The Life She Wants. Jo McNally
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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,