”
Mel didn’t respond. Shane Brannigan was a talent agent, and she shouldn’t trust a word out of his mouth. But she couldn’t help but believe him when he said he was lost. Clueless was more like it. Not intentionally so, but the effects on Tori were the same.
“So what does Mrs. Winthrop think you hired me for?”
“Damned if I know. Mentor? Stylist? Chaperone?” He sat back in his chair and his gaze sharpened on her. “You complained yesterday that Tori didn’t have a chaperone. Would you be interested in doing that for the next few weeks? She’ll be back on the tour by mid-July, in time to pick up most of the majors. I can put you on the payroll...” He glanced at her baggy sweater and ball cap, his mouth quirking up into a grin. “And it looks like you’ve fallen on hard times, so...?”
He was a real comedian this morning. Of course, compared to her, he looked like he was ready for a GQ cover shoot in his pressed trousers and blue linen shirt. It was barely 8:00 a.m. On a Sunday.
“You’re one of those annoying morning people, aren’t you?”
Shane’s smile deepened, causing her heart to stutter again. “Guilty as charged. I don’t like wasting daylight. Interested in the job?”
She stared at her plate. If she worked for Shane, she’d have to answer to him. Tori needed a chaperone, but even more important, she needed a friend in Gallant Lake. Someone who had her back. No one had ever stepped up to do that for Mel when she was sixteen. They’d all just looked the other way and collected their paychecks. Mel wasn’t going to let that happen to Tori.
“No.” There was a flash of surprise in his eyes. “I won’t work for you as her chaperone. I’ll do it for free.”
“For free? That’s not a very good business plan, Mellie...uh... Mel.” His brows knit together, as if she’d just presented him with a puzzle to solve. She had a feeling he didn’t like puzzles much.
“Look, that girl needs a friend while she’s here. Someone she can relax with, have fun with, talk to. I’ll be that person, but not on your payroll. Not on your time clock.” She stood, emphasizing her point one last time before walking away.
“I don’t charge for friendship.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#uaabea830-f75d-5745-b7f4-ecfd8cbdee1a)
“SO LET ME get this straight.” Luis set his coffee mug on the table and leaned back in the chair, staring out the window of the Gallant Brew as he put his thoughts together. The Tuesday morning sidewalks were quiet. “Someone just offered to pay you to mentor a girl who reminds you of yourself. And you decided to do it for free.” He shook his head. “That’s not a great career move, chica.”
“I’m not looking for a new job.”
“Aren’t you, though?”
She didn’t answer. Her bank balance was uncomfortably low. Nearly all the proceeds from selling the Miami condo had been poured into Luis’s business for the new collection, leaving her just enough to make a fresh start somewhere. She was confident the investment would pay off, but that was an investment, not a job. She loved working on designs with Luis, but did she really want to go back into a world that had already chewed her up and spit her out once?
“I couldn’t be more proud to be your business partner, Luis.”
His broad shoulders shook with laughter. “Such a nice, safe answer, Mel. But you’re too talented to be just an investor. You’re a natural at design and accessorizing. I could use you on the team full-time.”
“You mean the team that works in the fashion district? In Manhattan?” Mel suppressed the tremor that went through her, but just barely. “I don’t think that’ll happen.”
He frowned at her. “I thought Gallant Lake was temporary?”
Mel shrugged, looking around the café and nodding at Nora, who’d just walked in from the back. “I don’t know what my next move will be, but I don’t think it will be to the fashion district.”
Luis stared at her in silence. He was the one person who knew everything. When they’d first met four years ago, he’d been an associate at a major European design house. He’d contributed several pieces to the collection she’d be modeling, and he was hyper-anxious, micromanaging every aspect of the shoot. The photographer had a fit over Luis’s constant “advice” and Mel ended up in the unlikely role of peacemaker between Luis and Nelson.
Even more unlikely, she and Luis became fast friends. She liked his creative process and his sense of humor. She even liked the way he obsessed over his work. It made her wish she had something in her life that mattered that much.
Luis somehow saw through the Mellie Low veneer and saw the real her. He also saw the booze and pills and recognized the danger she was in. He made it his quest to save her, even when she rebuffed every effort. When she finally hit her lowest point, though, it was Luis she’d called. He’d held her for hours without a word of judgment the day she’d come apart two years ago. He’d checked her into rehab and made sure no one else ever had a clue. She owed him her life. But in her heart, she knew she couldn’t go back into the dog-eat-dog fashion world without putting all that hard work at risk. Not even for Luis.
“Darling,” Luis said. “They have these crazy new things called computers, and you can communicate from anywhere. Even Gallant Lake.”
“Design doesn’t happen in a vacuum. As you said, it’s a team thing. And the team is in the city.” She took another sip of coffee. “Besides, I don’t know that I’m really a designer. I like playing with everything once the design work is done. Mixing and matching the textures and colors, picking accessories...stuff like that.”
When she and her friends had played dress-up as little girls, she’d been the one who told the others what to wear. She liked helping everyone else look pretty. Her becoming a fashion model was a fluke. If her childhood passions were any indication, she should have been one of the assistants backstage, not the one walking the runway.
Luis sat up and rested his big hand over hers on the table. “I’m not giving up on you yet.” He winked. “And in the meantime, you have your mentoring job to help pay the bills.” He snapped his fingers dramatically. “Oh, that’s right—you turned that job down and offered to do the same work for free! Does this little town have a soup kitchen? ’Cuz you might need one at this rate.”
Mel laughed so loudly that people waiting at the counter for coffee turned their heads. Impulsively, she leaned over and threw her arms around his neck. “My God, you beast—it’s like hugging a bull!”
“Funny, that’s exactly what my last date said. I think his name was Frankie.” She planted an affectionate kiss on his cheek.
“You’re my favorite way to start the day, Luis.”
“Hey, Frankie said that, too!”
“Stop it, you dirty boy!”
“Are we interrupting?”
Shane and his friend Tim stood by the table. Shane’s expression was stormy, and she wondered what had put him in such a mood. Tim, much like the night of the gala, was wearing a smile bordering on laughter. She had a feeling it reflected his normal approach to life.
Luis stood when Mel did, his arm remaining firmly around her waist. She stepped out of his embrace, surprised at his “papa bear” stance as he glared at Shane.
“Hi, guys. Is Tori with you?”
Tim shook his head. “She had a physical therapy session this morning. We just stopped by for some coffee while we work out our schedule for the next few weeks.”
Shane and Luis were still glaring at each other in some weird, silent pissing contest, and Mel realized they hadn’t actually been introduced.
“Luis Alvarado, this is Shane Brannigan and Tim Monroe. They’re trying to manage Tori Sutter’s career.” Shane took his eyes off Luis long enough to narrow them at her. “Luis and I are business partners.” She could have sworn Shane smirked at that. “He designed the gowns we wore at the gala.”
Luis extended his hand to Shane. “Every one of those designs had Mel’s touch, as well. Why don’t you join us?”
When Luis turned to shake hands with Tim, the atmosphere at the table shifted, moving from confrontational to something much different. The two men maintained their grip on each other for a moment longer than necessary, and Tim’s light smile deepened. Were they...? No, it couldn’t be.
Nora brought over a plate of pastries as they all took their seats. “How about some sugar to wake everyone up?” Nora glanced at Mel in concern, but Mel shook her head. In other circumstances, being flanked by three men might be stressful for her, but not today. Luis was Luis. Tim’s smile and laid-back attitude charmed her. And Shane? Well, she’d already discovered she could deal with Shane Brannigan.
Luis and Tim were discussing Gallant Lake and the workout routines they preferred—they were both very fine male specimens—while Shane devoured a maple scone, watching her with hooded eyes. He liked to play this see-who-talks-first game, but she wasn’t in the mood for games this morning.
She gave him her sweetest smile. “I guess you could say this is the first meeting of Team Tori.”
He returned her smile and upped the ante with a wink. “I thought you didn’t want to be an employee?”
She convinced her heart to resume normal operations. Something about this man was both deadly and delicious.
“There are all kinds of teams, Shane. We care about Tori, so that makes us a team.” He glanced at Luis, but didn’t argue with her.
“Actually, this might be a good time to set some expectations.”
“Such as?” She picked up a ginger cookie—Nora knew they were her favorite—and nibbled at it.
“As you’ve so very bluntly pointed out, I need to be doing a better job of watching out for Tori’s best interests.” He gestured in her direction. “I’m working on that, and right now, you’re the unknown factor in her circle of influence. Being her pal is fine, but I won’t allow you to interfere with her career.”
Mel rested her chin on her hand and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Wow. It’s hard to believe any woman ever dumped a guy like you at the altar. And I won’t allow my new friend to be swallowed up whole by that so-called career.”
Shane snorted. “It wasn’t exactly at the altar, and I’m over it. As far as Tori’s career goes, you don’t have any say in that, sweetheart.” Her eyes narrowed on him. Shane didn’t seem to notice that Luis was now watching him closely. “You chose not to be a paid consultant, so you don’t get to be involved in that part of her life.”
Mel leaned forward. “You want to set expectations? Fine. You can expect to be wearing whatever drink I have in my hand, hot or cold, if you ever refer to me as ‘sweetheart’ again.” Shane’s eyes widened. “And you wanted me on your damn team a few days ago. Just because I didn’t want to work for you—which in hindsight seems like a very wise decision—doesn’t mean I intend to stay quiet.” He started to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him. “You need me, Brannigan. I bring experience to the team that neither you nor Tim nor, God forbid, Gary, can possibly offer.”
Shane stared at her for a heartbeat, then slowly smiled, as if against his will. He sat back in his seat and did everything possible to make it seem as if he was totally calm and in charge. But Mel made a living using body language to fool people into believing something that wasn’t true—whether it was self-confidence or sexual attraction. She caught the way Shane chewed on the inside of his cheek. One hand slipped into his pocket, probably clenched in frustration. His other hand tapped against the tabletop. She’d poked the bear, and the bear didn’t like it. Tough luck, bear.
Tim cleared his throat. “Mel, I think what Shane is trying to say...” He shot a dark look at his business partner. “I think he’s trying to say we appreciate your concern for Tori’s well-being, and we agree she needs advice from someone who has an understanding of her situation.”
Shane’s right brow arched sharply, which had a very odd effect on Melanie’s ability to think clearly. Big Ginger was one hellaciously attractive man. Until he opened his mouth.
“So you’re saying that someone who plays dress-up for a living can understand what an actual athlete is dealing with?”
Luis started to say something, but Tim stopped him with a look that both cautioned and sizzled. He didn’t even try to hide the swift kick he gave Shane under the table, and Mel was pretty sure it was with his metal prosthetic foot.
“Shane clearly hasn’t had time to do his homework. But I have.” Tim gave her a warm smile. “You were an overnight superstar at about the same age as Tori. You were away from your family and support group. You were under a lot of pressure from people you didn’t know. You ended up with a party-girl reputation you may not have deserved. And you’re worried Tori will make some of the same...” He looked chagrined. “No offense, but some of the same...mistakes...for lack of a better word, that you did. Is that about right?”
“Thank you, Tim,” Luis said with a smile. “I’m glad at least one of you appreciates how much Mel can help Tori.”
And Tim Monroe blushed. Mel looked from him to Luis and back again. She hadn’t been wrong before. They were flirting with each other. Could they be any cuter? She grinned at Shane, wondering what his reaction to the two guys would be, but he was too busy staring at her to notice. His expression was a mix of confusion and reluctant acknowledgment. And it took all her body-acting skills not to squirm under the intensity of his blue-eyed gaze. He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded, as if to himself.
“Fine. Be her friend. Be on the team. But every team has a captain, and on Team Tori, that’s me.” Tim rolled his eyes at Mel from over Shane’s shoulder. “Her physical therapy wraps up in another week or so, so that’ll give her more time off.” He drained his coffee, then tried to intimidate her with an all-business warning. Big, bad agent man. “I know you think Gary’s up to no good, but Tori never complained until you showed up. That doesn’t mean we won’t be watching a lot more closely going forward. Tim will be around for a few days, and when he’s not here, I’ll stay or her parents will be with her.” He saw her surprised expression. “What? You wouldn’t take the chaperone job so we’ll have to handle it.” He frowned into his coffee cup for a moment. “If you can help her navigate teen fame, fine. As long as it doesn’t involve quitting the sport, I’d support that.”
“I appreciate your support and all, but I don’t work for you. What Tori and I discuss isn’t any of your business.” He started to object, but she rushed ahead, holding up a finger to silence him. “Look, I get that she’s your client and is technically your business. I’m just not sure if you’re all that good for her.”
“So I’m supposed to prove myself to you?”
“No. You’re supposed to prove yourself to your client.” Mel dropped her warning finger and relaxed her shoulders. Turning Shane into an enemy wouldn’t help anyone. “Look, I’m not putting limits on what Tori and I talk about, and our conversations will be private. It’s the only way she’ll trust me. But I promise to give you a heads-up if there’s anything going on that concerns me. Fair enough?”
Tim spoke before Shane could. “That’s more than fair, Mel. And we appreciate your friendship with our client. Don’t we, Shane?” He gave her a smile. “Tori said something about having dinner with you tonight?”
She smiled back. “Yes. It’s Taco Tuesday at the Chalet. It’s a townie place. None of the locals will bother her.” It was one of Mel’s favorite things about Gallant Lake. The residents seldom raised an eyebrow over someone being well-known, whether they were guests at the resort or not. People just went about their lives.
“Athletes need a healthy diet...” Shane started, but Tim shut him down. Judging from the wince on Shane’s face, Tim was applying pressure with the metal prosthetic under the table as he spoke.
“But everyone should get a chance to enjoy tacos once in a while, right?”
Mel nodded and tried not to react when Tim winked at her. He was such a charmer. Luis let out a very soft growl of appreciation. Shane just growled before standing and stomping out of the café.
* * *
“THE NEXT TIME I need you to be my keeper, I’ll let you know, okay?” Shane glared at Tim as they headed back to their car. “Don’t ever tell people in a business meeting what I ‘really’ meant to say or do.”
“That wasn’t exactly a business meeting, but fine. Sink or swim on your own.” Tim’s prosthetic didn’t slow his pace, and Shane had to hustle to keep up with him on the sidewalk along Main Street.
“Why wasn’t it a business meeting? Tori’s our client. We talked business. It’s not our fault we interrupted their little coffee date.”
“Why do you say it like that? They’re business partners, like us.”
Shane barked out a laugh. “Yeah, right. As if that’s all they are.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“Come on, Tim. You saw them when we walked in. They’re obviously a couple.”
Tim stopped so abruptly that Shane blew several steps past him.
“You think Luis and Mel are a couple?”
It didn’t make Shane happy to admit it. He’d been thinking Melanie might be an interesting diversion as long as he had to spend time in this hole-in-the-wall town. They were both successful people, and probably had a lot in common. She was smart and he liked the way he had to stay on his toes around her. He liked a lot of things about her. But he definitely didn’t like the intimate coziness that clearly existed between her and her partner.
“She was practically sitting in the guy’s damn lap when we walked in. Yeah, they’re definitely a couple.”
“No.” Tim shook his head. “They are definitely not.”
Shane threw his hands in the air. “And how the hell do you know that?”
“Because...” Tim stopped and gave Shane an odd look over the roof of the car. “You know what? Never mind. Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right! I can’t believe you didn’t see it.” He slid behind the wheel of his low-slung Lincoln and couldn’t resist needling his friend. “Aren’t you gay guys supposed to be more in tune with relationships and romance and stuff?”
“Don’t start on me with that gay-men-make-the-best-wedding-planners crap. Do I look like a matchmaker to you?” Tim gestured to his chinos and polo shirt. “Have you ever seen me drawing hearts and cupids on my meeting notes?”
Shane pulled the car away from the curb. Tim had a point. He was the least gay gay man Shane had ever met. Of course, Tim had been in the army during the days of “don’t ask don’t tell,” so he’d had years of practice at acting like the most macho guy in the room. He smiled to himself—that wasn’t really an act. Tim was the toughest guy Shane knew. As a Ranger, he’d been a natural leader and an inspiration to the men he’d led.
“You are definitely not the hearts-and-flowers type.” Shane glanced at him. “But you know it would be okay with me if you were.”
“Oh, thanks, Dad. I’m glad you’re proud of me now that I’m out of the closet. You gonna march with me during Pride Week, too? I’ll get you a T-shirt.”
“Christ, what is your problem? When have I ever not been 100 percent behind you?”
“That would be a sentence I’d avoid saying out loud at the parade if I were you.” They pulled into the entrance of the resort, driving between two massive stone pillars. “But as long as we’re all about my gayness this morning, what makes you think Luis wasn’t interested in me?”
Shane laughed as he backed the car into a parking spot. “I’m not saying you’re not a catch, but, dude, did you see him with Melanie? He was all over her. Hetero all the way, my friend.”
When they’d first walked into the café, the two of them had been laughing together, and Mel’s arms had been around Luis’s neck. And when Luis had seen Shane, he’d jumped into alpha-protective mode. The way he’d stood and kept his arm firmly around her waist. The way he’d given Shane the I-smell-a-rival stink-eye when they were introduced. And at the charity event, Luis and Mel had kissed and whispered together like a couple who knew each other’s secrets. Shane envied the guy.
Tim started to get out of the car, then turned back, looking oddly amused.
“Well, you would know that far better than me, Shane.”
They headed into the resort lobby with the towering staircase winding up through the center like a giant tree. There were even metal leaves hanging from the ceiling three stories above them. The owners hadn’t spared any expense in their efforts to bring the place into the twenty-first century. Tim nudged him with his elbow.
“Why are you so concerned with Luis and Mel’s relationship, anyway? Oh, wait.” Tim gave his best Valley girl imitation. “Oh. My. Gawd. You like her! You like Mellie Low!” The accent vanished. “Hot damn, man. You’re swinging for the fences with that one—a supermodel. She’s clever, too. And tough.”
“And taken.”
Tim’s mouth opened, then snapped shut.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m sure you’re right, Shane. But I didn’t see any rings.”
“What does that mean?”
“Do I really need to spell it out for you? If you want her, go after her.”
“First, I don’t want her.” A little alarm went off in his head. Okay, maybe he wanted her a little, but who wouldn’t? “Second, I’m not a guy who makes a move on another guy’s girl.” Tim raised a finger as if he wanted to interrupt, but Shane ignored him. “And third, she may not work for us, but she is mentoring our client, and it would be unprofessional.”
“So...would it be unprofessional of me to go after Luis?”
“No, but it would be a waste of your time. I know a couple when I see one, Tim, and those two have been intimate. Did you see that dress he made for her to wear at the dinner? That he probably fit personally to her every curve?” His heart did something funny at the thought of that dark metallic gown. His heart did something less funny at the thought of Luis touching Mel’s skin as he fit the dress. “Did you see the way she kissed his cheek this morning, as if they were husband and wife already? His arm around her waist? And where do you think he’s staying? I haven’t seen him hanging around the resort, so he must be staying at her place.”
Tim folded his arms and stared hard at Shane. “For someone who’s not interested, you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. You sure you don’t have the hots for Mellie Low?”
“Don’t call her that. She doesn’t like it.” She’d made that clear, and he suspected there was a story there. But it wasn’t his to know. Luis was her guy. And that was fine. The last thing he needed right now was some warrior princess in his life.
Tim looked at his watch. “I gotta run, man. Conference call with the manager in Baltimore to see how interested they might be in our boy Jimmy. Their closer is out for the season for elbow surgery, so they might be willing to overlook our kid’s big mouth and sign him up for their bullpen.”
“Is Jimmy done with his anger management sessions?” Jimmy Martinez had a bad habit of mouthing off not only to other players, but also to fans in the stands. Baseball team owners didn’t like that much.
Tim nodded. “Yeah. We just need to find a team that’ll take him on.”
“Someday we won’t have to deal with this kind of crap.”
“Why not?”
“Instead of getting our players into the big leagues, don’t you think it’s time for us to make the jump to the big leagues?” Tim was still confused. “Come on, man. Join forces with a bigger agency? Get that corner office we’ve been looking for?”
Tim waved his hand in dismissal. “That’s your dad talking, Shane. You need to let it go. I like our setup just fine. We call the shots, not anyone else. I’ll catch you for dinner?”
Tim turned away, then turned back again with humor in his eyes. “Do you want to see if Luis and Melanie want to double date with us? Maybe I could plan their wedding for them.”
“Shut up, you jackass.”
“What would you do if you were wrong about them?”
“I’m not.”
But if he was, that would mean that Mel, with her mile-long legs and violet eyes, might just be available.
And that might just be trouble.
CHAPTER FIVE (#uaabea830-f75d-5745-b7f4-ecfd8cbdee1a)
MEL CHECKED THE pocket on her running shorts one last time before allowing the back door to close. The key to the apartment was safely in place, along with her phone. Nora hadn’t complained the last time Mel locked herself out and had to call for help. But that had been at dinnertime, not four o’clock on a Saturday morning.
Gallant Lake was completely silent. There was only one light in the parking lot behind the row of downtown buildings that held the coffee shop and other businesses and apartments. That light barely lit the metal fire escape she was quietly descending. The only other resident in this cluster of shops was Carl Wallace a few buildings down. It was unlikely the liquor store owner would hear her at this hour, but she still tiptoed down to the pavement.
She’d been awake for hours, and she knew from experience that sleep wasn’t going to find her tonight. Pacing the apartment didn’t help, so she was off for a run in the darkness to burn off the restlessness that itched under her skin, begging for relief.
Begging for medication. Or maybe a drink.
She slipped her earpieces in place and selected a running mix on her phone. Gallant Lake was much more accommodating of her predawn runs than Miami or Manhattan had been. There weren’t any creepsters or drunks hanging out on corners or in alleyways to worry about. Just the occasional raccoon ransacking someone’s trash can, or perhaps a deer lifting its head to watch her go by. And, of course, there was Nessie.
The skinny yellow dog had scared the daylights out of Mel a couple of weeks ago, bounding up out of the darkness as she ran along a path by the lakeshore. Mel had fallen as she’d scrambled to defend herself against what had looked like a giant blond octopus coming out of the water, and the creature had been on her in a heartbeat—licking her face and wiggling all over in delight. Since that night, it seemed like the pup was waiting for her to come by. Mel had dubbed her “Nessie” in honor of the Loch Ness Monster, since she’d risen out of the lake that first night.
Sure enough, as Mel hit the outskirts of town, Nessie sneaked out of the darkness to join her. The skittish dog allowed Mel to give her a quick pat on the head, then moved a safe distance away—just out of arm’s reach. She jogged along beside Mel, as if she was also looking for something to do in the middle of the night.
Everything about Nessie was long. And thin. She never wore a collar. No apparent grooming. Mud from yesterday’s rain was caked on one hip. She was clearly a homeless stray. Mel had seen her hovering around the back door to Nora’s coffee shop a few times, but she always bolted when the door opened. Apparently Mel wasn’t the only one wondering if Gallant Lake was home, a place where she could belong.
She and Nessie jogged east out of town, uphill toward the resort. She turned back just before coming into range of the security cameras—Blake would definitely report her late-night appearance to his wife, then Amanda would tell the other cousins and they would demand an explanation. Mel ran along the dark lakeshore, Nessie at her side, with only the moon to light the familiar path. She’d slowed to a walk by the time they reached the dimly lit lake walk in town. Nate Thomas at the hardware store was working so hard to make it an attraction.
The narrow boardwalk ran along the water, behind a row of shops on Main Street. Nate was determined that the businesses in town should add lights and flower boxes and make the boardwalk a feature of the town. Gallant Lake was struggling to make a comeback from the decades when the resort had been closed and the financial fate of the town had been thrown into jeopardy. Nate was a sweet, nerdy optimist, and Mel hoped he got his way with this project.
At the end of the lake walk, Mel took the path that ran through the park, and she and Nessie ran another mile or so before she decided to call it quits. Winded and slightly chilled from a breeze off the lake, she no longer felt that annoying itch to reach for alcohol or pills. Well, she felt the itch, but it was no longer overwhelming her. With the help of a glass of warm milk back at the apartment, she might even be able to get a couple hours of sleep.
She and Nessie were at the opposite end of town from the apartment, and had just started the walk back, when she heard a car approaching. The dark woods alongside the road flickered with shadows from the headlights. She didn’t see a lot of cars on the road at this hour, but it happened occasionally, especially on weekends. Maybe it was Deputy Sheriff Dan Adams, who’d scolded her twice already for running alone at night. But come on, this was Gallant Lake. What could possibly happen here?
She frowned when she realized the car was slowing behind her. Nessie kept looking nervously over her shoulder, and Mel fought the urge to do the same. Making eye contact would be a mistake if this really was a problem rolling up. If it was trouble, her only option would be to run into the woods.
“Melanie? Is that you?”
At the sound of a rough male voice, Nessie glanced up at Mel as if in apology, then tucked her tail and bolted into the trees. Great. She was alone out here with Shane Brannigan. His dark Lincoln came to a stop beside her, passenger window rolled down.
“How could you possibly know it was me in the dark and from behind?”
“You’re kidding, right? I’d recognize that fashion model strut anywhere. No one moves the way you do.”
She parsed the words, trying to determine if they were a compliment or a dig at her former career. There was something about the way he’d said the last sentence that had sounded appreciative, though, and the thought warmed her unexpectedly. She was so busy trying to understand her reaction that she didn’t realize he was still speaking.
“...the hell are you doing out here at four thirty in the morning? Did your car break down? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks. I’m a night owl, and I went for a run.” She walked over and leaned against the car, ducking her head to make eye contact with him. The glow of the high-tech dashboard cast rough shadows across his skin and highlighted that imperfect nose. “What are you doing out this late?”
“This early, you mean. I was back in Boston for a few days.” He gave her a grin. “I guess you could say I’m a night owl, too. I woke up a few hours ago and decided to drive while the roads were quiet.” He reached over and unlatched the door. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride to your place. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
It was too dark for him to see her eyes roll. “Have you been talking to Sheriff Dan?”
Mel didn’t need a ride. It wasn’t that far. And she normally wouldn’t consider getting into a car at night with a man she barely knew. But something about Shane Brannigan felt safe. Irritating, but safe. She opened the door and slid inside.
“You drove from Boston? That’s more than a few hours.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Not at this time of night. And not the way I drive.” He glanced at the dashboard. “I made it in a little over two hours. Who’s Sheriff Dan?”
After a moment’s hesitation at the abrupt subject change, Mel replied, “He’s a friend of my cousin’s fiancé, and he’s the law around here. He likes to give me grief about my nighttime strolls.”
“What do you mean, he gives you grief?” Shane had pulled away from the shoulder now, and his fingers tightened on the wheel.
“Easy there, Macho Man, I just meant he politely advises me not to do it. He’s concerned for my safety. That’s his job, right? But seriously, this is Gallant Lake.”
He glanced her way and frowned. “I get what you’re saying about this town being sleepy, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. What if I’d been some drunk looking for trouble just now?”
“I would have run into the woods. I had it all planned out.”
They pulled behind the shops and he parked the car, then turned to stare at her in disbelief.
“Your plan was to...run into the woods? Do you have night-vision goggles on you so you wouldn’t run straight into a tree or fall in a ditch? Did it occur to you that maybe the drunk guy would be familiar with those woods and catch you? In the woods?”
It rankled her to admit he had a point. She scowled.
“But you weren’t some drunk, were you? And I’m perfectly fine. So it doesn’t matter, does it?” She opened the door, flooding the interior of the car with light. This close, she could see the glints of turquoise in Shane’s blue eyes. They reminded her of Caribbean waters. Warm and inviting... She blinked. She needed to remember that Shane Brannigan was an agent. He wanted to be in charge. And he was clueless about women. It was time for her to go.
Instead of saying thank you or good night or drop dead or any one of a dozen perfectly sensible things to say, she got out of the car, then leaned over to look at him and said the most ridiculous thing she could imagine.
“Want to come up for a cup of coffee?”
His eyes went wide.
“What about Luis?”
She was as surprised by his question as they’d both been by hers.
“What about him?”
“Isn’t he staying here?”
“He’s in New York.” Why did he care so much about Luis? “Look, if you don’t want coffee, just say so. Thanks for the ride.”
She turned away, shutting the car door firmly. The invitation had been a mistake. It would be best for everyone if he just left. She’d almost made it to the stairs when she heard his door open behind her.
“Hold up. Coffee sounds good. No sense trying to get any sleep at this hour.”
Mel nodded. “Come on, then.”
“You use a fire escape to get to your back door?” He followed her up the stairs. “Just when I thought this town couldn’t get any weirder.”
Mel unlocked her door. “Using the downstairs entrance means disarming and rearming the café alarm system. This is much easier.” The door swung open and she flipped on the light. “Nora told me the story behind the fire escapes once. Something about a huge fire decades ago and the town made it law for a while that every level of every building had to have a fire escape.”
“It’s not the classiest way to come into your home, is it?”
It was odd having him here, in her space. Shane exuded a raw power that made the air in the small loft almost sizzle. Not in a frightening way. But it was still scary because it was so unfamiliar to Mel. She wasn’t used to men who excited her without setting off all her alarms.
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