Bedazzled (The Beguiling Bachelors Book 1)

by Madison Michael

  Lying in bed, Keeli basked in anticipation while stretching tired muscles and mentally planning her day. She needed a game plan so she could get everything done. Most days she just mixed work with more work but today she looked forward to mixing business with pleasure.

  She had some phone calls to make. Mondays always began with calls to at least five boutiques asking to show them her jewelry, looking for someone to consign her work. She was still focusing on Chicago area retailers, in case one or two would agree to let her bring something by to show them.

  Next, she needed to build up her inventory after her success at the Gold Coast Art fair. That would be the better portion of her day. By four, she would have to get cleaned up to be ready for summer tutoring at the library by 5:00. And then, her glorious, glorious date with Wyatt Howe.

  Picking up a pillow from the floor, Keeli returned it to the messy bed, along with all the covers she had kicked off during the night. She wished again for air conditioning, but it was a luxury she could not yet afford. The window fan just could not keep up with Chicago’s heat and humidity but the window unit would have to wait until she could buy supplies and pay her share of rent and utilities.

  Maybe next summer, she planned optimistically, drawing on her light robe over the camisole and bikini panties she’d slept in. She figured she was alone in the apartment, but the robe was a precaution in case she was wrong. She headed for the bathroom.

  Dylan had been gone for hours. He had a lunch shift to prepare at the restaurant, but it turned out Theo was still sleeping although it was almost nine, later than Keeli liked to start.

  At least she didn’t have a battle for the single bathroom today. She ran through her morning ritual at her leisure, her mind already designing jewelry.

  Padding on bare feet to the kitchen, she fixed a cup of tea and then threw on tired, soft jeans and a faded t-shirt while it steeped. Lacing her Keds, she went back to grab her mug and took it and her cellphone through the middle door off the long hallway, closing it quietly behind her.

  Keeli turned on the window fan in her “studio” and sorted through her designs. She planned to work only in sterling silver today. She looked forward to finishing her calls and heading to the basement of the building where the storage lockers and coin laundry were and where she did her soldering and metal work.

  At least it will be cool downstairs.

  Keeli pulled a dog-eared hand written list toward her and scanned her notes. The paper looked like chicken scratches at this point but it had originally held the names and numbers of over 100 Chicago-area boutiques and galleries that she knew carried designer jewelry. Now more than half were crossed off her list, the scribbles in the margins just confusing her as she looked for numbers she had not already tried. She had started adding names and numbers of shops that were smaller, less exclusive, or further away.

  She was on page three of the six-page list, halfway finished, and so far, she had been able to take her designs to about one-third of the places she called. No one had been willing to strike a deal with her. Part of her issue was the commission. She had talked to very successful retailers but she was an unknown with no leverage so they wanted 50% or more from each sale. She could not survive on less than a 70/30 split.

  Think positive. You have a date tonight after all. It will be a very good day.

  Someone she met in the kitchen Saturday suggested she reach out to a florist/gift shop owner in Evanston, so she tried there first. Pay dirt! The woman invited her to come later in the week to show her some designs and Keeli set up the meeting for Wednesday. Of the remaining calls, one woman hung up on her with a curt “no thanks”; one politely suggested she call back in November with her holiday collection, a stall tactic she had heard several times before. The next person asked her to call back later when she could talk longer. That one might be promising.

  The last call, to a small gallery/store also in Evanston, showed potential. The manager explained that they were always looking for new talent and suggested she come in with at least 10 pieces later in the week. Keeli was ecstatic, thanked her – perhaps a bit too effusively – and scheduled an appointment for Wednesday afternoon. Then she sifted through the pieces she had left after the last few art shows, identifying ten pieces across a mid-price range, and checked to be sure her portfolio was handy. She was ready for Wednesday with two appointments a scant two miles from each other.

  Feeling pleased with herself, Keeli picked out several designs for rings, earrings and bracelets, pulled the colorful beads and semi-precious gems she needed for the work she hoped to complete that day and put them in her toolbox to carry down to the basement.

  She had taken stock after Gold Coast, as she did after every festival. Earrings and rings were selling the most this summer, so that was where she would focus this week, until her stock was replenished. Sketching a few modifications based on the materials she had available, Keeli was finally satisfied with her plans.

  Today she would focus on the selections she would make in sterling, saving the more detailed designs and wax molds for the gold pieces she will send out for manufacturing. Someday she hoped to have the equipment – and confidence – to do it all herself, but she was not there yet.

  Grabbing a second cup of tea, Keeli heard Theo moving around at last. Keeli hollered to him that she was heading downstairs, grabbed an apple from the fridge and her keys from the counter. There was a bounce in her step as she descended the three flights to the cool, damp basement with her toolbox of supplies. Switching on the overhead light and her worktable lamp, Keeli was quickly immersed in her work, laying out stones, soldering settings, working with opals, beads and black pearls, forming shapes and etching designs in metal.

  When her stomach starting growling seriously she glanced at her watch surprised that three hours had passed. Keeli wandered upstairs, thrilled to find a gorgeous Greek salad with grilled chicken, courtesy of Theo. There were such advantages to living with a caterer and a chef. Left on her own, Keeli would forget to eat, or make boxed macaroni and cheese, but the boys always fed her well.

  It was almost three; the apartment was sunny and hot. Closing the shades to block out what heat she could, Keeli inhaled the delicious food and then peeled off her sweaty clothes, dropping them in the corner of her bedroom before wandering down the hall to take a shower. Piling her hair high on her head, she waited the requisite five minutes for the water to be hot and then jumped in and washed quickly. Keeli remained under the stream an extra minute before jumping from the rapidly cooling water. The cool water felt good on a day like today, but a cold shower was not desirable. Getting a hot shower in this apartment was something of an art.

  Soon Keeli was standing in front of her meager wardrobe struggling with what to wear. Her choices were pitiful and she knew it. She could ask Theo for advice, but opted not to although she had little confidence in her own choices. Grabbing her phone, she called upstairs hoping to solicit help from her wonderful neighbor, Lynn, but got no answer. She would have to do this on her own and she felt perspiration gathering between her breasts at the thought.

  Not knowing Wyatt’s plans, she was doubly unsure what was appropriate. Wrapped in her towel, she held up blouses and dresses waiting for something to click. Fortunately, after about six tries she was content, if not elated.

  Keeli looked at herself critically in the dresser mirror. The colorful print dress was cool and cute, appropriate for a summer Monday night and not too faded. The scoop neck was more alluring than sexy; the snug waist showed off her curves and the length was not too short. She tested to be sure it didn’t ride up too high when she sat down and was satisfied. Grabbing a pair of flat sandals and a sweater for the air conditioned library, she added some smoky eye shadow and mascara, brushed her teeth being careful not to spill toothpaste on her dress, grabbed her sketch pad and headed out the door while still applying lip gloss.

  Keeli walked the few blocks from her house to the library slowly, not wanting to overheat, lookin
g forward to working with the kids. She loved volunteering two days a week. It got her out of the house and allowed her to give to the community. She had started working at the library as soon as she moved to the neighborhood. With the mayor’s summer reading initiative and literacy programs and now with art programs for teens, the library was bustling.

  Many teens were in the program because their parents hoped to keep their children out of trouble while they worked. These kids mostly participated grudgingly, until Keeli won them over. A few were really talented though, showing excitement, interest and promise. It was those kids that kept Keeli coming back from 5:00- 6:30 week after week.

  She arrived and dropped her sketchbook on the back counter, carefully buttoning the sweater over her scooped-neck dress so that no cleavage was showing. These teenage boys didn’t need to be getting any ideas.

  Keeli pulled out supplies for collage making - today’s project. Kids trickled in

  for about fifteen minutes, the last around ten past the hour. Jose was always late; it was a game he played with Keeli, trying to get a reaction. Eventually the small group of 14 settled around tables to rip pictures from magazines and lay out their designs. Keeli encouraged them to select a theme, something they cared about or were interested in exploring. She explained that their best work would come from feeling passion. The teens giggled, so she changed tactics.

  “Pick something important to you. Tell a story with your collage. I expect to know your stories when I look at them.” This direction got them moving, focused on their work, tongues between teeth with concentration. Keeli circled the room, providing encouragement and advice, watching their works come to life.

  The time passed quickly. When 6:30 rolled around Keeli was very proud of herself. The teens had done outstanding work, enjoyed themselves and she had only checked her phone about a dozen times.

  She wandered the room slowly, reminding everyone to finish and clean up their tables. Alone finally, she put away the supplies and went to the ladies room to check her appearance one last time. The full-length mirror was a welcome treat and she twisted from side to side to check the dress with the shoes. Too late now to wear heels, although she knew she would be sorry. Touching up her lip-gloss, she moved toward the outdoors. It was still warm and beautiful, a perfect summer night except the humidity.

  Wyatt texted just before five asking if Dunlay’s on the Square would work for Keeli. It was perfect, she loved the restaurant and bar and it was only about a ten-minute walk from the library. They served a terrific house-made Sangria that would be perfect for this warm night. She texted ‘perfect’ with a smiley face and confirmed that she would be there at 7:00.

  Now, she just needed to control her jitters and kill fifteen minutes so she would not be early. She contemplated stopping back home for higher heels, but it was in the wrong direction so she resisted. Instead she did some deep breathing to help calm down and doodled in her sketchbook. At 6:55, she walked to Dunlay’s, arriving eight minutes later to find Wyatt sitting at the bar looking devastatingly handsome.

  “Right on time. I like that,” he greeted her with a wide smile, showing his approval. He jumped off the barstool and took her small hands in his before leaning down to chastely kiss her cheek.

  His sandy hair was rumpled as if he had run his hands through it several times, perhaps in exasperation, but otherwise he looked flawless. He was wearing an elegant custom suit in a shade of gray that cooled his blue eyes. His crisp white shirt looked fresh and the beautiful patterned tie looked expensive.

  He looked fresh enough to be starting his day, not as if he had come from a full day of work. He was so polished. Someone else in a suit might look overdressed but Wyatt just looked like he belonged

  “You look great,” he mumbled under his breath as his eyes scanned her appreciatively from the riot of red curls haloing her face to the tips of her painted toes, peeping out of the open-toed flats. “Any trouble getting here?”

  “I walked from the library, so it was easy,” she responded, self-consciously smoothing down her skirt as he signaled the hostess that they were ready for their table. They followed the skeletal woman in her painted-on jeans to a quiet table. Keeli felt like an amazon next to the wraith checking out Wyatt. Keeli was relieved to see that he never gave the woman a second look. When she saw the privacy surrounding the table, Keeli was comforted. The restaurant was full of women eyeing Wyatt like dessert and she was happy to have a buffer zone around them, even a small one.

  “The library? Getting more classics for your upcoming shows?” Wyatt teased, holding out her chair, waiting patiently for her to slide in. She caught him peeking down the cleavage of her dress. He was frozen there and she got a moment of feminine power from the effect she had on him. The hostess left them menus and slipped away. Once she was gone Wyatt leaned over and gave Keeli a slow, breathtaking kiss, then took his seat as if nothing happened.

  Keeli was nonplussed by the action, sitting stunned while Wyatt picked up his menu and perused it.

  “What’s good here?” Without waiting for an answer he returned to their earlier conversation. “Okay, back to the library,” he prodded. “I am anxious to get to the bottom of this mystery.”

  “No mystery,” Keeli explained regaining her equilibrium by studying the menu a moment. “I volunteer two afternoons a week, helping teens with art.” Wyatt raised an eyebrow, impressed and she took a few minutes to describe the work and share some anecdotes about some of her favorite kids.

  “I mentor kids about the same age. Hockey,” he explained. “They are so interesting, volatile sometimes, emotional, sensitive. I know exactly what you are talking about with your kids. And talented; some of them are so talented.”

  Keeli latched onto Wyatt’s empathy and talked more about her time at the library until the server came to take their order.

  “But this must be boring you to death,” Keeli said after several minutes, although Wyatt did not look bored at all. He had been laughing at her funny stories, helping with ideas for her problem kids. In fact, he was being the perfect date, she realized with surprise. She was so sure they would have too little in common to get through a second date. She was gratified to discover how wrong she was.

  “What about the rest of your day,” he interrupted her musings. “How does Keeli Larsen spend a typical day?”

  “Well,” she dragged out the word, collecting her thoughts, “I guess I don’t really have a typical day. Most mornings I work in the studio, to take advantage of the light. I make sketches, wax molds, and try different stones to get ideas. However, some mornings I read other jeweler’s brochures, magazines, that sort of stuff.

  “And I have all the business stuff to do – read up and apply for juried shows, tax and inventory paperwork, web updates, mailing lists. The stuff I hate.”

  Keeli checked to be sure Wyatt was still paying attention. He smiled, encouraging her to continue.

  “Afternoons I build, solder, etch. I do the heavy lifting in the basement of our building and that is nice and cool in summer, which I need by afternoon. No air conditioning,” she responded to the question on his face.

  “That is the routine, and then I have stuff I do weekly. Monday I call stores and galleries trying to get placement. Tuesday I update Etsy and deal with orders there. Wednesday I call on galleries and shops because it is the day I have a car, Thursday I am in the studio all day and Friday I do design stuff, unless I have a show that weekend. If I have a show, Thursday and Friday are dedicated to packing, moving and set up. Pretty boring, I guess.”

  “Not boring at all,” Wyatt assured her. “In fact, I would love to watch you work sometime.” He watched as the statement raised a blush to her cheeks. “Not one for an audience, I gather?”

  “Oh no, I would be so nervous if you were watching me. It is hard enough trying to sell in front of you. You make it look so easy, but I get shy trying to hawk my own stuff. It sounds so egotistical to me. It comes so naturally to you though.”

>   “Number one rule of sales,” Wyatt slipped into lecturer mode, “believe in your product and let it sell itself. I believe in your jewelry.” He said this last sentence very matter of factly, but watched across the table as Keeli’s eyes grew wide with surprise, their blue-green pupils dark and expressive.

  “You have no idea how much that means to me,” she confessed with a small break in her voice. “No one believes in me. No one.” Getting her emotions under control, Keeli tried to change the subject. “What about you?

  He shook off her effort and insisted she explain her last statement. After trying to avoid answering, Keeli finally revealed a little more of herself to Wyatt.

  “When I left Gilman my family pretty much turned their backs on me. Oh, they love me, don’t get me wrong, but they think I belong at home, with them. My brothers don’t like the idea of me alone in the city, for one thing, but they also believe I should be caring for my mom. Since my dad died, she lives alone in that big house and they like to guilt me about it.

  “So they undermine my efforts when they can. First they questioned my ability to complete school, slowing me down when they could by requiring my help on the farm. Then they tried to tell me I had no talent, suggesting I try beading, small pieces that I could sell at the farmer’s market. They have no clue about my ambitions.”

  “They have no clue how good you are,” Wyatt answered forcefully, anger simmering below the surface. “You are a grown woman, entitled to make your own choices. Are they really that small-minded?”

  “Oh no, I am painting them black and white, when it is really so gray. They love me. They want me near them. They want to be able to keep an eye on me. They want me to settle down and have a family. If I have to hear one more crack about turning 30 with no husband and kids, though, I may explode. All my friends are in Gilman, married to local men, raising children. It’s not that I don’t want a family, because I do someday. However, not right now, not with any of the boys from Gilman and not at the expense of my career. They just don’t understand my choices, so they don’t support them. If I didn’t have Clarice, Theo and Dylan, I think I would go crazy.