“You’ve got so much to learn about yourself,” Michael said seriously, bending down to kiss her.
Someone clearing their throat had them breaking apart almost guiltily.
“Sorry for the interruption,” Drake said, walking over to them. “I just wanted to drop by and congratulate you, Carrie.”
Carrie smiled. “Hi, Drake. Lord, I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. I walked into this space just a few minutes ago and had a meltdown.”
Drake looked around. “Fix the walls and put up some great lighting. You’ll see it in a whole new way. Oh that reminds me,” he pulled a couple business cards out of his pocket.
“Here are two lighting companies I’ve used. Both are excellent. This one is cheap and good,” Drake said, tapping the one card. “Try them first.”
He turned to the man beside Carrie. “You must be Michael Larson,” he said, sticking out a hand to shake. “Drake Barrymore—it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I know you’re Carrie’s husband, but you’re also quite the legend in the art department. Even Dr. Fillmore used to talk about you, and he was the most reclusive man I’ve ever met.”
Michael sighed as he shook Drake’s hand. “Don’t believe all you hear,” he said, watching his wife roll her eyes. “Okay—maybe half of it, but I’m all grown up now—I swear. Marriage has soothed the restless soul in me.”
Drake grinned. “Restless soul—that’s a great way to put it. My son has grown up with nudes of his mother in our house. His therapist wanted me to take them down, but I refused. I am the last person to throw stones at anyone’s life choices. We all have our journeys. Artists ache with every growing pain, don’t they?”
Michael looked at Carrie. “Yes, but when life works out, sometimes it’s better than the artist ever imagined,” he said, holding his wife’s gaze until she flushed with pleasure.
“So anyway,” Drake said, his gaze shifting between the Larsons, feeling the first tug of envy he’d felt in a while. “I just wanted to drop by and tell you to call me if I can do anything. I am very interested in helping you get the gallery up and running as soon as possible. Did you have a date in mind?”
“Christmas,” Michael said dryly, enjoying the flash of fire in his wife’s gaze for saying it out loud to Barrymore when he knew how overwhelmed she was feeling.
“Christmas?” Drake said in shock. “That’s aggressive. Is that even possible?”
Michael shrugged. “Ask my wife. A Christmas opening was her idea.”
Carrie crossed her arms. “You’re taunting me, aren’t you?” she asked her husband.
Michael shook his head. “No—no, I’m being an agnostic, not a complete disbeliever.”
Carrie snorted. “You don’t think I can do it.”
“Not true,” Michael said, grinning. “I don’t think anyone could get this place functional in two months. There’s too much to do and too little time to do it.”
Narrowing her eyes, Carrie looked around the space critically. Michael’s taunting had shifted her focus to the laser beam it was at the best of times.
“Don’t stock up on too many yogurt bars when you shop for the next couple of months,” she told her grinning husband dryly. “I’m going to be working round the clock here.”
Michael laughed and shook his head again, laughing more at the growing puzzlement on Drake’s face.
“Carrie and I have a tendency to get distracted and forget things around the house. Food tends to expire,” he explained tacking on the little white lie for effect, grinning wickedly as he heard his wife’s derisive snort. It was pretty bad in a relationship when you knew you were going to catch hell over something and you didn’t mind, Michael thought.
“On the other hand,” he said smiling at Drake’s confusion, “if anyone stands a chance of pulling this place together in two months, it is definitely Carrie. My wife works like a machine when inspired.”
“It’s too late to suck up, Michael,” Carrie said sternly. “I’m going to go get my notepad from the car. The honeymoon is officially over.”
Michael grinned as he watched his spirited wife walk to the door, her chin up and thrust out.
“If you’re a man who enjoys excitement, I can see why you chose Carrie,” Drake said. “I bet life stays pretty animated around your house.”
“Come to dinner sometime and find out,” Michael said easily. “I’ll even increase the entertainment value and invite Brooke. That should be fun. I heard several times about your mistake with her and her mother.”
Drake laughed and scratched his head. “It was an honest mistake. Dr. Daniels is quite charming, but very easily provoked. I’m afraid we don’t get along very well.”
Michael laughed at Drake’s oh-so-polite phrasing. “Carrie and I fought for three years before I talked her into bed. I think passion is just the artist’s path to true love. We still fight, just not in a way that hurts the other as much now.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know how that works,” Drake said easily. “I like my peace and quiet. My son is going off to college next year. Apparently, my university isn’t important enough for him. He’s got his heart set on Harvard, and his submission is in the final group. Maybe after he’s out of the house I can start being more social. Well, who knows?”
Michael laughed at Drake’s hedging over being in a social setting with Brooke. “Hey—if you’re not interested, you’re just not interested. I understand perfectly. Brooke’s got a sharp tongue now and again. Let’s change the subject—Carrie says she’s going to show your work here. I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
“Thank you. Same here. I’m a fan of your father’s already, though he doesn’t know. My wife ordered one of his statutes for the library where she worked when I was teaching at Cornell. His attention to detail is amazing,” Drake said. “My wife was quite enamored with the realism of his work.”
Michael laughed. “All women are. By the way, Brooke’s mother happens to be my father’s girlfriend. Dad and Jessica are getting married soon, so Brooke is technically going to be my stepsister. I guess you could say we’re a family of artists.”
“All those dramatic egos must make for some interesting family dinners,” Drake said, grinning.
“I bet you’d fit right in. If you’re not doing anything for Thanksgiving, you and your son should consider spending it with us,” Michael offered.
“That’s kind of you,” Drake said. “Brandon and I will certainly keep it in mind.”
Carrie came back in and stopped when she saw the men standing side by side. They were very similar in body build and mannerisms. And they both had that long ponytail that she found so sexually fascinating. Yet only one of them made her heart pound and her temper flare. Strange, she’d always thought it was Michael’s looks that drew her, but when faced with a calmer version of him, there wasn’t even a flicker inside her. Life was just strange.
“Drake, I didn’t mean to abandon you. I got to talking to the person who bought the shop next door. It’s going to be a coffee shop. This location just gets better and better. I can’t thank you enough,” she said.
“Sure you can,” Drake said, grinning. “Sell my paintings for half your regular commission.”
Carrie laughed. “Don’t be silly. I will earn every penny of my commission, and you will think so before it’s done. I’m going to find what you haven’t had until now.”
“And what would that be?” Drake asked, smiling.
“A paying fan club for your work,” Carrie said. “It’s my specialty.”
Drake looked at Michael.
“She’s not exaggerating—not even a little,” Michael told him.
“Well, in that case count me in on the work crew, and hand me a broom and mop,” Drake said. “Seriously, call me when you get down to the nitty-gritty here and I’ll help when I can.”
Carrie walked to him and hugged him, surprising him into hugging back. “Thank you. You won’t be sorry for having faith in me.” Then she walked off and
started making notes.
Michael smiled at her retreating back.
“If you don’t mind my pointing out the obvious, your wife hugs with her whole self,” Drake said, compelled to say it out loud. He hadn’t met a woman like Carrie Larson in years.
“Yes, and she’s worth fighting for,” Michael said dryly, understanding the man was just paying both him and Carrie a compliment. Still there was no reason not to push it a little further. “There’s only one available female left in our family, Barrymore. When you’re tired of being a wimp about my future step-sister, let me know.”
“Larson, you have a lot to learn. When you’re my age, a woman is no longer a necessity,” Drake said, rubbing his chin. “She’s just a luxury if you decide to indulge.”
“I don’t think my father, who’s at least a decade older than you, would agree,” Michael told him, grinning. “And you don’t seem that old, more like you’re just not interested. I’d feel sorry for you if I thought you really meant it.”
Drake snorted. “Brutal emotional honesty—I see you deserve your reputation.”
“I never said I didn’t,” Michael said, smiling and watching the man practically run for the door.
Barrymore probably wasn’t even a decade older than he was, which was damn depressing, Michael thought. He didn’t want to think that a man could actually lose sexual interest in his forties. What a barren life that would be.
He idly watched his wife walk around making notes in her short skirt and cardigan set with the same level of sexual interest he felt when he first met her three years ago, more actually, because he knew now what they could have between them. Turning off such physical interest in connecting with her would have to be mostly emotional, Michael reasoned, trying to figure out how it could possibly happen.
From what Michael had read in the man’s bio, Barrymore’s wife had been dead for years. It was time for him to stop grieving. Drake needed to loosen up and start living again. Just not with Carrie.
“What?” Carrie asked, seeing Michael’s intense gaze studying her.
“I’m thinking about what I intend to do to you when we get home,” Michael said, putting his hands in his pockets to keep them off her.
Carrie dropped the pen and paper to her sides. “Stop trying to tempt me,” she said, exasperated with his knowing smile. “I’m going to have to bar you from coming down here while I’m working. I’ll never get anything done with you looking at me like that.”
“It’s not me just being a horny guy. Technically, we’re still in our honeymoon phase, Mrs. Larson,” Michael said, walking over to her. “Every time I see you, I automatically think about taking you to bed.”
“How long does the honeymoon phase last?” Carrie asked him as his arm slipped around her waist and his mouth bent to her neck. She closed her eyes to enjoy it.
“Oh—a while I think,” Michael said. “We can ask Shane. He probably knows.”
“I still have trouble thinking of your brother as an intellectual. How is it going with him and Reesa? He hasn’t been around much since he found her,” Carrie said.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Michael said, pulling away from her warmth. “All I can do is hope for him.”
“You’re genuinely worried about them, aren’t you?” Carrie asked.
“Worry—it’s what I do,” Michael said dryly, rubbing his face.
Carrie laughed softly and put her arms around him for a hug. “Your little brother is all grown up now. He’s going to be fine, Michael.”
“Yeah—well, I’d feel better if they were married,” Michael said. “Shane is like Dad. He’s going to need the stability of marriage to be truly happy.”
Carrie laughed and had to cover her mouth to hold in the rest because Michael looked so stricken. “I’m sorry, but that’s ironic from a man who coerced me into marrying him.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t need it too,” Michael said tightly, having to laugh at himself when Carrie only laughed more. He supposed he should be grateful she wasn’t still upset.
“I think when I hire Reesa the first thing I’m going to do is warn her about not letting herself be tricked into getting married by a Larson man,” Carrie said.
Michael snorted. “It would be waste of breath. Shane’s not like that. He’s wicked, but not evil enough to force a woman to do anything, much less marry him.”
“Really? I never thought you would be like that either,” Carrie said. “If anything, I thought you worked damn hard to avoid it.”
“You can never tell what a desperate man in love will do,” Michael said.
Carries laughed. “Exactly—Shane seems pretty desperate to me where Reesa is concerned. Maybe you’re wrong about him. Maybe he’s just as bad as you.”
“The worst thing Shane’s going to do to Teresa Callahan is analyze her to death,” Michael said, even though he agreed with Carrie that Shane had some pretty intense feelings about the woman.
Chapter 13
Wednesday afternoon, Shane was sitting at Reesa’s kitchen table when he heard his father’s bike pull up outside Reesa’s house. His father preferred his bikes to sound like a vibrating train. Shane preferred his to be sleek, and much, much quieter.
He opened the door to see his father removing his drill driver from the luggage compartment on the back, conceding that the Harley was in many ways like driving a compact car.
Shane grinned at his father swaggering as he walked to the house. Jessica had done that, he thought. He understood it now because he felt like that himself.
“Thanks for coming over. Michael was too busy at the gallery. I’m trying to fix a problem with the bed, but I can’t pull it out from the wall by myself,” Shane said, heading back to the master bedroom and leaving his father to follow. “I want to get it done while Reesa and Sara are out shopping.”
Will walked into the room and looked at the monster bed occupying most of the square footage in the tiny space. It had four large bedposts that looked like square porch columns, and a canopy privacy rail around the entire thing which he supposed was for a curtain if you wanted one. He put a hand on one of the posts and shook it. It took a lot for him to even budge it. The bed was about as solid as they made them.
“A family of giants could sleep in this bed,” Will said.
“Six-foot-eight Jackson Lansing used to sleep in it. He was the university center forward who was drafted to the Celtics. He was married to Reesa’s sister,” Shane explained.
“I remember hearing about his death. Plane crashed with him and his wife on board. So that’s why Reesa has custody of the kids?” Will asked.
Shane nodded and looked at the bed, wondering how many of the kids had been created there. Sara for sure, he imagined.
“Reesa argued and won temporary custody. She wants to keep them all together like her sister wanted. The paternal grandparents want to take two of them. Jackson’s sister helps Reesa when she can, but Jillian’s job keeps her on the road most of the time,” Shane said, his voice full of pride and respect.
“Temporary custody?” Will asked, not understanding. It had been over six months since the Lansing parents had died.
Shane nodded again, his jaw locked by gritted teeth at the thought of how distressed Reesa was about the possibility of losing them.
“It takes a lot of money to take care of four kids. Brian is in counseling and not doing well in school. In fact, he and Sara are both in counseling. Reesa gave up her job to be available to the kids. She’s exhausting her retirement money just paying living expenses,” Shane said.
“Got to respect a woman willing to sacrifice for her family,” Will said, seeing that Shane did respect her. Actually, Will could see his son felt even more for her than that. He didn’t know whether to be happy or worried.
“How are the other two kids doing?”
“Zack does amazingly well. Kid’s a walking testimony to what great parents he had. He’s sad still, but level. Chelsea’s a rock too. I think that’s b
ecause she and Jillian have bonded. They’re a lot alike,” Shane said, pointing to a stack of furniture moving disks. “Put these under the bedposts when I lift them, Dad.”
Will picked up the stack of disks and carried them to where Shane lifted the first post. “Is Reesa running out of funds?”
“Yes—but that’s just one problem,” Shane said, his jaw locking in anger again as he lifted the second post. “Evidently, Jackson’s parents are wanting custody of Zack and Chelsea and being pretty aggressive in their pursuit of it.”
“They only want two of the kids? Isn’t that a little bizarre?” Will asked.
“Even the grandparents don’t have the income to support all four. So it doesn’t look bad if they sell their agenda as doing Reesa a favor by lessening her financial burden,” Shane said, lifting the third post. “Damn, this bed is heavy when you lift it straight up.”
“Do Zack and Chelsea want to live with their grandparents?” Will asked.
Shane shook his head. “No. Zack sees himself as the man in the family now. He wants to make sure the others are secure before he goes to college in a couple years. He’s been scouted and thinks his grades will get him a basketball scholarship. Chelsea knows her grandparents don’t approve of Jillian, so that negates their appeal to her. Don’t mess with a fourteen-year-old’s beloved aunt who buys her trendy clothes.”
“Never underestimate a teenager’s zeal for fashion,” Will said, grinning.
Shane lifted the fourth post and set it down on the final disk with great relief. “Well, that was a workout. I guess I can skip the gym this week without guilt.”
“Just what are you trying to do here?” Will asked, laughing. “Maybe I should have asked before you lifted all the posts.”
“Watch and learn,” Shane said, grinning. Grabbing the bottom of the giant bed, he gave a loud grunt and pulled it away from the wall with relative ease.
“Excellent,” he said in approval, smiling when he had it a good two feet away from the wall. “It’s still heavy, but I can at least slide it.”
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