“You’ve done this there before?”
“Two months ago. It went over really well, so we planned another one.”
“I’ll definitely consider it,” he told her. “You have a good night.”
Cassie followed him into the guest area and watched him put the mug in the sink. Then he picked up his jacket from the back of a chair and headed upstairs without looking back.
Maybe she’d been all wrong about an attraction between them. Maybe only she was the one who felt the attraction. Maybe she’d poked and prodded too much. Whatever the reason, she felt a bit rebuffed. She’d just keep her distance from Nash Tremont, and the attraction would go away on its own.
* * *
If Cassie had the opportunity and the funds, she’d eat at La Viña, the Mendoza Winery’s restaurant, as often as she could. She liked the atmosphere there. The interior had a lot of large windows that during the day provided an extensive view of the vineyard. At night, floodlights showed off the grounds. The ceiling was oak-paneled and rounded to reflect the shape of the inside of a wine barrel.
The restaurant had been rearranged for the Paint and Sip party. Easels were set up along two sides of the restaurant. Patrons could pay the entire fee and actually paint a canvas with Cassie, or they could opt for a lesser fee that would cover only hors d’oeuvres and wine. That way friends who didn’t want to paint could come along with friends who did. There were always a lot of watchers.
Carlo Mendoza had greeted Cassie and made sure she had everything she needed. His fiancée, Schuyler, acted as a hostess of sorts. Already this evening, Cassie had taken her students through a step-by-step process. They could wander around and study her painting. They could listen in as she migrated from student to student, giving help where needed. Servers poured wine and served plates of hors d’oeuvres as patrons went to the tables to enjoy conversation, wine and everything from crab balls to mini tacos.
Cassie was helping one of her students, a woman who had been to her last Paint and Sip party here, when she glanced around the room and spotted Nash. He hadn’t told her he was coming. Of course, he didn’t have to. Was he interested in actually painting? Or did he just want to try the Mendoza wines?
When she and her student finished their conversation, she moved on and noticed Nash was talking to Carlo. They seemed to be having a detailed conversation. She kept her eye on him as she walked around the room. When he’d finished speaking with Carlo, he crossed to a server who was headed toward the kitchen. They had a conversation, too. She wandered what that was all about.
Nash was dressed in an Oxford shirt and black jeans rather than a business suit. Still, was he making contacts?
The next time Cassie looked up to see where Nash had gone, he’d disappeared. Apparently, he wasn’t staying for the evening.
After the customers had finished their paintings, the restaurant emptied quickly. She packed her car, then went to find Carlo.
He came from the kitchen and spotted her. “I have your check,” he said.
He handed her her portion of the proceeds for the evening. It was a nice chunk of money and would pay many of the bills that had started to pile up.
“Thanks for letting me do this again,” she told him.
“No problem. It’s beneficial for you and for me. We draw tourists as well as residents. And all of them can spread the word about our restaurant and wines as well as your bed-and-breakfast. Win-win.”
Carlo Mendoza was a handsome man. He was over six feet tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, and very white teeth against a tan complexion. He could have been an actor or a model. He was a charismatic guy and before he fell for Schuyler, the word around town was that he’d had trouble with commitment. But whenever he and Schuyler were together, everyone knew that wasn’t the case anymore.
Carlo had always been friendly, and now she hoped he wouldn’t mind a question. “I spotted you speaking to one of my guests from the bed-and-breakfast earlier.”
“Who was that?”
“His name is Nash Tremont.”
“Oh, yes. He told me he’s a financial advisor and making connections with clients while he’s in town. He did tell me he was staying with you.”
“I’m accepting guests for extended stays now. He was the first to sign up for one.”
Carlo had a twinkle in his eye when he asked, “Are you interested in this guest?”
“Oh, no,” Cassie assured him quickly. “He’s from Mississippi and he’ll be returning there. There wouldn’t be any point in me being interested.”
Carlo gave a chuckle. “That depends on how interested you are.”
Cassie felt herself blushing, and she knew exactly what Carlo meant. She could have a fling if she wanted, but that wasn’t in her DNA. She shook her head again. “I know Nash has meetings planned while he’s here. I guess he was asking you for leads?”
“Yes, he was. Especially information about the Fortunes. He’d seen photos online that some of them were here for the Valentine’s Day party.”
“I see,” Cassie said, but she didn’t really. Then again, she figured if you’re in a town that wasn’t your own, and there were famous, wealthy families in that town, you’d try to contact them.
That thought kept playing in her head during her drive back to the Bluebonnet. From what she’d seen of Nash thus far, he had good public relations skills. She imagined he was successful at what he did.
She was carrying paints and canvases to the porch when the subject of her thoughts asked, “Can I help you with that?”
Nash didn’t wait for her to answer but took the toolbox-like carrier filled with paints out of her hand. They went up the porch steps together and he let her precede him inside.
She propped her painting against the counter and he set her paints beside it. Glancing at the sitting area, she could see a hassock was pushed away from an armchair, and there was a laptop on it.
“You were working there tonight,” she said, and she wasn’t sure why.
“Yes, I was. Do you need help bringing more supplies in from your car?”
She wouldn’t turn down help when it was offered. “Sure. There’s a stack of palettes and another box of paints. Would you like a glass of iced tea? I’m sure I can find cookies to go with it.”
“No cookies,” he said with a smile. “I had hors d’oeuvres at the Paint and Sip. But the iced tea would be great.”
After he brought in the rest of her supplies, he asked, “Where would you like these?”
“There’s a storage closet down the hall next to my room. If you could just set them in there, I’ll take care of them later.”
After he did that, Nash came back to the kitchen. Cassie had placed two glasses of iced tea on the breakfast bar. He sat on one of the stools. “Tonight looked like a success. Did you feel it was?”
Again they were talking about her, and she wanted to know more about him. “My cut was enough to pay my mortgage this month, so I’m grateful.”
He turned his glass around on the counter. “You worked hard tonight. You had lots of individual consultations. Is that the way it always works?”
“Pretty much. How did you like the wine?”
“It was excellent. I tasted a dry white, a dry red and a sangria.”
“A glass of each?”
He shook his head. “No. I would have needed a designated driver if I had done that. Just a taste of each. I concentrated on the hors d’oeuvres.”
When she laughed, their gazes met. She was seated beside him and their arms brushed. The hairs on his forearm tickled her skin. However, remembering how he’d rebuffed her, she didn’t want to be distracted at this moment. “Did you get leads of possible clients from Carlo?”
“Possibly. You never know how cold calls will turn out.”
“He said you were interested in the Fortunes.”
; “Among others,” Nash said with a nod. “There are many upstanding families in Austin.”
Although he was answering her questions, she had the feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her. Maybe he sensed she was going to ask more questions because he slid off his stool and picked up his glass. “I’ll just take this up to my room if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.”
As if he were reluctant to leave, he said, “You look pretty tonight.”
For these events, she dressed up more than usual. Tonight she’d worn a black pantsuit with an expensive label, though she’d found it at the thrift store.
“Thank you,” she said.
She slid off her stool, too, and suddenly they were standing very close.
“Did you have any wine tonight?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I like to remain clearheaded, especially when I’m painting.” The truth was she didn’t drink, not after seeing what alcohol had done to her mother. Though sometime maybe she should taste the Mendoza wines, just for the experience.
“And even when you’re not,” Nash guessed.
“And even when I’m not,” she confirmed.
He reached out and touched her cheek, and it seemed as if he wanted to say something but then thought better of it. Instead he moved away from her toward the stairs. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” she murmured. She had a feeling Nash Tremont was holding secrets of his own, but she couldn’t fault him for that, because she held secrets, too.
Chapter Four
When Nash sat at a computer in the library the following day, he took his list from his pocket. Now he had more specific names to look up. An investigator never knew where a line of information could lead. So Nash was going to read everything he could get his hands or eyes on.
Carlo had been upfront with him about who had attended the Valentine’s Day party. People with cell phones had taken lots of photos and posted them to their social media pages. Therefore, Carlo considered the information public knowledge. Nash had explained he was a financial consultant staying at the Bluebonnet Bed-and-Breakfast, and because Carlo respected Cassie, he’d considered her a recommendation for Nash.
Nash didn’t like the subterfuge but sometimes it was necessary. Sometimes he had to consider the greater good, which in this case meant nailing a thief. In his estimation, Charlotte Robinson, Gerald’s wife, was definitely that. One thing he knew for sure was that she was deceptive.
After his mom had gotten pregnant with him, she’d tried to contact Gerald. But Charlotte had intercepted her messages. In fact, she’d intimidated Nash’s mother by threatening her. She’d warned his mom to stay away from her husband or there would be consequences. For that threat alone, Nash wanted to nail her. He didn’t know how his mother maintained her sweetness rather than bitterness, but somehow through all the years she had. He respected her for that.
The first name on his list was Ben Fortune and his wife, Ella. Searching specifically for them, he found photographs of the couple at charity events along with Ben’s twin brother, Wes, and his wife, Vivian. Although she wasn’t on his list, that had led him to Lucie Fortune Chesterfield Parker, a member of the Fortune family who was almost British royalty. He discovered quickly that Chase Parker, her husband, was part of an oil family but had chosen his own path and now owned a horse rescue farm.
Apparently, Lucie was heavily involved in work with the Fortune Foundation, helping younger kids right here in Austin. The articles about Chase and Lucie led him to her sister Amelia, her husband, Quinn, and their daughter, Clementine Rose. He also found references to Charles, their brother. He soon realized there was nothing underhanded about the English side of the Fortune family. He could delve further but on first glance, they seemed to be upright citizens.
Another name on Nash’s list was Keaton Whitfield, who was Ben’s half sibling. He was a renowned architect.
It wasn’t long before Nash realized many of the Fortunes had seemed to find true love. His biological father certainly hadn’t, though his mother still believed she had been in love with him and he with her. Love could delude a person. It could make a person blind. He should know. He’d been blind to Sara’s doubts about being in a relationship with a cop. Looking back, he wondered how he had not seen the signs. Or maybe she simply hadn’t been honest with herself. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to rock the boat of a convenient relationship.
Research consumed Nash for the morning. He quit around lunchtime and headed back to the B&B.
When he arrived, he thought he heard Cassie out on the sunporch, so he headed that way. She looked a bit harried as she fussed with a tripod and her phone. He watched as she stood in front of it and checked her phone and frowned. She made the tripod higher and did it again. Still adjusting it, she checked her phone and shook her head.
She’d been so preoccupied with what she was doing that she hadn’t heard him come in or seen him standing there. Leaning against the doorjamb, he crossed one booted foot over the other. “Having a problem?” he asked.
As she glanced up at him, her cheeks pinkened a bit. For some reason, she was dressed in a cute dress that had a red-and-white pattern and a full swingy skirt. He appreciated the shorter style. He knew he should turn around and walk away, not get involved in what she was doing. But she seemed to be having a hard time of it, and he found he couldn’t just walk away.
“I’m trying to set up my phone to take a video,” she explained.
His curiosity got the best of him. “Why do you need a video?”
Standing up straight to face him, she pushed her hair back over her brow. Drawn to her more than he ever wanted to be, he followed the motion of her hand, noticing the wave that swept along her cheek. He felt a lot hotter than he had when he’d come in.
With a sigh, she sat in the chair near the easel. “My dream is to someday hire someone to run the B&B. What I really want to do is teach. My goal is to be hired as an art teacher in a school district.” She was quiet for a moment and he waited. Finally, she explained, “I went for two interviews in the past few weeks, and the principals of those schools told me they don’t have positions now but they’ll keep my résumé on file.”
Stepping closer to her, he noted, “That still doesn’t explain the video.”
“Both principals hinted that getting hired these days requires more than a résumé. Many applicants turn in a DVD of themselves teaching a lesson. That way, the principal gets a taste of an applicant’s teaching method and expertise. I want to try making a DVD, but I have to practice.”
“So do you want to record a lesson to a general audience? Or do you want to film a lesson with one of your students?”
Her eyes widened at the thought.
“You’d have to have their permission, of course, and their parents’ permission, but it seems to me that would be more riveting.”
“If an art lesson could be riveting,” she said dryly. “That’s what you were thinking, weren’t you?”
“You think you know what I’m thinking?” he teased. If she did, she’d be running for the hills.
Her cheeks grew rosier. “Not that I know what you’re thinking exactly, but most people would be thinking that. Sometimes art is very internal. It’s up to the teacher to bring out what’s going on inside onto the paper or canvas. That isn’t always easy to do. A lesson with a child could fail miserably.”
“If it does, you just dump the video,” he suggested.
“I don’t know, Nash. It would be a lot safer just to teach to a general audience.”
Now he frowned. “You don’t seem like a woman who doesn’t want to take risks. No risk, no gain. Isn’t that the saying?”
“I thought the saying was no pain, no gain.”
He laughed. “Those two are very different. But really, Cassie, the excitement of a child learning how to do
something new could be riveting on a DVD. And it would be so much easier if you had somebody recording the video rather than you trying to set it up. I’d be happy to record for you, if you did it within the next couple of weeks. I can even put it on a DVD for you on my laptop.”
She was already shaking her head. “I couldn’t take advantage of you like that.”
Leaving his relaxed stance behind, he walked over to her and stood right in front of her. “From what I’ve seen, and from what Mrs. Garcia told me, you’re always doing things for others. I’ve got to wonder if anyone does things for you.”
“I...uh...don’t know what to say to that. Sure, people do things for me.”
“Like?” he asked.
She thought for a few seconds. “At the grocery store the checkout boy often carries bags to my car for me when I have too many.”
Nash gave her a look that obviously made her search her mind for something else. “Renata—Mrs. Garcia—often gives me embroidered handkerchiefs she finds in her drawers. She wants to pass them down and they’re lovely. And the kids—the kids all give me smiles and joy.”
“How about your friends?” Nash asked.
“I’m too busy to socialize much.”
The investigator in Nash saw the red flag. Usually when someone didn’t have friends, that meant they didn’t want to get close to anybody. Either they didn’t have self-confidence or self-worth...or they were hiding something. He had no idea what Cassie would possibly be hiding.
His reaction to Cassie always disconcerted him. He was so attracted to her he should hightail it away from Austin...or at least away from the B&B. However, instead of leaving, he reached out and touched her cheek. “You deserve to have nice things done for you. You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. I’d enjoy doing it. It would be a break from business.”
Cassie seemed to think about it. She was staring at him with those beautiful chocolate eyes. All he had to do was slide his hand up her neck into her hair and bring her close. But he didn’t do that. He took a step away.
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