The Life She Wants

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

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!”

Her one remaining vice was caffeine, but she’d forgiven herself for that one long ago. That was a good thing, since she now lived directly above Nora’s coffee shop, the Gallant Brew. She grabbed a pair of yoga pants, calling over the railing to the room below, “I love you for the coffee. And hate you for the hour.”

“Hey, yoga girl, it was your idea to teach me this stuff. What’s got you in a twist this morning?”

Her cousins were all as close as sisters, but no way was she sharing that she’d dreamed of Shane Brannigan last night. She’d never hear the end of it, and they’d all be playing matchmaker for the only unattached cousin left. Besides, Big Ginger was all wrong for her. She hadn’t missed the glass of whiskey in his hand, or his need to be in charge. Two major triggers for her, and she wasn’t going down that road. Not again.

She’d barely taken a sip of the double espresso Nora had delivered when there was a light knock on her door. Nora shrugged when their eyes met. “Asher’s on his way to Albany to meet with a client, so it’s not him. Maybe Becky decided to join us, but I thought she was going to church with the baby and meeting us at the resort later.”

It wasn’t Nora’s daughter who was waiting when Melanie opened the door. Instead, she found Tori Sutter smiling brightly. And standing right next to her was Shane Brannigan, who was not smiling. Mel did a quick mental inventory of her appearance—had she even brushed her hair before coming downstairs? Oh, Lord, she was barefoot, wearing leggings and had on a cropped top that barely covered her sports bra. And no makeup. This was not her usual meet-a-handsome-if-annoying-man look. She felt her face warming, but Tori didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m not too late, am I? You said around seven for yoga, right?” Tori brushed by Mel, who was still staring at Shane. And he was staring right back. The corner of his mouth rose in a crooked smile.

“You seem surprised to see us, Miss Lowery. You were so adamant last night that Tori honor your invitation. Are you having regrets now that the liquor has burned off?”

She hissed in a sharp breath. He thought she’d been drunk last night? Well, if he did, it was her own fault. That’s why she drank tonic water with lime at parties. No one ever questioned whether it contained alcohol or not, avoiding awkward explanations, pitying looks or the inevitable person who insisted that “just one drink won’t hurt.” Apparently her ruse worked, because Shane assumed she’d been pounding back vodka all night. She decided not to set him straight, since it was none of his business.

“I’m not at all surprised to see Tori. But I am surprised to see you, since I don’t recall extending you an invitation. Are you interested in yoga, Mr. Brannigan?”

He shook his head, looking bemused. “Yesterday you ripped into me for not caring enough about my client’s well-being, and now you’re surprised I want to see where she’s going for yoga lessons?” He stepped inside and looked around. She had to concede he made a good point. But before she could say so, he opened his mouth and spoiled it. “I mean, all I know about you is you pose for pictures and like to eavesdrop on conversations.”

“I don’t ‘pose for pictures’ anymore. And any time I hear a young girl being pushed around by someone, I’m going to do something about it.” His blue eyes went icy, but before he could reply, Tori cut him off.

“He’s just grumpy because Mrs. Winthrop thinks he hired you to help me, and he can’t figure out how to deal.”

Shane glared at Tori, then closed his eyes tightly and sighed.

“You have a big mouth, kid. Do your thing with Melanie and come downstairs when you’re done. You’ve got thirty minutes.” He turned to leave, but Mel stopped him with a hand on his arm. His very solid, well-muscled arm that tensed when her fingers touched it. She felt a surprising little zing of attraction zip down her spine but did her best to ignore it. She was in the midst of a very long dry spell, so her physical reactions simply couldn’t be trusted.

“Explain that comment about Mrs. Winthrop.”

Tori jumped in again. “She thought Shane staged my makeover last night.”

“Really? How wonderfully sexist of her to give him the credit.”

His eyes lit up with amusement as Tori giggled behind her.

“I know, right? She thinks you’ve been hired to improve my image.”

Mel looked at her, ignoring Nora’s delighted expression behind her. Her cousin was going to be giving her the third degree later, no doubt.

“And why exactly does your image need improving?”

Tori’s bravado faltered, then recovered everywhere but her eyes. “Haven’t you heard? I’m golf’s ‘wild child,’ whatever that means. Shane’s worried about my sponsors.”

He stared at Melanie’s hand on his forearm as he spoke. “Shane’s worried about your career. That’s my job.” Mel pulled her hand back, and he frowned. “Go do your yoga thing. I need coffee. Scratch that—I need a triple shot of espresso.”

After he left, Mel taught Nora and Tori a few basic stress-reducing poses, learning through trial and error which ones Tori could do without causing pain in her bruised ribs. The girl talked about dealing with her new life after winning her first women’s tournament last year at fifteen, then defeating several male pros at an invitational “skins” game in Las Vegas. One of those men happened to be one of the top five PGA players worldwide, and the entire sports world had turned their attention to the phenom from Cleveland.

Melanie helped Tori with the extended triangle pose, thinking how similar their stories were. She’d been thrust into the limelight at sixteen after being “discovered” on a Florida beach. The agency rep had told her everything she’d wanted to hear: she was beautiful; she could be famous; she could make a lot of money; she could live a life of glamour and travel to exotic places. And sure enough, she’d found fame. But like Tori, she’d discovered it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. A teenager without a good support system could so easily be led astray.

“This apartment is sick.” Tori looked from the bright black-and-white kitchen to the living room with two-story windows looking out over Main Street and the lake. The furniture belonged to Nora, who’d left the apartment to live with Asher in the mountain home he’d built.

Mel shrugged. “It’s very bricky.”

“Hey—I love that brick!” Nora laughed, falling over in the middle of a boat pose. The century-old building’s original brick walls were exposed on both sides of the apartment. It was cozy, but it was nothing like Mel’s sleek glass-and-chrome condo in Miami.

Tori sat on the carpet next to Nora, and Mel joined them.

“It’s like a city loft in the middle of this cute little village,” Tori said, looking up at the exposed beams.

“You like Gallant Lake?”

Tori nodded at Mel’s question. “It’s okay. There’s no press hounding me here.”

“How’d you hurt your ribs?”

Tori went quiet, staring out the windows for a beat before speaking. “Nothing dramatic. I tripped and fell on some stairs.”

Mel and Nora looked at each other. Had Tori injured herself on purpose to avoid competing? She’d seen it happen with models who would intentionally gain weight or change their hair just to avoid a certain fashion shoot or catwalk. Or had something more sinister happened? God, she’d turned into such a cynic.

“How long has Shane been your agent?” As an agent, he was only in this to line his own pockets. He needed Tori healthy, but that didn’t mean he was watching out for her the way he should be.

“Shane? Only a few weeks. It was right before the accident. My first agent was a lawyer friend of my parents. She was nice but kinda clueless. Shane said the sponsors I have came to me in spite of her, and he said that’s not the way it’s supposed to work.”

“Do you like him?”

Nora gave her a curious look. Tori thought for a moment before answering.

“I guess. But he’s always traveling, so I don’t see him much.”

Mellie, I can’t be here every freaking minute to hold your hand. Grow up, do what people tell you to do and stop asking about when you’ll get home. You’ll get there when you get there, okay?

“That didn’t really answer my question, Tori. Do you like him? And Gary? Do you miss your family? Do they ever visit? When were you home last?” Tori frowned at the burst of personal questions, and Nora jumped in.

“Don’t mind her, honey. She doesn’t function real well in the morning. I think what she meant to ask was, are you okay?”

Nora gave Mel a hard look. Using the code question wasn’t exactly subtle. That was how Luis and her cousins gauged Mel’s stress level—their subtle way of asking if she was at a two or an eight. And, yes, even at this hour, her number was in the danger range. Between sexy dreams, arrogant men and a girl in trouble, she was spending too much energy fighting off the past. She took a deep breath and nodded to her cousin. She could step back. She had to.

Tori looked confused and gave another shrug. That seemed to be the kid’s go-to move when she wasn’t sure of herself.

“Am I okay? Sure, I guess.” She picked at a cuticle on her thumb. “I miss my family.”

“They don’t visit?”

Another shrug.

“When they can. They’re in Cleveland. They try to come every other weekend, but it doesn’t always work.”

“Why do your rehab so far from home?”

“It was Shane’s idea. He says my friends are a bad influence on my career.”

Mellie, forget your stupid prom, okay? You’re going to be partying in Morocco while those losers listen to canned music in a smelly gymnasium. Seriously, where would you rather be?

Why were Shane and Gary intentionally isolating this girl?

“Hey, Nora, would you mind showing Tori some cool-down stretches for a few minutes? And maybe get her a glass of juice? I have to run downstairs.” She stood and turned for the door before remembering her fresh-out-of-bed appearance. She was too angry to waste time going upstairs to change. What she was about to do didn’t require anything more than the ability to deliver some very pointed words. She grabbed a loosely woven blue sweater that was draped over a chair. It fell to her thighs. She often wore it at night when she was watching television, because it was so big she could curl her legs up underneath it.

Her bed-head hair was hopeless, so she stuffed it under a Gallant Lake ball cap she kept on hand for late-night walks. Luckily she always kept lipstick by the front door, so she glammed up her look with a splash of matte pink. She flashed the girls a quick smile and was out the door before Nora could ask any of the questions clearly burning her lips.

Shane was alone at a table, which was good. His table was all the way to the front of the busy coffee shop, which was not good. She was going to have to march across the shop looking like a Gallant Lake vagrant. His head came up the minute she stepped out of the back hall and into the café. Hoo-boy, she’d forgotten how intense those blue eyes were. Something warmed deep in her belly, and she almost stumbled when she recognized it as desire. She was not supposed to be feeling desire for anyone, damn it. She narrowed her eyes, but that just made him smile.

By the time she got to his table, she was fuming and he was fighting laughter.

“That’s quite a look. Are you entering the witness protection program? Do you need a ride to the bus station?”

“I might need protection with you...” As soon as the words were out, she knew they were a mistake.

“I think it’s a little early in our relationship to be discussing protection, don’t you?”

“Ha ha.” She reached for an empty chair, and Shane leapt to his feet to hold it for her, not releasing it until she was seated. The looks of a bad boy with the manners of a gentleman. It was a heady combination, and her brows furrowed as she tried to remember why she was here. Oh, yeah—Tori.