Lifting the guy onto the gurney, Jud thought he’d had just about enough of this shit. There was still no place he’d rather be on a sunny winter day than on a mountain. He loved working ski patrol, but people used to actually be grateful when you’d show up to help them, rescue them from the mess they’d found themselves in. Now, more often than not, he had to deal with little pukes like this kid.
This was only reinforcing his decision to move on.
Popping his boots back into the bindings, he took off down the hill after the snowmobile that was hauling their patient to the base. The snow was getting heavier, so it was slow going, but they made it to the bottom a few minutes later. He and Roger stood by while they loaded the guy into the ambulance.
Roger looked at him. “Coffee?”
“After you.” Jud followed him into the restaurant at the base and found a remote table while Roger fetched their caffeine. He had just settled in a chair when his cell phone rang. The name on his caller ID made him smile, and right now that was really saying something. “Hey, beautiful.”
“I have some news,” Chelsea said, dispensing with a greeting.
“From the sound of your voice, I’m guessing it’s good news?” He could picture her jumping with glee, just as she had at the Bergen Gallery yesterday.
“I think so. I got a call from the man who bought my painting—ya know, the one Mara was telling me about?”
“Oh yeah?” He was happy for her, but in his current mood it was hard to work up a lot of enthusiasm.
“Yeah, his name is David Morrow and he wants to meet for a drink later.”
Jud frowned. He recognized the name, thinking he was the producer of one of the movies that had been based on a Cam Wood book. “He wants to meet you for a drink?”
“Yes! Isn’t that great?”
“It’s great, but why meet for a drink?” Even as he said it, Jud was kicking himself. What the hell was the matter with him? This was a fantastic opportunity for Chelsea.
She was quiet for a moment. “Did I mention that his wife was going to join us?”
Fuck. I’m an idiot. “Oops, jumped the gun. I’m sorry, Chels. I’m having a bad day. You go have a drink and knock ’em dead.”
“For a moment there, I thought you might have been jealous,” she said.
“I was.” Jud smiled, realizing it had been quite some time since he’d had that emotion. “Did he give you any idea what he wanted to talk about?”
“He wants to commission a work from me.” She sounded thrilled, but as if she couldn’t quite believe it.
“That’s amazing, Chelsea. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks! I’m happy too.”
“What time are you meeting them?”
“Six o’clock. At The Monarch.”
Jud whistled. The Monarch was the most expensive hotel in town. “Wow. Make sure he picks up the tab.”
She giggled. “I’m pretty sure he’s treating.”
“Want to go out for dinner after?”
“Oh, I can’t. Megan has this thing at the bookstore I need to go to.”
Shit. “No problem. Have a good evening, Chels.”
“Are you okay, Jud? You don’t sound like yourself. I can skip the bookstore thing—”
“No, no. Don’t do that. I’m fine. Really. Just give me a call after.”
“Okay, if you’re sure?”
“I’m sure, babe. Now go dazzle them.” He signed off as Roger walked up with their coffee. He wasn’t sure why he felt so down. So he was getting tired of the patrol thing—he was going to quit anyway. Huh.
“What’s the wife up to tonight?” Roger asked.
“Fuck you,” Jud said, but he was smiling. “She’s got a ‘thing’ to go to.”
“Wanna go grab some beers later?”
“Nah, not tonight. I’m kinda whipped.”
“I’ll say,” Roger said. “Pussy whipped.”
Jud shrugged. “If you’ve gotta be whipped…” He took a sip of coffee. He really was tired. And the only person he had any desire to be with tonight was Chelsea. Yep, he was definitely whipped.
* * * * *
Clothes were scattered all over Chelsea’s bed. She’d tried on several outfits and had finally made a decision—charcoal flannel slacks with a white top and red jacket. Not too casual, not too dressy.
Checking her watch, she saw that she had plenty of time but she didn’t want to be late. Outside, she walked carefully on the snow-covered drive. She’d paid a small fortune for the boots she was wearing and she didn’t want to ruin them.
It was a fifteen-minute drive to the hotel, so Chelsea took the time to find some calm. She was anxious about the meeting but she was also excited. She doubted that an important man like David Morrow would waste his time meeting with her if he thought her work was only so-so.
Then, of course, there was Jud. He really had sounded jealous and she had to admit, she wasn’t too disturbed by it. Little Chelsea Ryan had made a super-hot man jealous. It was empowering, a good emotion to channel before this meeting.
The décor of the lobby bar at The Monarch was typical mountain chic—dark, hardwood floors with perfectly spaced area rugs, iron chandeliers, overhead beams and low, comfortable leather furniture gathered around distressed wood tables. Dry logs crackled in a large fireplace at the center of the space.
With confidence, Chelsea approached the hostess—a brunette Barbie doll dressed all in black. “I’m here to meet David Morrow.”
To her credit, Barbie smiled warmly. “Yes, Ms. Ryan. Mr. Morrow has just arrived. Follow me.”
Chelsea was led to a table in the corner of the room by a large window looking out over the range. She’d expected David Morrow to be larger than life, power oozing from every pore. She was pleasantly surprised to see that was not the case.
“Ms. Ryan?” Morrow rose to greet her. He was not much taller than she, his hair dark and thinning.
“Call me Chelsea.” She extended her hand and he shook it firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morrow.”
“David,” he said, turning to the woman seated next to him. “This is my wife, Renee.”
“Hi, Chelsea. Thank you so much for joining us.” Renee Morrow was beautiful, but not in the “Hollywood Wife” way that Chelsea had thought she’d be. She was trim with dark, shoulder-length hair and she wore minimal makeup. Not that she needed any—her porcelain skin was smooth and unblemished.
“I was thrilled to be invited,” Chelsea said.
“Have a seat,” David said and motioned to a waitress, who responded immediately.
Chelsea glanced at the table to see that her companions were having cocktails. She didn’t drink much hard liquor, but she had watched every episode of Sex and the City. “I’ll have a Cosmopolitan,” she told the waitress.
Morrow smiled at her. “I have to tell you I loved your painting.”
“Thank you so much.”
“At the risk of sounding cliché, I don’t know much about art, but…” He smiled. “Your painting just drew me in. I kept returning to it, I had to have it.”
Chelsea swallowed, then cleared her throat. She felt as though her heart was about to burst out of her chest. “I’m so happy to hear you say that. There’s no greater compliment to an artist than to hear that her work has moved someone.”
Renee smiled at her. “It certainly did that. We weren’t going to be leaving that gallery without your piece.”
The waitress arrived with her cocktail. Chelsea thanked her and took a sip, when all she really wanted to do was jump up and dance around the room.
“So you’re probably wondering why we invited you here,” Morrow said.
Chelsea waited, trying to appear patient.
He opened a briefcase that sat beside him on the couch and pulled out a photograph. He placed it on the table and slid it in front of her. “I don’t want to insult you by asking you to paint a scene from a photograph…”
“Oh no. Artists find inspirati
on from all sorts of things.” Chelsea looked at the photo. It was a winter landscape of a walking bridge across a creek, snow falling gently. There was a large, red farmhouse-style home in the background. “It’s beautiful. Where is this?”
David looked at his wife and held out a hand, as if asking her to talk.
Renee smiled. “It’s Bucks County, Pennsylvania, where I grew up. My parents still live there, but they’re getting older and they want to downsize. It’s a huge home on acres and acres of land, and it’s getting to be too much for them.” She looked at David, her eyes moist.
“They’ve put it all on the market,” he said. “As you can tell, it’s an emotional time for Renee and her parents. This has always been their favorite photograph, and Renee and I would love to see your interpretation of it. I can’t think of a better gift for my in-laws.” He covered his wife’s hand with his own.
Touched, Chelsea said, “What a wonderful idea. I’ll certainly give it my best shot.”
“Thank you,” Renee said.
“What kind of time frame are we talking?” Chelsea asked.
“It’s certainly not urgent, but we’d like to be able to give it to them for Christmas. Is that doable?” David asked.
“That gives me over nine months.” Chelsea smiled. “I think I should be able to get it done by then.”
“Fantastic,” David said. “Of course, we can give you an advance.”
“Oh no. That’s not necessary,” Chelsea said.
“Are you sure? Mara said you work for the ski company. You can’t make much money doing that.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Chelsea said with a smile. “But don’t worry about it, I’ll be okay. I’d like to finish the painting before we talk money, anyway.”
David laughed. “I like you, Chelsea Ryan. Money discussions are so distasteful for artists, right?”
After spending the next twenty minutes with them, Chelsea decided that she liked the Morrows as well. She told them stories about her family and growing up in Colorado, and they shared tales of Hollywood craziness. David Morrow assured her that her painting would be on prominent display in their home, and that they had frequent large parties with guests who were always looking for the next greatest thing.
They exchanged contact information and, with promises to stay in touch, said their goodbyes. By the time Chelsea stepped out of the hotel, she was floating on air.
* * * * *
It was nearly eleven when Chelsea fell into bed. The reading at Megan’s store had turned out to be more fun than she’d thought it would be. She’d stayed to catch up with some friends, and the evening just flew by. It had been a good day. Unfortunately, morning and a full day’s work were just hours away.
Before shutting off the light, she grabbed her phone and called Jud. It rang twice before he picked up. She’d half expected to hear the raucous hoopla of a bar in the background but it was quiet when he answered.
“I thought you’d forgotten about me.” His voice was low and utterly sexy.
As if. “No, I just got home.”
“Did the author read her whole book?”
She laughed. “No, it just seemed like it. There was food and wine and everyone was apparently in a very social mood. I stayed to help Megan clean up.”
It was a moment before he said anything.
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Chels. Tell me about the meeting with David Morrow.”
She filled him in, relating the whole exchange nearly word for word, getting worked up all over again. “I’m sorry I’m running on about this, but I’m so excited.”
“I can tell.” His laughter rumbled in her ear. “That’s so great, Chels. Pretty soon you’re gonna be the toast of LaLa Land.”
“Doubtful. I’d be happy just to sell one or two pieces.” Despite everything, she didn’t want to let her hopes get too high.
“Uh-huh. Even so, I’d like to invite the talented artist over for dinner tomorrow night.”
She took two seconds to think about it. “Okay, I accept.”
“And, Chelsea? Plan on spending the night.”
She shivered at his tone. “Yes sir. You’re off tomorrow, right?”
“Mm-hm. Just come right from work—I’ll shower with you.”
“Will we ever get to dinner then?”
“Oh, sure.”
“All right. I’ll see you then.”
“Chelsea? Are you in bed?”
“Mm-hm.”
“What are you wearing?”
Chapter Ten
“For the main course, we have chicken piccata and penne pasta with arugula.” Jud set a beautiful plate in front of her, then sat to join her.
Chelsea inhaled deeply. “It smells so good.”
Jud topped off their wine and lifted his glass. “Here’s to the Picasso of our generation.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Chelsea touched her glass to his. “But I prefer to think of myself as the next Wyeth.”
“Cheers.” Jud smiled and took a sip of wine.
The chicken was tender and moist when Chelsea cut into it. It tasted even better than it looked. “Mmmm. Yummy.” She raised her hands and made a small bow. “I’m not worthy.”
Jud laughed out loud.
Chelsea ate heartily, relishing the delicious flavor. Between bites, she noticed Jud watching her. After a few moments, her curiosity got the best of her. “What?”
“Hmm?” Jud raised an eyebrow.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“Because I feel like it?”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “No, really.”
“We-ell, I have some news of my own to share.”
Not sure why she was suddenly anxious, Chelsea waited for him to go on.
“I was on the phone most of the day today. I have interviews set up at a couple of publishing houses.”
“Wow, that’s great.” She smiled, truly happy for him but feeling the clock ticking away. They wouldn’t have much time left together. She was pretty sure of the answer, but she asked anyway. “New York?”
He nodded. “I go in two weeks.”
Chelsea took a bite of chicken and, though it was still delicious, she found it harder to swallow. “That’s so great. You’ll knock ’em dead,” she said, repeating his words back to him.
“What would you think about coming along? I’d love for you to go with me—have some great food, see a show.”
“Damn, I don’t see how I can get away. My work schedule is made out for the month.”
“I figured. Too bad—a starving artist like you could have a field day in New York City.”
Whining, she gave him a look. “Maybe someday.”
The conversation turned to lighter topics as they finished their meal. Jud was excited about his interviews and Chelsea was excited about her new L.A. connection. Even though these good things seemed to be pulling them apart, Chelsea refused to be depressed. Right now, she and Jud were together and she was going to make the most of that time, even if it killed her.
After dinner, she helped him clean up. They stood side by side—Jud washing and Chelsea drying. It was easy and comfortable, as if they’d been doing it all their lives. When all the dishes were clean, Jud drained the sink and Chelsea hung up her towel.
Jud turned and wrapped her up in his arms, smoothing her hair, rubbing her back. “I missed you last night. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Mmm. Me too.” She started to melt under the heat of his stroking hands. Strong fingers threaded through her hair, grasped some wavy strands and gently tugged, forcing her to look up at him. She gasped as he covered her mouth with his, his lips burning her, his tongue exploring.
She clutched the back of his neck, hanging on for dear life as she felt her knees weaken. Jud cupped her ass, lifting her against his already impressive erection. One more time, she was stunned by how quickly she lost herself with him. Then, just as she was ready for him to lift her up on the counter and fuck her senseless, he released
her.
“Yeah, I’m really happy you’re here, Chels.” His eyes blazed into hers. He took her hand and led her into the living room, pulling her down to the couch with him. Tucking her into the crook of his shoulder, he grasped her hand, stroking her palm with his thumb.
Why is he slowing things down? Because, idiot, he’s not as turned-on as you are.
“You want to watch a movie?” he asked.
Yep, not as turned-on. “Sure.”
“What are you in the mood for? Action? Thriller? Mystery?”
“Makes no difference to me. Whatever you want.”
Jud stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, hey. Remember what we were talking about the other day? Ya know, watching a dirty movie together?”
Realizing she’d been played, Chelsea said, “I seem to remember that you wanted to do that.”
“Well, if you don’t want to…” Jud held up his hands in surrender.
Chelsea laughed out loud. Sensing an opportunity, she said, “No, let’s do it. It could be fun. Do you have any porn?”
“I’m a guy, Chels. Of course I have porn.”
“Well, pick out your favorite, the one that turns you on the most, and we’ll watch it together.” Maybe she could get some clues to his inner sex fiend.
“You’re incredible, Chels. I love that you’re up for this.” He cupped her cheeks, rubbing his thumb over her lower lip before pressing a brief kiss there. “It’s a total turn-on.”
She pressed her forehead against his. “So go get the movie and let’s start watching.”
His eyes flashed before he jumped up and went to search his collection. It didn’t take him long to find one and insert it in the player. Clearly he had one in mind.
Joining her on the couch, he grabbed up the remote and fast-forwarded through the opening credits. Chelsea hadn’t even seen the name of the movie, but it was just as well. It was probably something disgusting. She snuggled up against him and waited.
The first scene was a man and woman returning home to find that their sexy maid/au pair/whatever had decided to take a stroll through their mansion wearing only a white lacy bra and thong. Chelsea made a conscious decision to stifle her ridicule about the outrageous situation and just take it in, try to appreciate what Jud was seeing in it.
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