Jo McNally - The Life She Wants

“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. 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!”

Her one remaining vice was caffeine, but she’d forgiven herself for that one long ago. That was a good thing, since she now lived directly above Nora’s coffee shop, the Gallant Brew. She grabbed a pair of yoga pants, calling over the railing to the room below, “I love you for the coffee. And hate you for the hour.”

“Hey, yoga girl, it was your idea to teach me this stuff. What’s got you in a twist this morning?”

Her cousins were all as close as sisters, but no way was she sharing that she’d dreamed of Shane Brannigan last night. She’d never hear the end of it, and they’d all be playing matchmaker for the only unattached cousin left. Besides, Big Ginger was all wrong for her. She hadn’t missed the glass of whiskey in his hand, or his need to be in charge. Two major triggers for her, and she wasn’t going down that road. Not again.

She’d barely taken a sip of the double espresso Nora had delivered when there was a light knock on her door. Nora shrugged when their eyes met. “Asher’s on his way to Albany to meet with a client, so it’s not him. Maybe Becky decided to join us, but I thought she was going to church with the baby and meeting us at the resort later.”

It wasn’t Nora’s daughter who was waiting when Melanie opened the door. Instead, she found Tori Sutter smiling brightly. And standing right next to her was Shane Brannigan, who was not smiling. Mel did a quick mental inventory of her appearance—had she even brushed her hair before coming downstairs? Oh, Lord, she was barefoot, wearing leggings and had on a cropped top that barely covered her sports bra. And no makeup. This was not her usual meet-a-handsome-if-annoying-man look. She felt her face warming, but Tori didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m not too late, am I? You said around seven for yoga, right?” Tori brushed by Mel, who was still staring at Shane. And he was staring right back. The corner of his mouth rose in a crooked smile.

“You seem surprised to see us, Miss Lowery. You were so adamant last night that Tori honor your invitation. Are you having regrets now that the liquor has burned off?”

She hissed in a sharp breath. He thought she’d been drunk last night? Well, if he did, it was her own fault. That’s why she drank tonic water with lime at parties. No one ever questioned whether it contained alcohol or not, avoiding awkward explanations, pitying looks or the inevitable person who insisted that “just one drink won’t hurt.” Apparently her ruse worked, because Shane assumed she’d been pounding back vodka all night. She decided not to set him straight, since it was none of his business.