The Life She Wants. Jo McNally
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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