by James, Sandy
“The hell it’s not. You’re my baby sister, and this bastard took advantage of you.”
“No, he didn’t. But it’s still none of your business.” She directed the remainder of her anger and humiliation at Tamas. “How dare you! What gives you the right to talk to me that way?”
“The right I’ll have as your husband,” he confidently replied in a somewhat scratchy voice as he got slowly back to his feet.
Joy didn’t even dignify the ridiculous statement with a response. She wanted to hit something, to hit someone. She walked over to the broken picture and picked it up. Blinking back the tears blurring her vision, she realized her painting had been ruined during the scuffle. But she wasn’t about to cry in front of either of them. Their macho need to show who could possibly be the bigger inconsiderate jerk was simply more than she could handle. Dropping the crumpled painting back onto the small pile of glass shards on the floor, she strode out of the room toward the kitchen to search for a broom.
Tamas followed like some stray puppy. When he caught her arm and spun her to face him, Joy winced at the latent red marks that encircled his throat. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, Jozsa,” he replied in a scruffy voice. “I shouldn’t have said that. But you—”
“No,” she interrupted. “You shouldn’t have said that. It was between you and me, and it was a mistake, Tamas. It was a mistake we made years ago.” He shook his head. She wanted to curse at him.
“That’s not how I look at it. You and I are meant to be together. We were just...I don’t know...too young to see it. Your father has always known. Your family expects us to get married.”
Joy sighed and shook her head, deciding she was fighting a losing battle keeping up this conversation. She was just about to tell him that he sounded like a parrot that had only been taught one phrase when Janos strode into the kitchen. “I’m sorry you found out about Tamas and me like that. We were just...kids.”
Lucas suddenly stepped out from behind Janos. “About you and who?”
“Look who I found knocking on the front door,” Janos said, directing an evil grin at Tamas.
Joy would have gladly crawled into a hole if one had conveniently opened up near her. She pointedly ignored Lucas’s question and pasted a smile on her face. “You’re here. Is it four already?”
He shook his head. “It’s only three. I just need to get to the track a little earlier than I thought, so I figured I’d see if you had Chelsea’s picture ready.” Staring awkwardly at his shoes for a moment, he seemed to be gathering his thoughts. “I...I thought I’d see if you’d like to go with me. To the track. You know, next week.”
“Oh, yes. I’d love to.” She respected the fact that although it obviously wasn’t easy to ask her to accompany him, he’d asked anyway. His reticence seemed quaint and endearing. Joy was just about to answer him when Tamas moved over to put himself beside her and set a possessive hand around her shoulder.
When she turned to throw a scolding glare at him, she was shocked that Tamas’s eyes looked almost like Janos’s did when he had Tamas by the throat. Just as Joy opened her mouth, Tamas sneered at Lucas, “Who are you?”
Joy couldn’t believe the extraordinary stupidity being exercised by the men in her life. Fists clenched, Janos appeared ready to attack Tamas again simply because he had the audacity to touch her. Tamas acted like a jealous spouse. And Lucas? Well, Lucas just looked confused.
A myriad of emotions played across his face. They changed so rapidly she couldn’t tell which one he’d finally settled on because his face suddenly assumed its customary masking calm. He extended his hand to Tamas who didn’t seem any too pleased to shake it, although he did. “Lucas Mitchell. Joy painted a picture of my niece. She asked me to stop and pick it up. And you are?”
“Tamas Demeter. I manage this restaurant.”
Lucas turned to Joy. “Is the picture ready?”
Joy hated not knowing what was going on in his head. She had no idea how much of the conversation he’d overheard, and even though she had quickly shrugged Tamas’s hand away from her shoulder, Tamas’s possessive action had to have registered in Lucas’s mind. “Yes, it’s ready,” she finally answered.
She hurried to the stairs to get the framed portrait. As she returned to the kitchen, she held it up. “I think it turned out really well. What do you think?”
Lucas took the picture from her hands and stared at it for a couple of moments. “It looks just like her. You did a wonderful job, Joy.” Lucas’s gaze shifted from Joy to Tamas and then to Janos.
Joy could see from the expression on his face that he was uncomfortable, not that she could blame him with two pairs of dark eyes staring him down. “What time do you need to head to the track?” she asked, trying to diffuse the tension.
He glanced back at Joy. “I need to go now. I have to have my horse in the paddock by four.” Looking at the picture again, Lucas asked, “How much do I owe you?”
“Just what the frame cost. I think it was twenty-five,” she replied.
“I need to pay you for your work, not just the frame,” Lucas insisted.
“No, really. Please. Just twenty-five.”
His lips drew to a thin line, but he finally nodded. As Lucas retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, Tamas gave a cruel little snort. “That’s the only profit you’ll ever get from your art.”
Joy wanted to slap him, but kept her hands and her thoughts to herself. It hurt to have Lucas hear the insult, and she only hoped he didn’t feel the same as Tamas.
“Actually, I think Joy is incredibly talented.” Lucas turned to face her. “Did you ever think of getting a booth at the State Fair?” he asked as he glared at Tamas.
Reaching out for her hand, Lucas placed the bills on her palm and folded her fingers over the money. The heat of a blush flared across her cheeks. Her heart racing from his gentle touch, Joy replied, “Not for my art. Gypsy is setting up a food stand, but I’d never take my drawings.”
His smile warmed her blood. “You should. I’ll bet you’d make a hell of a profit.”
“You could sell your stuff out of the Gypsy booth,” Janos quickly added.
“No,” Tamas replied with a swift stomp of his foot. “She...she won’t have time. We need her to—”
“Bullshit,” Janos interrupted. “She’ll have plenty of time. She usually reads palms and stuff anyway.” Turning back to his sister, he gave her an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you, Joy? Let people see what you can do.”
“You really should,” Lucas encouraged. “Who knows where it’ll lead?”
Joy nodded, but she wasn’t entirely sure she would follow through with the notion. She decided she’d have to look over her collection of drawings to see if she had anything that might be of interest to buyers. Perhaps she could do some quick sketches for people—profiles or head studies while they waited. How many things could her friend mount and frame by then? Maybe she could squirrel some more money away for school, and maybe she could—
“Joy?” Lucas asked as he placed a gentle hand on her arm.
“Sorry,” she stammered, embarrassed at losing herself in her thoughts. “When I think about art, I kind of lose all track of time.”
“And all track of shoes,” Lucas added with a wink. He smiled at her again, and she felt his fingers give her arm a quick caress before he pulled his hand away. “It’s all right. Look, I need to get to the track. Will you be out tomorrow?”
Tamas’s brows knit as he scowled at Joy then turned his angry gaze to Lucas. “Out? Out where? Where’s she going?”
Lucas refused to answer, and Joy figured it was none of Tamas’s business anyway. Glancing to Lucas, she said, “Don’t know yet. I won’t know ’til the inspiration hits me.”
After Lucas said his farewells and left Gypsy, Tamas immediately directed his anger back at Joy. “Who was that guy? What did he mean ‘be out tomorrow’?”
“It’s none of your business,” she repli
ed as she raised her chin in defiance and headed toward the stairs.
“Don’t leave when I’m talking to you,” Tamas demanded and stomped his foot again like a child having a tantrum. When Janos put himself between Tamas and a clear path to Joy, Tamas’s irritation seemed to deflate.
“She’s not your problem, your responsibility, or your fiancée. Leave her alone, Tamas.”
Grateful for the brotherly intervention, Joy disappeared into her upstairs apartment. Since the men had destroyed her painting with their machismo, they could damn well hang the rest of the pictures by themselves.
Chapter 7
Lucas did a quick double take to be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.
As he led his horse from the trailer toward the barns of the Indiana State Fairgrounds, he spotted Joy. Grabbing a big box from the back of an enormous brown cargo van with the name “Gypsy” scrawled across the side, she passed the carton off to her brother. She didn’t seem to notice Lucas as she gathered together things that were obviously going to be used to set up a food booth to make money from the huge crowds at the Indiana State Fair.
Lucas hadn’t seen her in almost two weeks, and he had tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, that she’d probably grown bored with the house. And perhaps with me.
He sure didn’t like that thought. Especially when she’d been all he could think about. Dreams of Joy had slowly begun to replace his nightmares of the war and of what happened to Brad. The notion that she’d lost interest made his heart tighten in dread.
Of course he’d never followed through on his own invitation for Joy to come to the track. Hell, he’d been as nervous as a high school kid thinking about asking a girl to the prom. Lucas wasn’t sure why he hesitated. Because he feared an attachment? Or because he feared she would deny him? He shook his head, not knowing the answer. Perhaps she’d just instinctively known he needed time.
There would have been a swirl of rumors that would follow in their wake had they enjoyed a date at the racetrack. Horsemen gossiped more than any group of people Lucas had ever known, and he knew his return from Iraq and his injuries were already topics of conjecture. He wasn’t about to add fuel to the gossip inferno by bringing Joy to their home turf. If he ever found the nerve to ask her out again, he’d chose a different location for their date.
After dropping the horse off in the paddock, he returned to his truck to retrieve equipment and hauled it inside. He quickly hung the heavy harness bag on the animal’s stall and went jogging out of the paddock in search of the Gypsy booth.
Not exactly sure what he would say to Joy if he found her, Lucas rehearsed a hundred different lines he could use. Then he realized that she wasn’t the type of woman who would like hearing some canned come-on. She was brutally honest and very open, and Lucas had not a single clue as to what he should do or what he should say.
Catching sight of her, he stopped short. She wasn’t working in the food booth. That task had obviously fallen to Janos and the other man Lucas had met at Gypsy. Drawing his brows together for a moment, he struggled to remember the man’s name, but it just wouldn’t pull itself from his memory. Lucas had taken an instant dislike to him the moment he’d dared to touch Joy back at the restaurant. The man looked like the type of guy who’d one day become an abusive spouse, and Lucas hated the fact the idiot was near Joy every day. What was his name?
Maybe his name is Shithead. Lucas smirked at the thought.
She was wearing her gypsy clothes again. While he missed the tight hug of blue jeans on her lithe body, he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was and how comfortable she appeared. The embroidered ivory peasant shirt hugged her throat, and her gauzy brown skirt billowed about her legs, brushing against her ankles. A fringed sash spanned her waist. Red this time. He smiled when he noticed that she had remembered to wear shoes, and he actually chuckled aloud when he wondered how long it would be before she lost them.
The tiny woman had him absolutely bewitched.
Lucas watched her sitting at a table next to the food booth, drawing sketches of people as they waited, the scene reminiscent of the time she’d drawn Chelsea. He cherished the memories of Joy’s smiling face, of her musical voice, of those delicate fingers furiously moving to capture the face of his niece. Sam had adored the picture. His gruff, no-nonsense sister-in-law had actually gotten teary-eyed over her birthday present.
Knowing that he should be getting back to his brother’s horse, Lucas couldn’t seem to force himself to move. It was simply too sweet to loiter in the distance and watch her focus on her work. The harder she concentrated, the more her tongue would dart out to lick her lips. For some odd reason, the action was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.
And there were those big, brown eyes again.
Lucas finally tore himself away, realizing just how much this little gypsy had inched her way into his heart. His strength to move was prompted by the fear that she wouldn’t want him if she knew everything about him, if she knew everything about his past. He left because he knew he should leave her alone.
Lucas just wasn’t sure he could stay away for very long.
* * * *
Joy finished the sketch of the young couple, a contented smile on her lips. They seemed happy and were so full of life, they had been easy to capture on paper. Their faces took shape so quickly she could hardly remember working on the drawing at all. Judging from the grins on their faces, they were pleased with her work. Signing the sketch with her typical unreadable script, she passed it to the girl. The boy handed her a twenty.
After she thanked them, Joy folded the money into her bag with the rest of the afternoon’s spoils. Almost two-hundred dollars. With a smug smile, she thought about how she wouldn’t always be a starving artist. Maybe after she went to art school, she could—
Stop dreaming, Jozsa.
“Janos,” she hollered toward the Gypsy booth. “I need a break. I’m going to go take a walk and stretch my legs.”
She could see the knowing smirk on his face as he leaned over the counter. “Just taking a walk, huh?” His amused chuckle floated toward her.
“Just a walk,” she lied as she put a small sign on the table announcing that she would be back after a break. “Not long.” Striding away, she didn’t give him a chance to throw another brotherly tease her way. He obviously knew where she was heading, and she sure didn’t need to endure any more of his jests.
This track was smaller than what she remembered from Dan Patch, and she wondered if that meant the horses raced shorter lengths or just went around the track more than once. There were no gamblers here, no people holding red and white tickets, anxiously awaiting the end of the race. Joy saw families. Families sitting in the bleachers, applauding the horses and drivers parading in front of them. Families working with the horses. A different type of racing, she realized.
Looking around for a program, Joy finally found a list of races and scanned the page in a search of a Mitchell entry. When she found it, the paper confirmed what she already knew. Lucas had been the man gaping at her in the distance. She’d sensed eyes focused on her, holding her hostage to a stare from too far away for her to know for sure if it was truly him. But she hadn’t been mistaken when she felt his presence. She had known in her heart it was Lucas.
Joy whirled around to the tap on her shoulder. The woman from the winner’s circle was standing there with an intent glint in her eyes. “Looking for Lucas?”
Seeing no reason to play foolish games, Joy nodded. “I thought I saw him, but he left before I knew for sure.” Joy extended her hand. “I’m Joy Kovacs. We didn’t get a chance to talk the other night. Thank you for letting me join you in the winner’s circle.”
Sam gave her hand a friendly shake. “Samantha Mitchell. Call me Sam. And you’re welcome.” Then she folded her arms over her breasts and seemed to consider Joy for a moment. “Lucas is in the paddock. Do you want me to go get him? I’d just take you to him, but you need a racing license
to go inside.”
Joy declined with a shake of her head. “No, thank you. I don’t want to bother him while he’s working.”
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you wait over by the fence? I’ll either send Lucas out, or if he’s warming up a horse, I’ll come back. Then you and I can have a nice, long chat.”
There was an unmistakable protective tone to Sam’s voice. The “chat” would probably be less sharing of idle talk and more of a fishing expedition as to Joy’s interest in Lucas. But Joy wasn’t about to lose out on the opportunity to find out some more information about him from someone who knew him well. Maybe Sam could help fill in the multitude of blanks about his life. She gave Samantha a sincere smile. “That would be nice.”
Walking away with quick, purposeful strides, Sam suddenly stopped and turned back to Joy. “Chelsea’s picture was beautiful. Did you really paint it?”
The question wasn’t an insult. Not many people understood how easily art came to Joy as they assumed the skill had to be difficult because they had never mastered it. She felt the same way when she watched the people at the track work with the horses. How could they know just what to do? How could they possibly understand all that equipment? No, the question wasn’t an insult. “Yes, I did. I’m pleased you liked it.”
Sam gave her a quick nod, grabbed one of the big carts, and pushed it into the building.
* * * *
Brian was jerking the harness out of the bag when Lucas returned. He looked up to frown at his brother.
Shouldn’t have spent so much time watching Joy, Lucas figured. But he simply hadn’t been able to force himself away. He opened his mouth to offer an explanation for being gone too long when Brian suddenly held up his hand to stop him.
“I take it you found her.”
“Her who?”
“Oh, come on, Lucas. I’m your big brother. I know you. Besides, Sam told me you’re infatuated with that artist you brought into the winner’s circle a couple of weeks ago. The one who painted Chelsea’s picture. Sam said you hoped you’d find her here.”
