“Let’s just find this shop and get the paintings. We can grab something to eat, then hit a hardware store so we can hang the paintings. Then we’re leaving, tonight if possible, first thing in the morning at the latest.” Brea was determined to get this over with. She shoved the credit card Mr. Forbright had delivered to her so she could buy the paintings into her back pocket.
“We’ll see.” Lindie tossed back at her as she headed out the front door. “I’ll drive since you drove down here.”
“Yeah, Lindie, that makes us even.” Brea followed her out, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach that seemed to get tighter and bigger with each step she took.
Twenty minutes and much too much foliage later, they hit the downtown area of Ashe Bay. Perhaps “downtown area” was too strong a reference. Brea couldn’t keep her mouth from gaping open in astonishment at the small town. It looked liked a movie set. There was one restaurant simply named “Restaurant” in faded letters. Farther down was one mercantile store which boasted it sold everything. Brea doubted it. A town hall that also doubled as the town jail, which stood right next to the town bar. The bar that was descriptively named “Joe’s”. And how convenient was it to have the bar right next to the jail? The town was plain but functional. It seemed every expense was spared in building it.
A lone building sat a little off road. It was rather sturdy looking compared to the other antique structures in town. Brea could barely make out the weathered sign that read “Olympiad Paintings”.
“Are you kidding me?” Brea said incredulously.
“There’s nothing wrong with leading a simple life in a simple town.” Lindie responded, pulling the car to a stop in front of the mercantile store. “Besides I would have thought you would like this place. It may not have a ton of men here to hit on you and make your life miserable,” Lindie finished sweetly. Brea let the comment go, because on some level Lindie was right. Still, she did want a little bit more out of life than the bare necessities.
“Why park here and not in front of the shop we actually want?” Brea asked. Lindie tsked at her, something she knew irritated Brea.
“Because no matter what, we’re coming here for souvenirs, not to mention the restaurant is right next to this. Which by the way, you were the one who said we would go to the store and then get something to eat.” Brea hated when Lindie got in her know-it-all mood, particularly because that’s when she was most efficient and most annoying.
As Brea was exiting the car, she saw that the front door to the mercantile store was open. She was about to peer inside when she was hit dead on with a wave of dirty water. It splashed onto her fresh white shirt and splattered her face and hair. Lindie covered her mouth in horror. Brea stood there dripping with dirty water. An older woman rushed out the store.
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I saw you a second too late.” She fluttered around Brea. She had black hair streaked with gray, her brown eyes, sincere and contrite as she looked upon the soaked Brea. “I’m sorry. I was throwing the mop water out. You see no one ever comes this early in the day. Oh my, I should have looked more closely! I don’t get customers at this time. Please come inside.” She gestured rather anxiously for Brea to come inside the shop. Stiffly, Brea followed, trying very hard to keep a lid on her anger. The woman had apologized; it couldn’t be undone.
Brea allowed herself to be led into the cool shop, Lindie close on her heels. The shop did sell a great many things, some of them Brea would classify as junk. They all had Ashe Bay written on them in some form. The old woman was sifting through a pile of folded shirts on a shelf when she pulled one out.
“This should fit you. It’s one of our best sellers. Of course it’s on the house. You can change right through there.” She pointed to a small bathroom. Brea gave her a stiff smile before taking the folded shirt. “There should be a clean towel in there. Please feel free to clean up; use whatever you need.” The old woman fiddled with the necklace at her throat. Brea said nothing; she was far too disgusted and mad. Yes, she knew it was an accident, but she knew that knot in her stomach wasn’t for nothing. This town just gave her weird vibes all the way around. Ten minutes later, Brea emerged from the bathroom, her own ruined shirt balled up in her hand. Lindie was sipping a cup of tea, having made instant friends with the drive-by bucket lady.
“There’s a cup of tea for you too, Brea.” Lindie informed her cheerfully before taking in the shirt Brea was wearing. It was white with a huge A in the middle of the shirt, with the words “Ashe Bay, when you need to get away from it all”, underneath it. Huge tacky dandelions acted as quotation marks. Lindie stifled a snicker. Best-seller indeed, with the older generation.
“Thank you.” Brea responded before looking at the old lady. “Thank you for the shirt.”
“Oh dear, it was the least I could do. That’s never happened before.”
This didn’t make Brea feel any better. The only thing it proved was that weird things were probably happening because of her.
“Your friend here was telling me you girls are going to that shop down the road. I tell you, it just sprang up out of nowhere.” Brea turned to look around the shop and rolled her eyes. Yeah, an old shop that sprang up out of nowhere. The old lady was slightly off her rocker. “Of course strange things always happen here. The supernatural like to play here because it’s out of the way.”
“Excuse me?” Brea whipped her head around, looking for the crazy gleam she just knew she would find in the old woman’s eyes.
“We’re so far off the beaten path that supernatural creatures abound here. Sometimes they, too, like to get away from it all. And sometimes they can seem untrustworthy. But you have to trust your instincts.” The woman looked at Brea and Lindie with a knowing smile, as if what she said was normal.
“Yes, well we have to be going now. Lindie, put the cup down,” she ordered.
“Oh, I see. You’re not a believer.” She came from around the counter and walked right up to Brea, studying her. “No matter, life will make a believer out of you.” Then she grabbed Brea’s hand. “Sometimes things are not always as they appear but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.” Then she seemed to add as an afterthought, “And call me Artie.” She patted Brea’s hand and released it. Brea grabbed Lindie around the arm and manhandled her out of the store.
“Let’s get the damn paintings and go. I’ve had enough of this place.” Lindie, walked with Brea toward Olympiad Paintings.
Four: A clandestine meeting
Brea entered the shop first. For a building that looked old on the outside it sure smelled new on the inside. The light scent of vanilla wafted in the air. Brea took a deep breath as she walked further into the store and without preamble tripped over the ridiculously plush rug and almost landed flat on her face. Lindie squealed and ran to her side, trying to help her up.
“Of all the stupid places to put a rug!” she ranted, on all fours, now letting her anger loose. She let out a puff of air, strong enough to blow back the damp hair from in front of her eyes. First the water, now this—she couldn’t get out of Ashe Bay fast enough.
“Actually, it’s a common place to put a rug,” a resonating voice said, coming from somewhere on the other side of the shop.
“Yes,” Brea snapped. “But not one that’s deep enough to sink the Titanic. You have to step up just to step on the friggin’ thing.” Brea leaned back, her butt resting on her heels. Her hands smarted just a little from having to stop her own weight from crashing down and smacking her face. She shook the tingles out.
“Please allow me to help you,” the voice said again, closer now, his footsteps light on the wood floors. Brea ignored the fact that his voice held a deep, sexy, hypnotic timbre—well almost ignored it.
“Oh? Do you have a coat rack that will snag me around the collar and hang me? I understand putting that by the door is commonplace as well.” As Lindie helped Brea to her feet, she heard her murmur something about “yummy enough to eat”. But she didn’t care. The owner had to
understand that there were certain things you did not put in front of doors. This was a lawsuit waiting to happen.
“Hi, I’m Lindie,” her friend said breathlessly, as if she had just been the one to trip and fall. “This is my, uhm, friend, Brea.” Brea stood, now slightly behind Lindie, who was acting as if she were a teenager with her first crush on the really cute, most popular guy at school. Brea’s hot mood mirrored that of a hurricane. It just built and built and would leave destruction in its path.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jordan Areson and I am the owner of this shop.”
“You mean part-owner.” Brea corrected him, still not looking at him, instead making sure her body was in working order. “I understand you have a business partner in Canton. He was the one who suggested we contact you. He believes you might be able to help us. Though I hope your art collection is much savvier than your decorating skills.” Brea bent down to massage her bruised knees.
“If you’re done checking my friend out, I was wondering if you had some really good replicas of Sellaio paintings?” she said rudely.
What Brea wanted to say was: ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! She didn’t think she’d ever seen a more breathtaking male. His long, blond hair was pulled back into a curly ponytail. It was not feminine in the least, but somehow only added to his sex appeal. Jordan Areson looked like he’d walked off the pages of Playgirl magazine—every page. She could see the magazine devoting an entire issue to this…perfectly made man. His body, though ensconced in a form-fitting black shirt and black slacks, yelled of perfection. She could almost see the six-pack abs, his arms muscular but not to the point of being ridiculous. He looked like a mischievous angel. Even Terry, with his boy-next-door looks, couldn’t hold a candle to this sex god. With the thought of Terry, Brea was ripped back into reality. “Well?” she prompted with more venom than she felt. He was dangerous; he ate at her resolve not to get involved ever again. Brea watched his well-formed, sensual lips purse into a slight smile, as if he’d just come to some sort of conclusion.
Cupid searched frantically for the letter A on the small, petite, kind-natured woman who was clearly smitten with him. He could taste the foul mood the one named Brea was in. It had to be on the little one somewhere. Then the tall, strikingly beautiful woman with the most disagreeable personality he had ever known on a mortal woman stood up straight and stepped forward in front of the smaller one. Her sculpted face enthralled him. The hazel eyes were lined with long thick lashes, which with one wink could have brought him to his knees. It took everything in him not to make his face go slack with disbelief, for a large A jumped out at him off her ugly shirt.
Despite her disposition, he was attracted to her. Her hazel eyes tried to pierce right through him. Renegade curly hair framed a perfect face. Her plump lips inspired him to kiss her. It would probably only earn him quite a smack across the face. He slowly walked around the two women, blatant in his appraisal of them. Though the smaller one was beautiful, she didn’t have the derrière of the taller one—it took everything not to feel the plump globes. He circled until he now faced the two women, his hands clasped behind his back, more to keep from grabbing Brea and kissing her senseless, than having a relaxed stance.
“Well, what?” he questioned, losing track of the conversation.
“Do you have high quality Sellaio replicas or not?” He could see the waves of irritation coming off her. His work was cut out for him.
“Possibly,” he threw back, turning and heading toward the back of the shop. A second later he heard the women following him.
“Your business partner assured me that you had them. We came all this way because he said it was rare that you were here. We were trying to catch you before you left again.” Lindie poured out. Even without using his powers, he knew he had a strong presence. There was no helping the pheromones his body gave off. He was the god of desire, after all, and Lindie was very receptive.
“I could check what I have catalogued.” He stopped at the small counter, leaned back and faced the two women, as if he had nothing at all to do.
“Well, when would you be able to do that, Mr. Areson?” Brea piped up.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule. After all, I’m a very busy man.”
Brea watched him as he leaned against the small counter and lazily eyed them. “You don’t look occupied now,” Brea said, a little too sweetly.
“I have customers,” he retorted, staring into her hazel eyes.
“But we’re the customers,” Brea replied, exasperated. She was hanging on to her sanity by a thin thread.
“Exactly, and I can’t go off looking for something while you two just stand here.”
“So if we left, you’d look for them?” Brea knew this was the most absurd conversation she’d ever had.
“It’s possible,” he said again, not moving an inch.
“Look, do you want to sell us the paintings or not? We’re prepared to pay top dollar for them.” Brea crossed her arms in front of her chest. She shifted her weight to one leg, and tapped her foot in irritation.
“If I didn’t sell you the paintings, I believe I could still sleep at night.” He pinned Brea with his gorgeous blue eyes, lowering them just a tad as he studied her. Brea ignored the fact that the expression made him look sexy as hell.
“What’s your point?” With unparalleled intensity right here and now she hated men.
“You want to buy the paintings a whole lot more that I want to sell them.”
“Why don’t we stop playing games here, Mr.—”
“Jordan, I insist.”
“Jordan then.” Brea repeated. “What is it that you want?”
“A date.” There it was. He wanted a date; he might as well have said he wanted one of her kidneys.
“I don’t date people I do business with.”
“I haven’t done any business with you that I can recall.”
“But you might.”
“But I might not.”
Now they were at a stalemate. Lindie just looked from one to the other. Brea’s hazel gaze clashed with blue. He wasn’t budging any more than she was. Lindie pulled Brea back a few feet, but Brea refused to break eye contact with the man. Lindie turned Brea’s stiff body around until they were eye to eye.
“Look, Brea, you yourself said you couldn’t wait to get out from under Mr. Forbright’s thumb. It’s one date. He isn’t liver casserole here.” Lindie threw Jordan an appreciative glance before she went on.
“You’re on his side?” Brea whispered fiercely at Lindie, keeping an eye on Jordan as he feigned busy-work, moving papers around on the small counter.
“No, I’m on our side. One date. You’re one date closer to getting away from Mr. Forbright. We did not drive four hours down here so you can turn tail and run from the most gorgeous man on the face of the earth.”
Brea took a deep breath and looked at the pleading face of her best friend, who was now also acting as the voice of reason. One date, that’s all she had to do. She walked up to Jordan, who now stood feet planted apart; even just standing there he reeked of sexuality. Her mouth went dry as she took his measure. He was trouble. She hated trouble. Her traitorous body with the tacky T-shirt demanded that he touch her. She took a step back, knowing that small amount of distance did not lessen her desire for him.
“Fine, Jordan. A date.”
“Thank you. I’ll pick you up about nine.”
“Nine?” Brea shrieked. There was no way she could leave tonight if the date didn’t start until nine.
“Anxious for me are you?” he teased, deliberately provoking her. His sexy grin showed off deep dimples, doing things to her libido that she had thought was long since dead.
“No, nine is fine. I’m at the—”
“Forbright place. I know. I’ll see you at nine.”
There was no sense in asking how he knew that. This was a small town. They had intel better than the military. Brea nodded and with stiff legs began to make her
way to the front door. Lindie waved at Jordan until she almost knocked over a rack of postcards with famous paintings on them. For the second time that day Brea grabbed Lindie by the arm and hauled her butt out the door.
Brea sipped the tasteless, warm liquid. Her mind was in so much turmoil she couldn’t even enjoy a simple cup of coffee. How dare he blackmail her into a date? He showed no shame or remorse. No hint at being reasonable. Lindie reached across the table and punched her in the arm.
“Ow!”
“Get your head out of your ass!” Lindie demanded in a very uncharacteristic show of hostility.
“What is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be rooting for the home team and you’re practically salivating over him.”
“Well, he is gorgeous. He reminds me of a Greek god.”
“Oh please!” Brea added a little more sugar to her coffee, thereby making it ninety percent sugar. “He’s okay.” Her lips barely formed the lie. In all honesty, he was gorgeous. She’d never been so attracted to a man in all her twenty-six years. Which meant she would make sure nothing happened between the two of them. Besides, he lived too far away to even think of getting involved with him.
“You know, for the most part you’re a good liar, but he must really have knocked you off your axis, because even I can see you’re lying through your teeth.”
“Fine,” Brea conceded, absently adding more sugar to her coffee. “He’s a Greek god. Blah, blah, blah. Get over it. It’s going to be one date and one date only. Once I get those paintings we’re burning rubber. Understand me?” Brea pointed a finger at Lindie to drive her point home.
“I don’t think he’s going to let you get away that easily. He sure seemed like he had your number, Brea. He didn’t even bother to try and ask nicely, oh no he went straight for the kill—blackmail.” Lindie couldn’t keep the admiration from her voice.
“Could you praise him a little bit more, I don’t think you quite covered all the bases,” Brea responded with sarcasm, this time adding cream to the coffee that was threatening to spill over the rim.
Utter Cupidity Page 3
