“Well, this is ironic and my timing is poor,” Carrie said, pushing a hand through her blonde tresses in frustration. “I was coming to offer you a job—well, a part-time job. You could do it from home—mostly. I thought it might suit you.”
Reesa held up a hand, leaned into the van and started it. Then she shut the door so she could talk over the vehicle noise while the monster was warming up.
“You said the magic word. What kind of job? I can’t rule out any possibility. Plus part-time is all I can handle right now,” Reesa said.
“I’m opening an art gallery downtown. I have some funding from a university arts program that has to be managed. All expenditures have to be justified and there is a long list of things to still be done to get the gallery ready to open next month. What I spend has to match what I’m allowed to spend. Basically, I need a funds manager and someone to do basic accounting,” Carrie said.
An art gallery, Reesa thought. How fun would that be—not to mention flexible enough to work from home.
“I have to pick Sara up at two-thirty. Can I meet you after that to discuss this more? I am interested, but my old boss called and wanted to talk to me about some telecommuting work. It means working with my ex again, so I’m not keen on taking it. Unfortunately, I need the money too badly to turn any possibility down at the moment,” Reesa said.
“Got a piece of paper?” Carrie asked, already digging for something to write her information on to give to Reesa. “I have a pen, but no paper in my purse. I must have left my tablet at the gallery.”
Reesa opened the van door, grabbed a paper napkin from it, and handed it to Carrie, who laughed. “It’s the best I can do for now.”
“Come by later,” Carrie said easily, leaning against the side of the van to hurriedly write the gallery’s address and her cell number on the napkin. “You can see the space and we can talk in my new conference room that should be mostly clean by now.”
“I’ll be sure and do that,” Reesa said. “Thanks for thinking of me. Did Shane send you?”
“No,” Carrie said, lifting a hand and stepping back as Reesa threw herself up into the van seat with more decorum than Carrie would have managed in a pencil skirt. “Michael remembered you said accounting used to be your job. Shane doesn’t know I’m here. Should I keep it a secret?”
Reesa rolled down the car window, closed the door, and laughed. So this wasn’t another rescue attempt, which made the job prospect even more attractive to her.
“No. Shane and I have been too busy to talk since last week. He doesn’t know I’m actively looking for work yet, but his knowing wouldn’t change my reality. A woman’s got to do what she’s got to do,” Reesa said.
“I hear you,” Carrie said in support even while her instincts went off in alarm. Strange reaction, she thought, lifting a hand to wave as Reesa backed the van out of the driveway and drove off.
Carrie walked to her car and headed back to the gallery, looking forward to talking to Reesa later in the day. It was obvious to Carrie that being on time for picking up Sara and taking her to the counselor was more important to Reesa Callahan than any job. She liked the idea of working with a woman whose priorities were in the right place.
Maybe Reesa would be a good example for Carrie to follow when it came time for Michael and her to start balancing family and work.
***
Shane finished the last panel and laid his pencil down in relief. He rubbed his hand as he stood, flexing his wrist to get some blood circulation back into it. His fingers were practically numb from the sixteen-hour days he’d been logging lately trying to wrap up this one.
His agent had managed to negotiate an advance twice his usual one, and he needed the money in hand right now. The last and biggest part of the advance was payable upon receipt of final draft.
He was hungry, but headed to shower instead because he simply couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one. That happened in the middle of every project, but usually not so close to the end.
At the end of a novel, Shane was usually iced and making tiny changes to individual panels. Nothing was tiny about what he’d just endured. It had been a flood of art on the page with every panel full of activity. Readers were going to be riveted and would have to spend considerable time figuring it out.
And he hadn’t been surprised to find Reesa’s character showing up in almost every panel. Boy was his hero crazy about the heroine based on her. It was almost as bad as his real-life feelings for the inspiration.
Shane snorted at his analysis of the feelings of his fictional characters, and then stopped to stare when he finally saw himself in a mirror over the bathroom sink.
“Holy shit, man—you seriously look like hell,” he said to his reflection, eyeing over a week’s growth of beard with mild shock.
Today, he really did look like his mother’s Viking ancestors with hair covering nearly every inch of his face. All he lacked was a fur-lined horned helmet and a chorus of opera singers performing “Flight of the Valkyries” in the background.
But he was already running behind, and he had promised Michael to help move marble pedestals into place at the gallery this afternoon, so there was no time for shaving. When he got around to it finally, it was likely going to be a two step process of trimming it down and then scraping it off. He had inherited the rapid hair growth thing from his father. Or maybe that was Nordic genes as well. No. There was just no time to get into all that required at the moment, Shane decided. Clean was the best he was going to manage today. Michael and Carrie would just have to be grateful he was taking time for a shower.
Besides, he was going to have more personal time now that the novel was done to start doing daily man maintenance and get into a new routine. He had to prepare for his dissertation defense next Friday, and his upcoming job orientation at the university. The job offer from them was made without meeting him in person, which Shane had no problem with for now. It was his publishing credentials they wanted more than him anyway, but Shane didn’t mind that either. He was going to surprise the research department at the medical center by being brilliant. Just like he was going to surprise Reesa with how mature he was despite the holey jeans and his tendency to not care what he looked like.
Shane stood under the shower and sighed at his crazy life which he was hoping to make even crazier over the next few months. If he’d been living with Reesa and the kids, they would never have let him overwork or do what he just did. They would have made him take breaks, eat, and prodded him into sleeping more than four hours a night.
With them, he would probably find a more civilized routine of getting things done. Or at least that was how Shane told himself it would go.
In the end, getting clean took a while anyway, and it wasn’t because thoughts of Reesa in the shower with him clouded his mind, though that was partially true. He missed her like hell, but knowing she was waiting for him was also a comfort as he had worked hard on his multiple projects tying up loose ends.
The shower took a while because it was hard to concentrate with Viking music playing in an endless loop in his head. Of course, his humming along with it bounced around the shower’s walls and made him laugh. He was tired and stupid with his fatigue, definitely needing about ten solid uninterrupted hours of sleep to catch up.
Shane rubbed his bristly face and wished he had time to shave. It might actually have made him feel better.
***
“Aunt Teresa, you are not listening,” Sara said, staring at her aunt and crossing her arms to show her displeasure.
Reesa looked in her rear view mirror at the little huffy looking blonde staring at her from the back seat. She reminded her so much of her sister that Reesa couldn’t answer for a moment. All she could do was stare and wonder if there was ever going to be a time when Sara didn’t remind her of April. Of the four children, Sara was the only one who wasn’t stamped with her father’s mahogany complexion. Instead, she was blonde and tanned looking, a condition April would have
relished seeing manifested in her youngest daughter.
“I’m sorry, honey. You’re right. Aunt Teresa is still a bit distracted from her errands,” Reesa explained. “Do you remember Carrie? She was one of Shane’s family.”
Sara uncrossed her arms and adopted a thinking pose, tapping a finger on her lips. “Did she have hair like mine?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Reesa said, mildly surprised that Sara actually did remember. The kid never missed a trick and innately remembered nuances about people’s appearance. “We’re going to go see her. She may become my new boss.”
“Do you want a new boss?” Sara asked.
Reesa sighed. Did she want to work for Shane’s family? That was almost as bad as the deal her old place of business wanted to offer her. Not that she intended to honor Brent’s side request that she give up dating Shane as a contingency of coming back to work for them part-time. The head partner who had interviewed her had said nothing about her personal life, nor would she have allowed him such a personal comment.
Still, she knew Brent was in the man’s good graces. It would not take much negativity from Brent for all three partners to decide that she was more trouble than she was worth. She wouldn’t even be considering going back to any job where Brent was in control of her work, but it might just get the judge to rule in her favor if she showed a good steady income, even if she didn’t have all the money. That’s really all Reesa cared about at the moment.
“Aunt Teresa, you did not hear me again,” Sara said plaintively.
Reesa closed her eyes and sighed once more. “I’m truly sorry, Sara. I’m having a bad listening day. Look, we’re here. Hang in there just a little more for me—okay?”
Reesa watched Sara cross her arms again and stick her lip out in a pout. She didn’t even blame her. She felt like doing that herself, Reesa thought, swinging the van into the no parking zone directly in front of the address.
“Okay, Carrie said I could park right here for a few minutes. Stay buckled in until I come around to get you,” Reesa said, watching traffic and finally sliding out of the front seat to the street. She had to tug the tight skirt back into place and thought that buying a running board for the van would be a good investment.
When they walked into the gallery, Reesa was struck by the grandness of the space with its large open floor plan. There was a peacefulness here with its newly painted walls and floor, walnut benches, and large square columns rising out of nothing adorned with multiple paintings of nude women hung on them.
Sara was going to get an interesting education today, Reesa thought, sighing for the barrage of questions she anticipated when the five-year-old looked up later and figured out the people in the pictures above her head weren’t wearing any clothes.
Carrie came striding out of the conference room with a large smile. “Reesa, I’m so glad you’re here. Hi, Sara. Well—what do you think?”
She flung her hands up and gestured widely, which had Reesa laughing at Carrie’s obvious pleasure in the place.
“Where is all your furniture?” Sara demanded. “Houses are supposed to have furniture for people to sit.”
Carrie laughed at Sara’s pronouncement. “This is not a house, sweetie. It’s an art gallery.”
“What’s a nart galley?” Sara asked, wrinkling her face in confusion at the new term.
“Art gallery,” Reesa corrected.
“That’s what I said,” Sara replied. “You are having a bad listening day.”
Reesa sighed greatly but made no answer, her gaze suddenly captured by a door slamming in the distance and the sight of a giant shaggy man walking next to Michael carrying a stack of boxes up to his chin.
“Good heavens,” Reesa said, covering her mouth to keep from swearing at how awful Shane looked. His hairier than usual appearance had a huge dampening effect on the usual impulse she had to fling herself at him whenever he came into view.
Sara heard his voice talking to his brother, pulled loose from Reesa, and bolted across the room at a run, not waiting for permission.
Shane looked up from setting his load down and saw Sara running. Grinning broadly, he got down on one knee to catch her while Michael looked at him and shook his head.
Sara came to a skidding stop about two feet in front of Shane. She frowned and made a face.
“What’s wrong, Sara?” Shane asked, missing the full hug greeting he was used to getting from her.
“What’s the matter with your face?” she said, her gaze swinging to the man Shane had said was his brother. The man was laughing loudly now, and Shaney was looking at him very mean.
Shane rubbed his face with a hand. “I didn’t have time to shave today. Do I look that bad?” he asked.
Sara nodded. “You look scary,” she said. “Can you take it off?”
Shane sighed as Michael turned his back to laugh more. “Not right now. I’m sorry, honey. This is what happens when a person gets really busy,” he explained. “I’m still me. I just have a beard now. Men grow beards sometimes.”
Sara took a couple steps towards him. “Does it hurt? Can I touch it?”
“Certainly, and no—it doesn’t hurt,” Shane said softly, letting his hands drop to his sides as Sara inched cautiously forward. When he finally felt her tiny hands in his beard, his heart melted in relief.
“It feels scratchy,” she announced, turning and leaning against the knee that wasn’t bent completely.
Shane nodded, bracing himself to support her weight. “So am I too scary to hug?” he asked.
Sara leaned around his face and hugged him carefully, keeping her head away from his jaw. Shaney smelled like he always did, so she decided she wasn’t worried how he looked anymore.
Shane carefully hugged Sara back as his brother continued to snicker and smile at his efforts to reassure her.
“Sara, would it scare you if I chased my brother and beat him up a little for making fun of us?” Shane asked quietly.
Sara giggled and threw her arms around Shane completely, laughing when he stood and lifted her into the air.
“Bro, what did you do—read a hundred books about parenting or something?” Michael asked, still trying to deal with having seen the truly disappointed look on Shane’s face when the little girl had refused to come near him at first.
After seeing him with the older teenagers the other day, his brother’s love for the little girl was another eye opener to Michael about just how serious Shane was becoming about Reesa’s family. Oh, he didn’t doubt Shane loved and wanted the woman. It was just becoming more and more obvious that the woman wasn’t all his brother wanted.
“Michael, I’ll be back in a minute. Where’s your aunt, princess?” Shane asked, glancing around the mostly empty gallery only to see Carrie in conversation with a woman in a suit. Reesa was nowhere to be found. “Is she in the conference room?”
Sara giggled. “Are you having a bad day too? Can you not see her?” she laughingly asked, wondering if all the adults she knew were having a bad day.
Laughing at Sara’s answer, Shane walked forward with Sara still in his arms. He was halfway across the distance of the gallery when the woman in the suit lifted her head from what she and Carrie had been perusing.
Shocked, Shane froze about ten feet away from her as he tried to let his brain adjust to Reesa’s teal green suit with its short tight skirt and matching heels. The outfit showcased her body to perfection, but he sure hadn’t recognized her.
And he suddenly understood Sara’s utter shock at seeing him with a full beard. The same kind of context problem was happening to him. It was startling to see the business woman Reesa had told him she was brought from story into stark reality.
Even her hair was pinned up and back, held in place with a clip. Reesa was also wearing makeup, real makeup, not just the touch of mascara she usually wore. There was little of the casual woman he knew left in the polished professional in front of him.
Shane lowered Sara slowly to the floor and stared bec
ause he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
“Hi, lady,” he said to Reesa. “I sure have missed you.”
Sara bounded over to Reesa and tugged on her hand.
“Don’t worry,” Sara advised her. “You can touch him. Shaney’s face is just scratchy.”
“Oh, I don’t know—his face looks pretty scary to me,” Reesa said, smiling at Sara to calm the butterflies in her stomach. Despite the crappy-looking facial hair, Shane still unnerved her with that direct look and sexy voice.
“Looks who’s talking about scary. I’m afraid to touch you, Ms. Business Woman,” Shane said.
“I doubt that,” Reesa said tightly, letting Sara pull free of her hand and skip away.
Conversation with Carrie momentarily forgotten, Reesa made herself walk toward Shane until she was standing in front of him gazing up. He looked bigger and more scruffy than even she could tolerate in a man. She didn’t know whether to laugh or chastise him. Her indecision must have shown on her face because Shane’s eyes started twinkling in mischief long before he spoke.
“The good news is that I finished the novel,” Shane said softly, seeing derision in her answering smile, but not commenting on it.
“I’m just glad to hear there’s at least a reasonable explanation for your uncivilized state,” Reesa said dryly, tugging on his shirt until Shane bent his mouth down to hers.
Shane let his lips touch Reesa’s briefly, then raised his head and backed away. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it was all he felt he could do in the circumstances. Even Shane had to admit someone looking like him shouldn’t be kissing someone who looked as good as she did. He felt unworthy, and it was the damndest feeling he’d ever had with a woman. Worse, he knew the disparity between them was his fault.
How could he expect to talk to her about being partners in life if they couldn’t be equals in a simple thing like having similar value systems about the way they looked?
Reesa’s gaze dropped from his as Shane backed away from her, but not before Shane saw the flash of hurt. It had him lifting Reesa’s chin and moving her gaze back to his.
Captured In Ink (Art of Love Series) Page 19