Luxury Model Wife

by Downs,Adele

  “Ready to go?” she asked, stepping back. “My western boots and I are ready.”

  *****

  When Steve opened the door to the bar for Victoria, country music greeted them and pulled them inside. Autographed publicity photos of country music stars filled each wall of the dimly lit entryway. Beyond, the scents of salted popcorn, fresh beer, and roasted peanuts filled the air like a carnival.

  On the stage to their left, a guitarist dueled the fiddler, and the drummer picked up the pace while rows of men and women line danced on a sawdust-covered floor. A long pinewood bar stretched across the opposite side of the room. Four bartenders moved with the speed and efficiency of an assembly line, mixing drinks and pulling beers. Costumed waitresses in short, cowgirl-style skirts and western boots edged around the center tables balancing trays filled with tumblers, shot glasses, and beer bottles.

  “I have no idea how to do that,” Victoria shouted over the music. She pointed to the line dancers. “Though it looks like fun.”

  Steve grinned. “I thought you’d like it.”

  They made their way to a table near the back of the room where it would be easier to talk. Steve moved his chair so it nearly touched Victoria’s.

  A young waitress in a red-and-white-checked gingham dress stopped at their table. “What can I get you folks?” She set down a basket of unshelled peanuts, took their order, and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Should’ve worn my Stetson,” Steve said, pointing out the dancers in cowboy hats.

  Victoria laughed like he’d told a joke.

  “Oh, funny, is it?” He laughed with her. “I don’t own a hat. My boots are more than enough cowboy gear for eastern Pennsylvania.”

  Victoria smiled. “What if we lived in Pittsburgh? Would that far enough west for those crazy boots?”

  Steve chuckled and took her by the hand. “I doubt it. C’mon, let’s two-step.”

  He led her to the edge of the dance floor to watch the other dancers. He raised his voice so that she could hear. “This is like slow dancing the old-fashioned way, except we’ll pick up the pace a notch. We’ll do two quick steps and then slide. Couples mostly move in a circle around the floor, but we can go anyplace you like.”

  He smiled and put his arms around her. “Ready?”

  Victoria pursed her lips and nodded. She lifted her arms in a dance pose. “Ready to rock n’ roll.”

  “Wrong category, right attitude.” Steve spun her around, dipped her backward, and chuckled as she hitched her breath.

  She elbowed him in the ribs when he righted her. “Hey. That wasn’t fair.”

  “Just keeping you on your toes, ma’am.”

  “See that you keep me on my feet, instead.”

  “Don’t worry, I will, pretty lady,” he replied with an exaggerated drawl.

  “You’re really into this country thang tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Yup,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her hard and fast.

  The music carried him away to a place where there were no bad memories and no problems to solve. Steve held Victoria close while they danced, feeling his muscles relax as Victoria’s body melded into his.

  When she laid her head against his chest, his pride swelled, knowing he was with the most beautiful woman in the room. He ached for her and pulled her closer before kissing the crown of her hair. Other dancers faded from view as he closed his eyes and got lost in the feel of her body against his.

  He had never felt this way about a woman. Victoria Van Orr had brought his life into focus, as if every step and misstep he’d taken had led to meeting her. For once, his head was in line with his heart and he wasn’t thinking only with his—oh shit, he was rock hard. Victoria excited him, but beyond that, he felt a deep connection to the bruised but resilient woman in his arms.

  She made a man feel like he could conquer the world and then lay it at her feet.

  “That was nice,” she said, from the circle of his arms when the music ended. The band had stopped playing, but his return to their time and space was like an upward swim from the depths of the sea.

  They stepped apart and he led her back to their table to find that their drinks had gotten warm. Steve signaled the waitress to bring another round. Someone put money in the jukebox, and a country legend sang, while Steve put his arm around the back of Victoria’s chair to listen. There was no need for talk—the mood, the company, and the melody were enough.

  He couldn’t remember when he’d felt this relaxed. The music and Victoria’s company had taken the bite from the story she told him about her past. All he wanted to do now was look to the future, and he hoped that included Victoria.

  He turned toward her, deciding whether or not to say as much, when he found her staring across the room. A frown creased her brow. He followed her line of vision to the bar and saw a giant-sized man in a rumpled blue suit staring back at her. When the man grinned and raised his glass in a toast, Victoria’s expression hardened.

  “Know him?” Steve’s eyes narrowed with immediate dislike.

  “I don’t understand what he’s doing here,” Victoria replied, shifting her attention back to Steve. “He came into the shop the other day asking for directions out of town. He wore the same blue suit and had a terrible head cold. I was afraid I’d catch the virus and be too sick to see you tonight.” She closed her mouth and glanced away as if she’d said too much.

  Steve took her hand. “That would have been bad for us, but worse for him. I’d have hunted him down like a dog for ruining our date.”

  Victoria squeezed his fingers and offered a wan smile. “I saw him later when I went for takeout. He made obscene gestures at me with his beer bottle. It was bizarre. A few minutes later he met someone.”

  Steve sat up in his chair. “Want me to straighten him out?”

  Victoria placed her other hand on his arm. “No. Let’s just ignore him. I’m having too much fun to let him ruin our night.”

  Steve relented, but the pulse in his jaw throbbed. “Okay, but if he bothers you again, he’ll have to deal with me.”

  “Be careful. His head cold is lethal.”

  “So are my fists.”

  “Oh, tough guy,” Victoria teased, grazing his knuckles with her fingertips. Her light touch nearly crashed his nervous system. “I thought you said you didn’t know how to box.” Her hand stilled over his, enabling him to focus on the conversation instead of wanting to kiss her senseless.

  “I don’t box. I only know how to street fight. It’s a skill I learned in high school. Fighting was defensive at first, offensive when the situation warranted.” He’d had to fight for the right to hang out with the kids in Jimmy Van Orr’s circle to stay on top of the pecking order. It was the only way he’d known to earn their respect.

  Victoria shook her head and sucked her teeth. “You men are all the same.”

  “Not the same, sugar.” He resumed his imitation drawl. “Guaranteed, you won’t find another like me anywhere in the east.”

  “Somehow I think that’s true.”

  He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but decided to take it as one. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can go.”

  “I wouldn’t mind getting something to eat.”

  “Sounds good. I know just the place.” They finished their drinks and got up to leave.

  “I need to visit the ladies’ room first. I’ll meet you at the front door.”

  Steve kissed her and let his mouth linger against hers before he replied, “I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Ten

  When Victoria left the restroom, the man in the blue suit blocked her path. “I have a message for you,” he said, so close she could smell sour liquor fouling his breath and radiating off his skin.

  Victoria’s turned away from the stink, her stomach lurching with revulsion. She remembered the smell of sweaty, alcoholic flesh too well from her childhood.

  “My client wants what’s rightfully his. I’ll inform you of the terms and you’d be sma
rt to settle up. Do the right thing.”

  “What are you talking about?” Victoria took a step back. “Did Carlos send you?” She tried to move around him, but couldn’t get past his broad stomach and wide shoulders. “Get out of my way.” Her heart pounded with fear and fury.

  “You threw me out of your store,” he hissed between bared teeth. “I wasn’t there for directions, which you already figured out; I just wanted to get acquainted.” He shoved a thick finger at her face. “You won’t be talking to me like that again.” His eyes turned to cold black stones. “You think you can talk down to me because you got money? I know all about you. You were nothing but a rich man’s whore.” He grabbed her upper arm and squeezed.

  Victoria stomped hard on his instep with one cutting edge of her new boots. He cried out in a snarl of rage and pain.

  There was a sudden crackle in the air as the stranger’s body lifted off the ground, hit the wall behind him and toppled into the ladies’ room door with a thundering crash. Women shrieked from inside.

  Behind them, someone shouted, “Bar fight.”

  Victoria watched as Steve took three giant steps through the bathroom door, grabbed the man by the front of his lapels, and dragged him up from the floor. “You picked the wrong goddamned night and the wrong woman to mess with, asshole.”

  When the man found his footing, Steve punched him square in the stomach. A loud oomph sounded from his lungs as he buckled over. Steve shoved, and the other man stumbled backwards out the swinging door.

  The larger man regained his balance after smacking the opposite wall. He charged at Steve with fists raised. “You’re dead, fucker.”

  *****

  Steve dodged a right uppercut but swerved too late to avoid a solid left hook.

  Blue Suit’s fist connected with Steve’s cheekbone and shot thunderbolts of pain through him. His head snapped sideways and the room blurred. Through a haze of stars, he heard Victoria scream.

  Blue Suit hit him again and he dropped to his knees. The carpeted hall floor did little to absorb the impact. Steve pushed forward on all fours then rolled to avoid a kick to the head. He lurched to his feet, blinked, and fought off brain fog.

  For a fat fuck, this guy was pretty fast.

  Steve’s head throbbed but he threw a quick succession of punches that connected with the other man’s jaw. A crunch sounded after a jab to the nose, spattering blood across the suit’s face and over his lips.

  Blue Suit charged with a garbled, furious roar. He grabbed Steve around his waist in a bear hug and shoved him hard to the floor on his back. A few patrons screamed—though others cheered—when more punches were thrown.

  The two men rolled into the bar. Stools teetered like bowling pins as people scrambled to get out of the way.

  Blue Suit struggled to get to his feet, but Steve wrestled him to the floor. The son of a bitch was as strong as a bull. Steve used a chokehold to immobilize him.

  A pair of bouncers pushed through the crowd.

  Steve was outweighed, but he was strong and he was sober, which gave him the edge he needed. He gripped the other man by the throat and refused to let go. The man in the blue suit flayed in a desperate attempt to free himself, but Steve only tightened his grip.

  Steve would see the man dead before he ever touched Victoria again.

  “Who sent you?” Steve forced out the words between breaths. He tightened his grip. Blue Suit made gurgling sounds deep in his throat. His face had begun to turn as blue as his suit.

  “Hey, dudes, break it up.” A deep voice, probably one of the bouncers, boomed above the crowd.

  Steve ignored him. He’d been in this bar enough times to know the bouncers rarely interfered with a fight. As long as the brawlers didn’t break anything, the paid muscle just called the police.

  “Who, dammit?” The bar had become a frenzy of screams and cheers.

  Sirens blared. Victoria shouted something, but Steve couldn’t make it out. The room around him grew fuzzy with the strain of subduing Blue Suit.

  Suddenly, arms like steel pulled backwards and his hands tore free from his adversary. Someone dragged him to his feet. His arms were pinned behind his back and zip ties cinched his wrists.

  A voice dripping with sarcasm growled in his ear. “Conducting sensitivity training, Carlson?”

  Steve shook his head to clear it as he was propelled forward. “Shit. Wilson. It had to be you.”

  “Shut up and keep moving,” Officer Wilson replied, pushing him through the crowded nightclub. Patrons parted to let them pass. Some clapped their approval. Others hooted or heckled.

  They reached the exit and crossed into the neon-lit parking lot. Steve stumbled and Officer Wilson grabbed him by the elbow to steady his feet. When they reached his police cruiser, he pushed Steve face-first against the car. “I dare you to move.”

  Steve kept his cheek pressed to cool steel. “I tried to use my words, officer, but the other guy wouldn’t listen. So I had to kick his ass.”

  “You’re a real wise guy, aren’t you, Carlson?” Wilson gave him another shove.

  *****

  Victoria rushed to the parking lot. “When she spotted Steve cuffed and pressed against the police car, she approached the officer standing by. “Officer, please don’t arrest him. Steve was only protecting me.”

  Steve lifted his head to watch while she pointed to Blue Suit being hauled to a separate police car. “That man assaulted me. I’m sure we can find witnesses.”

  Victoria lifted the hem of her short-sleeved shirt and angled her arm. “I have bruises to prove it.”

  To his credit, the officer took a flashlight from inside the car and used it to inspect Victoria’s arm. A visible handprint in shades of purple had begun to form.

  “Want to go to the hospital? Press assault charges?”

  “No hospital. But I will press charges if you think I should. That man has been following me. When he grabbed me tonight, Steve intervened.”

  The officer in the other cruiser opened the rear door of his car and protected Blue Suit’s head while he climbed inside. The cop pursed his lips but said nothing. His penetrating gaze searched Victoria’s face. It was clear he was calculating, evaluating.

  He cast an eye on Steve then told him to turn around. “This about the Van Orr estate? What we talked about at the station the other day?”

  Steve flicked blood from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. “Most likely. Though I don’t know who that guy is or why he attacked Mrs. Van Orr.”

  The rookie ran a hand over his cheek. “How ‘bout you let the police learn the answers to that.” He pulled a tool from his belt and cut Steve’s bindings. “Okay, hotshot, get out of here.”

  Steve rubbed his wrists but grimaced when he tried to smile. “Thanks.”

  Victoria sighed with relief. “Thank you, officer.”

  “The name’s Wilson.” He offered a curt nod. “Come down to the station to press charges.” He and the other officer got into their cars. The man in the blue suit’s bloodied face contorted with fury through the back window as the cars drove off.

  “Give me your car keys.” Victoria held out her hand.

  “I can drive,” Steve replied.

  Victoria was in no mood to argue. She wiggled her fingers and set her jaw. Men hated to turn over two things—car keys and remote controls.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  He finally reached into his jeans pocket and fished for his keys. When he handed them over, Victoria saw that his knuckles were as bloody as his face. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Then I’ll drive you home.”

  “No way,” Steve argued. “Some hack reporter will spot you in the ER and write about our night on some blog.”

  “You need medical attention.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Victoria walked with him to his Chevy and opened the doors. “If you won’t go to the hospital, I’m taking you to see a doctor. You could have a concussion or a sprain. You mig
ht need stitches. I know just the man to see.”

  *****

  Victoria pounded on the townhouse door until an outside light clicked on and the snap of a deadbolt sounded.

  Jimmy Van Orr peeked through the opening. “What’s going on?” His face was swollen with sleep and his brown hair had bed head. His toned, hairless chest was bare above a pair of gray cotton sleep shorts. His feet were also bare. “Why are you banging on my door at two in the morning?”

  “Let me in or I’ll broadcast the reason to the entire neighborhood.” She was in no mood to play nice. “The police will also want to hear what I have to say.”

  Jimmy moved back and opened the door all the way. Victoria brushed past him and stepped inside the foyer. She was about to speak when a feminine voice spoke first.

  “Who’s this, Jimmy?”

  Victoria turned toward the sound. A curvy blonde about forty stood inside the pool of light cast through a window from the moon. She wore a low-cut red negligee, slit from ankle to hip. She took a step toward Victoria, her eyes flashing jealousy and suspicion.

  “I’m his stepmother.” Victoria grinned at the confusion the other women registered.

  She turned back to Jimmy. “Tell your girlfriend to cover up. I brought a patient. You’ll need your medical bag.”

  “Take whoever your friend is to the emergency room.”

  “No. This was your fault. You fix him.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “It’s about your goon squad. Call them off before they kill one of us.”

  “My what? You’re not making sense.”

  “Don’t play dumb. You set your dogs on Steve Carlson and me. I’ve been harassed and assaulted. Steve got hurt helping me. I’ve left messages with your answering service since Pinnacle threatened us the first time. You never answered my calls.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  Victoria inclined her head toward the blonde. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Jimmy’s voice turned petulant. “Katherine’s a website designer. She’s creating the site for the medical center.”