Beauty and The Best (Once-Upon-A-Time Romance)

by Fennell, Judi

  Jolie sputtered into her iced tea.

  “Are you okay, dear?” Mrs. Gray asked, her eyes all warm and concerned.

  Jolie nodded , but couldn’t get a word out, half afraid to answer because of what might come out.

  A family. The one thing she wanted above all else in this world.

  But one kiss did not a fairytale ending make and she had to remind herself of that. Of what it felt like to hope, only to have those hopes crash and burn.

  She’d survived it once—barely. And bare or not, she didn’t think she’d survive Todd.

  ***

  “So, my dear, tell me how you’ve found working for Todd.” Mrs. Gray pounced on Jolie not two seconds after the men departed the kitchen—and in no way was that a surprise.

  “He’s pretty easy to please food-wise.”

  “I know. That’s why this is such a perfect job for a young girl like you, though I’ve told him time and again I’m perfectly capable of feeding him.” She stacked the plates in the sink and made a big production of scrubbing them.

  “Perhaps he doesn’t want to take advantage of you?”

  Mrs. Gray shone a grateful smile to Jolie, complete with little sparkling drops in her eyes, and clutched the dishtowel to her chest. “Oh, that’s so sweet. And he is, you know. Sweet.”

  Jolie nodded, pretty much in agreement there, though she would’ve added hot and sexy too, but she’d go with sweet for now.

  “You do know about his wife?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Gray clicked her tongue. “We practically raised Trista, you know. Parents always traveling so someone needed to be at home when the dear thing came home on break from boarding school. She didn’t have much of a family. All those trappings and ritzy vacations and high-end schools added up to one lonely life. I felt so bad for her. You can imagine how happy we were when she met Todd.”

  Jolie nodded, but why was Mrs. Gray telling her this?

  “Her parents weren’t, though. He was a poor, starving artist. Not someone worthy of a Pennington in her parent’s estimation.” Mrs. Gray sniffed. “Hogwash. Why, he was perfect for her.”

  Jolie’s stomach thudded. Just rip her heart out right now, why didn’t she? Todd was perfect for Trista, ergo, he couldn’t be for Jolie. Why the torture? Though, if she were honest with herself, this was just what she needed to hear to banish those aforementioned hopes—but honesty wasn’t ranking high on her list of wants and needs at the moment.

  “And the two of them, they proved her parents wrong. Beautifully wrong. I was so proud.” Mrs. Gray sniffed and Jolie was right there with her. “And then for her to… to… ”

  She covered her face with the dishtowel for a moment, composed herself then continued, “Well, you can see why we’re so protective of Todd. He’s family, and family’s important.”

  Ah. Protective. Got it.

  Jolie stood. “Mrs. Gray, really, I have no designs on replacing Trista in Todd’s life. Honestly, I just want to do a good job and—”

  “Oh, no, my dear.” The plump little lady had some muscle under that skin when she grabbed Jolie’s my wrist. “That’s not what I meant at all.” She tugged Jolie back into her chair and covered Jolie’s hands with her own. “Where is Todd right now?”

  “The west wing. I mean, in the garage attic.”

  “And what’s he doing?”

  “Painting. Well, sketching actually. I think the painting part comes next.”

  Mrs. Gray smiled, squeezing Jolie’s hand. “You’re the first person to get him to even mention the word ‘painting’ again without a growl, let alone pick up a brush. I cannot thank you enough.”

  “Really, it has nothing to do with me.”

  Mrs. Gray raised her eyebrows.

  “Honestly. He said it’s been percolating in his head for a while. I think it was Mr. Griff’s book about portraits that really did the trick.”

  The housekeeper did the hand-patting thing again and nudged Boots’s laundry basket with her foot, which woke the little puffball up, causing him to leap to the kitchen floor like the devil was on his tail. “Mr. Griff, was it? If you say so, dear.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jolie wasn’t sure what it was she and Mrs. Gray accomplished with their girl-talk, but apparently she’d gotten a seal of approval on something so farfetched it’d be laughable if it weren’t so desirable. But just because Todd was painting again—and it was her he was painting—and they had some chemistry (Mrs. Gray surely didn’t know that), did not mean there was anything more to it than painting. But just in case…

  “Todd?” Jolie opened the door to the west wing, kitty in hand, er, crook of her arm.

  Todd was deep in concentration with another charcoal stick between his teeth and hair mussed again, but his arm was moving furiously over the canvas. More canvases were stacked on the floor beside the running shoes he had yet to re-don, with one canvas leaning against a leg of the easel.

  Wow. When he said he was going to start painting again, he wasn’t kidding. It looked like he had enough canvas prepped for a marathon session.

  She should go. This probably wasn’t a good idea, whether or not Mrs. Gray condoned it.

  She was just about to close the door when Boots jumped from her arms with a “meow.”

  Todd looked up, his eyes all deer-in-the-headlights.

  “Um… hi?” Jolie did a little finger twiddle.

  Todd whipped the charcoal out from between his teeth. “What’s up?”

  “I, uh… never mind.” Darn cat. She tiptoed in. “Sorry to have bothered you. I’ll just get Boots and be out in a jiffy.”

  He sighed and sent her pulse streaking through her veins as he did the hand-through-hair move again. “What do you need, Jolie?”

  “Need?” She could think of quite a few things, but none were appropriate at the moment.

  “The reason you’re here?”

  “Oh. That.” Wanted to see you in action? No, that didn’t sound right. Missed you? Definitely not. “Um, just wanted to see how it’s coming?”

  “Jolie, I told you no one sees these. Not even you, okay?” Todd stood with a soft smile on his lips.

  “I guess.” But she really did want to see that picture. Or, did he say these? There were more than one? How was that possible? She was with him the whole four hours—and she knew four hours of stool-perching when she did them—and he had not changed canvasses at all. “Will I ever get to see them?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. If I’m satisfied. Otherwise I’ll just paint over them and start over.”

  “So, are you satisfied?” Jolie gulped. Count on Naughty Girl to show up for that comment. “With them, I mean. Are you satisfied with them?”

  “Not yet.” He looked back at the canvas, his arms crossed over his chest, a charcoal slash on the faded t-shirt, the sun highlighting the blond hair on his forearms.

  Forearms? First knees, now arm hair. She was noticing a lot more detail these days. Perhaps she should take up painting.

  “It is my first day, after all,” Todd continued, oblivious to the minutiae that so fascinated her. “I’m working on form, perspective. Plus there’s an essence to you I want to capture. I haven’t gotten it yet.”

  “An essence?” That ended the minutiae pondering.

  “Something. I can’t put my finger on it. I can’t get it to come out of the charcoal, but whatever it is, it’s you. Who you are. I can see it in you, just below the surface, but I can’t replicate it on canvas.”

  He walked toward her, the gray painter’s shorts hanging low on his hips, and he stopped a hair’s breadth too far away. His finger traced her cheekbone. “As if you’re a rose just waiting to bloom, the moment before the petals unfurl. One touch of the sun and you’ll burst into beauty.”

  Oh my.

  His fingers traveled softly down to her jaw line, just dancing on the surface of her skin, but every soft touch swirled her tummy like a waltz and she was powerless to say anything.

&n
bsp; Speech might have left, but Touch and Smell were alive and well and working overtime. He was so close she could almost taste the warmth of his skin, the slightest hint of perspiration, that maddening Grey Flannel that wrapped its own essence around her like a warm mist from a hot spring. She could drown in the scent of Todd and die a happy woman.

  His fingers slid under her chin and with very little urging she tilted her head back. He closed the distance between them and his height was just perfect to stand over her, to thrill but not intimidate.

  Which was fine because her feelings were doing their own intimidating.

  Jolie took a deep breath, both to infuse her mind with essence du Todd and also gather her bearings because if she was ever going to have a prayer of a happily-ever-after, she had to risk her feelings at some point.

  His eyes swirled with every different shade of green there was, a stormy ring of dark gray around the pupils, and she was caught in their snare. Here, too, she could drown in those depths and not mind at all.

  Todd invoked one churning sea of roiling emotions in every fiber of her being and she swayed into him, as natural as breathing.

  “Jolie,” he whispered, doing some swaying of his own.

  It didn’t take much before they were within each other’s sway, and arms became involved. And lips. Man, did lips become involved, and this kiss was every bit as spectacular as yesterday’s.

  And she was in so much trouble.

  It wasn’t just a kiss in the general sense of the word. It was another Kiss. One she’d never forget.

  And would probably never duplicate with anyone but him.

  It was that thought which gave her the strength to pull back. Well, that and maybe just a tad bit of abject terror of getting hurt.

  “Todd, I… ” What? Needed his kiss for her very breath? Would never kiss another man as long as she lived? What? “I… wonder where Boots is.” Oh boy, was that lame.

  “Boots?”

  She could so identify with his disbelief.

  “Um, yes. My kitten?” She tucked some un-tucked hair behind her ears and looked away. “He’s here somewhere.”

  “Boots.”

  “Yes, Boots.”

  Todd took a big breath and ran a hand through his hair.

  At some point she really needed to ask him to stop doing that or she might be back in a clinch with him again, this one of her own doing.

  “Jolie, you’re not worried about Boots.”

  “I’m not?”

  “No.”

  “But I am.”

  “No.” He took her hand. “You’re not.” He tugged her over to the sofa. “You’re avoiding what just happened.”

  “I am?”

  That got a smile out of him. Good. That made one of them.

  “Yes, you are.” He sat and patted the seat next to him. “Sit.”

  Any other time she would have said, “Woof,” or “Yes, master,” but not now. Instead, she re-tucked that un-tucked hair then put her hands beneath her thighs and sat.

  “Jolie.”

  She bit back the sigh at her name and, instead, bit her lip as she faced him. “Yes?”

  “I’m not sorry I kissed you.” His eyes were all solemn.

  “You’re not?”

  “No, I’m not. Today or before the picnic.” He tugged on her hand, and reluctantly—okay, not that reluctantly—she gave it to him. The man had just said he wasn’t sorry he kissed her. That could only be good.

  Hopefully.

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said, but that was because, well, I was surprised that it had happened. But I’m definitely not sorry.”

  “Surprised?” She was sounding more like a parrot by the minute.

  “I haven’t kissed anyone in two years.”

  “Then why did you? Kiss me, I mean?” Oops, Naughty Girl jumped out of her hiding place.

  “Because it felt right.”

  Okay, Legs were melting.

  “And because I wanted to.”

  And there went Tummy.

  “You did?” Sheesh, what was next? Polly want a cracker?

  “Yes. And you wanted to, too.”

  And there was the tidal wave of a blush. Of course she’d wanted to. He had to know that, so why was she acting like a teenager with her first crush?

  Because he truly was her first crush.

  And she was more than a little worried that it might end differently than how she’d like. When she allowed herself to think about what she’d like, that was.

  So she wouldn’t. Think about it. Scarlett did okay in the end and she would, too.

  “Jolie? You did want to?”

  Lying by omission was one thing, but to his face? Not quite. “Yes, you’re right. I did. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? What for?” He laced his fingers with hers. “I’m flattered.”

  She was hoping for more than flattered. Turned-on, unable to live without you, thinking of forever, take your pick. Flattered fell way down on her list. “Well, that is, I, um, work here and—”

  “This has nothing to do with our working arrangement. Nothing at all. It’s not like I’ve kissed every woman who’s cooked for me in the last two years.”

  “You haven’t?”

  He brushed something from her forehead. “No. I haven’t. Not a one. But with you, I may want to again.”

  There went Heart. “You will?”

  He nodded with a twinkle in his eye. “Any objections? And no strings attached, no matter what your answer. Promise. Your job is secure, regardless.”

  Now there was an offer. Full of possibilities. One of them being heartache.

  What would the heroine of her story do?

  That probably wasn’t the best question to ask since everything always worked out in romance novels and this was her life she was talking about, but Todd wasn’t like any of Mom’s losers, so she’d be foolish to not take the chance. Of course, she might be foolish for doing so, but nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that. “Nope. No objections.”

  He un-tucked her other hand and linked all four of them together. “I’m not sure where this will lead, I want you to understand that. But since yesterday morning, I’ve had a hard time concentrating on anything besides what it felt like to hold you in my arms. Sketching you today was that much harder, I think, because I was trying to capture what I felt when we kissed.”

  She wanted to ask him what exactly he had felt, but would she like the answer? What if it didn’t measure up to what she felt? She couldn’t be the one to feel more. She just couldn’t. She’d done that too many times in her life and, while she’d survived the crushing disappointment up to this point, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to this time.

  “Will you be able to capture it, Todd?”

  His smile was soft and melted-bones inducing. “I’m sure going to try.” He wrapped his big strong hands around hers and her skin sizzled and tingled in every good way. He placed a soft kiss to the back of each hand. “But I may need you to sit for me some more.”

  “You will?” She wasn’t all that enthused about the idea. Charley Horse Leg twinged in agonized remembrance.

  “I promise to give you something more comfortable than the stool, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “That’s it? No twenty-questions on what we’ll use? No dissertation on the merits of cotton fiber versus wooden furniture?”

  He got her. Totally. And managed to make her laugh so easily. “Anything has to be better than that stool.”

  “Hey, I gave you a pillow.” Oh, so now he was doing insulted.

  She could, too. “And, for that, Tush thanks you. The rest of me, however, is pretty jealous of Tush, so you’ll have to make all of me happy next time.”

  There was a heartbeat—or seven—of silence.

  But Naughty Girl was fist-pumping all over the inside of Jolie’s brain.

  Todd unlaced his fingers and cupped her cheek. “I’ll try.”

  Whoa.


  So, they were leaning in, lips just about to make contact, when who should appear? And she wasn’t talking eight tiny reindeer.

  “Meow.”

  “Boots,” they said in unison, laughing as a whiskered white face appeared between them. Kitty-boy was doing his own leaning in—off the back of the sofa to get his muzzle between them. Now the cat had an agenda, too?

  Boots might want to talk with Mrs. Gray because apparently his agenda was in direct opposition to hers.

  Todd picked the kitten up. “And where have you been? Kind of interesting you choose this moment to interrupt.” He plopped Boots onto her lap and the little moment-ruiner did a few circles with some finely honed claws before curling himself into a powder puff, staring at the two of them, his tail flicking her leg, one black paw forward, almost drumming his kitty fingers on her skin.

  “I’ve heard of guard dogs, but a guard cat?” Todd laughed.

  “Do I need guarding?” Naughty Girl just couldn’t mind her own business.

  “I—” Todd reached out for her hand and Boots swatted it. Chuckles escaped from both of them as Boots pulled his paw back to lick it.

  “I guess he thinks so.” Todd nudged her chin up to look in her eyes. “But I have no idea. This is all new to me, Jolie. I haven’t found myself wanting to kiss anyone since I met Trista. I can’t promise anything, because I have no idea what’s happening.”

  “No idea?” There was Naughty Girl again, but Jolie was with her on this one. He certainly had some idea because his body parts were all in perfect alignment with hers a few moments ago.

  “Other than I want to kiss you again and I like being around you, no. I never thought I’d want to feel even that again. And now I do.”

  “And now you do.” His lips were beautifully shaped, the fuller bottom one just right for taking between her teeth and give a little tug before—

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Thinking?” Please don’t let that be her Anne Bancroft voice.