The Life She Wants. Jo McNally

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The Life She Wants - Jo McNally


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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

      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.


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