by J. Kenner
19
Wyatt watched her walk away, a slow burn of loss and longing rising in his gut.
With a frown, he turned back to the window, disgusted with himself. But even that didn't help. She was right there in the reflection, her back to him, her hips swaying as she crossed the room.
Right there, walking away from him again.
Well, that seemed to be their story, didn't it? But right then, he damn sure wanted a different plot line.
Wanted, yeah. But that didn't mean she was good for him. She'd hurt him once. And considering how quickly she'd snuck under his skin, it was only too obvious that she could easily hurt him again.
He needed to be careful. Focused.
Right now, the only thing he needed to think about in all the world was his work.
Strictly business all the way.
The only problem was that the vision he had for his business centered around her.
And as her receding reflection reminded him, she'd very firmly said no.
As he watched, she joined Lyle and his agent, Evelyn Dodge. He couldn't see Kelsey's face, but if he knew Evelyn, she was fully interrogating Griffin's big sister.
Evelyn was one of the coolest women he'd ever met. Bold and brassy. She reminded him of a younger version of his grandmother, actually, and it hadn't surprised him at all when he learned that both Anika and Lorelei had worked with her on several projects.
"All right, I'll bite." The voice came from behind him, and he turned to face Cassidy Cunningham. "What are you grinning about?"
She stood next to Siobhan, a turquoise streak running through her long dark hair. She wore a sleeveless silk tank, and the color in her hair perfectly matched some of the plumes on the intricately detailed tattoo of a bird that covered her shoulder and trailed down her arm.
Beside her, Siobhan could have seemed plain by comparison, but the pretty Irish redhead had such a strong presence that it was easy to see that the two were well-matched.
"That," Wyatt confessed, pointing across the room. "If Kelsey didn't know much about Hollywood before, after ten minutes with Evelyn she'll be better versed than a staffer with TMZ."
"Who's Kelsey?" Siobhan asked.
"The sister to the voice of Arnold," Wyatt said. "Griffin Blaize."
"Oh, I met him earlier," Cass said. "Really nice guy. He heard I do ink and wanted to ask me what I thought about covering up some of his scars with tats. Said he was thinking of doing it next year as a birthday present to himself."
"Can you do that?" Wyatt asked.
"Probably. It depends on the scar. And if I can't, we can always work the scar into a larger design. One guy wanted this really intense scar on his leg left alone--it looked like exposed muscle--but wanted me to ink a zipper around it. I have to admit, it looked pretty cool when it was done."
Siobhan made a face. "If you like horror movies. Unzipping your skin? Not for me."
"Hey," Cass said. "It was a stellar job."
Wyatt only laughed, but silently he agreed with Siobhan.
"Well, hopefully he doesn't want zippers," Siobhan said. "But we've gotten totally off topic. Because what I want to know is why Wyatt's been staring at Griffin's sister."
"Oh, is she the one you found?" Cass leaned sideways, as if to get a better look. "She's definitely got an allure."
"Wait, wait, wait." Siobhan raised a hand. "I thought you didn't have the girl. Or you did, but you lost her."
Wyatt raked his fingers through his hair. He really didn't want to have this conversation, but it looked like he was having it anyway. He moved between the women, hooking his arms through theirs, and steered them to a far corner.
"She was all set," he admitted. "But then she--I guess you could say she got cold feet."
"Is she a model?" Cass asked.
"No."
"Well, maybe that's why. It's hard to put yourself on display like that."
Wyatt laughed. "Siobhan offered you up if I don't get someone else. And unless I've been seriously misinformed, you're not a model."
Cass waved her hand with a dismissive, "Oh, please. I don't need that shit. I put myself on display all the time."
"True," Wyatt said, then looked between the two of them. "Which is why it can't be you."
"But--" Siobhan began.
"It's nothing personal," he said to Cass. "You're just too, I don't know, strong."
"Strong?" Siobhan repeated. "Wyatt, we're down to the wire, here."
"I know, but Cass just isn't the model I need. Sorry," he added to the woman in question.
Cass shrugged. "No, I get it. Kelsey has a look. Sex mixed with sweetness. I'm not sweet."
"No, you're really not," Siobhan agreed.
Cass glared at her. "Love you, too, babe."
"But it's true," Wyatt said, his voice turning wistful as he imagined Kelsey in his bedroom. "Kelsey would be as likely to wear a fluffy flowered robe as a slinky red dress. And you can imagine her in a virginal white nightgown with the covers up to her neck as easily as an Agent Provocateur thong with her wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts."
Cass stepped around the two of them and stared blatantly in Kelsey's direction. "I see what you mean," she said, earning a smack from Siobhan.
Cass laughed and held her hands up in defense. "Just looking."
"That's what I want," Wyatt continued as he turned to look at Kelsey. "Her everywoman quality."
"So find another everywoman," Siobhan said. "Just do it fast."
"There isn't one," he mused, his gaze glued on Kelsey.
"Then it's not really every girl, is it?" Siobhan said.
Wyatt had been silently cursing the fact that his show had hit a wall. But when Siobhan's words got through the noise in his head, he slowly turned. "Wait. Say that again?"
"Uh, I don't know exactly what I said. I just mean that you don't really want every girl. You want that girl. You just want every woman to think they could be her."
"Siobhan, sweetheart, you're a genius." He pulled her close and kissed her hard on the mouth while Cass broke into delighted laughter, followed soon by Siobhan once she got over the shock.
"I hope that means you have a plan," she quipped.
"I do indeed," he said, then started across the room.
"Wait," Siobhan called. "There's one thing I need to tell you. Jensen reached out again."
"No advance images," Wyatt said. "We've covered that."
"Yeah, well, this time he went through my intern. Told her he'd really like to focus on the show. I guess he's intrigued."
"Good for him. The feeling isn't mutual." At the same time, Wyatt wasn't stupid. And he knew that both the Examiner and Jensen had a reputation for both making--and destroying--careers.
He sighed. "Go on."
"He's looking for an exclusive advance peek. In exchange, he's offering a guaranteed series of articles on you and the exhibit."
No way No fucking way. "In other words, he's poked into my family life and wants to get closer than he can just by trolling public records."
"The upside is publicity," Siobhan said. "And my boss thinks he's making a solid offer. I think--"
But she didn't get the words out, because Wyatt threw up his hand with a very firm, "No. It's not solid, it's bullshit. He's interested in my family, not my art. Give him a sneak peek and we get all those perks? More like we give him an early look and that gives him time to aim the knives. Start to criticize. Leak bogus statements that the work is flawed. Unoriginal. That it's all just hype, and the grandson of a Hollywood legend is a no-talent hack who changed his damn name because he doesn't deserve it."
"Or they could rave," Siobhan said flatly.
"The answer is no."
"Good," she said, then shrugged when Wyatt looked at her with genuine surprise. "I told Keisha and Jensen I'd present the offer. I didn't say I agreed with it."
Wyatt actually laughed. "There's a reason we're friends," he said. "And now I need to go see about another woman." He gave them ea
ch a quick hug, then started across the room for a second time.
Only this time, Kelsey wasn't there.
"I think she and Griffin went home," Evelyn said. "Too bad, too. I like that girl, and I hate to drink alone. Join me?" she asked, holding up an empty glass.
"What the hell," he agreed. "Let's go see where we can fill that for you and find a fresh one for me. And while we're chatting, maybe you can write down Griff's phone number for me."
When she did, he offered to trade a favor for a favor, but just the suggestion insulted her. "I play a lot of Hollywood games, but I don't trade like that. Not with friends. What do you need with my client? You planning his photo shoot?"
"His sister's," Wyatt admitted.
"Ah. Looks like I'm getting a tiny peek into the Wyatt Royce secret sanctuary. I know about Cass, of course. But I don't think you've formally announced any of the models, have you?"
"And I won't be announcing Kelsey, either. I really do want it kept secret, Evelyn."
"I know, and I will. Trust me, I've been working in this town for decades." She tapped her head. "There's a lifetime of secrets locked up here. I can hold on to one more."
"Hey," Griffin said the next morning when Wyatt called from his studio. "If you're looking for my sister, she's not here."
"I am, actually. I know she's teaching a dance class today, but I don't know where. I was hoping you could help me out with an address." He was pacing the studio, ignoring the curious looks from JP, who was seated at a worktable across the room. Beside him sat Mike, the contractor who was overseeing the creation of the stand-alone hall and stage that Kelsey would ultimately dance on.
Assuming Wyatt could find her and convince her.
"Griffin?" he pressed, when the man at the other end of the line stayed silent.
"Listen, it's none of my business, but--actually, you know what? It is my business."
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't know all the details of what happened between you two in Santa Barbara, but what I do know is that it took forever for her to get over it. Hell, I'm not even sure she did get over it, because it's all twisted up in her head with what happened to--shit. Fuck. Never mind. All I'm saying is that if you hurt my sister, I'll hunt you down and kill you. Okay?"
Wyatt frowned, trying to parse out the undercurrent of what Griff was saying. But he definitely caught the major theme. "I'm not going to hurt her. I'm trying to hire her. Well, I'm trying to hire her again."
"Hire--wait. You're the job? The one she got and then lost?"
"I've got a show coming up. I want her to model for me."
"It's not a dance thing?"
"No, not really."
"Huh."
Wyatt could picture the other man's confusion, but he wasn't about to explain that he wanted his sister to pose for erotic photos.
"I thought you fired her," Griffin finally said.
"Did she tell you that?"
"Actually, no." Griff paused, and Wyatt could hear him take a sip of something, probably water. "She said she lost it. You wanna tell me what happened?"
"No," Wyatt said. "I just want to know where she is."
The silence on the line lingered so long that Wyatt started to fear Griffin had hung up.
When he finally did speak, his melodic voice was low, even menacing. "All right," he said. "But remember what I said. You hurt her, and you and I are going to have a problem."
"Fair enough," Wyatt said, and scribbled down the name and address of a dance studio in Valencia. Then he stood up, grabbed his keys off his desk, and headed for the door.
"Hey, hang on," JP called, trotting across the room toward Wyatt. "You're out of here?"
"I have an errand." He nodded toward Mike. "How's it going?"
"He knows his stuff. He has an idea for the hallway that should keep it secure but also easy to transport. Because when this show's a hit, you'll be traveling all over the country, right?" His grin was wide, and Wyatt laughed.
"That's the plan. And that sounds good. I do need you to make one change to the stage, though. Tell Mike we need a pole."
"A pole," JP repeated. "Can do. But you do remember that we have a stage but no girl, right?"
"I know," Wyatt said, his voice hard and determined as he met his assistant's eyes. "But there will be."
According to Griffin, Kelsey taught a ten o'clock class with toddlers, then had a thirty-minute break before she taught Zumba. Since he'd arrived at ten-forty, he fully intended to use her break to convince her.
He'd found the place easily enough. Dance Heaven, located in the corner space of a strip shopping center. All of the windows were tinted, but it was the cheap kind and had peeled off around the edges. He stood at the end of the sidewalk and peered in through the crack.
The studio was nothing more than one giant room with two doors in the back, one that said office and the other restroom. Mirrors covered all the walls, and on the wall opposite to him, a barre had been permanently attached as well.
Now, a group of little girls stood at the barre, doing some sort of up and down ballet move. They held on with one hand, while the other rose and fell with the bending of their knees.
As far as he could tell, none of the kids were in sync with the others, but Kelsey didn't seem frustrated at all. She walked the line, adjusting one girl's arm, another's leg. Then she walked to the front of the line, put one hand on the barre, and demonstrated how the move should look.
He was in awe.
It was just a boring bend of the knees as far as he could tell. But she had such grace and beauty that the simple act of watching her filled him up.
He could have stayed there forever, but she glanced at the clock, stepped away from the barre, and clapped her hands. Soon the little girls were scurrying to gather their things, then running to get a big hug from Kelsey before racing outside where, Wyatt now saw, a cadre of mothers were waiting in cars for their emerging kids.
He waited a moment to make sure all the girls were out, and was about to go in to talk, when he took one more quick glance through the crack in the window tinting. And then he froze. He just absolutely froze.
She must have turned on some music, because she was moving across the floor in obvious time to something. Or maybe the music was in her head. He didn't know. All he knew was that she moved like liquid magic, as if the world was a perfect place, and always would be if only she could dance.
It was beautiful. Hell, it was transcendent.
And if he'd had the chance, he would have watched her forever.
Unfortunately, forever was cut short when a group of women in workout clothes crossed the parking lot en masse, chattering about cardio rates and calories and low-carb lunches.
Wyatt checked his watch, cursed, and realized he'd spent Kelsey's entire break entranced by her. Damn.
One of the women glanced his way with a frown, then nudged the woman next to her. Soon, they were all staring at him, and not in a friendly way. "Go," one of them whispered to another. "Just go on inside."
What the hell was that about?
He knew the answer quickly enough, because a moment later, Kelsey stepped outside, her brow furrowed as she looked up and down the sidewalk. But when she saw him, her expression cleared, and she laughed. "It's you," she said.
"It's me. Why is that funny?"
"The ladies in my Zumba class thought you were a Peeping Tom. Or possibly a deadbeat dad out to kidnap one of my students and whisk her off to the South Pole or something." She nodded toward the windows. "Lots of drama in there right now."
"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm drama free."
"I doubt that."
"Well, I'll make an effort, anyway."
She nodded, and they stood awkwardly until she finally cleared her throat. "So, I need to go teach . . ."
"Right. Sorry. I just needed to see you. Can we talk?"
"How'd you find me?"
"Your brother."
"Mmmm." She drew a breath. "Listen
, I don't think this is a good idea."
"Why not? I just want to talk. Really."
She glanced down at the sidewalk. "You're bad for me, Wyatt Segel," she told the ground. "You make me lose my self control."
"Is that so horrible?"
She lifted her eyes to meet his. "Have you met my brother?" He cocked his head, trying to follow her train of thought. "I don't know exactly what happened to him, but I'm certain it wasn't my fault."
"Maybe not. But it was mine."
"Kelsey--"
"I have to go. Time for warm-up is over." She started to walk away.
"Wait!" He heard the desperation in his voice, and hated himself for it. But for fuck's sake, he was desperate, and now really wasn't the time for cool, distant pride. "There," he said, pointing to Java B's, a coffee shop on the far side of the parking lot. "Please. After your class. I'll be waiting."
She didn't answer.
"Please," he repeated. "Please, Kelsey. Don't walk out on me this time."
20
Wyatt finished two black coffees and a blueberry muffin as he waited for her. Although technically he didn't finish the muffin. He destroyed it by picking it apart as he thought about what he was going to say, about how he was going to convince her.
He had a plan, sure. One he'd been thinking about since the party last night. Revising and refining it in his mind.
It would work. Hell, it was practically perfect.
All he needed was Kelsey.
He froze, a third cup of coffee almost to his lips.
It.
All it needed. The plan. Not him.
This was about his show, not about him and Kelsey. There was no him and Kelsey, and there hadn't been for a long time. And even if he was inclined to start something up again, now wasn't the time to do it. Not when everything rested on her participation in the show. Not when a personal quarrel could unravel everything.
Not when he didn't even know if she still wanted him.
Fuck.
His mind was running in circles. One hour sitting there staring out the window and his head was in the goddamn clouds.
He swept a mound of muffin debris into his palm, then walked to the trashcan by the door to toss it. As he did, he saw the door to the studio open, and he felt an unexpected chill of nerves, as potent as the first time he'd met with his advisor in Boston to show off the photos for his senior project.
And why not? Back then, his future had been riding on that project and his advisor's reaction. Now, his professional life was riding on this show and Kelsey's participation.
