“Hey, you. Hold on just a second, will you?”
Izzy waited as Kate’s muffled voice spoke to someone else before she came back to the phone. “Sorry about that. I was just talking to Maya Jackson’s mum. Maya’s started to respond well to treatment at the hospital, but we need to get moving on the calendar. I don’t want it to be my fault that the money isn’t there for her to fly across to the States should she need to.”
Guilt pressed down on Izzy. She’d been busy thinking about a next career move while Kate had been speaking to the mother of a critically ill child. “We’ll be ready, don’t worry. That’s good news that Maya seems to be improving a little.”
“It is. So, what’s up?”
“Are you free around six? I’m meeting with the firefighters at the station. It would be good if you’re there to remind them just how good the cause is before I ask them to bare their chests for, hopefully, thousands of people.”
Kate laughed. “Sure. You don’t need to ask me twice to spend time with a group of firefighters. How are things with you and Trent?”
“Up to a few minutes ago, I would’ve said better, but it seems I’ve annoyed him big-time.”
“What? How?”
“Richard Crawley. He’s here. In town.”
“He’s here? Why didn’t I know about this?”
“Probably because he’s been keeping a pretty low profile. Anyway, I’ve been taking care of him so you didn’t have anything extra to worry about.”
“Taking care of him? What does that mean? I hope you didn’t tell Trent you were taking care of him. That would’ve been the same as you sticking a red-hot poker in his eye.”
Izzy grimaced. “I didn’t tell him anything, but he’s seen Richard and me together and he’s clearly not happy about it.”
“And what has Trent seen exactly?”
“Me doing my bit for Maya. I’ve been out for dinner with Richard, smiled and nodded in all the right places. You don’t want to be blamed for the money not being there for Maya, and neither do I. We have to keep Richard Crawley sweet, right? And he’s a safer bet than me spending time with Trent right now.”
“But there must be more to it than that if Trent is pissed.”
Izzy closed her eyes. Wasn’t she enjoying Richard’s company because he flirted with her, made her feel better about herself and she was under no personal obligation to him? That he was someone safe to have fun with without risk to her feelings?
“Iz?”
Izzy walked along the street. “There’s nothing going on. The guy’s a bit of a ladies’ man, but he clearly fancies himself more than anyone else. Which is exactly the way I want it. I’ll see you at the station at six, okay?”
“Sure. See you then.”
Izzy cut the call and then dialed Richard Crawley’s number.
“Hey, Izzy.”
“Hi. I just wanted to check if you’re free at six. I’ve managed to get us a free pass to visit the fire station. I thought it would be a good idea to introduce you to some of the guys and have a look around.”
“Sounds good. Why don’t you meet me at the hotel? We could have a drink first.”
With Trent’s jealous tone ringing in her ears, Izzy shook her head. “I can’t. There’s something I need to do first. Why don’t we meet at the station?”
“No problem. I remember where the station is, and like you predicted, the residents have barely blinked an eye at my being here, so I should make it there in one piece.”
“We’re a small town, Richard.” The guy’s ego was way too big. “As much as I’m sure people are excited you’re here, they won’t fall over themselves to show it. Well, most of them won’t anyway.”
“Fair enough. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve been able to spend together, though.”
Izzy frowned. It was time to draw a line. She didn’t mind showing him around, but she shouldn’t be hiding behind the safety of Richard’s short stay. She needed to halt any indication she was interested in him in any way past Maya. “Okay, so I’ll see you at the station shortly then.”
“See you then.”
She ended the call and headed for home, wanting to get back so she could speak to Jay Garrett. Depending on how the call went, she would then get out of her new uniform of jeans and shirts and get back the flair that had carried her through the tough times when Robbie was alive.
It was time to show Templeton Cove she might be down, but she wasn’t out.
She’d dress up a little and enjoy the tour of the station. It would be good for her and Trent to spend some time together without all the pain and anger that surrounded her every thought, action and deed. A falling beam killed Robbie, not Trent. Despite her bitterness, he’d never been anything less than honest with her. Believed in her and her work.
It was time she showed him how much she appreciated it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FIGHTING THE TEMPTATION to change the dress and heels she wore, Izzy studied her reflection in her bedroom mirror one last time. She was moving forward. Nerves clenched in her stomach and she looked longingly toward her discarded jeans on the bed before quickly turning back to the mirror. No. It was time.
She snatched up her purse from the dresser and walked into the living room. Picking up her phone, she ignored the trembling in her hands and dialed Jay Garrett’s office number—or at least one of his office numbers. It was well known throughout the Cove just how many offices Jay had scattered through England and, possibly, beyond. The number pasted to the empty gallery window had been for his parent company situated on the outskirts of Templeton. The place he spent more and more time since he and his wife, the town’s detective inspector, had their first baby. A little girl they’d named Sarah, after a close, mutual friend of theirs who had been found murdered near Jay’s home a few years back.
A tragedy that had shaken the Cove, as well as the Garretts, to its core.
“Good afternoon, Garrett Holdings. How may I help you?”
Izzy shook off the macabre memory. “Hi, I’m calling about the new gallery in town. Is it possible I can schedule an appointment to meet with Mr. Garrett?”
“Can you tell me a little more about your inquiry?”
Izzy strode about her living room. She needed to draw on every ounce of confidence if she had any chance of securing a meeting with someone as busy as Jay. “My name is Izzy Cooper and I have a small photography studio on Nelson Street. My work is starting to gain some recognition and I wondered if Mr. Garrett might be interested in exhibiting some of my pictures when the gallery opens.”
“Can I ask the type of photography you specialize in?”
“Mostly land and seascape images. Although I very often do private portrait work and will also be shooting a charity calendar we hope will raise funds for a little girl needing medical treatment in the US. My work can be quite eclectic, so I can’t really specify a particular area any more than that, I’m afraid.”
“I see, and do you have a portfolio?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, well, if I can take some contact details, I’ll pass them on to Mr. Garrett. He will either call you himself or pass a message to me. In which case, I will call you back.”
“Great.” Izzy gave the woman her phone number and email. “Do you have any idea when you or Mr. Garrett is likely to get back to me?”
“We’ll be in touch as soon as possible.”
“Okay. Thank you. Goodbye.”
Izzy ended the call and collapsed onto her sofa, tapping the phone against her bottom lip as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. She’d made initial contact and for the first time in a long while, excitement rippled through her.
Smiling, she pushed to her feet. It was nearing five thirty. She really ought to be at the station to greet Richard, rather than hav
e him turn up alone to meet Trent. She had no idea what sort of reception he’d give the TV host after their strained meeting at Marian’s.
Grabbing her keys and purse from the kitchen counter, she was about to slip her phone into her bag when it rang. She stared at the display. It couldn’t be.
She accepted the call. “Hello. Izzy Cooper speaking.”
“Ms. Cooper, this is Jay Garrett. How are you?”
Izzy froze, clenching the phone tighter. “Mr. Garrett. I’m fine. How are you?”
“All the better for hearing from you. Please. Call me Jay. I can’t tell you how pleased I am you’re interested in the gallery. I had every intention of getting in contact with you next month.”
“You did? I didn’t even know you were aware of my work. Your enthusiasm is flattering. Thank you.”
“Well, Izzy...can I call you Izzy?”
“Of course.”
“My wife has been a fan of your work for a year or more. In fact, we have a couple of your shots hanging in our home.”
Izzy found herself smiling with pride. “That’s wonderful.”
“I understand you’d like me to consider exhibiting your work at the gallery?”
“Yes. I have some great ideas for future work—”
“What if I said I’d like you to work even closer with the gallery?”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Jay Garrett was a businessman above all else, and Izzy fought her natural defenses as they closed in on her. Why did anything new frighten her so much these days?
He cleared his throat. “How would you feel about managing the gallery? My experience goes as far as looking at a picture, photograph, whatever, and knowing whether or not I like it. I assume, as an artist, you have a much better idea of what’s quality and what you think will appeal to the residents and masses of visitors who come to the Cove each year. I have an extremely busy life now that I’m a dad, and as much as I wanted to snap up the gallery when it went on sale, I have no wish to run it.”
“You want me to run it?” Izzy froze. “But I don’t have any experience. Plus, I want to continue to work on my own photography as much as possible.”
“Of course, but you told my assistant that you take portrait work on top of your own desired projects. Can I assume the portraits are done to supplement your income?”
“Well, yes. It helps pay my way while waiting for my big break that I’m sure will come one of these days. Or, at least, I hope so.”
“And that’s why I’m proposing a decent salary to manage the gallery, plus the promise of the majority of the exhibition space for your own work. I will scout out possible talent alongside you, but it will be your decision which artists we back and when. On top of that, I’m happy to keep the gallery open on a part-time basis, excluding the busy summer months, which will leave you extra time to work on your photography. What do you think?”
Izzy’s mind raced. With a regular salary and more time to work on her own projects, her instinct was to yell her acceptance down the phone, right there and then. She hesitated. She had to think this through. What did she really know about running a gallery? She merely photographed what she loved, and the results were as mixed as her emotions.
She slowly paced the room. “I’ll need to consider everything you’ve said very carefully.”
“Absolutely. I don’t expect an answer straightaway. The gallery won’t be open until February, or maybe even March, next year. Think about what I’ve proposed, how you envision the gallery to look and prosper in the future. Any ideas of artists you have in mind to exhibit alongside your own work would be great too. I know this could be a brilliant venture between us. With you at the helm, it will work.”
Izzy smiled as her excitement grew. Jay’s enthusiasm was infectious and there was no doubting the man’s instinct for what worked and didn’t work in business. She took a breath. “Okay, let me think it over and I’ll get back to you with a decision shortly.”
“Perfect. It’s been great talking to you. Speak soon.”
“Speak soon. ’Bye.”
Izzy ended the call and let out a scream before dancing a jig and heading out the door. Today has just gotten a whole lot better and she couldn’t wait to tell Trent.
* * *
THE CLOSER THE HANDS on his watch got to six, the more agitated Trent became. He deserved a medal for convincing the chief that Richard Crawley coming to the station was a good idea. If it wasn’t for Maya Jackson, Trent wouldn’t spend a minute with the too-smiley, too-cocky, too white-teethed TV presenter for a million bucks, let alone however long a tour of the station was going to take.
How could he be nice to the guy who currently had Izzy’s attention day in, day out? As much as he hated the jealousy seeping through him, Trent was powerless to stop it. He wanted Izzy and she didn’t want him.
The truth was hard to accept, no matter how much he told himself it was for the best.
The barrage of laughter and fire station rowdiness came to an abrupt stop. He hadn’t joined in the usual station ribbing and camaraderie with any amount of enthusiasm for the last forty-eight hours, but experience told him something was afoot.
Pushing away from the truck he’d been checking over, Trent turned toward the entrance.
Izzy.
His traitorous heart lodged like a rock in the center of his chest.
He glanced at the crew.
As though joined by a rope, each of his colleagues turned from staring at Izzy to stare at Trent. Identical expressions of pure male-orientated ecstasy was etched on each of their stupid faces.
As though she was his, unmerited pride knotted Trent’s gut.
She looked fantastic.
Trent took the seemingly frozen moment to take in the entire, sexy and very pleasing sight of her. Her dress fit like a second skin: pristine white with huge colored flowers splashed all over it. She looked amazing.
His gaze wandered lower.
The occasional blue of the dress matched the pair of heels on her feet, higher and sexier than he’d seen her wear in a long, long while.
Down, boy. She’s not here for you...
Despite her face being in silhouette from the blazing sunshine behind her, and her eyes concealed by sunglasses, Trent sensed her nerves and hesitation. He had to get her away from the overpowering surge of testosterone she was undoubtedly drowning in.
“Hey, Izzy. Over here.” He raised his hand and strolled toward her, his colleagues’ stares burning holes in his back.
She didn’t relax her shoulders and she didn’t walk any farther into the station. Instead, she stood stock-still and waited for him to come to her.
He stopped in front of her. “Hey.”
She slowly removed her sunglasses and tipped her head back to look at him. “Hey.”
Their eyes locked and his attraction soared.
She looked different. Softer. Trent glanced over his shoulder. Although the guys made a valiant effort of not paying attention by attempting to clean the truck or sweep a broom around the station floor, they were the worst actors known to man.
He touched her elbow. “Let’s get away from this lot, shall we?”
She nodded and he steered her away from the front of the station toward a low wall that ran around a circle of lawn outside. “Do you want to sit down?”
She shook her head and then cast her gaze along the street. “We haven’t got long. Kate and Richard...” She faced him. “Crawley will be here soon.”
He inhaled. “Yeah. I know. Can’t wait.”
“This is for Maya, Trent. You know I wouldn’t have agreed to do this calendar for any other reason.” She looked to the ground for a moment before lifting her gaze to his, her blue eyes soft. “You and I both know how hard Kate works to raise money for
any and every cause. It can only be a good thing for Maya to have a recognizable face involved. Kate’s on a mission for this little girl.”
“The woman is on a one-woman mission with life. Lord help the guy she marries.”
“Absolutely.”
They laughed before their smiles dissolved and the silence stretched. Trent shoved his hands into his pockets to stop from touching her or brushing the fallen hair from her eyes.
She looked at him. “Before I went to the city to meet with Richard and his agent, it had been too long before I’d been anywhere outside Templeton. I’m glad I went. It’s given me perspective. Some of the old me back.”
Unable to fight the need any longer, he rubbed his hand up and down her upper arm, surprised and relieved when she didn’t pull away. “That’s good. Really good.”
A blush darkened her cheeks, and her gaze lingered at his mouth before she looked up, closing one eye against the glare of the sun. “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”
Surprise jolted through him, quickly followed by alien uncertainty. “You’ve changed your mind?”
“It’s more a case of trying to move past all the anger I’m holding on to. I’m not sure we’ll work things out so that we’re together, but I know I don’t want to lose you completely.”
Euphoria battled with caution. “You seemed so cornered when we last spoke. As much as I want to be there for you, I don’t want you to feel obligated to spend time with me.”
“I don’t. I want to.”
He drew his gaze over her face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because I didn’t tell you about Aimee so you’d—”
“I want to, Trent. This isn’t about your sister. It’s not entirely about Robbie either. It’s about us. Both of us moving forward.” She took his hand. “Although I’d like you to tell me more about your sister and what happened whenever you’re ready.”
Relief whispered through him and he smiled. “Then tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”
Saved by the Firefighter Page 8