Tall…gorgeous…redhead… Wait a sec. Red Hot did seem familiar. Mac thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “I’m getting New York and fashion. Was she one of the models I used to photograph? Oh, wait—I didn’t sleep with her, did I?”
“Christ, Mac.” Remy shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. Wait until she comes out of the bathroom and look again. Closely, this time.”
Mac grabbed his champagne and took a swig, waiting for Red Hot, sans cleavage-grape, to return. Below, waiters wound their way through the crowd full of women glittering in evening dresses and men decked out in Italian suits, all eager to meet Mac’s father, the world-renown sculptor, Gregor Johansson. Press photographers snapped photos with rapid succession—pictures that would most likely appear in most town and country publications. Those photos could hardly be called art, but as Mac knew as a commercial photographer, the pictures paid decent money.
“Your sister did a great job organizing this event to honor your dad,” Remy said.
Mac downed the rest of the now-warm champagne. “Yep, Doe did herself and Dad proud. Reporters all the way from New York are here to cover the event. Heck, half the population of Meadowview drove the two-hour trip to Sacramento in order to be here for good ol’ Dad. Some event.”
An event as boring as watching mold grow on cheese.
He immediately regretted the thought. He loved his dad, honored his work, but a party that catered to wealthy art patrons didn’t exactly raise the roof. Even with Remy to hang out with, Mac had practically been asleep on his feet until a few minutes ago. With the average age at the far side of sixty, the crowd hadn’t held his excitement until the tall willow of a redhead and her beyond-pregnant companion had walked through the door.
After another minute, the redhead and her friend came out of the restroom.
“Nope,” he said, checking her out again. “Didn’t sleep with her. A few of those days in New York remain a hazy blur, but not hazy enough to forget sex with her. Why do you think she should be familiar to me?”
“Your sketches, Mac. The ones you showed me earlier.”
The murmur of the crowd faded into the background as Mac stared at the woman. Well, hell. Remy was right. Red Hot’s expression reminded him of those he’d sketched for the art series he wanted to create: Warrior Woman. Like the mental images of the female warrior who filled his mind, the woman below looked alive, open, strong. Determined, and yet still sensual and with an air of grace.
No wonder he’d been instantly attracted to her.
Funny, though, he hadn’t pictured a photo of Warrior Woman fuming at her own breasts. Didn’t quite fit in with any of the images he held in his mind, but that expression he could definitely use.
“You getting any inspiration?” Remy asked.
“Thought you weren’t going to push me.”
“Stasis leads nowhere, Mac.”
“We’re not playing Scrabble.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“No, I’m evading the point.”
“Look,” Remy said, frustration clear in his tone, “you took the first step at regenerating your art photography—you contacted a modeling agency for a live model. And you have a meeting tomorrow with the director of this place.” Remy swept out his arm to indicate the gallery.
Yeah, sure, Mac had agreed to meet with Ian Ackerley to discuss showing his planned Warrior Woman series here, but that might have been a mistake. He shrugged. “Maybe my glory days are behind me. Maybe the original hoopla about my work was over a fluke. Maybe a washed-up artist is all I’ll ever be. Maybe all I’ll ever be good at is commercial photography.”
“And maybe you’re throwing yourself one hell of a pity party. Nope, I don’t buy it. You’re ready to start again. You’ve made the first step. And it’s been how many years since your mom died?”
Emotion caused Mac’s throat to tighten up. God damn it. He didn’t need the reminder. Didn’t need to recall the pain his mother experienced as the cancer ate away at her. Didn’t need to recall how the responding pain in him had triggered him to capture the most haunting and artistic photographs of his career. Didn’t need the reminder that his muse had died that windy day as he and Doe and their father laid her to rest.
“Mac.”
“Drop it,” he said, his voice low. “I have other things on my mind tonight.” He pointed to the woman below.
He may not have slept with her in the past, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tonight. He’d thought she was hot when she’d walked in, but when he saw the grape disappear into her delicious cleavage and her incredulous but feisty reaction, his interest had spiked. And now he was picturing her as the model for his Warrior Woman series. The art photography series of a woman facing all odds could get him back into the world of acclaimed art photography. And he could see Red as his Warrior Woman.
He could also see her in his bed.
“She’s going to do the horizontal tango with me, I hope,” he said.
Next to him, Remy blew out a breath. “Stasis.”
Mac jabbed an elbow into his friend’s gut. Not that an elbow to Remy’s twelve-pack could do much damage, but still. “What did I say? That conversation’s over. I’m headed downstairs to introduce myself. See if she wants a drink. Maybe suggest a night of debauchery. But first I need to see if Doe needs help with the baby.”
“I saw your sister carrying your nephew around earlier. Why’d she bring Aaron?”
“Dad insisted when the babysitter—who has the work ethic of a sloth, by the way—texted to cancel.”
“Has to be hard for her, managing both you and your father’s business affairs and being only eighteen and raising Aaron on her own.”
“She’s a trooper. Wish she didn’t insist on working—I’d be happy to support her, but you know how bullheaded Doe can be. Wants to earn her own way, or at least earn as much as she can. Guess I’d better head downstairs now, check in on her and the baby.” He grinned. “Then hit on Red Hot.”
Remy chuckled. “That woman doesn’t seem like the type to believe one of your standby pickup lines. She’ll give you the death stare the way she did the grape. Two hundred says you crash and burn.”
“You want me to bet on having sex with a woman? For a sheriff, you have severely compromised morals.”
“Said the spider to the fly.”
Mac grinned. “This spider is too busy for bets.”
* * *
Does Mac crash and burn the way Remy predicted, or will Trudy find him irresistible? To find out what happens next to Mac and Trudy, click to purchase Finding the One. Hope you enjoy!
Copyright © November, 2014 by Rochelle Davisson
Bloomfield Publishing
This book was previously published as “Tally’s Gift” by Elle Amery, Ravenous Romance, copyright 2009, and has since been significantly revised.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away in any manner.
Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ISBN: 978-1-62517-677-6
Tempting the One (Meadowview Heat 4; The Meadowview 4) Page 18