by Leslie Kelly
Expecting a hotel, she was surprised when instead Mick pulled up to a huge, familiar-looking building on a Chicago street. “The Art Institute?”
He nodded and parked the car in an employees-only lot, not offering any explanation.
“Mick, the museum is closed. It’s late.”
“Don’t you worry about that.” He gave a suggestive lift of his eyebrows. “I have ways.”
She didn’t hide her skepticism. “Of breaking and entering?”
He shook his head and got out of the car, coming around to open her door. “Let’s go.”
“This is silly.”
“Come on.”
He wasn’t taking no for an answer, and reached down to take her arm and help her out. Walking with him, Caroline nearly accused him of just using the nearly empty lot for free parking while they went somewhere else nearby. But he headed straight for a back entrance to the building, marked Staff Entrance.
“Mick?”
“We’re right on time.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, punched in a few numbers and held it up to his ear. “Hey, we’re outside.” He nodded. “Great, thanks.” Then he turned off the phone and dropped it back into his pocket.
Caro could only shake her head, wrapping her jacket tighter around herself in the cool evening air. “No way. There’s no way you’re getting us into the closed art museum.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
Caro rolled her eyes, watching the door, almost holding her breath. To visit the institute during the day, when the museum was open, had been one of her major thrills back in her college days. She’d minored in art appreciation and had loved nothing more than spending rainy weekend afternoons inside the quiet building, standing in awe before some of her favorite paintings.
In those days, Mick had usually been at a basketball game or a guys-drinking-beer-in-the-woods kind of thing.
When no one came to the door, she blew out a disappointed breath and glared at him. “Okay, ha ha, I almost fell for it. It’s too late for practical jokes.”
“It’s never too late for practical jokes,” he replied. “Not that this is one.”
“Come on, where are we really going?”
“Trust me,” he said, stepping closer to put his arm around her shoulders and hugging her tight. He didn’t say another word, just watched the door with that sexy, confident little grin of his.
Then, to her complete and utter surprise, it opened. Caroline watched in shock as a heavily pregnant young brunette opened the door and beckoned them inside.
“Mick, you came!”
She had her arms around his shoulders and her big belly against his flat one not ten seconds after they entered the building. Mick hugged her back and Caro felt her spine stiffen the tiniest bit. Then she gave herself a mental kick. Old habits died hard, but the one of her not trusting Mick around other women really had to go and she knew it. Besides, this very pregnant woman appeared to have a very big ring on her finger and a happy, contented smile on her face.
“I can’t believe you managed to get him here,” the woman said to Caro. “I’ve offered so many times and sent invites to all the openings and parties and he’s never come.”
“That’s because the people that come to those things are the walking dead types who actually like art openings and the opera and stuff.”
“Invite him to a bikini contest and he’ll be first in line,” Caro said, extending her hand.
Mick stepped back and slid his arm casually around Caro’s waist. “Caroline, this is Maddy Josephson.” He pointed to the woman’s stomach. “And that is my goddaughter, Michaela.”
Maddy rolled her eyes as she said hello to Caro. Then she added, “We don’t even know if it’s a girl.”
“I like girls,” he said.
“No kidding,” she said with a droll laugh. Then she continued, “And if it is a girl, her name will not be Michaela.”
He didn’t give up. “Micki’s cute for a girl.”
“Just because you don’t ever plan to settle down and have kids doesn’t mean we have to name our kids after you.” Then, apparently realizing she’d said something insensitive, Maddy flushed a little. “Sorry,” she said to Caroline. “That was Mick’s attitude in the old days.”
“Which is why you never went out with me after our first date,” he told the pretty, pregnant woman.
Sheesh. An evening with another of Mick’s exes.
“Will we be running into anyone you haven’t dated during this visit?” she couldn’t help asking. “Because I don’t think traffic is banned on Michigan Avenue and there are always big trucks around.”
He laughed, obviously remembering her threat in Derryville last Saturday.
“Don’t worry,” Maddy said, playfully punching Mick on the upper arm. “We were just friends. He set me up with his best friend, Sam.” She gestured to her stomach. “And the rest is history. Mick was even our best man.”
Caro gave the woman a big smile, somehow relaxing in her chatterbox company. “So I guess Mick is partially responsible for the conception of little, uh…Michele?”
Maddy thought it over, then nodded. “I guess he is.”
“Oh, please, don’t let the word get out, it’ll ruin my reputation,” Mick said, looking offended. “As if I could ever have anything to do with procreation that didn’t involve…well…the act that procreates.”
Maddy giggled. “Okay, enough, you fiend. Are you two ready for your tour?”
Caro couldn’t believe this was happening, but it looked like they were, indeed, about to get a private tour of this incredible place. Stunned, she grabbed Mick’s hand. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t really know what to say.
“What?” he asked, obviously knowing what she was thinking. “You think I can’t remember what you like to do? You’ve been working hard. You needed some downtime.”
“But this…good Lord, I expected a movie. A Cubs game or something.”
Mick’s face suddenly appeared woeful. “I tried but my buddy was using his box seats tonight. This was definitely my second choice. Make sure you wake me up if I fall asleep in front of some picture of white-haired dead guys.”
She giggled, knowing he was pulling her leg. “Cretin.”
“Remember,” Maddy said, watching them with an interested expression on her pretty face, “I have to stay with you, but you’re welcome to visit any public area you like.”
Caro nearly shook with anticipation. Beside her, Mick drew in a long, resigned breath. “Okay, let’s go. It’s gotta beat the black velvet Elvis collection in Ed’s Diner.”
“Caveman.” This time the insult came from Maddy.
As they walked toward the first gallery, Mick dropped his arm across Caro’s shoulders. “I have only one request. Can we start with the guy who painted all the naked women?”
Caro and Maddy exchanged a look. Men.
“Fine with me,” Caro said. “To the naked women wing.”
Maddy gave her a conspiratorial look. “Oh, I think I have just the artist. He’ll really appeal to Mick’s taste in women.”
Mick grinned. “Sounds good.”
“Right this way,” Maddy said, “to the Rubens area.”
Caro snickered and Mick whistled as they made their way through the silent building. With each step, Caro stayed close by his side, feeling happier than she had in a long, long time.
JACEY BELIEVED she and Digg had done a pretty good job of hiding the fact that they were becoming…friends. Friends, that’s all. They ran together, they talked, end of story. No physical contact had happened whatsoever.
Which totally sucks.
No, it didn’t. She didn’t need to go getting involved in a relationship with Mr. Perfect. Not only did he live on the opposite side of the continent, but he was all wrong for her.
Digg was clean, neat, respectful and polite. Jacey didn’t care how she dressed or what her apartment looked like—unless her mother was coming over, in which case she threw away th
e mountain of Thai carryout boxes. She’d never been accused of being respectful, and politeness didn’t get you ahead in Hollywood.
Politeness sure hadn’t earned her her first shot. No, that had been pure blackmail. “Thanks, Dad,” she muttered.
Once she’d found out who her real father was, she’d shown up on his doorstep and asked for a job in lieu of seventeen years of child support. Hadn’t he been surprised. She had to hand it to him—he’d come through, and not just to avoid child support. She believed him when he said he’d never known about her and would have gladly supported her growing up.
Burt Mueller, her dear old daddy, liked having his unacknowledged daughter around, so he’d helped her get her first job. And she’d proved her worth, operating on several of his TV shoots.
Killing Time in a Small Town was the first time she was working with someone else. She found she was liking it—but she missed her eccentric—aww, hell, crazy—father.
“Here all alone?” a woman’s voice said, interrupting her quiet moment in the parlor of the inn Saturday night. She looked up and saw Mona. The woman gave her a smile, then quickly glanced around the room. “You’re not, uh, with someone?”
“Who would I be with?”
Mona gave a delicate shrug then sat down on an empty chair. “Well, you seem to be spending a lot of time with Digg.”
Jacey stiffened. “We’ve gone running a few times.”
“Running,” Mona said with a slow nod. “I see.”
The mousy female wasn’t looking so mousy now. Instead, she looked rather catlike as she considered her next words. “You know, there’s been some talk. About you, a member of the crew, possibly helping someone figure out this mystery.”
Jacey stiffened. “That’s bullshit.”
Mona immediately nodded in agreement. “Oh, of course it is. Digg is much too honorable to cheat. And he’s much too old-fashioned a guy to take up with someone…with someone….”
Someone who was one step away from a gang as a kid, who had street smarts but no real education, and was the bastard child of a man loved by much of TV-watching America?
“Someone from Hollywood,” Mona finished.
Same difference.
Though Jacey already knew she and Digg were worlds apart, Mona’s words still stung. “You’re imagining things.”
Mona’s smug smile never faded. “Well, I wanted to warn you, for your own good. Some of the other players aren’t as understanding. There have been grumblings. I’d hate for Digg to lose his chance at winning all because of you.”
She turned and walked toward the door. “Good night, Jacey. Hope the Derryville Demon doesn’t get you in your sleep.”
No, but Jacey wouldn’t mind if he got Mona.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MICK HAD HAD A few good ideas in his time. Sending a drag queen to perform at his high school principal’s retirement party came to mind. But tonight had to rank right up there among the best.
Caroline absolutely glowed. She spent every minute of their time in the museum looking thoroughly happy. And he had to admit it, even he hadn’t been bored, though he’d had fun pretending he was.
She’d finally forced him to admit he was having a great time. He’d never imagined how much he’d get out of the cool eeriness of an enormous building, empty but for walls filled with priceless art. Silent but for the sounds of their own footsteps echoing in room after room. He knew there had been other people around—he’d spotted two security guards, after all. But even with Maddy acting as tour guide and chaperone, he and Caroline had shared some pretty special hours. Hours he hoped she’d remember whenever she started hating him again. Or leaving him. Somehow it always seemed like they went down that road.
He shook off that unpleasant thought as the two of them arrived in their hotel room late that night. They’d grabbed a quick dinner after spending a few hours in the museum and were now fully alone in one of the city’s more upscale hotels.
“I really like that guy who paints with the dots. I think I saw that painting in War Games,” he said.
“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” Caroline explained as they dropped their overnight bags on the bed.
“You sure?”
She raised a droll brow. “Remember who you’re talking to here.”
“Ahh, yes,” he replied, sliding his arms around her waist, “the girl who drew me the character connection chart for Beverly Hills 90210.”
She nodded her head slightly, taking a modest bow. “And how wonderful to be appreciated by the man who used to think Homer Simpson was the greatest philosopher of our time.”
He hugged her tighter, liking the laughter on her lips and the warmth in her beautiful blue eyes. She slipped her arms around his waist, never breaking their stare, then gave him a sweet, warm little kiss of infinite tenderness.
“Mick, I can’t begin to tell you how much tonight meant to me. It was beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. I need Maddy’s address because I plan to send her a big bouquet of flowers.”
“And you can pay me back the next time the Cubs are in town.”
She nibbled her lip. “Sorry, I’ve never dated anyone who might be able to get us into the dugout.” Then her smile brightened. “But I could probably get you into the Emmy Awards.”
“Cast of Friends usually there?”
“Yes.”
“You’re on.”
She grinned then gave him a coy look out of the corner of her eye. “Jen usually brings her hubby.”
He frowned and shook his head, trying hard to look jealous, though he knew she wasn’t serious. “Better stay away from Brad Pitt. I don’t think your heart could take it. Maybe we should sit with the Frasier crowd.”
“Oooh, that Niles, he makes me shiver,” she said with a deep sigh.
“Wench. You’re just determined to pay me back for knowing so many women.”
“Knowing? No. Sleeping with? Maybe.”
He grew serious, cupping her chin in his hand, knowing it was time to set that particular record straight. “There haven’t been as many as people think.”
She nibbled her lip. “I wasn’t asking for explanations.”
“I’m not offering any. Just telling you the truth. I like women, I like being around them, I like dating and having fun. As for sexual relationships, well, let’s just say that part of my reputation has been a little exaggerated, mainly by women who expected me to sleep with them and didn’t want to lose face when I didn’t.”
She tilted her head and smiled slightly. “So that means you’ve been a monk for the past eight years?”
“Are we talking Monk on the TV show?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “No. Your neuroses aren’t quite that bad.”
“Thanks…I think. No, I haven’t been a monk. But I haven’t been a gigolo either. Just a normal man.”
He could see her working things out in her head, sorting through his reputation and his past, the rumors and the lies. The evidence she’d seen since she’d been back in town—good and bad.
She finally appeared to reach a conclusion. “You’re far from normal, Mick Winchester. And I’m very, very glad.”
She stood up on her toes and tightened her arms around his neck. This time her kiss was warm and womanly. Her lips parted, her tongue sliding out to lazily engage his in a sweetly intoxicating dance that was more about emotion than sensuality.
Emotion and sensuality. A potent combination. They swirled together in his brain, making him both weak and strong, vulnerable and powerful. Completely and thoroughly entranced.
“I’m glad you came back,” he admitted once their lips drew apart.
“So am I.”
Mick spied the bottle of champagne chilling on a table by the bed, exactly as he’d requested. “Thirsty?”
She followed his glance, pulling away, but remaining close enough that he could feel her warmth. Their playful teasing had dissipated during their kiss. They were both fully aware that they were alone again. They
were away from the real world and had plenty of time. No pressure, no TV show, no room for rent. Just a lovely big bed and a bottle of champagne in a beautiful high-rise Chicago hotel.
She nodded. “Yes, please.” Then she glanced at her own hands. “Give me a few minutes to freshen up, all right?”
While she grabbed her bag and headed for the bathroom, Mick popped the cork on the champagne. He poured two glasses, sipping at one while he undid his belt and kicked off his shoes.
When Caroline didn’t emerge after a few minutes, he grew restless and contemplated going in to see if she was taking a bath. And if she wanted company. He didn’t do it, though. Because for some reason, she’d looked tentative, almost shy when she’d left. Hell, that was bizarre considering some of the sultry moments they’d shared in the past week. Still, he had to give her her space.
This wasn’t fast and crazy sex on the stairs. Or late-night half-asleep sex in his bed. This was a night of sensuous, deliberate lovemaking.
He only hoped she wanted it as much as he did.
One thing was sure, he wasn’t shy about it. After unbuttoning his dress shirt, he dropped it on a chair. He undid the waist of his trousers and let them fall slightly, but then paused. If Caroline was feeling some trepidation, the last thing she needed was to walk in here and see him stark naked, dick in hand, ready to dive on her.
Finesse.
With his trousers hanging loosely about his hips, he walked over to the window. When she came out, she wouldn’t think he’d had nothing but sex on his mind. He hadn’t arranged the museum tour to get some great thank-you sex. He’d wanted to make her happy. That was it.
Probably pretty mind-blowing for most people who knew him. Mick loved his family and had great friends, but he didn’t know if there had ever been anyone in his life whom he’d truly just want to make smile.
Except her.
And tonight, he hoped to make her smile a whole lot more.
CAROLINE DEBATED for a full five minutes over which of her sexy outfits to wear back into the bedroom. Her body was screaming at her just to get naked and jump on the gorgeous, amazing man waiting for her in the next room. But tonight she wanted to slow down, to give him something as delightful as he’d given her this evening.
