by Lynn Cahoon
“Speaking of hot guys, who was that hunk of hot with your folks last night? Everyone at the party was buzzing about him. No one knew him, so we called him your mystery date.” Brit leaned forward. “I mean, did you see his eyes? I’ve never seen that shade of blue before. And the way his tuxedo fit … Dude, I wanted to show him our back room, if you know what I mean.”
Taylor smiled. She knew exactly what Brit meant. Jesse Sullivan had turned many heads last night, and not just those of the young women. Some of the country club members had wandered over with their cocktails to meet the mysterious man. They had used their free hands to caress his muscular arms hiding under the fabric of his jacket. The man drew women in like flies. How could she compete with that? Gallery groupies would buy stock just to spend time with the new owner. She cringed as she realized how likely that was.
“Over my dead body,” she said to herself. This was her legacy. She wasn’t giving in that easy.
Brit’s eyes widened and Taylor realized she had said the words aloud.
Her assistant held up her hands in mock surrender. “All you had to say was that he’s yours. You know I don’t play in other people’s backyards.”
Taylor shook her head. “Sorry, I …” She paused. How much did she want to tell Brit? And how long did she have before the news came out, anyway? “Look, things are complicated right now.”
Brit picked up the sales paperwork that Taylor had already processed, and cradled the stack in her arms. Watching Taylor, she frowned. “I’m not judging or being nosy, but if you want to talk, you know I’m here. You look like someone ran over your dog and stole your truck.”
“In other words, I look like a real life country song?”
“Exactly.” Brit stopped at the doorway to the office. “You want me to order lunch?”
The thought of food made Taylor’s stomach lurch. “No, I’ll grab something while I’m out.”
Her office fell silent once Brit left. Taylor stared at a framed picture on her desk. It showed the day of her first gallery opening. William Harrison had his arm around her, and a smile the size of a Golden-Day Hollywood star. She had to fix this, one way or another.
• • •
Jesse sat waiting at a plastic table under a multicolored umbrella with a big beer logo painted on it. He’d agreed to meet Angie for dinner at the downtown restaurant to try to calm her down. The woman loved her psychics.
He was nursing a longneck when he saw her, the girl he couldn’t get off his mind. He’d been wrong about her hair color. What had looked like blond in the artificial light of the studio and the gallery shimmered with a touch of strawberry in the sunlight. His mouth twitched. The woman got to him. He watched her stride down the sidewalk. She was leaving one of the office buildings that mixed in with the retail and food shops lining Main Street; he knew he needed to stay away. The woman screamed danger.
Danger he’d love to unwrap. One piece of clothing at a time.
A man dashed out of the doorway she’d just vacated and jogged to catch up with her. He must have called her name, because Taylor turned and stopped, letting the man catch up. The two talked for a minute; then, he put his arm around her and they walked down the sidewalk together. It never failed—Jesse could fall faster for an unavailable, off-the-market woman than anyone in history. And he never poached.
Still, something kept him watching. Hoping for a sign that what he saw wasn’t what he thought it was. A small part of him hoped she would stomp on his foot or slap the man across the face. Then Jesse could run over and save her from the leech.
“Who are you staring at?” Angie’s voice broke his concentration. He stood, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Just people watching.” Jesse didn’t know why he lied. For some reason it felt like his mom had intruded on something extremely personal. He nodded to the bucket full of bottles on ice he’d ordered earlier. “Beer?”
Angie glanced back up the street to where Taylor and the Leech were walking into a different café with sidewalk seating. They sat down, obviously having dinner. Jesse realized Angie was no longer looking across the street, but was staring directly at him.
“Someone you know?” She nodded toward the other café.
Jesse sighed, pulling a bottle out of the bucket. He wiped off the moisture, twisted off the top, and handed it to his mother. “The woman who just sat down over there?”
“The one in the Michael Kors outfit?” Angie squinted. “Or, it could be a knock off, I can’t really tell from here.”
“The one in the blue, she’s sitting with the man in the suit.” Jesse pointed, hoping she wouldn’t notice them staring. That’d be hard to explain.
“So, who is she?” Angie took a swig from her beer bottle. “I love ice-cold beer on a hot day like today.”
“Good to know.” Jesse wondered if Angie could handle helping out at the gallery. Her thought process wasn’t quite linear. “She is my new gallery manager.”
“You mean, the one I’m meeting tomorrow?” Angie squinted, sighed, and pulled her purse to her lap. She dug around for a few seconds, coming up with a pair of red prescription glasses. She slipped them on and looked at Jesse, who stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “What? A girl has to have some secrets. My eye doctor says I have the vision of a twenty-year-old; these just help my farsightedness.”
Long seconds passed as Jesse watched his mom stare across the street at his new employee. Finally, Angie slipped off her glasses and put them back in their case, returning it to her purse. “She’s pretty.”
Freaking beautiful, Jesse thought. He just nodded. “And from what I can tell, smart.”
“You’re taken with her, Jesse Sullivan.” She shook her finger at him when he started to rebut her statement. “A mother always knows. I knew it the first time I saw James and Lizzie look at each other. Love, it’s hard to hide.”
“James and Lizzie were always that way. Even back in high school, I used to rib him about being her puppy dog. But the guy had it bad. I shouldn’t have made him come on tour with me.”
Angie laid her hand on his forearm. “No use crying over spilled sangria. Things happen in life. You didn’t make your brother do anything.”
“So why does it feel like I did?” Jesse said, more to himself than his mother. “No worries, I’m not racked with guilt. I’m just thinking about some of my past decisions.” And future ones, he added silently.
“My sweet boy.” She patted his arm. Finishing off her beer, she grabbed a second one before she set down the first bottle.
Jesse waved a waitress over and took the full bottle away from his mom, setting it back in the bucket. “After we get some food.”
Jesse ordered his dinner, added a few items to Angie’s order, and asked the waitress to bring them a couple of iced teas as well. The two sat without talking for a few minutes after the waitress left.
“I can’t believe I bought a gallery.” Jesse finally broke the silence.
Angie took a sip of the iced tea that had just arrived. “I told you that Angelic says—”
“Mom, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not backing out of this deal because some nutcase says my dead ancestors are unhappy with my decision.” Jesse twirled the straw in between two fingers. “I may have acted rashly; I’ll admit that. But who knows when this kind of opportunity will appear again. I had to act fast.”
“And the fact that the gallery manager could be confused with a supermodel didn’t factor into your decision at all, right? That’s your story?”
“I didn’t know she was the manager when I said yes to Rich. You know how important art is to me. I just wanted, I don’t know, to be something besides a bull rider?” Jesse took off his ball cap and ran his fingers through his hair. He saw Taylor laugh at something her date said, and instantly Jesse went back to that moment in the studio when their gazes had connected. He’d felt so drawn to her.
A weekend out of town without risking the chance of running into Taylor DeMa
rco, that was what he needed. He’d have a clear head on Monday when he returned home.
Angie leaned back as the waitress set her plate of chicken and mushrooms in front of her. She waited for the waitress to deliver Jesse’s T-bone, loaded baked, and side of Tex-Mex corn before she spoke again. “Angelic says the purchase will cause upheaval.”
“I thought she drew the death card.” Jesse cut into his steak, perfectly cooked to medium rare. He took a bite, and the juice ran into his mouth. The sensation made him glance across the street to Taylor. He watched as she flipped her head back and smiled, really smiled. No, the woman needed out of his head sooner than later. Now that he knew she was involved, that just made the mental switch easier.
“I’ve been thinking about that. The card doesn’t have to mean an actual death. It could be the ending of a lifestyle, or maybe just represent the changeover of the gallery from their family to ours. Of course, we’re not a rich, connected family like the Harrison/DeMarco group. Are you sure you’re going to be able to keep the place going?” Angie cut her chicken into pieces as she chatted. She looked down at the plate and laughed. “I’ve been hanging out with the little ones too long. Look at what I did to my meat. I swear, those boys are changing my life even when I’m not playing Grandma Angie.”
Jesse chuckled. “Maybe that was the life-changing event your fortune teller saw? You turning into a normal grandmother type.”
“When hell freezes over,” Angie said. “I hope I can represent you and the family appropriately tomorrow. You know, I tend to say what’s on my mind.”
Jesse took his mother’s hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need to know what I’ve gotten myself into before the sale is finalized. They’ve allowed me a two-week grace period to have my advisors look over the investment. You can spot a fraud faster than most people, even if you don’t know a thing about art.”
“Are you looking for a way out?” Angie twisted off a bottle cap and sipped the cold beer.
Jesse glanced over at the couple across the street, now eating their dinner. In his mind, he could see himself in the place of the man having dinner with Taylor. His mother was right—he had it bad. “Let’s just see what’s really going on there and we’ll make a final decision in two weeks. I don’t want to be swayed by the trappings.”
His mom smiled and her words echoed in his head. “Sometimes fate brings you home.”
Chapter 4
“The woman is crazy.” Taylor glanced out her office door to see if her new BFF was within earshot. “I swear, she thinks she has to be glued to my side.”
“I thought it was the cute bull rider who bought the gallery, not his mother.” Brit sat on the leather couch, flipping through a portfolio. She reached the end of the book, closing it with a sigh. “I wish people wouldn’t just drop these off. I can tell from the first two pages his art isn’t up to show level yet. Maybe we could have a ‘no portfolio’ policy.”
“I’m sure the new owner will want to implement a lot of new policies. You should bring it up with the two out there.” Taylor pointed to the front where Angie stood talking to Barb. “They seem to be making plans already.”
Brit laughed. “I haven’t seen you this tweaked since that girl showed up unannounced at Ken’s house during the senior party.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I made a complete and utter fool of myself that night.” Taylor hadn’t thought about her cheating, quarterback boyfriend for years. “She swore she didn’t know he and I were even dating, let alone almost engaged. The jerk was playing her and me.” She hated to think about Ken or Brad. Why was she so drawn to the bad boy? The man who couldn’t commit to or love one just one person. Jesse Sullivan had a lot in common with her past boyfriends. He was handsome, charming, and a player. She wouldn’t go down that road again.
“That’s because you didn’t put out like she did,” Brit said. She opened another portfolio, carefully avoiding Taylor’s eyes.
Taylor threw a pencil at her friend. “How do you know? Maybe I was a complete and utter slut with Ken?”
“Give me a break. Who was your best friend all during high school? You told me everything.” Brit’s smile widened. “Even that time you kissed the guy with the motorcycle at the dance in Kuna.”
“One kiss is a lot different than what Ken was doing.” Taylor leaned back in her chair. “How’d we get on this subject, anyway?”
“You started it.”
“I did not.” Taylor saw a flash of movement, and there in her office doorway stood Barbara Carico, Jesse Sullivan’s manager and friend. Or were they more than friends? With Barb’s wild red hair and slender body, a man would be a fool not to seal that deal. A stab of jealousy ran through Taylor’s body. Why did she care who the bull rider felt attracted to? She stood and pasted on a smile. “Hey, anything I can help you with?”
Barb smiled a genuine smile, unlike the fake one plastered on Taylor’s face. “Angie and I are heading out to grab some lunch. If you have time, we’d love to have you join us.”
Taylor swallowed hard, pushing down the anger that gripped her. “I don’t think so. I still have to finalize the sales from the showing.”
Brit stood. “Go ahead, Taylor. I’ll handle all that.” She grabbed a file then leaned in close to Taylor and said, “Time to do some recon of your own.”
Taylor stared at her friend, realizing the girl was right. What could it hurt to get to know these two a little better? Maybe she’d find a weak spot. One she could exploit before the two weeks expired. If Mr. Sullivan trusted these two, dropping a few false leads might work in her favor. She met Brit’s gaze and nodded. “Thanks, Brit. Has Angie been to the tearoom over at The Bon? It’s a perfect place for lunch.”
“Actually, Angie has her heart set on going to Dave’s,” Barb said. “I guess they do a mean burger.”
Taylor frowned. “The bar over on Fifth? I didn’t realize they were still open, let alone serving lunch.”
Brit looked like she was going to burst out laughing, and Taylor shot her a warning look.
“Angie knows the owner. I think they had a thing years ago when they both lived in Vegas.” Barb smiled. “The woman knows more people than I do, especially men. Look, I know she can be a little grating, but she has a good heart. And she’d do anything for her boys.”
Taylor focused on Barb’s words. Was that a veiled warning? Telling her that the Sullivan boy was off-limits? The more she thought about this, the more she knew Brit was right. Time to find out what she was up against. Taylor grabbed her purse from the desk drawer and slung it over her coral pantsuit. Not exactly bar clothes, but it would have to do. “I’d love to have lunch with you.”
She waved to Brit and walked outside with Barb. Angie stood waiting on the sidewalk with a half-smoked cigarette in her hand.
The woman blushed. “I’m working on stopping. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.”
Barb put her arm around the older woman. “No worries, I’m not going to rat you out.” She glanced at Taylor and raised her eyebrows, urging the young gallery manager to agree.
“None of my business,” Taylor said. She glanced down at her stacked platforms. “I should be good for the walk, unless you want to drive?”
“Heavens, no. We drive too much here.” Angie stubbed out her cigarette in a flowerpot sitting by the gallery door. Taylor cringed.
If Sullivan took over the gallery they’d be selling authentic Indian headdresses and rodeo gear, and opening a beer bar in the back, sooner or later. She had to talk her folks out of this deal. Averting her eyes, she put on her best fake smile and brightly said, “Then we’re off.”
The inside of the bar was dark. Spilled beer, years of cigarette smoke, and grease from the kitchen assaulted Taylor as soon as she stepped inside. The three women sat in a booth. The red vinyl seats had turned brown from age, and the dark wood of the table was scratched and gnarled with use. Thankfully, someone had wiped it down before they arrived. A waitress or barmaid, T
aylor wasn’t sure what role the woman held, dropped off three menus and three plastic cups filled with water and ice.
“What can I get you to drink?” the woman asked. Taylor looked up, ready to order a glass of white wine. She stopped mid-order when she noticed a tattoo on the top exposed part of the woman’s breast. It looked like … No, it couldn’t be. Taylor felt Angie’s and Barb’s gazes on her.
“Sheryl, show Taylor the rest of your tattoo,” Angie said. “You’ll love this.”
The woman, Sheryl, grinned and leaned in closer. “You’re not the first to notice. I got this last month.” She pulled down her elastic neckline and Taylor was rewarded with the full view of a fully erect circumcised penis inked on the woman’s breast. “My husband likes to tell people it’s not at full scale, but he’s fooling himself. The man isn’t as well endowed as he thinks.”
Taylor bit back a laugh. “Can I get a glass of white wine?”
Sheryl nodded, then listed off the available brands. Although they weren’t the quality of wines the gallery carried at openings, they weren’t that bad. Taylor ordered a dry chardonnay from Sun Valley winery, the same brand she kept at her house for those kind of days.
After Angie and Barb ordered their own drinks, beer and a large coke, Sheryl disappeared, promising to be right back.
“Sorry about the tattoo. Sheryl’s pretty proud of it. She says her tips have tripled since she got inked.” Angie grinned. “I bet you don’t see that in the places you go.”
Taylor laughed. “You’re right about that. I don’t think I’ve been in this bar since I was eighteen and trying not to get carded.”
“Yeah, Gary had some issues with his bartenders when he took over the place. He had to put the fear of God into them. He’s gotten rid of the few that wouldn’t respect the law.” Angie studied the menu.
“Gary?” Taylor asked.
“The owner.”
“So his name’s not Dave?” She glanced at the top of the menu.
Angie laughed. “Dave started the bar in the ’70s. He was a great guy, fun loving, had a wicked sense of humor. Gary kept the name after he bought the place, kind of like a tribute.”
