by Stacy Gail
“My God, you’re such a guy.” Scout shook her head, clearly lamenting his gender limitations. “Right now the world is in the midst of fashion week hell. Paris, New York, Milan, Tokyo. All the big names in fashion are debuting their Fall collections worldwide, coordinated so that these fashion weeks are run back-to-back. Just about all the A-list beautiful people we’d want attending our exhibit will be on some red carpet or catwalk.”
“Fall collections?” It sounded like a load of crap to him. “Has anyone in the fashion industry taken a peek at the calendar? It’s fucking February. They should be debuting Spring shit. You know, like shorts and stuff.”
“They did that last Fall.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I’m not going to try and explain the fashion world to you, because you have a penis. Oh, this looks promising.” Perking up, she tapped her screen a couple times. “Three weeks from now there’s a window of opportunity. If we get these invites out immediately, I think we’ll have a shot at snagging the majority of our most prominent clientele.” She glanced at her watch and grimaced. “Ugh, guess I’ll be pulling an all-nighter putting together invitation details. Oh, and catering. And valet parking. And oh, Lord, a press kit. I’ve got to put a press kit together, and lists of must-have guests and media outlets…”
“Once we’re past this exhibition, I want you to name any place in the world you want to go and it’s yours for a month, because you’re amazing and I’m smart enough to know it.”
“Which explains why I’m still thrilled to be here after all these years. You know and appreciate my value.” With a happy smile, Scout thumb-typed for a few moments. “With the exception of Missing Piece, we have the right to use any of Becks’s art, right? I’d like to use a couple pieces I’m wildly in love with by putting them on the invite.”
“Go for it. We need to give our clients a taste of what we have to offer, which is nothing short of the latest and greatest in the tattooing industry. That’s the only way people will continue to come from all over the world to get inked by us. Just don’t touch Missing Piece. That’s private.”
“Has the artist ever explained why?”
Payne grimaced. “No, though she did say it represented death and its aftermath. I know she went through a very dark time in her life and it nearly did her in. But she survived and moved on to become one of the greatest artists I’ve ever come across.”
Scout’s expression softened with compassion. “I can totally respect that. And I’m glad to hear she’s come such a long way. I love tough, gut-it-out survivor stories, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” He smiled as the thought of Becks chased away some of his turbulent mood. “Who knew that dragging an unconscious woman out of a burning car would one day lead to where Becks and I are now? If that night wasn’t a crazy twist of fate, I don’t know what is.”
By degrees, Scout’s expression blanked out. “Wait, what are you talking about?”
“Becks.” He chuckled at Scout’s dumbfounded expression. “I know, right? It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it? Though, it’s probably not as amazing as you might be thinking,” he added when she continued to stare at him. “After Monique lost her shit during the House’s launch party and caused that crash, remember how I had you do a search on the driver, Rebecca Delgado? That’s Becks.”
“What?”
“I’ve been keeping up with her all this time. You know, just to make sure she was okay.” That, and because he’d become hopelessly fascinated with the mind and soul that created such dazzling works of art. But Scout didn’t need to know her boss had become a borderline cyber-creeper. There were some things he didn’t share with anyone. “The craziness of that night… it’s like it all happened for a reason, you know? Like Becks was meant to be a part of this world. My world.”
“Fuck,” Scout said faintly. “Holy fuck.”
“What?” Payne frowned, irked by her reaction. “You don’t approve of my keeping track of Becks? That doesn’t make me a creepy stalker. It just makes me highly interested in what she’s up to.” Okay, so maybe that was a definition of what a stalker was, but all things considered, it was something he could live with.
Scout turned toward the door. “No, it’s not that. I’ve got to get to work on putting this exhibit together, but after it’s over… wow. We’re going to have to talk about some things.”
That didn’t sound right. “Like what?”
“Complications. But let’s get through the exhibit first. Everything else can wait.”
Chapter Twelve
Becks had assumed Payne would have been perfectly at home in an ultra modern high-rise penthouse suite looking down on the Loop close to House Of Payne. What she hadn’t imagined was a sprawling Shingle-style manor on ten wooded acres, with classic Queen Anne touches of mullion-windowed turrets, curved verandahs and an elegant porte-cochère attached to a carriage house that had been converted into a six-car garage. It had the look of a posh mansion that had somehow escaped its rightful place in the Hamptons and had taken up residence in Highland Park on the shores of Lake Michigan.
“Here it is. Home sweet home.” A circular gray brick drive graced the front of the house, the center of which was now a pristine white blanket of snow disturbed by a handful of Canada geese. He drove the car all the way around it before heading through the porte-cochère and into the garage with a click of the button on his steering wheel. “What do you think?”
She tried not to gape at the breathtaking view of an ice-crusted Lake Michigan no more than thirty yards away through a sheltering stand of evergreens. “It’s entirely possible I’m not good enough to step foot in your house.”
“Shut the hell up. Don’t even think those words.” As lights flooded on overhead, he hit garage door button again, pocketed his keys and touched her cheek. “You make the world a better place wherever you go, simply by being there. What’s amazing is that you don’t even realize it.”
And just what was she supposed to do with that? The thought rolled like a marble through the suddenly empty space of her brain as he came around to help her out of the car. With mere words, he seduced her more completely than the most intimate touch, until all she wanted was to do was hold him and never let go.
Never?
Instantly her mind pulled the emergency brake on that giveaway word. Ugh. When the hell was she going to stop thinking in terms of the long haul? Absolutes like never and always went against her philosophy of simply living in the moment. It was emotional suicide to put any faith in the future when it came to people, and she knew it. Wanting to hold onto Payne and never letting go was the exact opposite of what her new way of thinking should be.
Why couldn’t she stop doing that with him?
Despite her determination to keep things easy, she still didn’t stop herself from winding her arms around his neck when he would have reached for the duffle bag she’d packed. “Thank you for wanting me to be here. I’ll try to be the perfect guest.”
“I don’t want you to feel like a guest. I want you to be at home.” Smiling, he rested his forehead against hers. “In fact, take a look around and see what kind of ride you’d like to adopt as your own while you’re here. You can have the keys to anything but the bikes. Those are my personal babies, so if you want a ride on one, you’re going to have to do it while holding onto me nice and tight.” He kissed her, a too-brief caress that left her wanting more. “Think you could handle that?”
“Sounds like fun. Cold, but fun.” Wondering if she could get away with pushing him back on the hood and having her wicked way with him, she glanced around as he’d suggested, only to have her jaw unhinge. “Good grief, are all these cars yours, or are you planning on starting your own used car lot?”
His chuckle echoed in the cavernous, well-lit room. “I’m a shameless car guy. So what? Lots of people have more than one car.”
“Yeah, but five? And two motorcycles?” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the bikes on the end. “I
think I recognize the one covered in chrome as a Harley, but the other one… holy crap, it looks like one of those speeder bikes Luke and Leia used on the forest moon of Endor.”
“It’s a custom-built bike, and… wow.”
“Wow what?”
“You like comic books and you’re a Star Wars fan? I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any hotter, but you’ve just managed it.” Smiling, he pulled her hips up to meet the definite hardening going on beneath the veil of thick denim. “Well played, Delgado. Well played.”
Her brother had been the sci-fi fan who’d geeked out over every movie, to the point of being able to quote them from start to finish. Obviously some of it had stuck. “You don’t have to worry about your precious bikes. I have no clue how to ride one, so they’re safe from me.”
“Want to try the Lamborghini? Though I’d prefer you take something a little sturdier out on the road, like the Bentley. That thing’s built like a frigging tank, so I’d feel better knowing you’re completely safe in it.”
“No.” Her mouth went desert-dry, and she only hoped he hadn’t heard the sudden sharpness in her voice at the thought of climbing behind the wheel of a car. Suddenly cold, she pulled out of his hold and rubbed at her arms to keep the panic-induced chill from freezing her in place. “I don’t drive. I don’t even own a car, so thanks for the offer, but it’s not necessary.”
He frowned. “How do you get around?”
“My neighborhood has all the basic living essentials I need within walking distance. Groceries, a drug store, a communal laundry room in the building, and you already know about the tacos at Chuy’s.”
“Tacos are definitely a basic living essential.”
How wonderful it was, that he understood the little things. “For everything else, from art supplies to clothes, I go online and let my fingers do the shopping.”
He shook his head, as if a carless existence was incomprehensible. “And House Of Payne? That’s not exactly in your neighborhood.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten half the city gets around by train.” She kept her tone light and tried not to think that the last time she’d been behind the wheel of a car—the night Justin had died—she had been just around the corner from House Of Payne. Instead, she kept a smile in place as she allowed him to lead her into the house. The mouthwatering scents of sautéed onions, garlic and mushrooms assailed her, and it was so distracting she almost didn’t notice the vaulted ceilings or the mahogany wooden floors that glistened as brilliantly as any skating rink. “Or maybe you don’t know that. Were you born with a silver spoon in your mouth and a limo in the driveway?”
“You gotta be kidding me.” After they’d shrugged out of their jackets, he took them and her bag and hung them up in the mudroom before leading her down a hallway toward sounds of life. “I’m proud to say I’m the bastard son of a hardworking maid who used to clean this very house twenty years ago.”
“Really?” It was a struggle not to gape at their surroundings as she took it in with new eyes. “Is that why you say this place is empty? Because your mom’s not here to enjoy the fruits of your labor?”
“Maybe. I just feel like… I don’t know. Like there should be something more in this big old house. Something important. Hey, Andreas.” While Becks tried to figure out what it was that could be missing from a house that seemingly had everything money could buy, they entered a well-lit kitchen. Everywhere she looked there were gleaming surfaces—amber-veined quartz countertops, etched-glass cabinetry and stainless steel appliances that were obviously state-of-the-art. The older man who had come to her loft with Payne stood at the six-burner gas stove, fussily lowering the heat on one of the pots he had going. “Becks, you remember Andreas, right? I finally got her to loosen up enough to come home with me, Andreas, so be nice.”
“Watch it. I’m always nice.” Andreas shot him a thunderous look before offering a charmingly Old World bow in her direction. “How wonderful it is to see you again, miss. I half-feared young Sebastian would scare you away, but clearly you’re made of stern stuff. A woman to be admired.”
It was vaguely hilarious to hear him call Payne by his first name, as if he were a school boy in short pants. “Please, call me Becks, and it’s good to see you too.”
“Andreas worked here for the previous owners along with my mom, so I’ve known him pretty much my whole life,” Payne went on, helping her fit the pieces together. From the beginning, she’d sensed their relationship had nothing to do with the realm of employer-employee. “I was never allowed to come into the house, not even when I had pneumonia when I was ten and my mom didn’t know what to do with me. Andreas worked as both chef and driver at that time, so he smuggled me into the garage and set me up in an RV the owners had. It was great, like my own little home away from home.”
“It was the only time in his life that he was docile and not a little hellion,” Andreas claimed, shooting Payne a look that was as proud as any doting papa. “It was wonderful having him around, even if it was difficult sneaking him food and medication without being detected. It was the only time he’s never complained about my cooking.”
“I can’t imagine anyone ever complaining about your cooking.” Though she kept her tone light, anger on behalf of a young and helpless Payne simmered. Whatever sort of elitist assholes had once owned this magnificent home, she was thrilled they were gone. Soulless pricks who thought it was okay to ignore the needs of a sick kid didn’t deserve to be surrounded by such grace and beauty. “Something smells wonderful, by the way. I became ravenous the moment we stepped through the door.”
“Excellent.” Looking pleased, Andreas turned back to mind his creations on the stove. “To start, you’ll have a marinated radicchio salad with oranges and candied walnuts, chilling for the moment in the refrigerator. Then, flame-seared sirloin tips in a rich red wine and shiitake mushroom sauce, with bacon-wrapped asparagus as a side dish and freshly baked rolls, and a simple chocolate soufflé with warm vanilla bean hard sauce to finish. Wine will go with each course, naturally, unless you’d like something else?”
Her mouth was watering so much she had to swallow before she could speak without drooling. “It sounds perfect… and like you’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble.”
“I think he gets bored cooking for just the two of us and his son Gabriel whenever he’s home from college,” Payne offered with a grimace, looking sheepish. “I never bring anyone home, so I suspect my bachelor’s life has been kind of tedious for Andreas.”
“But at last, at last, you have brought me someone who appreciates that food is an art, and knows it must be savored with all the senses that Mother Nature has graced us with.” With a satisfied sigh, Andreas made shooing motions. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, so why not enjoy the fire that I’ve prepared in the living room? Sebastian, mind your manners, if you please. Offer your lady an aperitif.”
“Yes, sir.” With his arm around her shoulders, Payne led her past a breakfast nook and into a roomy, formal living room with a towering two-story fireplace. French doors on either side of it led to an outdoor living area, now tarped over for the winter. Above them, a mahogany-accented bridge above looked down over plush sofas in buff microsuede. Under the graceful arc of a curved stairway was an onyx-topped bar, a neat row of bottles lined up in front of a mirrored wall. “The question is, do you actually want an aperitif?”
“Depends. Do you eat it or dance to it? Kidding,” she grinned when he opened his mouth. “I almost asked Andreas that, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate my weird sense of humor.”
“It’s a good thing I have a soft spot for smartasses.” Settling her on one of the sofas close to the fire, he gave her a parting kiss before heading to the bar. Moments later he returned to settle next to her, handing her a small, intricately carved glass filled with dark reddish liquid. “Chambord, or so the bottle said. The fine layer of dust on it shows you just how often I entertain around here.”
“Why is
it you never bring anyone home with you?” As she said it, she tried not to glow with a feverish surge of happiness. The mere fact that she was there now told her she was special to him. She didn’t want to think about what that meant out of fear of once again violating her rule of not hoping for anything more when it came to Payne. But oh, it was difficult to simply live in the moment and not think of future possibilities when he said things like that. “This house is breathtaking, and it was made for laughter and lively entertaining with all sorts of friends and family.” And children, she almost added, and had to bite her tongue to stop the words from coming. But there was no doubt this rambling house would be a wonderful place to raise an active, happy family…
“I never really thought about this place like that.” He shrugged and downed half his drink in one swallow. She strongly suspected that would have earned him a disapproving frown from Andreas. “All of my entertaining is business-related, so it happens at House Of Payne. This place… I don’t know. I’ve always had a strange love-hate relationship with it, probably because I was never welcome past the threshold when I was a kid. The maid’s son wasn’t good enough to breathe the rarified air within its walls and all that crap. That’s one of the reasons why I bought this place. To prove I was good enough to be here.”
Compassion for a boy who had been made to feel inferior and unworthy squeezed her heart. “No wonder you told me to shut the hell up when I said I wasn’t good enough to come into your house. For what it’s worth, you’re a better, greater man than anyone I know. You’re good enough to be any damn place you choose to be, and I’ll smack the lips right off of anyone’s face if they dare to say otherwise.”
“You will, huh?” Laughing under his breath, he leaned in to threaten her lips with his. “Will you help me promote the exhibit we’re putting together to debut your work as an exclusive line at House Of Payne?”
