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She just shrugged in response. For most of her life, she’d received praise for only her looks, which she had no control over, so the compliments meant nothing. She didn’t know how to handle praise for something she actually helped create.
Luis frowned. “You doing okay?”
Being dressed up and on display, being in a crowded room, being near an open bar... There were a lot of triggers here tonight, and Luis knew it. She gave him a bright smile. “I’m alright. Maybe a four, but no worse.”
“You tell me the minute it climbs above a six, okay?”
“I promise.”
Tori and Shane came into the ballroom halfway through dinner, walking to a table on the opposite side of the room. Neither of them looked happy. Tori was wearing a neon-orange dress that was far too tight and short. And...bright green high-top sneakers. Her hair was teased up into some crazy kind of pigtails. This kid’s fashion style was stuck somewhere between Miley Cyrus and Bride of Frankenstein. She may as well have been wearing a flashing sign that said Unhappy Teenager.
Shane’s expression made him look like he’d been sucking on lemons, and Mel was pretty sure Tori was responsible. He escorted Tori to a seat and rolled his eyes behind her as she sat. Yeah, the two were definitely arguing. She felt a pang of sympathy for Tori.
But she was surprised to feel a touch of concern for Shane, too. He looked down at Tori in confusion and showed a quick glimpse of that vulnerability he’d surprised Mel with upstairs with his talk of lilacs and his grandmother. Those words had hit her heart, since she wore the pricey Amouage scent because it reminded her of her own grandmother. She excused herself and headed for their table.
People stopped her along the way, and she accepted their compliments and autograph requests with a practiced smile. A man in uniform stopped her to thank her for being on the cover of Sports Quarterly’s swimsuit issue three years ago. He pulled the well-worn folded page from his pocket and asked if she’d autograph it for him. It took every ounce of her strength not to dwell on how awful that Cozumel photo shoot had been. Between the sand fleas and a particularly lecherous photographer, it had been one of the worst jobs she’d ever taken.
By the time she got to their table, Shane was headed toward the bar with a sandy-haired man walking with a barely perceptible limp. Gary was nowhere to be seen. Tori was talking with an older woman. More accurately, the older woman was talking, and Tori was nodding sullenly. The girl’s shoulders were rounded, and she was tugging at her dress. But when she saw Melanie, she jumped up to greet her, pigtails bouncing like springs on her head.
“You’re here! I told Shane you’d come!”
“Oh, my goodness! You’re that model! You did the Coastal Jeans campaign, right?” The woman Tori had been talking to now joined them. “You know Tori?”
Tori nodded, her sulking long forgotten. “Yes, Mrs. Covington, this is Mellie Low. We’re...” She hesitated and Melanie jumped in.
“Tori and I are friends. And I go by Melanie Lowery now. Or just Mel.”
Mellie Low died a long time ago.
Tori beamed as Melanie extended her hand to the woman. Susan Covington explained that her husband was CEO of Covington Golf, and they were one of Tori’s equipment sponsors on the women’s golf tour. She introduced Mel to another couple at the table, the founders of Winthrop Athletic, a clothing company. Helen Winthrop was nowhere near as pleasant as Susan and had barely released Mel’s hand when she started in.
“Mellie, you’re in the fashion business, so please, God, can you give Tori some much-needed fashion advice?” Tori yanked at the hem of her dress. Mel gritted her teeth. What this girl needed was compassion, not cat claws.
“Please call me Mel. And, actually, Tori’s outfit reflects popular urban fashion for teens right now. She’s following a trend.”
Tori’s shy smile had Mel reaching to squeeze her hand, which also kept her from fidgeting with her dress. Helen gave Tori another once-over.
“Hmm. Perhaps it’s the ‘urban’ part I don’t get. We need Tori to reflect our company’s values, not those of the Kardashians.”
Melanie, I don’t care if it’s your favorite shirt or not, you can’t wear it. Nothing is about you anymore—it’s about our clients, and you represent them every waking minute of the day, so get used to it.
Helen turned away to say something to Susan, who rolled her eyes at Mel in sympathy when Helen wasn’t looking. Tori tugged at Mel’s hand and whispered to her.
“Everyone’s staring at me. I was just trying to get back at Shane for making me come to this dinner, but now I feel like an idiot. I never thought he’d let me wear this.”
Melanie could draw only two conclusions. Either that boulder of a man was clueless and thought Tori really wanted to come to dinner in this getup or he’d decided to let her embarrass herself deliberately to teach her a lesson. Either way, the girl was feeling humiliated, and that wasn’t going to happen while Mel was around. Phones were already aimed at Tori from around the room. Social media would have a field day with that outfit.
She leaned over and whispered in Tori’s ear, “I just happen to know where there’s a room full of clothes and accessories that could tone this up or down any way you’d like. If you’re interested.”
Tori’s eager nod was all she needed. Shane was still at the bar with the other guy, paying no attention to his client. She couldn’t wait to see his face when Tori turned the tables on him.
* * *
“YOU LOOK LIKE you’re ready to kill someone, Shane. Lighten up, will you?” Tim slapped his back a little too hard. “We’re here to have a good time, remember? And make money. By being nice to people. Ring any bells?”
Shane nodded absently. He made his living as a sports agent by schmoozing his way through rooms like this one. The Dealmaker. That’s what they’d called him in Boston when he’d come out of nowhere and signed a Beantown deal for one of the hottest basketball players in the league. It was a crazy scheme hatched in college, where he’d first met Marquis Jackson. They’d become friends, and Shane, a cocky law student, had sat at Marquis’s side once he’d declared himself eligible for the draft. When Marquis got himself arrested for a barroom scuffle and then mouthed off to some reporters afterward, some of those people had backed away. But not Shane. He’d started making calls to NBA teams himself, to Boston specifically, and had ended up working out the deal that had made Marquis a star. The two of them had landed on the cover of a Boston sports magazine.
Nana had loved the headline, where he’d been referred to as “The Dealmaker” for the first time. So much so that she’d framed it and hung it on her wall. He frowned. Weird. That was the second time today his tiny Irish grandmother had come into his thoughts. It was all because of that violet-eyed beauty and her damned perfume. Or was it the way Melanie Lowery had stood up to him to protect Tori? That was something his feisty nana would have done. At his side, his best friend and business partner flagged down the bartender.
“I remember why we came.” Shane straightened his shoulders. “I came here to kick your ass in the golf tournament today.”
Tim barked out a laugh. “I hate to break it to you, pal, but you failed. I warned you this new stored-energy prosthetic foot has been killer for my golf swing. The rotation unit is kick-ass, and you owe me a hundred bucks, Brannigan.”
“Whatever. You only won because you were lucky enough to get paired with the club’s pro golfer.”
“Lucky. Sure.” Tim snorted and stepped away to order. “Drinks are on you.”
His buddy being paired with Cody Brooks for the tournament was something Shane had quietly arranged. That was his special talent, making quiet arrangements behind closed doors. He’d also arranged for himself to be partnered with Carter Patterson. A hotshot college quarterback, Carter entered the pros a few years ago in a burst of publicity and attention that proved too much for a kid from Wisconsin. He’d let the pressure get to him and started making ridiculous mistakes on the field. The fans on social media had turned him into a joke. One team after another had cut him, and his agent was doing nothing to help the guy. But Patterson was only twenty-six and had plenty of career left if he could get his head straight. Shane’s deal-making had paid off well today—Tim and Cody had won the charity tournament, and Patterson had agreed to set up a meeting with Shane soon.
The only blemish on the day had been the skirmish upstairs before dinner. Then again, confronting the enigmatic Miss Lowery had been the most energizing moment of the whole day, as well.
“Dude, seriously, put away the resting bitch face.” Tim handed him a drink. “Come on, look at all the gorgeous women here! If I was into that sort of thing, I could totally score tonight.” Tim nodded toward a blonde leaning against the bar. “But you could do alright, man.”
Shane smirked. “I already scored today with Patterson. He could be our golden ticket if we can keep him focused. Now, if I can just get Tori to behave herself, we could be in good shape.”
At that, Tim put on his business face. Shane was The Dealmaker, but Tim was the money guy. And the resident worrier. “Do we need to be concerned about her reputation? The social media crowd is really going after her partying ways, calling her ‘Slutter Sutter.’”
Shane winced. “Yeah, I know. It may have been a mistake to take her on.” Tim had tried to tell him as much when Tori’s parents had called, begging for help managing her skyrocketing career and the mess she was making of her online presence. “What the hell do I know about teenagers? Especially girl ones?”
Her clothing choices were a huge challenge, and one of the reasons she got so much flak online. She was a pretty girl, but one day she’d be photographed shopping in a skirt so short she was at constant risk of exposing herself, and the next day she’d be in baggy jeans drooping around her hips, like Bieber. At last year’s ESPYs, she’d shown up in a butt-ugly dress made out of strips of paper, á la early Gaga. He had no clue how he was going to turn her fashion fails around.
“Have you seen the mystery lady who tried to invite herself to our table tonight?” Tim asked.
Smoky eyes immediately came to mind. And long legs. And a sharp tongue.
“The Lowery woman? No. She probably won’t show. She was just trying to be a good Samaritan or something when she heard Tori and Gary arguing. And speaking of that...”
“Yeah, I know. Her parents might trust the guy, but he doesn’t give me the warm-and-fuzzies.”
“The woman said he grabbed Tori.”
Tim stiffened. “You think it’s true?”
He thought about the way Gary had shuffled around and avoided eye contact. But, no, a guy in his position wouldn’t do anything so stupid. At the same time, Shane had been relieved when Gary had begged off from dinner tonight.
“She didn’t actually see anything. She was probably overreacting.” Melanie’s words poked at him. Who’s watching out for this girl? “I’m going to talk to Gary tomorrow, though. He might be pushing Tori too hard.”
Everyone had agreed Gallant Lake was the perfect spot for Tori to heal her bruised ribs out of the larger, national spotlight and away from her parasitic “friends.” The new golf course at the resort was a great place for her to work on getting her swing back in shape. In a few weeks, she’d be ready to rejoin the tour. Shane and Tim had been so busy out on the West Coast the past few weeks trying to keep baseball’s hottest third baseman’s career from imploding—again—that Gary had been left in charge of Tori’s schedule. And Shane didn’t like anyone being in charge but him.
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!”
