Beauty Claimed

by Allyson Lindt

  He shut Tara’s video off and forced himself to focus on budget again. This trip had better pay off. Fortunately, Rinslet footed the flight bill, since he was here at their request. But if he stayed more than the length of the install, he’d need to cover room and board.

  If he couldn’t sell Antonio on a partnership, then what?

  Nick had been struggling for the last several weeks to come up with alternatives. New companies he could approach. New markets to step into.

  None of it had panned out, and his ideas were drying up.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE SUN WARMED TARA’S face. If she opened her eyes, it would hurt. Morning wouldn’t be kind to the hangover-disguised-as-a-marching-band that had moved into her skull.

  She pried one eye open, and a whisper of a smile flitted when she saw a glass of water and pills on the nightstand. Thank Christ for Nathan.

  She struggled to sit, then downed the pills. The water hit her stomach like a stone. The scent of bacon drifted into the room, mingling and souring with her churning insides.

  It was going to be a long day. Why did she drink that much?

  Right. Because her ex-husband was an asshat, and she hadn’t completely moved on from the fucked-up state he’d left her head in.

  She climbed out of bed. The cool air on her skin helped soothe the heat rushing underneath. Why was she in her bra and panties? She didn’t sleep like this. What happened last night?

  There was the list, and the backlash... The reminder made her head throb. There was a girl at the bar—Aria—who tasted like wine and kissed like a fallen angel.

  And there was way too much gin.

  Tara stumbled into the bathroom to wash her face and brush the sour taste from her mouth. She almost gagged on the flavor of the toothpaste. Then she pulled on a T-shirt, and made her way into the kitchen.

  Nathan sat at the table, empty plate and half-drunk mug of coffee in front of him, scrolling through his phone. He looked up with a warm smile. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Hey.” The nickname made her smile. But any affectionate term coming from him had that effect.

  “When you’re ready, I’ll make you something to eat. You name it.”

  She sank into the seat across from him. “Nothing yet. I’ll grab some toast once my stomach settles. Thank you for making sure I got home last night.” She didn’t remember any of it, but there was no question he was responsible. “Tell me I didn’t do anything I’ll regret once it comes back to me.”

  “Nah. You groped me in the back of the bar. Sucked me off, and told everyone I was hung like a stallion. Standard stuff.”

  The fantasy flitted through her thoughts, replacing discomfort with desire. That sounded like fun. “Did I?”

  An unreadable expression flickered across his face. “You didn’t. Do you remember any of the night?”

  “Not after the girl.”

  This time she was sure she saw a frown.

  “Okay,” he said.

  That was an odd response. “What did I miss?”

  Nathan shook his head. “You were upset about Marco. Blaming yourself.”

  “Ah.” She knew better than that. What happened hadn’t been her fault. But sometimes when her inhibitions slipped, it was hard to remember that. Marco was in the past, and who the fuck cared if he’d been fishing for tail on some exclusive cheaters’ website. Big fucking deal. He wasn’t Tara’s problem anymore, and neither was anyone who chose to believe him over her.

  “Are you up for reviewing submissions this morning?” Nathan’s voice was abruptly chipper.

  He was trying to help her forget the pit she’d sunk into. She was grateful for it. Wallowing would wait.

  “Sounds much better than running the shop.” Fortunately, she didn’t have any appointments until this afternoon.

  Nathan stood, kissed her on the cheek, and left his dishes in the sink. “Join me when you’re ready?”

  “Will do.”

  When she was showered and dressed, she grabbed herself some toast and coffee, and found him in the second bedroom, that they’d converted to an office.

  He held out her office chair for her.

  “Thank you, kind sir.” She settled next to him. “How are our candidates looking?”

  They’d be going through proposals from people who wanted a tattoo of what she drew yesterday.

  “Same as usual,” he said.

  Which meant about seventy-five percent didn’t meet their guidelines, and another twenty percent didn’t have that immeasurable pop they were looking for. Typically those videos consisted of someone staring at their keyboard, while their webcam recorded, and mumbling things like, “You should pick me because your work is cool.” More frustrating were the people who tried to skirt the Send a video of yourself rule, by providing a text-only clip.

  Nathan pulled up one vid after another. None stood out.

  “Hey, guys.” A chipper voice came from the speakers when he clicked Play. The woman on screen had her hair pulled back and was smiling at the camera. “I’m super excited to submit to you. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I finally summoned the courage.”

  Tara leaned in, her attention piqued. This was the kind of attitude they liked. Would the applicant have a compelling Why I want this tattoo story?

  “But after the news yesterday, I knew I had to do this now, or miss my chance,” the video played on.

  Tension coiled through Tara. The news?

  “Here’s the thing. Of course Marco was on that list, you fucking whore. Why would anyone want to be married to you? Or even get a tattoo from you, a hepatitis-ridden needle slut. I—”

  Nathan clicked stop.

  Tara’s nausea was back in an acrid surge up her throat. She swallowed, but couldn’t get rid of the taste. Going through the public disdain after her divorce was bad enough. She wasn’t interested in doing it a second time.

  NICK FOUND THE RESTAURANT without issue, thanks to Tara’s instructions. Two blocks west of your hotel, with the giant Ristorante Splendido sign was pretty simple to get right.

  He liked that so many places were within walking distance here. He didn’t know if he’d be here longer than a few days, and he’d rather see as much of the town as possible in person, rather than from the back of a cab.

  He wasn’t waiting long before a bright red Fiat pulled up to the valet station, and Antonio climbed out. A valet opened the passenger door, and cute redhead joined Antonio, hooking her hand around his arm.

  They approached Nick as someone took their car to park it.

  “Nick, this is Emily.” Antonio introduced the woman on his arm.

  Nick shook her hand. “I’m glad you were able to join us after all.”

  “I don’t understand.” Emily frowned.

  “I told him Tara and I lost our dates for the night,” Antonio said.

  Emily’s confusion melted into a light laugh. “Got it. He didn’t mean me.”

  Nick had that same feeling he was missing something.

  “My brother’s popular.” Tara’s playful comment came from behind. “He’s usually got his guy on one arm and his girl on the other.”

  Nick turned to face her. She wore a simple blue dress that flared from the hips and ended halfway down her calves. And she still had that I own the room sway to her hips.

  He shouldn’t stare, especially when the watching provoked vivid images of stripping her out of that dress. She was dating someone. Happily.

  “No comment?” Tara asked as she joined them.

  “You look incredible.”

  Pink flushed across her cheeks. “Thank you. But I meant about them, not me.”

  “The one person on each arm comment?” Nick gestured toward the door and they all made their way inside. “What kind of comment would I make?”

  “Usually people at least flinch.” Did she sound disappointed?

  They strode past several waiting couples, and Antonio gave the host his name. They were seated in a
quiet corner near the back of the dining room.

  “I got the flinching out of the way with my sister.” That was a polite way to put it. Nick had said several things he wished he could take back, but almost as many that he still meant.

  “You’ve already figured out not letting Tara knock you off your game is crucial. You’re going to fit in fine here,” Emily said. She didn’t have an accent. Or rather, Nick supposed hers was a lot like his.

  “I’m not that bad.” Tara’s protest was weak.

  Emily rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth tugging up. “The day we landed here—keep in mind the farthest I’d ever been from home was Baja California—she met us at the airport. Told Antonio if he didn’t make a move for me soon, she was snatching me up. That was my introduction to Milan.”

  Antonio squeezed her hand. “I’d like to think I left more of an impression than she did.”

  “Without question,” Emily said.

  “They make me sound pushy and obnoxious. I promise I’m not.” Tara sat straight in her seat, sipping her water, and looking very much like she belonged here.

  Did the two halves of her life ever clash? Nick had a hard time balancing business owner and functional member of society. He couldn’t imagine flipping a switch between tattoo artist and high-society heiress on a regular basis. “I know you’re not,” he said to Tara. “Confidence can be confused for other things, but it’s not the same as pushy.”

  Tara ducked her head. The hint of shyness was unexpected. “If you want his business, you have to flatter Antonio, not me.”

  “I’m being sincere. And holding off on talking work until we at least have wine in front of us.”

  As if summoned, the waiter appeared. They ordered a bottle of the house red, and he was gone again.

  “Where are you from?” Nick asked Emily.

  “San Jose. You’re from Salt Lake?”

  Nick couldn’t hide his surprise. “Yes.”

  “I did my homework,” Antonio said. “You didn’t expect otherwise, did you?”

  Nick shouldn’t have. He didn’t know why he planned for this to be a cold pitch. “Of course not.”

  “I still want to hear what you’re selling, though,” Antonio said. “Unless you’re literally waiting for the wine to be poured.”

  Nathan intended to delay the work chatter until after they finished eating. Sure, this was a business dinner, but he hoped to get to know Antonio first. Make a good impression before he got down to details.

  “He already knows what you’re selling,” Emily said. “He wants to hear how you spin it.”

  Antonio twisted his mouth, but he looked amused. “She’s always spilling my secrets.”

  “You’re measuring the bullshit factor. I can appreciate that.” Nick could adapt as needed. “I don’t do a lot of that—bullshitting. Over promising leaves a big tab to pick up, and I don’t like that expense.” The only thing he’d hold close in this negotiation was how desperate he was to sign a contract and to keep his cash flow in the black.

  “Easy to say. Harder to convince me of.” Antonio leaned back as the waiter arrived.

  The man filled their glasses before explaining what the chef had prepared for the evening. When there were no questions, he excused himself again.

  “What started as a scheduling app to match delivery drivers with people who wanted a quick sweets fix has become more. Our technology offers seamless international between client data and contracts, a robust customer data management repository, and certified digital security. It’s scalable, which makes the potential for expansion exponential.” Nick reeled off his elevator pitch quickly and flawlessly. He could recite the basics in his sleep.

  “That’s a lot of buzzwords.” Antonio didn’t look impressed.

  “Be nice.” Tara slapped him with her napkin.

  It was business. Nick didn’t expect nice. He hoped for honest and suspected he’d get that here. “I’m happy to answer any questions. You want details, I’ve got them. High-level? I have that too. Unless you want to discuss specifics of our API calls. Fiona’s better suited to that.”

  Antonio furrowed his brow and drummed his fingers on the table.

  Seconds ticked by. More of them than Nick was comfortable counting. He’d interrupt, ask if he could offer any more information, but speaking to fill an awkward silence was how people said too much.

  “Are you free the day after tomorrow?” Antonio asked.

  Nick would make the time. He’d be done with Tara’s install by then. “Yes.”

  “Great.” Antonio smiled. “I’ll get your number from Tara, and my assistant will call to schedule a time. We’ll talk details.”

  Yes. This was only the first step. Nick still had to wow Antonio with the actual proposal, but the ball was rolling now, and that helped Nick breathe easier. “I look forward to it.”

  Emily squeezed Antonio’s arm and looked at Nick. “Have you had a chance to see many sights here yet?”

  “No, but I’ve really enjoyed what I have seen.” Nick’s gaze drifted to Tara, before he realized what he was doing.

  Antonio chuckled.

  Nick was more interested in Tara’s soft smirk. Before he could summon a follow-up that wasn’t so blatant, the waiter interrupted with their wine, and a plate of meats, cheeses, and olives.

  “There’s a pastry shop just a few blocks from your hotel,” Tara said when their glasses were full and the waiter their orders. “If you like cream filling.” Did she just wink?

  Nick wasn’t sure how else to respond. This didn’t feel like a lost-in-translation kind of thing. But the innuendo was so bold...

  A glance around the table revealed three barely hidden grins. She knew exactly what she was saying.

  He didn’t know how much he could get away with in reply. He was torn between testing boundaries and not pissing off a potential business partner. So far, Antoni didn’t look upset, but a little light flirting was different than replying with something like I prefer to be the one doing the filling. “It all depends on my mood. The right amount of sugar can be the perfect way to start or end a day.”

  “Possibly as a quick pick-me-up mid-day?”

  “If that’s when the craving hits.”

  Tara hid her smile behind her wine glass, but her gaze lingered on Nick’s.

  He should watch himself around her, but she was a lot more enjoyable to look at.

  They all chatted as each course came and went. Dining here was so different from back home. Not that he minded. He put together enough pieces as the evening wore on to figure out Justin was Antonio’s missing date, and that both men were involved with Emily.

  Nick could almost hear Fiona saying, See? It’s not that unusual.

  They wound up dinner with another promise from Antonio to be in touch, and he and Emily were on their way.

  “Can I see you home?” Nick asked Tara.

  Her laugh was light and playful, dancing on a puff of visible breath in the chilly night air. “Such a gentleman. I’d love that.”

  “Does your boyfriend care that you’re flirting with me?” Nick was tired of dancing around this. He wanted to believe he was asking in order to curb the behavior. It was inappropriate and all that.

  There was a very loud voice in his head pointing out he was hoping, especially after everything he’d seen tonight, he had a chance with this incredible woman.

  She laughed and ducked her head. “You don’t waste words, do you?”

  “I figured I’ve already wasted a couple dozen on that conversation equating pastries to sex, and a several more in my head, deciding if I should ask you or not. I didn’t have the answer, so I’m asking you.”

  She hooked a hand in the crook of his arm and pressed closer. Her touch chased away the evening chill and flooded him with temptation. “Nathan doesn’t have any issues with it, and yes he sees what I'm doing.”

  “Oh.” That was less than smooth. Nick needed a better reply. “That’s cool.” Nope, that wasn't the
charming response he’d been reaching for.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone answer like that.”

  “I’m one of a kind.” Better. Not great, but better.

  Tara’s laugh was light and seductive. “I'm getting that impression. Tell me what you’re really thinking. You didn’t flinch at dinner with Antonio’s relationship, and you said your sister is seeing two guys. Are you... the same?”

  “Seeing two guys? No.” Nick didn’t know how to interpret the question, and he was certain he hadn’t gone into details about Fiona’s relationship.

  “Poly.”

  “As in, polyamorous?” Nick had heard the term in passing, but he didn’t know anything about it beyond a basic definition. Though, he supposed that was what Fiona thought she was doing. “I’m not even mono. I don’t remember the last time I was in a serious relationship.”

  “So you’re a one-night stand kind of guy.”

  Where Nick tried hard not to make assumptions, Tara didn’t seem to have an issue with it. He wasn’t sure if that bothered him more, or that she was getting so many of them right. “What makes you think I’m not a five-minutes-with-my-fist kind of guy?”

  “Lucky guess. Or guessing in the hopes of getting lucky...” Tara trailed off and slowed to a stop. Horror splashed across Tara’s face. “Oh, Christ.”

  That was an abrupt change in mood. Nick followed her gaze. A first clenched around his chest, and anger surged inside on her behalf.

  Whore was spray-painted across her front door in ugly red letters.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TARA STRUGGLED TO THINK past the shock and hurt. She needed to call the police. Cover up the graffiti until she could get someone out here to clean it. Make sure this was the only damage—

  “I’ll clean this up for you.” Nick’s voice shattered her thoughts.

  She stumbled mentally, and choked back the wave of emotion that tried to surface. She wouldn’t lose her cool. Not now. Not over this. “No. It’s okay.” It wasn’t. What was she saying?

  “It’s not okay. You’re upset, and this is crass and wrong.” Nick rested a hand on her arm.