The Life She Wants

Tim nodded in agreement, then cocked his head to the side. “That outfit you let her wear tonight isn’t helping her reputation any, you know. That hot mess will be all over the internet by midnight.”

His grip tightened on the glass he was holding. “Don’t remind me. I made her change twice, and each outfit was worse than the last. She was hoping I’d cave and let her stay up in her room, but I called her bluff.” No one outsmarts Shane Brannigan, especially some kid. Tori had looked horrified when he’d accepted the glow-in-the-dark dress. She’d tried to backpedal, but he hadn’t given her a chance to change. That would teach her a lesson for trying to play games with the king of gamesmanship. He’d regretted it as soon as they’d walked into the ballroom. He’d felt her stiffen at his side, but it had been too late.

Tim nudged him and suggested they spend some time with Tori’s sponsors, so they headed back the table. He did his best not to overreact when he didn’t see Tori there. Damn it, if that kid sneaked out and went back up to her room... He glanced out to the veranda and realized with a jolt that a better man would be concerned about her safety first. What if she’d followed some creepster out to the now-dark lakeshore? What if someone had followed her up to her room because she was alone? How long had he and Tim been at the bar? Who’s watching out for this girl? He was starting to feel a sincere sense of panic when Tim made an odd strangled sound. Shane followed his gaze and nearly choked on his whiskey.

Melanie Lowery and Tori Sutter walked into the ballroom, and heads everywhere were turning. Tori’s crazy getup had been transformed, and so had she. Her tangled hair had been slicked back and up into a tight twist on top of her head, secured with what looked like chopsticks. Her makeup had been toned down, and her lips were soft peach instead of the nearly black shade she’d been wearing earlier. She still had that crazy orange dress on. At least, he thought it was the same dress. The top was visible under a short white jacket, but the bottom was covered with some kind of colorful fabric wrapped and knotted at Tori’s hip. It allowed a peek of the short dress beneath where it was tied, but just a peek, as the rest of it fell to sweep the floor. The sneakers were gone, replaced by orange stilettos. The kid suddenly looked like the young woman she kept insisting she was.

Mrs. Covington jumped up and hugged Tori, who was relaxed and smiling. She twirled to show off the outfit. Even cranky old Mrs. Winthrop seemed to approve. Melanie, sipping from the drink in her hand, nodded at something Mrs. Covington said, then raised her head. Her gaze slammed into his before she headed his way.

Her hair had been hidden under a towel earlier, but now he could see it was dark and, although it was knotted together at the back of her head, there were enough strands falling free that he could see it was long and wavy. In those crazy shoes, she was as tall as he was.

Her dress swirled like liquid mercury around her ankles, and it looked as if polished steel had been poured over her body, hugging every long line of her. It was a dress a kick-ass female superhero would wear. He half expected her to whip out a jeweled sword and strike a battle pose. Instead, she just stopped and looked at him, violet eyes assessing. A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth, painted to match her eyes, and his breath hitched. So that was her superpower—a smile that could paralyze a man.

Her hand rested on her waist in a challenge, but she was smart enough not to be the first one to speak. In negotiation, everyone knew the first one who talked was the loser. Shane was impressed. He was also not about to say anything.

It was Tim who finally broke the silence.

“I apologize for my friend. I think that dress may have caused him to have a stroke.” Tim winked at her as he took her hand. “I’m Tim Monroe, and you are a sorceress based on the transformation of Miss Sutter over there.”

She laughed, and Shane discovered superpower number two. Her laugh was deep and husky. It was a whiskey laugh, and it warmed his skin the same way whiskey warmed his throat.

Tim was still holding her hand. “You know, when Shane told me he met a woman named Melanie, it never occurred to me that it could be Mellie Low. It’s great to meet you.”

Shane frowned. Tori had recognized her upstairs earlier. Was she famous or something? She gave the briefest of glances down toward Tim’s artificial leg.

“I go by Melanie Lowery now, and my friends call me Mel. Did you serve?”

“Two and a half tours in Afghanistan, ma’am. Mostly in the western mountains. Army Rangers. Our chopper went down in a storm.” Tim wasn’t usually chatty about his service time. He’d almost died on some godforsaken Afghan mountain five years ago, and even with good financial resources and the support of family and friends, he’d had a tough time of it when he’d first come home.

But Tim wasn’t done sharing. “I’ll tell you something, Miss Low...Miss Lowery. The winters were long and cold over there, and more than one guy had that cover shot of you in nothing but paint taped up next to his bunk to keep him warm.”

Her laugh now seemed more self-deprecating than pleased. That made sense, since Tim was basically implying soldiers did impure things to themselves in front of her likeness. Not Tim, of course. Tim would have been keeping himself warm to a clandestine picture of Matt Bomer. But it finally clicked where he’d seen Melanie before. She’d been on the cover of that bathing suit issue a few years back in a painted-on bikini. Literally painted on, without a stitch of actual fabric. He hadn’t known her name at the time, but the photo was unforgettable. It had been locker-room talk for weeks. He cleared his throat, anxious to take back control of the conversation.

“I appreciate what you did to help Tori with her dress, Melanie, but I was trying to have a teaching moment with her. Tori needs to show a little more maturity.” Christ, he sounded pompous to his own ears, so he could only imagine how it sounded to everyone else.

“So you thought it was a good idea to ‘teach’ a teenage girl by humiliating her in a room full of people and cameras? Brilliant move, Socrates.”

“Yeah, brilliant move, Socrates.” Tim rolled his eyes at him before turning back to Melanie. “You’ll have to forgive him, Melanie, he tends to say really stupid shit in front of pretty women.” Shane started to object but stopped when Tim’s foot—the titanium foot—came down on his toes. Tim pressed on, “He was basically left at the altar by one of you not long ago, so...”

Melanie’s eyes went wide.

A low growl came from Shane’s throat. Karina had split when Shane “stopped being fun.” Funny how the death of a man’s father could do that.

“How convenient to blame all women for the actions of your runaway bride rather than looking in the mirror.” Her smile was deadly now.

The truth of her words, and the fact that she’d had the guts to say them right to his face, left him silent, torn between rage and admiration. Maybe Melanie was more than a pretty face, after all. Maybe she was a damned flamethrower dressed in steel. Tori joined them before he could come up with a reply.

“Shane, isn’t this awesome?” She waved her hand down toward her clothing. “Mel did this in, like, ten minutes! It was like having a fairy godmother or something. And she said she’ll help me find makeup for tournaments that won’t melt away in the sun. She lives here in Gallant Lake, right above that coffee shop you love, and I’m going to do yoga with her tomorrow morning. She says it’ll be good for my focus.”

Shane pressed his lips together and shot a suspicious glance at Melanie. Just because she was famous didn’t mean her interest in Tori was healthy. And his experience with models wasn’t exactly stellar—they loved to latch onto rich athletes. Too many young bucks were happy to hand over their dough just to have a gorgeous woman as arm candy. Was Melanie doing some twisted kind of attention-seeking by attaching herself to Tori? Maybe he’d made one deal too many, but in his world people expected payback for their so-called favors. He just had to figure out what her angle was.

“Tori, I’m sure Melanie has other things to do than be your BFF.”

There was a hush, and he knew he’d gone from sounding pompous to sounding like a grumpy old man. Both were unwelcome reminders of his father. Tori looked crestfallen, and Melanie and Tim were glaring at him, so he quickly reversed course. “But we can try to work something out. You look really nice. I...uh...like your hair.” Tori beamed, then bounced off to sign some autographs and pose for selfies with some fans at a nearby table.

He aimed his best smile at Melanie, and knew in a heartbeat she saw right through it. Interesting.

“Thank you for helping our girl. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you after tonight. She has a full schedule.”

Melanie stiffened. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, and I’m expecting her to show up. You’re pushing her too hard. She needs a break.”

There might be some truth in that. Tori could burn out if they weren’t careful. There was just one problem—Shane didn’t take well to lectures. He’d been listening to lectures from his father all his life. He sure as hell wasn’t going to listen to one from some fashion model.

“Let me guess—you think posing naked on the cover of a sports magazine makes you a sports expert, right? Why don’t you just leave Tori’s career to people who know...”

Helen Winthrop walked up, forcing him to shut his mouth in a hurry. That may have been a good thing, since Tim was making a slicing motion across his neck and Melanie had been puffing up in indignation with every word.

“Shane!” Mrs. Winthrop grabbed his hand, her husband, Mark, a step behind her and silent. Mark might run the company, but it was pretty clear who ran Mark. They were paying Tori big money to be the fresh young face of their golf-clothing line. “I was absolutely shocked when Tori came into dinner earlier looking like she did...”

Shane lost track of the woman’s complaints when Melanie stepped away to greet a mountain of a guy who’d just walked up. The dark-skinned man had his hair pulled back into a man bun. Dressed in a trim dark suit, he handed Mel a fresh drink and spoke softly in her ear, earning an affectionate smile from her that made Shane’s chest go tight. She held up five fingers, making the other guy shake his head, but she patted him on the arm. Was she telling him how many drinks she’d had? The man gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before walking away. Mrs. Winthrop’s voice droned its way back into his brain.

“...and, honestly, after some of Tori’s very public misbehavior lately, Mark and I were wondering if we’d made a mistake. But it was brilliant to bring in someone like Mellie Low to mentor Tori, and what a way to demonstrate it! She worked a miracle, and just look at Tori now!”

They turned to watch Tori laughing with a woman and her young daughter, who was clearly a fan. Tori looked like an average kid having fun. He felt a jab of guilt. She was just a kid, and he suspected Gary wasn’t providing a lot of fun in her schedule. He’d been treating her like a thirty-year-old pro. Maybe Shane had been, too. Who’s watching out for this girl? Damn it to hell. It wasn’t like him to make that kind of mistake.

“I can’t thank you enough for hiring Mellie to show us what Tori can be with a little guidance. Very smart move, Shane. And she should be a fabulous influence on Tori’s style.”

Wait. What? Tim was coughing behind him, and he could have sworn he heard laughter in that cough. Shane finally caught up with the conversation. The Covingtons thought he’d hired Melanie to work with Tori? He watched Melanie walk over to join Tori’s growing audience. She tossed her head back and laughed at something Tori said, and Tori reached out to hold her hand. Here he was working on ways to get the woman away from Tori, and his biggest sponsor wanted him to pay her to give freakin’ beauty tips to his client.

“Um, that’s not exactly what I had in mind, Mrs. Winthrop. I’d rather Tori work on her rehab and golf swing.”

“Did you know Mellie Low had over half a million followers on Instagram before she dropped out of the public eye? She knows how to use social media to build a brand, and if she can help Tori learn some self-control, it will be good for all of us, don’t you think?”

Shane had a feeling the last thing Melanie Lowery was going to be was good for all of them.

Especially him.

CHAPTER THREE (#uaabea830-f75d-5745-b7f4-ecfd8cbdee1a)

THE RINGING ALARM made Melanie wince and groan at the same time. She’d be fine once she got to her feet, but the moments between alarm and arising were never easy. All those years in modeling had totally screwed up her sleeping patterns, and it wasn’t at all unusual for her to end up wide-awake in the middle of the night. But her chronic insomnia hadn’t been the problem last night.

No, last night she’d slept. And dreamed. Of ginger and blue. Of a rough voice pushing her and challenging her. In some dreams, Big Ginger had been an adversary, but in some... She stretched and sighed. In some he’d touched her with gentle hands. Held her with strong arms. Kissed her...

Mel sat up abruptly, her pulse racing. Enough of that nonsense! No more men for a while, remember? If she was home in Miami, she’d work off some of this agitation at the gym. Maybe take a kickboxing class or a spinning session. She tossed off the sheet and sat on the edge of the bed. Miami wasn’t home anymore. After her accountant had squandered most of her earnings, the beachfront condo had been all she’d had left. At twenty-nine, she’d made and lost a fortune. The condo was a stark reminder of the places and people that weren’t healthy for her anymore. So she’d sold it and invested in Luis’s new fashion line.

She stood and stretched, looking across her cousin’s loft and out to Gallant Lake, silver-blue in the soft morning light. Wisps of fog clung to the tops of the mountains. She’d moved into Nora’s vacant apartment a month ago. It was supposed to be temporary, of course, until she could find a place in the city, closer to Luis’s studio in the fashion district. Gallant Lake was as close to her former stomping grounds as she could handle for now.

Someone rapped on the door downstairs, and it opened, meaning it could only be one person—her landlord. Nora’s voice carried easily through the loft apartment. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! I bring coffee!”