Picture Me and You: A Devil's Kettle Romance, #1

by Sey, Susan

  As the ordinary? Addy put on her company smile. “Of course not.”

  “Let me.” Bianca stepped forward, all gracious benevolence, and held out a hand for the camera. She nudged Matty into the spot Addy had just vacated in the Georgie shield. “I’m Bianca Davis, by the way. Diego’s mother. I love to meet such well-informed fans of his work.”

  So Addy stood to have her inadequate picture taken next to Diego’s dream of her. The dream that — as Carol had so astutely observed — wasn’t based in any kind of reality, and had survived about twenty minutes of real-life marriage. But the women left with two hand-thrown vases, a framed woodcut print, and a snapshot of Addy with Diego’s Angel that would fuel a dozen dinner party debates on the nature of love. They’d spend the rest of the afternoon sprinkling their tourist dollars all over Main Street like fairy dust, too. Which was exactly why Addy had nurtured the illusion of Diego’s Angel all these years. It had been for her own benefit, of course, but it had been for everybody else’s too. Unquestionably.

  Was there room for this in her new normal? Did she want there to be?

  The door hadn’t even swung fully shut behind the women when Nan hissed, “When were you going to tell me, Bianca?”

  “Tell you what?” Bianca asked while Addy walked back to the desk and leaned on the edge, suddenly exhausted.

  “About Devil Days.” Nan hitched up her enormous purse and stalked over to shove a finger in her daughter-in-law’s face. “About putting porn on Main Street, for God’s sake.”

  Chapter 19

  BIANCA SAID, “OH, calm down, Nan. There’s not going to be any porn on Main Street.” She turned her back on Nan and strolled to the desk as well.

  “Like hell there’s not.” Nan dogged her across the room. “Everybody knows Addy pulled a set of paintings out of that garage fire, Bianca. Paintings that were obviously important enough to risk her life for, but that nobody’s ever seen. Which means — knowing our Diego — that they were probably too dirty to show widely.”

  Bianca chuckled and fluttered her fingers at Matty, who dutifully stood up. She took his place on the edge of the desk beside Addy and gazed coolly up at Nan. “Is that what people are saying? That Diego left behind a series of erotic post-Angel works featuring Addison?”

  “It’s what you’re saying,” Nan growled. “Implying, anyway, judging from the national press release you sent out.” Addy stared at Bianca. Press release? Bianca didn’t look her way. Nor did Nan. “I have Julia goddamn Gates of the New York Art Report leaving me voice mails fishing for the particulars, Bianca. Would you care to share them?”

  The air left Addy’s lungs on a punch of shock. Julia Gates. Diego’s favorite reporter. A powerful journalist whose unfailing devotion had made him the darling of the art world before he could legally buy a drink. And the woman — the first of many — with whom he’d broken his vows to Addy.

  Bianca’s lips curved with smug satisfaction. “Julia’s interested in our little showing, is she?”

  “Very.” Nan stared down at Bianca, a shrewd speculation in those hazel eyes. “Why is that, do you suppose?”

  Probably because she had long black hair, Addy thought bitterly, and a nape of the neck that Diego couldn’t resist. Because she might be wondering exactly how prominently Diego’s newly discovered body of work displayed her body. Because people tended to question a reporter’s ethics when she’d gotten so thoroughly naked with a subject.

  “Diego was a particular favorite of hers, if you remember.” Bianca shrugged lightly. “As well he should’ve been. He made her career as much as she made his.”

  “She wanted to make more than his career,” Nan said darkly. A crack of laughter wedged itself in Addy’s throat and she made a strangled noise. Bianca gripped her knee with merciless fingers. “That’s what I remember. Fifteen years older than he was, too. Maybe twenty.”

  “So what?” Bianca returned. “Older women fight irrelevance every single day of their lives but Diego didn’t equate beauty with youth the way so many do. He saw the beauty in every woman. Found it and showed it to her. I promise you, Julia Gates wasn’t the only reporter half in love with an artist half her age.” She rolled a nonchalant shoulder. “Besides, she introduced Diego to the world. It’s only natural that she’d want to introduce Matty, too.”

  Addy stared. Bianca was still planning to show Matty’s work?

  “Matty?” Nan’s sharp eyes swung his way, caught the flinch he tried to suppress. He drove his hands deeper into his pockets and scowled darkly at the floor. “Why the hell would you introduce a thirteen-year-old smart ass to the world?”

  Matty jerked a shrug. “Beats the hell out of me.”

  Nan reached up and flicked his ear. “Language, young man.”

  “Ow.” He scowled and rubbed his ear.

  “Because he’s producing work that has potential for miles,” Bianca said, serenely ignoring the byplay. “It’s not mature work yet, of course, but when you hang his canvases beside what Diego was producing at the same age—”

  “Oh hell.” Nan stared. “Oh shit. You wouldn’t.”

  “Language,” Bianca said primly.

  “Fuck that,” Nan snapped, and Matty choked back a laugh. “I know exactly what Diego was producing at Matty’s age. He was painting it on my goddamned front porch, wasn’t he?”

  “What, the Kettle studies?” Bianca blinked innocently.

  “The naked women.” Nan fixed her daughter-in-law with a gaze that should’ve burned her to cinders. “The extreme close-ups of their genitalia, Bianca. Otherwise known as pornography.”

  “Only if you consider Georgia O’Keefe a pornographer, too.” Bianca smiled coolly. “Which the world decidedly does not.”

  “Because she had the good grace to disguise the sex parts she painted as flowers, for God’s sake. Diego’s early stuff is nearly photographic, and you know it.” Nan shook a furious finger. “Don’t play semantics on this, girl. Devil’s Kettle is a small town, and that right there—” She stabbed that finger at Diego’s Angel which was serenely exuding adoration, rainbows and soft-focus lust. “—is about as racy as the citizenry is prepared to tolerate. They’re proud of Diego. He put this town on the map, and they know it. We all know it. God knows you never let us forget it. But if you think they’re going to let you frame up a bunch of pussy paintings and hang them on Main Street during Devil Days, you don’t know this town at all.”

  “You’re right about one thing — Diego did put this town on the map.” Bianca rose slowly from the desk and gazed icily down at her mother-in-law. “In fact, my son is the only thing keeping this town on the map. That painting right there, that racy painting that’s evidently pushed you and your delicate-minded neighbors to the edges of your moral endurance? It’s the only thing standing between this town and an epidemic of bankruptcy. The Davis family’s decision to keep it here, to keep the entire collection here instead of placing it in a world-class museum where it belongs is pure generosity. This whole town’s continued well-being depends upon that generosity, and you know it. I know it. Everybody knows it. So please understand this: I will display whatever I please, whenever I please, wherever I damn well please.” Her smile was chilled malevolence, slow and deadly. “You might want to use your little newspaper to make sure everybody else understands it, too.”

  The smile alone would’ve put Addy on her knees, never mind the speech. But Nan just gazed at Bianca like a chess master assessing a worthy opponent. “You’re going to play it that way, huh?”

  Bianca’s smile spread. “When it comes to art, I don’t play. You know that, Nan.”

  “You should.” Nan sighed. “You damn well should play. Just shows how little you understand.” She turned to Matty. “I almost wish you’d managed it.”

  He blinked. “Managed what?”

  “To burn down that damn garage and every painting in it.”

  “It was an accident,” Matty muttered. “I wasn’t trying to burn anything. And besides, the
paintings in the garage weren’t even the ones you’re so—”

  “Carriage house,” Bianca cut in smoothly. She put a hand on Matty’s arm. “We have a carriage house, darling.”

  Addy’s brows shot up. Okay, so Bianca didn’t want Nan to know exactly what had been in that folio. But why? To build anticipation for the eventual show? Because she intended to use those paintings as a weapon and didn’t want to give up the element of surprise? Because she was plotting something else altogether? Foreboding gripped Addy’s stomach. This was Bianca, she reminded herself grimly. It was probably all of the above.

  “Fine.” Matty rolled his eyes. “Carriage house. And I didn’t burn it down, okay? I just burned the roof off it. Accidentally.”

  Nan studied him for a long moment, then shifted that gaze back to Bianca. “We’re not done with this.”

  “Of course we are.”

  “Then you’re dumber than I thought, and I always thought you were dumb.”

  “So you’ve always said.” Bianca didn’t bother to smile this time. Nan hitched up her bag, spun on one heel and headed for the door. Bells jingled violently and they all watched until she disappeared up the sidewalk, her dark helmet of hair utterly unruffled by the snatching wind.

  Bianca tipped her head to study Jax. “I assume this is why you tracked us down today? To warn me about the apocalypse of public disapproval bearing down on us?”

  Jax laughed. “Of course not. Why would I chase you all over town to tell you something you already know? Something you manufactured yourself, and entirely on purpose?”

  Her lips curved reluctantly. “Just when I think you’re a complete disappointment.”

  “I rolled as far from the tree as I could.”

  “I know, darling.” She leaned down to peck his cheek. “I know.” She tipped her head to study him. “So why are you here?”

  “I wanted to see if you’d take Addy’s shift at the gallery today.”

  Addy blinked. “What? Why?”

  He rose and slipped a hand through her elbow. Everything in her leapt to life and she managed only through the most desperate of efforts to keep from hissing a breath in through her teeth. Oh, help. She was like water on a skillet around Jax lately, dancing and steaming and evaporating into a whole new form of herself. “I have something to show you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yep.” He looked to his mom. “So can you? Take the shift?”

  Bianca eyed Georgie snoring softly into the surface of the desk and sighed. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Super.” He scooped up Addy’s bag and handed it to her, jerked his chin at Matty. “You, too, buddy.”

  “Super,” Matty echoed sourly. “A field trip.”

  “Don’t be long,” Bianca called after them as they headed for the door. “We’re celebrating the engagement tonight over dinner. Hill Top House, seven o’clock.”

  “Super,” Matty muttered again. Jax pulled open the door and shoved him onto the sidewalk.

  Addy went to follow, then hesitated, one hand on the doorjamb. She glanced a question back at her mother-in-law, one she was half afraid to ask out loud.

  “Don’t be foolish,” Bianca said almost kindly. “Of course you’re invited. You’re family.” She folded her hands and fixed Addy with a penetrating gaze. “And we have a lot to discuss.”

  Jax smiled. “There it is.”

  “There what is?” Addy asked, her eyes on Bianca while relief and foreboding fought a bloody battle in her gut.

  “The opening volley. Finally.” And he shoved her onto the sidewalk, too.

  Out on Main Street, Jax pointed Matty and Addison toward the little red Nissan pickup he was driving today. It was almost twenty years old and had nearly as many miles on it as the mini-pumper but he kept it for special occasions. Like now.

  “Oh crap,” Matty said. “We’re driving that?”

  “Yep. I’m off duty today.” He nodded the kid toward the cab and headed for the driver’s side. “It’s unlocked. Get in.”

  “Fine. But I’m not riding in the middle.” He frowned at the compact pickup. “I don’t think I even can. This thing is snack-sized.”

  Addison pulled open the passenger door and crawled in. “I’m short. I’ll do it.”

  Jax helped himself to the driver’s seat, and tried hard not to grin. Victory. He’d been hoping he’d get to shift gears between Addy’s pretty knees all the way up the hill.

  He wasn’t ashamed of it. He was only a man, after all, and he’d pushed his endurance to superhuman limits lately. If first kisses were adventures and second kisses were verdicts, every single kiss after that was a promise. And the promises he’d been making Addy lately were the sort a guy wanted to follow through on. Soon.

  But he’d be damned if he’d make his move — his real move — before he was sure he’d cleared the field. Because you didn’t get involved with a woman — like set-the-bed-on-fire involved — unless you were damn sure there was nobody else in that bed. Even a ghost. The way she was starting to kiss him back suggested he was making progress, but Jax wasn’t a risk taker. People always seemed to be surprised by that — how could you fight fires for a living and not be a risk taker? The truth was that only shitty firefighters were risk takers. The good ones were methodical guys, analytical thinkers who liked to work with their hands and the occasional axe. They weren’t afraid of pain but they didn’t go looking for it, either.

  So, yeah, Jax was waiting for his moment with Addy. It hadn’t come yet but it was getting closer. She was getting closer. Every time he kissed her, he could feel her mouth ripening under his like a warm berry, getting softer and sweeter with each desperate ounce of patience he carved off his soul. The harvest was going to be so worth the wait but Jesus, you could only kiss a woman that thoroughly and that well so often before you were looking for excuses to shift gears between her damn knees.

  Jax fired up the Nissan, released the parking brake and reached for the gear shift. Addy sucked in a sharp breath and Jax clamped down on a smug grin.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “It’s a little tight.”

  “No problem.” She squirmed, trying to give him more room but only succeeded in sliding the inside seam of her jeans along his thumb. Lust roared to life inside him, and Jax had to squirm a bit, too, looking for a little more room himself. Not much to be had at this point, at least not inside his jeans. “So where are we going?”

  “Davis Place.”

  “Really?” She turned those big green eyes his way as he swung into a U-turn and headed north out of town. “Why?”

  “As it happens, I’m not the only guy with a little free time today.” He shifted again, turned inland and gained speed for the climb up the bluffs. “Your plan for Davis Place came up the other day at work. Turns out Frank, Mason and Graham are all pretty interested in the business.”

  She frowned at him. “They are?”

  They hit the hill and he downshifted. Her eyes went glassy, and she blinked. He sent her an innocent sideways glance. “Problem?”

  Those eyes narrowed. “With what?”

  “With taking Mason, Frank and Graham on a walk-through today? They’re planning to meet us there in about—” He consulted his internal alarm clock. “—I’d say about twenty minutes. That’s a plumber, an electrician and a carpenter, by the way, all in one fell swoop. And they’re prepared to give estimates. Which will be a hell of a lot more accurate if you tell them exactly what it is you want them to do.”

  “Oh, but I don’t know if I’m quite ready to—”

  “Addy, please. If you revise your spreadsheets even one more time, you’ll have it fined down to clean room specifications. Don’t even pretend you don’t know exactly what you want.”

  “Well of course I know what I want.” She paused and Jax seized the opportunity to downshift again. He knew what he wanted, too. She shivered and opened her knees around the shifter in an effort to accommodate him. Oh, Jesus. He hoped he made it up the bluffs wit
hout disgracing himself. “I just don’t know what Bianca wants.”

  “So what?”

  “So it’s not just my project is it?” She frowned out the windshield. “It’s my idea but her property. I checked. Nan signed it over to her when she moved out. I wondered why she’d just get rid of it that way, just sign it over to a daughter-in-law who already has a place and a huge one at that. Then I heard about your dad.” She touched his elbow, and he looked over to find her watching him, her face soft and sad. “I’m really sorry, by the way. I didn’t know. Diego never talked about him.”

  “Nobody talks about him.” He smiled at her. “They should though. It was a long time ago, and my dad was awesome.” He glanced at Matty, whose face was turned to the window. “Our dad. I wish you’d known him, Matty. He’d have loved you.”

  “Yeah?” The boy didn’t turn but something about his slouch was just a little too studied to be natural and Jax tasted guilt, bitter and reproachful. Bianca wasn’t great with grief — obviously — so Jax doubted she’d been sharing stories about Joe over the dinner table. Georgie followed their mother’s lead in all things, of course, and Addy had never met the man. It had been Jax’s job to give the boy his father, and he’d failed.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jax said around the lump in his throat. “He was always blowing something up. If he’d lived, he’d have burned down the carriage house so many times, nobody would’ve blinked when you tried.”

  “I didn’t try.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” Jax reached across Addy to give the kid’s knee a deliberately patronizing pat. Brushing his arm across her soft sweater was a nice bonus, as was the black scowl he earned from his brother. He liked it way better than that blank facade Matty liked to affect these days, and was getting damn close to perfecting. “But if you had, who would blame you? That kiln he built in the basement of Davis Place—”