Tara Taylor Quinn - Love By Association

Chantel watched as Leslie’s face became instantly devoid of emotion and a split second later was smiling again. “James.” Leslie turned, taking the man’s hand and pulling him forward.

“James, good to see you.” Colin reached to shake the other man’s hand. She didn’t detect even a hint of stiffening in the other man’s presence.

Did he have any idea what James Morrison did to his wife behind closed doors?

God forbid, could Colin be part of the good-old-boy mentality that would cover up any hint of abuse with justification of one kind or another?

Or was the High Risk team wrong in their assessment of the situation?

“You’re monopolizing Colin’s time, my love,” James said to his wife, a tender look on his face as he wrapped his arm around her lower back. “The auction is about to start.”

Chantel zeroed in on the hand James had on his wife’s hip. She was pretty sure, in spite of the room’s elegantly soft lighting, that those fingertips had whitened with the application of pressure.

“No, I’m monopolizing her,” Colin quickly asserted. He glanced at his watch. “We’re making plans for the library. We’ve got another fifteen minutes or so before things get going. I promise to release her to you before then.”

His easy tone matched his expression. James hesitated, but only for a second, before kissing his wife’s cheek and telling her he’d meet her at their table.

“As I was saying...” Leslie was still with them, but the glow had gone from her eyes. “You and Colin just met—like the couple in our mystery just married. Embarking on the new, so to speak.”

Colin lifted a hand to cover his mouth as he half coughed. “I don’t know...”

“It’s perfect because Colin is in charge of all the legal, technical aspects of the evening, and you’ll be our creative administrator. You’ll both need to be there, owners of the mansion for the evening.”

Leslie smiled, and Chantel was fairly certain she saw a note of uncertainty on the other woman’s face now. Maybe she was imagining it all—James’s too-forceful squeezing of his wife’s hip, her loss of positive energy.

And maybe she wasn’t.

Maybe the woman’s husband had just sucked the life out of her with his reminder of the harsh realities in her life.

“I’d be happy to play the lead female role,” she burst out. And then glanced at Colin. In time to see his look of surprise.

An expression he quickly cloaked, leaving her with the brief thought to challenge him to a game of poker sometime.

“Then I accept, as well,” he told Leslie. “I can’t leave this lovely lady stranded without a hero in her first Santa Raquel story.”

His words reminded Chantel that she was going to be expected to write that story, or at least appear as though she’d done so.

She’d feel more confident bursting into a bar, gun drawn, to break up a brawl. At least it was something she’d done before.

Accepting Colin’s invitation to loop her arm through his and accompany him to the rows of seats up front to watch the auction, she promised herself a bowl of chocolate ice cream for breakfast.

Whatever it took to keep the panic at bay.

CHAPTER FIVE

“YOU’RE GRINNING.”

“What?” A piece of whole wheat toast halfway to his mouth, Colin looked up from his tablet—he read the news every morning over breakfast—and focused on his sister.

“You’re grinning,” she said again. Dressed in light-colored pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, with her long dark hair curling over her shoulders, Julie looked about sixteen. Spoon suspended above her grapefruit, she was watching him.

They took breakfast together every day in the small room with a wall of windows that overlooked the ocean.

“What’s funny?” she asked now. In another half hour, she’d be leaving the dishes in the sink for their housekeeper and going up to shower. She had at least two meetings that he knew of that day—one in Los Angeles with executives from the Sunshine Children’s League. She was hoping to get funds for the Santa Raquel hospital to hire a child-life specialist to work exclusively with patients without family visitors.

“Nothing’s funny. I didn’t realize I was smiling.”

“You were staring at your tablet but haven’t scrolled in at least five minutes.”

She was exaggerating.

“I met the most marvelous woman last night.”

“Oh?” Leaning toward him, she said, “Do tell.”

“You can see for yourself,” he said over his bite of toast. “She’s agreed to help with the library project. She’ll be at lunch tomorrow.”

They were having it catered in what had been a dining room but was now a conference room at the Estrada mansion—giving the committee time to look around at the renovations that had been made since they’d last toured the place.

“You just met her and already roped her into helping us?”

He would have, if he’d thought of it first. “Leslie did.”

“And that’s how you met her? Leslie hooked you up?”

He might have been exasperated by his little sister’s nosiness if he wasn’t so damned glad to see the old teasing light in her eyes.

“No. I managed to make her acquaintance all on my own. She’s new to town...” Did he bring up Chantel Johnson’s publishing background now...or after Julie had a chance to meet—and like—her?

“And she was on the auction invitation list?”

“She’s from New York. I’m assuming her family had connections.” And if they hadn’t, they’d just have needed to make a call or two to ease their daughter’s introduction to LA society.

“Let me guess—she’s slender, blond hair, big brown eyes and isn’t quite as tall as you are, but she’s not short. Oh, and last night she was wearing a black halter dress that she’d probably purchased last season.”

Her grin had turned into a mischievous smile. She’d been messing with him. Lucky for her, he was in an unusually good mood.

“You’ve been talking to Jaime.”

“She called as soon as the auction was over. I’d asked her to. I wanted to know how she did.”

He’d have sought the woman out himself the night before, as he’d originally intended, but when he’d heard that Chantel had arrived in a hired car, he’d offered to see her back to her hotel.

“How’d she do?”

Julie named a figure that elicited a long whistle from Colin and then said, “So what’s her story? This Chantel person. She must be something to have monopolized your time the entire evening.”

Here’s where he could tell her that Chantel was a writer, too. That maybe her family could take a look at Julie’s series of children’s stories.

He ate a couple of bites of melon from the crystal plate in front of him instead. “I’d rather you find out for yourself,” he told her. “I’m interested in your opinion.” True. And also prevarication.

“Ohhhh...” Julie’s brows were raised, her lips still tilted slightly upward. “You’re looking for familial approval.”

He could have firmly denied the accusation. Laughed her off. “I like her,” he said instead.

Julie set her spoon down. “As in, you-want-to-see-her-again like her?”

Scrolling down on his tablet, he said, “I just met her last night.” And then—partially because she was soon going to find out, anyway—he added, “We’re going to be playing the leading roles in the murder mystery.” He left out the part about Chantel juicing up the script.

“You agreed to play a part?” Her mouth hung open.

Looking her in the eye, Colin nodded. It had occurred to him that perhaps part of the reason his little sister didn’t feel more of a drive to get out of the house and start really living again—as in looking for a relationship so she could start a family of her own—was because she was following his example.