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“Nora.” Mel turned to face her eldest cousin, who was frowning at herself in the mirror while tugging at the hem of the dark red cocktail dress. “You may be a grandmother, but you’re forty, not eighty. That length makes your legs go on forever, so please stop yanking it out of shape!”
Amanda slipped her arm around Melanie’s waist. “Mel, you’re not even dressed yet, and dinner is in half an hour. We may not be models like you, but we’ll be fine. Go get your dress on, and we’ll all meet outside the ballroom in thirty, okay?” Amanda turned serious, giving her a quick squeeze. Mel knew what was coming next. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. There’s adrenaline happening, but it’s good adrenaline so far. No temptations. A two at most.” Amanda nodded at the use of their code. “Two” meant Mel was completely under control. No one was more concerned about her ability to cope with a pseudo fashion show than she was. This might be a charity event with loved ones by her side, but it was still bringing her perilously close to a world that nearly destroyed her the first time around. Tonight was a test, and everyone in this room knew that. Luis came up behind her.
“You may be at level two, but you’re putting me at DEFCON twelve in that outfit. Go change! Dios mio, my reputation will be ruined if you wear that getup tonight.” He nodded at her black leggings and bright green Gallant Lake T-shirt. Her damp hair was covered with a white towel. Maybe Luis had a point—she was cutting it pretty close.
She patted the hand he’d rested on her shoulder. “My makeup is done. All I have to do is put my hair up, shimmy into that magical dress you designed and I’ll be good to go.”
Luis nodded toward the door. “Go get yourself magical in a hurry, girl, and I’ll go check on the real models.”
Tonight was an unconventional fashion show, happening concurrently with the awards gala that capped off four days of golf and other events at the Gallant Lake Resort. Everything benefited the Travis Foundation for Veterans, founded by Mel’s cousin Bree a year ago. Since many of the attendees were well-heeled socialites and celebrities, Bree had asked Melanie to come up with a unique fashion event that would make the women happy while not boring their husbands. She and Luis had hired ten models to stroll silently around the tables tonight wearing fashions from their new collection. Her cousins, who were all on the foundation’s board of directors, would also be wearing Alvarado designs.
“Earth to Mel? Stop daydreaming and get dressed.” Luis gave her a friendly smack on the behind. He was the only man on this planet who could get away with touching her like that.
“Okay, okay!” She reached out to straighten Bree’s hair on her way by, and got a scathing look in return that froze her hand in midair. Those pregnancy hormones were making Bree downright scary. “Right. See you all downstairs.”
The suite she was using as a dressing room tonight was at the other end of the hall. She’d had too many years of changing her clothes while people watched to ever do it again, even with family. Mel was just swiping the room key when she heard low voices coming from around the corner, where the larger suites were located. The female voice sounded young. It also sounded tense, which was what caught Mel’s attention.
“I don’t want to go to this dinner, Gary. I don’t feel like parading around in front of a bunch of old people again. Please?”
The answering voice was smooth, but with an undercurrent of anger that set off all kinds of alarms for Mel.
“Shane says you’re going, so you’re going, cupcake. If you behave yourself, maybe we’ll start practice a little late tomorrow. And I’ll take you to breakfast, okay, Tori?”
Mel’s entire body went still, including her lungs and her heart. The words were innocent enough, but the tone was off. And it was much too familiar.
Mellie, baby, why don’t you stop by my place before the photo shoot, and we’ll work on some of your poses, okay?
She swallowed hard. This wasn’t about her. It was about Tori. A girl she didn’t know, hadn’t even seen yet. She moved closer to the corner, trying to decide what to do.
“Umm...sure, Gary. But I still don’t want to... What are you doing? Let go...”
Oh, hell no. Mel quickly stepped around the corner and took in the scene. Tori was fifteen or so, with a tall, athletic build and thick blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a Hello Kitty T-shirt that was two sizes too small, as if she didn’t know she’d grown breasts, and skintight running shorts. Her arms were folded across her stomach.
Gary was probably in his fifties, with graying hair and a slim build, barely as tall as Tori. He stepped away from her the minute he saw Mel, his facial expression morphing from anger to a smarmy smile. Unfortunately for him, Mel had a PhD in smarmy men. Especially smarmy men who took advantage of teenage girls. Blood was pounding in her ears, and sweat tickled her scalp.
You need to loosen up a little or these photos won’t work. Come over here and let me give you a little back rub, kiddo. And help yourself to the champagne. No one’s watching...
She’d spent years with men like Gary, with no one watching out for her. She’d be damned if she’d let another girl be put at risk behind closed doors or hidden around corners where no one was watching.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Gary raised his hands in innocence. “Everything’s fine here, miss. You know how kids are. I’m just trying to get her to dinner on time.”
Was this just a family squabble? If so, was it any of Mel’s business if the guy was being gruff? Did all families fight like this? She really had no idea. She just knew Tori was being pushed to do something she didn’t want to do, and Melanie couldn’t ignore that.
“Are you her father?”
“No.” Tori answered quickly and quietly, moving closer to Mel, her eyes focused tightly on the carpeting. The hair on the nape of Mel’s neck stood on end. She’d developed a well-honed “weasel alert” over the years, and it was clanging loudly in her head right now. This guy was bad news.
Mel didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t exactly drag Tori away—that would be kidnapping. Or would it be a rescue mission? She could call her cousin, since Amanda and her husband owned the resort. Blake Randall would know how to handle this and would have the authority to do something.
She was reaching for her phone when a rough voice from behind her broke the charged silence.
“Is there a problem here?”
Her first thought was that she was now in a hidden hallway, trapped between two men she didn’t know. She took a steadying breath and turned coolly on her heel, as if she was totally in control of the situation. Years walking a runway had taught her that trick—she and Luis called it “body acting.” But any sense of control she had, real or faked, evaporated when she took in the stranger who’d walked up behind her. Very close behind her.
He was a big man, not only tall but broad-shouldered and rock-solid. He was older than her—probably midthirties. His red hair was just long enough to brush the collar of his white dress shirt. His nose was a little crooked, as if it had been broken, and he definitely looked like the type of guy who might get into a fistfight or two. Even with that flawed nose, he was attractive—in a slightly brutish way. The reddish stubble on his chin completed the “bad boy” look, which was softened only by his striking blue eyes, now narrowed in on Tori. His mouth hardened into a straight line.
“Seriously? You’re still not dressed? You’re killing me, kid. Get moving.”
Big Ginger gave Melanie that once-over men were so good at—a quick toe-to-head survey to see if she was worth his interest or not. Considering how she was dressed, and the fact that she still had her hair wrapped in a towel, she was surprised to see a tiny flare of heat in his eyes before he gave her a barely polite nod and turned to Gary.
“I told you to make sure she got ready.”
“I’m her golf coach, Shane, not her damned nanny.”
Tori’s voice was full of dramatic teenaged whine. “Please, Shane. I’m so tired of being nice to people.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up briefly. Melanie wondered how often women threw themselves at Shane’s feet because of that crooked smile and those eyes. Just because she’d sworn off men didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a hot hunk of man when she saw one.
“I know it’s a bore, kid, but we have to be nice to the people who pay money to support your career.” He glanced over to Mel, gave her a quick, smooth smile and extended his hand. “Shane Brannigan. And you are...?”
“Melanie. Are you related to Tori?”
“I... What? No. Tori’s on the women’s golf tour. I’m her agent. Gary Jenkins here is her coach. Is there something I can help you with?”
Ice sliced through her veins. He was an agent. Great.
Look, Mellie, you know I have your best interests at heart. Everyone needs topless shots in their portfolio, so stop fighting Marcello on this.
Mel surprised herself as much as she did Shane when she poked her finger hard into the center of his chest.
“You can ‘help’ me by explaining why you let her walk to her room alone with this guy! How old is she? Where are her parents? Where’s her chaperone? Who’s watching out for this girl?”
* * *
OF ALL THE things Shane could have imagined happening today, being physically assaulted by a lunatic with razor-sharp purple fingernails was not one of them. He wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood with that stab in the chest, and it took all his self-control to keep from checking.
Instead, he stared into her shockingly violet eyes while determining his next move.
He’d spotted her the minute he stepped off the elevator—tall and somehow elegant, even in leggings, a T-shirt and flip-flops. The white towel twisted around her head made her look even taller. From behind, she’d looked like a very sexy space alien.
But when she’d tiptoed closer to the corner, his attention had shifted. The only rooms around that corner were Tori’s suite and his suite. What the hell was she up to? She was so busy listening to Tori and Gary she hadn’t even known he was approaching. Was she a reporter digging for dirt? Or perhaps a fan crossing the line of acceptable behavior?
Before he could ask, she was gone—leaping around the corner with him hot on her heels. And now here she was, lighting into him like a pit bull about “watching out for Tori.” It was his goddamn job to watch out for Tori Sutter, and Shane was very good at his job. And he didn’t take criticism well. Especially from strangers. Not even strangers who had curves everywhere a man wanted to see curves. Smoky gray makeup surrounded her dark eyes, and glossy lipstick made her full lips inviting. Well, they would be inviting if they weren’t currently pursed in displeasure. With him. Yeah, well, tough luck, lady.
“I’m sorry, Miss...?” He waited.
“Melanie Lowery.” She spat the name at him, but he’d gotten her to speak. He was a master negotiator, and he was going to take control of this conversation. He nodded and smiled, but his smile didn’t have its usual effect. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Her whole body was tense, and for some reason the word brittle came to mind.
“Miss Lowery, I don’t know what you think is going on, but my client is in good hands here...” She snorted at his word choice, but he plowed ahead. “Look, we’re running late and, frankly, Tori’s not your concern.” He was hoping she’d take the hint and leave, but no such luck. Indignation rolled off the woman in waves.
“Any time a girl is at risk, it’s my concern, Mr. Brannigan. It’s also the concern of hotel management and the police. Would you like me to make a call or two? I know the resort owners very well.”
Shane swallowed the angry words begging to be said. His right temple started to throb. The last thing Tori needed was more negative press. This was what he got for taking on a kid for a client—headaches. Then again, all his clients were giving him headaches these days. That seemed to be his specialty—taking on the clients no one else wanted. Time to turn the Brannigan charm up to full strength. He splayed his hands in surrender. “There’s no need for that. I can assure you no one here is at risk. Right, Gary?”
“Of course not! I was just trying to get Tori to dinner on time—right, Tori?” Shane didn’t like the way Gary looked everywhere but at him. But the guy was a golf coach. It wasn’t exactly a sport prone to shouting and drama.
Tori shrugged in response to Gary’s question. Great. Big help, kid.
Shane turned to Melanie with his best smile. “See? Everything’s fine. Tori, honey, I need you to start getting ready, okay?”
Tori moved closer to the Lowery woman, her eyes wide and suddenly adoring for some reason. “Oh, my God! I know who you are! You’re here for the gala, right?” Melanie nodded, the towel bobbing on her head. How did Tori know her? The girl turned back to him, suddenly defiant. God help him, he’d never be able to keep up with her moods. “I’ll only go if I can sit with her. I don’t want to sit with you guys.” She glanced at Gary. Shane caught the look, and so did Miss Busy-Body.
“Tori, two of your sponsors will be at our table. You have to sit with us. I’m sure Miss Lowery has other...”
The woman’s violet eyes never left his, but she spoke to Tori. “I have some official duties to take care of, but I’ll come find you after dinner, okay?”
Shane frowned. He didn’t need some stranger inserting herself into Tori’s life. “I’m sorry, but our table is full. Tori, go get dressed. Now.” He pointed toward her door, and she was smart enough to read his tone, heading into her suite after a quick wave to Melanie. Gary excused himself so quickly he almost left smoke in his wake, leaving Shane and Melanie alone in the hallway.
She rolled her eyes and moved to go past him. He didn’t budge, not blocking her exit but forcing her to step to the side to get by. It was a petty power play on his part, but really, it was her own damned fault—she’d attacked him first. He figured she’d fold now that she didn’t have an audience.
She didn’t fold, but she also didn’t engage. She straightened her shoulders and moved to walk by without making eye contact. A retreat, but a strong one. He caught a whiff of her soft, flowery perfume as she brushed by. He wouldn’t have expected her to be the floral type, but the scent made his head swim with visions of luxurious flowers on bent stems. She smelled like springtime and rain and...and memories. Something from his childhood? Yes, of course.
“Lilacs.”
She’d almost gone past him, but the word, which he hadn’t intended to say out loud, brought her to a halt. Her head turned slowly and her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “Excuse me?”
Well, he was in it now. “You smell like lilacs. My grandmother had lilacs.” Shane Brannigan didn’t talk about flowers and childhood memories. Ever. This was not a good power play at all, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “It reminds me of her cottage on the Cape. There was a big stand of lilac trees loaded with blossoms. After a rain, she’d open the windows and the scent would fill the whole house.”
Her eyes softened, and he realized their color could be considered lilac, too. Nana would have loved that... Whoa. What the hell was wrong with him? He gave himself a mental shake and shoved Nana and her lilacs out of his head.
“Sorry. Admiring your perfume is a little creepy, isn’t it? I...I’m sorry.” Definitely not a power position, Brannigan. Babbling is never a win. Neither was apologizing. Time to walk away while he still had a shred of dignity. “There’s no need for you to join us tonight. Tori’s rehabbing from an injury and she’s just tired.”
“I made her a promise. And I keep my promises.”
“That’s admirable, but...”
“Her coach put his hands on her.”
“He what? You saw that?” Shane couldn’t believe it. Gary seemed like such a mouse.
She hesitated. “No, but...”
“Tori told you that?”
“No, but...”
“Then I’d be careful tossing around accusations, Miss Lowery. Gary’s reputation is spotless.”
She paled, and her gaze went unfocused for a minute, as if she was so far lost in thought that she was barely present. Then she shook her head and looked up at him—but not very far up, since she was close to six feet tall, even in those flip-flops.
“You don’t see a problem with two grown men acting as chaperones for a teenage girl?”
He frowned. When he’d taken Tori on as a client last month, he’d assumed her family would be around a lot more, but she was the oldest of five kids. They had their hands full with the crowd at home, and were trusting others to look after Tori. They were trusting him.
“Yes, two grown men are chaperoning a mature young woman who has an entire suite to herself. She’s my responsibility, and I’m handling it.”
Melanie gave him a slow once-over, then turned and walked away, her footwear making slapping sounds despite the carpeted floors. It didn’t diminish her brittle dignity one ounce. It also did nothing to take the steel out of her words.
“Yeah? Well, you’re doing a piss-poor job from what I can see.”
CHAPTER TWO (#uaabea830-f75d-5745-b7f4-ecfd8cbdee1a)
AMANDA WAS THE only one still waiting when Melanie rushed to the ballroom doors ten minutes late, breathlessly apologizing. Amanda just laughed.
“Damn, girl! You look fierce.”
Melanie glanced at the hallway mirror, still amazed she’d managed to make it down here so quickly after the melodrama upstairs. It was a good thing she’d had plenty of experience changing clothes in a flash. But that color in her cheeks wasn’t just from cosmetics or her mad dash to get here. It was the result of her interaction with a certain blue-eyed ginger. Something about the man got under her skin, and it showed. She blew out a breath and assessed her appearance. In her agitated state, she wouldn’t be surprised to find she’d put the dress on backward or something.
But no, the pewter metallic gown clung to every curve and swirled like silk. Between the draped neckline and plunging back, Luis’s design left little to the imagination. She’d pulled her hair into a low, messy knot—the best she could do with the limited time she’d had. Since the dress was such a showstopper, the only jewelry she wore besides a wide silver cuff on her wrist, were simple diamond studs set in platinum. The earrings had been a gift from the photo shoot where she’d met Luis four years ago, and she’d always felt they brought her luck. After all, Luis had saved her life.
“You’re seven freaking feet tall! What are you—oh, no wonder.” Amanda glanced down at Mel’s shiny black Louboutins. “Thanks for making me look like a shrimp, cuz. Let’s go, everyone else is inside.”
Silver iridescent walls shimmered softly in the recently remodeled ballroom. Thousands of pink and white fairy lights were strung across the ceiling and wound around the light fixtures. Gallant Lake and the Catskill Mountains surrounding it glowed in the mid-June twilight beyond a wall of windows. Tall glass doors opened onto a large veranda overlooking the lake.
The crowd was an eclectic mix of wealthy businesspeople, celebrities, athletes and military veterans with various disabilities. Some of the vets had obvious injuries, such as missing limbs or burns. Some, like Bree’s husband, Cole, had less visible wounds—head trauma or PTSD. The fund-raising event had been a smashing success, and they were on track to raise more than half a million dollars to help injured veterans transition to civilian life.
Her cousins were seated together at a table near the stage, where Bree was already giving her pre-dinner address, thanking everyone for their participation, as Mel slid into a chair next to Luis. Bree explained how the silent fashion show would work, with models wandering among the tables during dinner. A sketch of each design was in the printed program, along with information on how to contact Luis Alvarado Fashions. She asked Luis to stand, along with Amanda, Nora and Melanie, to show off their dresses. Camera flashes went off around the room as enthusiastic applause began, and Luis gave Melanie a wink. Between the press coverage and social media, some of his designs were sure to get attention.
As dinner began, Luis set a glass in front of Melanie. It was clear and sparkling, with a slice of lime. She nodded her thanks. With a full glass in her hand, people were far less likely to offer her a cocktail.
Cole jumped to his feet and pulled out a chair when Bree came back to the table. She beamed at him, kissing him on the cheek before settling her pregnant body with a sigh. Normally soldier-stoic in public, Cole leaned over and kissed the top of Bree’s head, whispering something in her ear that made her blush. Mel watched her cousins and their men as they laughed and talked together. Bree had Cole. Nora had her fiancé, Asher, who was clearly appreciating Nora’s red cocktail dress. He couldn’t keep his eyes, or his hands, off her.
And then there was Amanda and her husband. Blake was tall, with black hair and dark eyes—a stark contrast to Amanda’s petite build and blond curls. He’d be intimidating if it wasn’t for his easy smile and obvious love for his wife. They were that couple. Beautiful, successful and happily building a family in their historic mansion, right next door to their five-star resort. Whenever they looked at each other, the love in their eyes made Melanie’s chest tighten.
She was thrilled her cousins were finding happiness and starting families. Really. She was thrilled. Thrilled. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt her heart sometimes to watch. Most of her energy was focused on sobriety and finding a place in the world outside of modeling, and that was okay. But once in a while, usually at the darkest point of her often sleepless nights, she longed for what her cousins had found. Loving partners to spend the rest of their lives with. She just couldn’t see that happening for her.
Luis’s low voice broke through her melancholy. “You and that dress were made for each other, chica. You look different tonight—like you’re ready for battle. It’s a good look on you.”
That look of battle-readiness probably came more from her confrontation with Big Ginger than the dress. He’d managed to ignite a fire inside her, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or dangerous. She didn’t want Luis to worry, so she kept that to herself.
“I have to admit, I feel pretty invincible in this gown. It’s going to be the star of your collection.”
“Our collection, Mel. It’s your company, too. Your hand is in every one of these pieces.”
