by Quinn, Cari
“Yeah, they are, especially Lindsey York. When is she arriving?”
“Tomorrow.” Logan held up a hand. “I already asked her to do an interview.”
“And that’s why you’re the man.”
Logan resisted the urge not to roll his eyes. Instead, he gave him another genial smile. “Talented, stage presence for days, and pretty—she’s the trifecta.”
“I can’t wait to talk to her.”
And Logan couldn’t wait to throw the spotlight on someone else. But for now he had to put his lead singer face on and make pretty pictures.
Two
“Help!”
“Girl help or boy help?” came a shout from the front of the store.
“Since I’m a girl lifting a couch, not sure that’s a fair question,” Isabella Grace grumbled. “Whomever wants to help me lift a couch,” she shot back.
Nichole Wolfe’s pinup lush body filled the doorway. She held up fisted hands and flexed her impressive biceps. “You mean me, then.”
Bella grinned as she lifted one end of the chaise lounge with a grunt.
Nic rushed forward for the other end. Her dark eyes widened at the weight. “Holy crap, is there a body hiding in the cushions?”
“No, this was back when they made furniture last,” Bella said.
“Ya think?” Nic blew a strand of rich walnut hair out of her face. “Where are we putting this?”
“Front of the store. Music section.”
“You suck.”
“I know,” Bella panted. They shuffled into the main space of Between the Lines, where an old baby grand piano had been re-purposed into a bookcase and fastened to the wall. “Over there.”
“Good, because I think I broke my spleen.”
“Doing good, honey,” came a male voice from the registers.
“Shut up, wimp.”
Adam Wolfe laughed. “I have such a strong, strapping wife. I’m so proud.”
“Ass.” But Nic’s lips were twitching into a grin as she set her end of the couch down.
Bella tried to ignore the little twinge that always happened when she was around them. Nic and Adam had grown up together. They were the original boy and girl next door. Instead of growing apart, they went away to college and fell stupid in love. Then they went ahead and assimilated Bella into their spun sugar house of happiness. Somehow they never made her feel like a third wheel.
Well, mostly.
Regardless of the occasional pang of loneliness, they’d become an inseparable unit. So much so, that they’d studied business and literature together and started an online rare book business, Between the Lines. Fast forward ten years and they’d opened a storefront to go with their virtual shelves. Almost a year later, they were actually making a profit in the sleepy little town.
The majority of their sales were still made online, but they were becoming the go-to market for hard to find books. Sometimes it was the same edition of Heidi that a client’s mother read to them every night before bed, sometimes it was a first edition Chaucer. Whatever it was, the three of them could find it. But now they also had a place to store the more eclectic books and memorabilia they’d found on their treasure hunts, as Nic liked to call them. And with the odd little shops that dotted the area, Between the Lines was slowly becoming a favorite stop for a lot of collectors.
Isabella dragged the pad of her thumb over the spines of the coffee table books of underground musicians she’d found in Australia last winter. She knew all it would take was one request, one special client to do an internet search.
That was how her business worked. And she knew her business. It was as much research as it was luck. And they were finally flush enough for her to take chances with stock.
Nic collapsed on the chaise. “The posters for the festival just got here.”
“Finally.” Bella crossed the room to the checkout desk. A large package took up the wide mahogany and walnut inlaid bookcase. She tore the invoice off the top and scanned the order. Banners, smaller posters for the telephone poles, and a pair of life sized posters were listed.
She tugged out the larger canvas poster and ripped off the plastic protector. She unfolded the massive piece and her breath caught for half a second. Logan King’s black clad shoulders, long corded neck, and scruffy jawline filled the space. She flipped up another panel and his startling green eyes seared into hers. He was Hollywood handsome with just enough smile lines and angles to make his face interesting.
“Hard to believe he comes back here every summer to put on a show.”
She dragged her attention from the poster, and Logan King’s far too haunting eyes, to Adam. “We moved in just after the show last year. I heard it was amazing.”
“Between the tourists that come in for the show, and the fans that follow Logan everywhere, their town was going to be inundated with people. Add in the hoard of musicians he lures up here, and we’re the mecca of all things music once a year.”
“Good for business.”
“Hells yeah.” Nic came up to the desk. She and Adam held up a corner each and the rest of the poster unfurled. Most of the poster was white and listed all the musicians that were performing in alternating red and black fonts.
Automatically she scanned for typos and broken type. But her eyes kept drifting to the man in all black. She’d chosen the pose because of how intense he was, but life sized Logan King was a bit disconcerting. He was bathed in a smoky blue that back lit his dark blond hair and lean, muscular body. But the real wow factor was the oddly malevolent shadow curling around him.
He was dangerous and desirable, distant and present at the same time.
The jingle of the front bell snapped her back into the here and now. Bella turned to find Mayor Darcy sailing through the door.
“Well, that’s eye catching.”
Bella smiled. “We just got them in. Aren’t they spectacular?”
Sharon Darcy stood beside her with her arms crossed. “What was wrong with the template from last year’s posters?”
Nothing. If you liked bland, forgettable posters. Bella tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I needed a better resolution picture for the larger posters.”
“I see.”
Bella resisted the urge to sigh. “Thanks, guys. Would you mind folding it up for me?”
“Sure thing,” Nic said.
“Would you like to see the rest?” She didn’t know why she bothered asking. Sharon was already digging into the box for the smaller posters.
“You used the same graphic again?”
Bella flattened her hand down her dress to smooth a wrinkle. “Yes.”
“I like the one we usually use.”
“Sharon, that picture is from three tours ago. We needed an updated picture.” And the one she chose was more interesting, dammit.
“This is a family festival.”
“He’s fully clothed and doing nothing untoward.”
Nic mouthed the word, untoward, with a raised brow from behind Sharon.
Bella bit the inside of her cheek to stop the smile. What was it about this woman that made the Pride and Prejudice come out of her? Oh right, the all-white suit that the mayor wore like a nun’s habit might be part of it.
Sharon made a neat stack and placed the posters back in the box. “Fine. This will probably bring some of the younger crowd in.” She folded her hands in front of her and turned. “Are you prepared for the town meeting tonight? We need the final details and to make sure everyone’s within budget. This is your first year running the committee. I can go over—”
“I’m all set.” She’d had little choice. No one else had volunteered to go up against Mayor Dragon—err, Darcy. So, yes, she’d decided to lead the committee. It would guarantee her a seat on the town council. If she could deal with stuffy collectors, she could handle one mayor with an inflated sense of self.
She had every act, every booth, every janitorial expense noted. She’d stuck to budget and she was so ready for the three day annu
al festival.
“Can you come outside with me, please?”
Bella swallowed a sigh. “Of course.” She turned to Nic. “I’ll be back soon.”
Nic flashed her killer smile toward the mayor. Bright red lips showed off perfect white teeth. She put her hands on her hips and cocked her hip. The cherry print of her dress was somehow a little scary, a little too lush, and a lot intriguing. Just like Nic liked everyone to see her.
Sharon looked down her nose at Nichole. “Nice to see you again, dear. Tell your mother I said hello.”
Nic slid her ever-present piece of gum along the front of her lips before snapping a bubble between her teeth. “Sure thing.”
Isabella had to choke back a laugh. She peeled off her sweater and handed it to Nic. “Behave,” she said under her breath.
“Nope.”
Bella shook her head, but she dutifully followed Sharon out the front door. The temperatures were already soaring into the upper eighties and it wasn’t even ten in the morning.
They passed Skye’s hat store, The Mad Hatter. Skye waved to her through the window and started to come out, but spotted Sharon and made a face.
Isabella mouthed, “Coward.”
Skye shrugged and nodded.
When Sharon turned to make sure she was keeping up, Isabella smiled brightly. “I hope we can keep the sun, but maybe stay out of the nineties for next weekend.”
Sharon sniffed. “You’re still too new to know just how hot it can get here. Three years ago it didn’t get below ninety for over six weeks. It would storm and go right back to humid. You’d do well to get used to it.”
Bella ignored the woman’s condescending tone, and smiled and waved at people on the street outside the pharmacy. She said a quick hello to two women that had been in her store yesterday. They were chitchatting outside the salon. Finally, she managed to match her stride with the mayor. “Good thing I love dresses.”
Sharon glanced at her dress. “I hope you’re wearing a different…dress tonight.”
“What’s wrong with it?” She looked down at her poppy colored wrap-around dress. It was definitely on the modest side covering her from chest to knee, leaving only her shoulders and arms bare.
“It’s…red.”
Isabella schooled her features. Just because Sharon hadn’t bought a color in fifty years didn’t mean Isabella needed to change her wardrobe. “Red is a power color. It shows confidence.”
“Red is showy. Is that what you need to do to cover up for a flaw in your presentation tonight? Distract the board with your body?”
Bella dodged a few pedestrians until they came to the half wall in front of the park. She touched the mayor’s arm and they both stopped. “Look, Mayor Darcy. I understand that you’re used to people being afraid of you. I’m not one of those people. Like my dress, or don’t like my dress, I don’t really care. What I do care about is making sure the Summer Festival is amazing this year. So if this little field trip is about anything other than that, I will have to respectfully leave you to your own devices. I have a business to run.”
The Mayor’s shrewd brown eyes narrowed. “You have grit. I like that.” She started walking again. “Make sure it’s not too much grit, Ms. Grace. Manners are a must when dealing with the people of this town.”
Bella shut her mouth. She knew when to fight her battles and when to concede. When they passed the park that had been transformed into the bones of the festival and took a right onto Bartlett Lane, she frowned. “So, where are we going?”
“We have a new addition to the festival, thanks to Cameron. I wanted to make sure you saw it before your presentation tonight. It may change some of your plans.”
“A new what?” Bella lengthened her stride. “Cam did what?”
“The old Bartlett barn has been emptied. His good for nothing children finally hauled out all of the old equipment to sell. Vultures.”
This was not happening. She had everything scheduled down to the last detail. The amount of juggling she’d have to do made her eye twitch all over again. Cam knew this. Why in the sweet hell would he muck up her lineup?
She let the mayor babble about the good for nothing Bartlett children as she mentally shuffled her presentation. When there was finally a lull in Sharon’s rant, Bella jumped into the conversation. “I assume that I’m not getting more of a budget to cover the extra space?”
“Well, no. But this is a wonderful bonus for the festival. Cameron and his crew are all helping to get it up to code.”
She resisted the urge to rip her hair out by the roots. Cameron’s people would get it done. They were used to quick turnarounds from working with Habitat for Humanity. And because Cam was involved, it would be perfect. But that still meant she had to figure out how to rearrange the musical acts. Make sure their equipment wouldn’t short out the building’s less than modern wiring.
Wishing she’d worn her flats instead of the toffee colored heels, Bella stepped over piles of lumber and bags of cement. Why was it that on the days she did the whole cute outfit thing something happened to make her regret it?
A steady trickle of sweat was pooling at the base of her spine. And, of course, it would show with jersey material. Lovely.
Male shouts and the hissing compression of a nail gun told her they were getting close to the barn. It was just as shabby as she remembered, but the scent of freshly cut wood and sawdust made her feel a little better.
The racket made it impossible for the mayor to speak, so Bella took the time to look around the huge barn. The hardwood floor had been sanded to the natural finish of the planks. A stage that had seen better days two decades ago was half covered with huge scaffolding set ups on either end. The rest of the room was wide open.
A few folding tables held cases of bottled water with coolers tucked beneath them. A sunbeam, that looked more like a spotlight, arrowed across the floor, highlighting a pair of coffee urns like it was a gift from God. Isabella looked up to find a huge hole in the barn’s roof with Cam in a harness, hanging from the rafters.
Yikes.
Cam must have felt her gaze because he peered over his shoulder with a wave. He stopped nailing and pushed up his protective glasses. “Nice of you to make it, Mayor Darcy.” His smile widened and warmed. “Bella.”
Bella shaded her eyes. “Got a wild hair to build, Cam?” she shouted over the banging.
“You know me. Can’t let a space go to waste.”
Yes, she did know him. Efficiency and brains were only a few of the finer qualities of the town veterinarian. And now that she saw the space, she was already rearranging acts. It really was wonderful.
Maybe if she had the acoustic band from Connecticut, and the cover band from the city play in here, then she could still have the main stage taken care of. A few of the bands would need to do another night. How she was going to get around that without paying them extra…well, that would be the trick.
Sharon stalked over to a group of men huddled around one of the tables. She raised her voice over the noise, asking if there was any way people could take a break. Walkie talkies came out and slowly the hammering faded until it was just the occasional whir of a drill.
Isabella wandered over the wide, worn planks. Some of them were warped with time and any number of spills from machines or animals. A few coats of dark stain, and the barn would be lovely. Rustic and full of stories, it was the perfect backdrop for a show.
The hollow click of her heels filled the silence now. The workers had scattered, except for a tall man on the stage. Battered denim cupped a rather fine backside as he crouched in front of a junction box.
Electrician maybe?
An electrician that took care of himself from the flex of muscle under his army green tank top. He was all smooth, tanned skin with a splash of freckles across his shoulders. It was as if he’d been dusted with powdered cinnamon, some were big and some were a mere pinprick. More of the same dotted his arms and forearms. And lord, his hands.
What wa
s it about a man’s hands?
Wide with long fingers and more of those damn freckles. Was the man covered in them from head to toe?
She swallowed at the thought. Everything?
Wow.
Gutter meet shameful hussy. Geeze.
She was picking apart the finer points of a complete stranger. Who probably did not have a face to match his superior back end. Those hands though. They were enough to spark a few fantasies in the dark.
Since her life consisted of fantasies instead of flesh and blood men lately, she’d been stirring up some decidedly racy ones.
He stood, and by the weeping angels, that man had muscles to spare on his back. He even had those hot little triceps denting his arms that made her drool for unknown reasons. A fine sheen of sweat on his shoulders matched her own. There was no breeze in the barn and the heat was cloying.
She dabbed at her forehead with the back of her hand and wished she’d pinned her bangs back. The original plan had been to spend the day in her over air conditioned store. She had to keep a lot of the collector books at a certain temperature and humidity, so the lower level of the brownstone had been heaven this week.
The man slapped the electrical box closed and turned so he was in profile. Chest of magnificence to match those shoulders—check. Long neck with more freckles hidden by a dense scruff in a ginger color made her mouth water. She had a weakness for men with a weekend beard. It was still prickly enough to give you a nice little buzz and soft enough not to rip your skin apart.
His looked soft though. More like a week’s worth of growth.
Full lips pressed together then a swipe of tongue wet them. Would his lips be salty?
Could she get a grip?
Talk about a trip down Objectification Boulevard. When his mouth tipped up at the corner and perfect teeth peeked from those mackable lips, her gaze flew to his eyes.
Busted.
She looked down.
Crap.
Then recognition jolted through her. Her gaze swung to him again. He eased around the scaffolding and nimbly landed on the hardwood floor, all athletic grace and male perfection.