Читать книгу The Life She Wants - Jo McNally - Страница 13
ОглавлениеTHE 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.
He’d returned to his own chair, nodding to Cathy working behind the counter. She waved, already filling a mug for Mel. She brought it to the table with a plate of mini scones.
He sat back and waited. He was good at that—waiting for the other person to speak. She was tempted to see how long he’d hold out, but this was too important.
“Why are you isolating Tori from her family and friends?”
His brows shot upward and his mouth dropped open, then he scowled at her.
“Is that what she told you?”
“No, she didn’t tell...well, yes, she did in a way, but only in answer to my questions.”
He shook his head, looking at the ceiling before meeting her gaze. “Why do you care so much about this kid, Mellie?”
“Don’t call me that.” Her voice was sharper than she intended. She’d left Mellie behind when she’d walked away from the make-believe world Mellie existed in, and she didn’t need any reminders of that life. “Call me Mel. Or Melanie. And you haven’t answered my question.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face in frustration.
“Alright, fine. You want to know why? Because her so-called friends at home are little assholes. They put her out there on social media to make themselves look cool, and it makes Tori look like some kind of party animal. Golf is a conservative, wholesome sport, and those cling-ons are dragging her down.”
“But her family is there—why keep her away from them?”
“I’m not. I thought they’d be visiting every week, but... I don’t know. I think they have their hands full with their other kids and figure Tim and I will take care of her. And we are...”
He didn’t sound very sure of himself. Mel sat back, sipping her coffee and nibbling on a scone.
“It sounds like Tori’s friends acted like typical teenagers. They’re girls. They’re full of hormones and bad decisions. But they’re still her friends. You can’t isolate her just because they did some dumb things. Did you try talking to them?”
Shane’s eyes went wide. “Talk to her friends? I don’t know anything about teenage girls. What the hell would I say?”
“No females at all in your life? Sisters? Cousins? Nieces?”
“I’m an only child. The only women were my mom and my nana. Mom’s a proper Boston blue blood. Nana, God rest her soul, was a tough-talking saint of a woman. But girls? No. As a teenage boy, my only contact with teenage girls involved convincing them to let me get past second base.”
Mel shook her head. Men.
“So how on earth did you end up with a teenage girl as a client?”
“Her parents saw how we handled a situation for a rookie basketball player who got in hot water in Cleveland, and they reached out to us. I didn’t want to do it, but they begged, and Tori was on her best behavior the first time we met. I had no idea what I was getting into.”
Mel almost felt sorry for the guy.
He looked out the window, where the village of Gallant Lake was beginning to come to life. People were strolling the sidewalks and coming in for their Sunday morning coffee. Shane looked back to Mel, his blue eyes solemn.
“Tori got famous overnight, and her family wasn’t ready. They hired some local attorney to manage her career, and the woman knew nothing about sports. Tori’s contract with Winthrop Athletic is a joke. She should be sponsored by a much bigger name and making a lot more money.” Shane shook his head. “When Gary came along and offered to take over her career by becoming her golf coach, her parents jumped at the chance to hand off responsibility. But he can’t control her behavior, and it’s really not his job to do that. Tori’s laser-focused on the course, but then she’ll act out like a two-year-old over something like what to wear to a public event.”
Mel thought about the outfit Tori had worn to the gala last night. “She’s trying to figure out who she is and how to assert herself so she doesn’t get lost.”
Trust me, Mellie, I know a lot more about this business than you, and if you’ll just stop fighting me and do what I say, you’ll be famous. Isn’t that what you want?
Tori was tougher than she’d been at that age. The girl was fighting to maintain some kind of control over what her life should look like. Mel had handed over control early on in her modeling career, trusting the adults around her. If she’d maintained her childhood friends—stayed in touch, hung out with them to talk about boys and makeup and music—maybe she wouldn’t have been so insecure and easy to manipulate.
Shane scrubbed his face once more, then ran his fingers through that ginger hair until it was standing on end.
“Tori’s a good kid,” he said. “I want to do the right thing by her, and not just because it’s my job.” He tapped his finger against his coffee cup, drumming to some unknown beat in his head. “You say she’s trying not to get lost, but I’m the one who’s lost. I’m used to working with guys who are at least old enough to have graduated high school. I can cuss at them and boss ’em around and bust their balls, and we all laugh it off. If they don’t like my decisions, they tell me to go screw myself, we argue and we settle it. Out in the open. No mystery involved. I can handle that. But I have no idea how to handle a young girl dressing like a hooker in some sort of protest against me for some unknown reason. I’m not a damned mind reader, you know?”
Mel didn’t respond. Shane Brannigan was a talent agent, and she shouldn’t trust a word out of his mouth. But she couldn’t help but believe him when he said he was lost. Clueless was more like it. Not intentionally so, but the effects on Tori were the same.
“So what does Mrs. Winthrop think you hired me for?”
“Damned if I know. Mentor? Stylist? Chaperone?” He sat back in his chair and his gaze sharpened on her. “You complained yesterday that Tori didn’t have a chaperone. Would you be interested in doing that for the next few weeks? She’ll be back on the tour by mid-July, in time to pick up most of the majors. I can put you on the payroll...” He glanced at her baggy sweater and ball cap, his mouth quirking up into a grin. “And it looks like you’ve fallen on hard times, so...?”
He was a real comedian this morning. Of course, compared to her, he looked like he was ready for a GQ cover shoot in his pressed trousers and blue linen shirt. It was barely 8:00 a.m. On a Sunday.
“You’re one of those annoying morning people, aren’t you?”
Shane’s smile deepened, causing her heart to stutter again. “Guilty as charged. I don’t like wasting daylight. Interested in the job?”
She stared at her plate. If she worked for Shane, she’d have to answer to him. Tori needed a chaperone, but even more important, she needed a friend in Gallant Lake. Someone who had her back. No one had ever stepped up to do that for Mel when she was sixteen. They’d all just looked the other way and collected their paychecks. Mel wasn’t going to let that happen to Tori.
“No.” There was a flash of surprise in his eyes. “I won’t work for you as her chaperone. I’ll do it for free.”
“For free? That’s not a very good business plan, Mellie...uh... Mel.” His brows knit together, as if she’d just presented him with a puzzle to solve. She had a feeling he didn’t like puzzles much.
“Look, that girl needs a friend while she’s here. Someone she can relax with, have fun with, talk to. I’ll be that person, but not on your payroll. Not on your time clock.” She stood, emphasizing her point one last time before walking away.
“I don’t charge for friendship.”
