“Look. I know I left on bad terms after Dad died.” He took a seat in front of Ryan, making them eye level. “But you have to admit I had reason to be pissed off. This bar was supposed to be mine.”
Ryan leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk. “You had the bar and you fucked it up, so Dad brought me back in.”
Colin raised his hands in surrender. “I know. It took a lot of time, but I get it. Dad spent his life building this place and I almost totally screwed it up.”
He hadn’t expected that. An admission of guilt from Colin? Ryan didn’t respond and waited for the lead-in.
Colin stood and walked the room, touching various pieces of furniture. “I’m not making excuses, but I was young. The bar was already established. I didn’t think about the work Dad did daily.”
“Sounds like excuses to me. I was no older than you when I started Twilight. From the bottom.”
“But you had Dad’s support. And money.”
Ryan stood. “Is that what this is about? Dad gave me the seed money for Twilight, sure, because he knew I loved this place and I wanted to run it. But because you’re first-born, he felt he had to pass it on to you. I worked my ass off to make Twilight a success. Three years after I opened, I was in the black and I bought Dad out.”
Colin’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead. The information was news to him.
“Dad was a partner in Twilight only for three years. I’ve been sole owner since. There is no money for you there.”
Colin hung his head. “I wasn’t looking to get a cut of Twilight. I know it’s yours. I’m proud of what you built there.” He met Ryan’s gaze. “I want to build my own bar.”
Ryan crossed his arms on his chest. Here it comes. “What do you want from me?”
“Help.” He moved back to the chair in front of the desk. “I want to move back here permanently and buy a bar.”
Ryan didn’t move. “I’m not giving you money to throw out the window on a whim.”
Colin stiffened. “It’s not a whim. I’ve been thinking for a long time. I miss the family.”
“So visit more often. It’ll give you more chances to break Mom’s heart.”
“Shit. You’re not going to make this easy.” Colin ran his fingers through his hair.
Ryan offered a slight shrug. “Why would I? Dad always made it too easy for you.”
“He did. No argument there. He should’ve kicked my ass a long time ago. But he didn’t and he’s gone. You’re not him.” Colin paced the windowless room again.
“Are you done? I have work to do,” Ryan reminded his brother.
“When did we stop being able to talk to each other?”
“When you decided Dad’s money was more important than family. You walked away and I’ve had to step up for everyone.” Recalling the nights of juggling two bars to keep them afloat and his mother’s weeping and depression made him weary. “We needed you.”
Colin leaned against the small table along the wall and tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry. I was too busy being selfish to understand. I’ve changed.”
Ryan returned to his seat and picked up mail he needed to sort. “I should take your say-so.”
“No, I’ll prove it. I went to bartending school a couple of years ago. I want a job.”
Ryan’s head shot up, expecting a joke from Colin. His brother was full of surprises today. “You want to work for me?”
“How better for me to prove I’m serious? The more time I spend here, the more I’ll learn how to run a bar the right way.”
Damn. The sincerity in Colin’s face hit him hard. He was cornered and they both knew it. As much as he wanted to turn Colin away, he couldn’t. Mom would kill me if she found out I wouldn’t at least give him a job. “I’ll check the schedule. My regular people get the best shifts. I won’t give you preferential treatment.”
Colin straightened with an eager smile. “I’ll take whatever you got. Here or at Twilight. But I’d prefer here.”
“Jeans and a bar shirt are fine for here, but you need black dress pants for Twilight. I’ll provide the shirt there too.”
“Thanks. You won’t regret this.”
“I hope not. I’ll call you later after I check the schedule.”
“Okay.”
“Now leave. I have work to do.”
“I can help.”
Ryan pointed to the door. Colin left, closing the door behind him. Ryan rocked back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests. He hoped Colin was back for good. Their mother couldn’t handle much more heartache.
He wanted to believe Colin had changed, but he’d watched their father’s hopes get trampled by Colin too many times. Patrick O’Leary had wanted his two eldest sons to work side by side and run the bar. Maybe add a couple of bars and create an O’Leary empire.
Colin’s irresponsibility washed the dream away.
Ryan straightened and focused on his clipboard. He couldn’t change the past, just guard his family in the future. His life had gotten even more complicated since Colin’s return. How could he start a relationship with Quinn when he had to protect everyone from Colin? Maybe it was a good thing they were only friends.
As he picked up the phone to call a supplier, the raucous laughter erupted from the bar again.
Yep, some things never change.
Quinn was tired of talking to artists and wannabes. She hadn’t thought it would be so difficult to find a class to pose nude for. She’d spent the morning looking for photographers. She could always pay someone to take her picture. In her mind, though, she justified being painted naked by strangers as art.
Paying a photographer would feel like porn.
She walked to the address she’d gotten during her search. Finding a photographer with her own studio was a priority. She couldn’t bare all in a storefront studio where any stranger walking past could see.
She’d been surprised to find one not only in her neighborhood, but only a few blocks away. The building looked almost identical to hers. She rang the bell. The intercom buzzed her in. No one asked for her name or the reason for her visit. The bell for Hill Studio was marked 2B, so she walked up a flight of metal stairs and said a silent prayer she wasn’t walking into the den of a serial killer.
The door to 2B looked much like her own metal door. She knocked and questioned her sanity. Someone called out from inside, but the heavy door muffled the actual words.
The locks clunked and the door swung open. A man stood before her and the only word that came to mind was hot. She rolled her gaze over an athletically muscled torso covered by a thin, taut T-shirt. Her journey stopped at wide warm brown eyes. If this is the model the photographer is used to, I’m in trouble.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
I wouldn’t mind seeing you pose. “Uh, yeah. My name is Quinn Adams. I called earlier.”
“That’s right. Cindy told me. Come on in.”
Quinn stepped into the loft. Shades, umbrellas, sheets, tripods, and cameras were stationed across the huge space. This is either a real studio or the serial killer is putting up a great front.
“Can I get you a bottle of water?”
Quinn hadn’t paid any attention to where the sexy man went until his voice jarred her. He stood next to a mini-fridge in the corner. “No, thanks.”
“Okay.” He grabbed a bottle for himself and gestured to two chairs near the wall where he stood. “Have a seat.”
She settled in one of the chairs and gripped her purse in her lap. He sat on the edge of the chair opposite her and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Adams?”
“Not to be rude, but I’d prefer to speak directly with the photographer.”
He smiled crookedly. “Shoot.”
“You’re the photographer? I thought the woman I spoke with this morning was the photographer.” The grip on her purse tightened.
“Sorry about the confusion. Cindy is my assistant. I’m Xa
nder Hill.” He extended his hand with the introduction.
Quinn stared at this man who only minutes prior was nothing more than eye candy. She tried to realign her thoughts. When she’d called in the morning, she didn’t ask any questions, just asked for a time to stop by for information. This is what happened when she didn’t do enough research.
She abruptly stood. “I’m sorry. This won’t work. I apologize for any inconvenience.”
He stood, looking alarmed. “Did I say something to offend you?”
“No. No, I expected—assumed—you were a woman.” She fumbled to get the purse strap on her shoulder.
He reached out and slid the strap in place for her. “He’s one lucky guy.”
Why is he touching me? Quinn stepped to the side. “Who’s lucky?”
“Whoever you plan to have photos taken for. A nude photo says a lot about the trust and strength in a relationship.” Xander walked to the desk on the opposite wall and flipped through a Rolodex.
Quinn stood, stunned. She hadn’t said what kind of photos she wanted taken. “What makes you think I want nude photos?”
He looked up from the note he scribbled. “You blushed when you realized I’m the photographer. The only people who blush are those who think about getting naked in front of a stranger.”
“Oh.”
“Here.” He handed her a slip of paper. “She’s a photographer. Not as good as me, but she’s female.”
“You’re sending me to your competition?”
“Honestly, I’d prefer for you to have a seat, look through my portfolio, and give me a chance. But if you can’t get comfortable around me, Cathy is a safe bet. I’d rather see her get the work than some hack you find on the Internet.”
Quinn swallowed the giggle in her throat. “I found you on the Internet.”
“Not everyone on the Web is a hack, but you can’t tell from the computer. Take one of my cards in case you change your mind.” He held out a glossy black business card with silver lettering.
In a matter of minutes, Xander had put her at ease. He seemed legitimate. Maybe he warranted another look. “Have you done these kinds of pictures before?”
His smile was slow and easy. “Quite a few. Would you like to see my portfolio?”
“I think so. Yeah.” She returned to the chair and put her purse on the floor.
Xander joined her and held out a three-inch-thick black book.
Quinn flipped open the cover. A woman lay on her stomach, resting her head on her hand. From the angle, Quinn knew the woman was naked, but she couldn’t “see” anything. She turned the page, fascinated. Women of all sizes and colors, in every pose imaginable, from playful and flirty to serious and thoughtful. Some photos were in black and white, and others in full color.
She lingered over each page. Part of her felt like she was looking at a girlie magazine, but the rational, critical part of her realized she was looking at art.
Quinn closed the book and found she was alone. Xander was nowhere in sight. Odd, she hadn’t heard him go anywhere. She looked at her watch. She’d been studying his portfolio for nearly an hour.
“Hello? Mr. Hill?”
“I’ll be right there.”
Quinn walked across the room and saw a back room she hadn’t noticed before.
Xander came from the room eating a sandwich. “Finished?”
“Yes, I’m sorry I took so long. I totally lost track of time. You’re good.”
He put the sandwich down on a nearby table and wiped his hands on his jeans. She handed him the portfolio. He took it and asked, “Do you have any questions?”
“No, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t even know what to ask.”
“Are the photos for an anniversary or birthday gift or what?”
The question shattered through Quinn’s good mood. “Nothing. They’re not a present.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “So what’s the purpose, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Quinn blew a breath, puffing the bangs away from her face. “It’s a pretty long story. Basically, my sister and my friend created a list of adventures for me to accomplish with my summer off, to break me out of my comfort zone. Posing nude is on the list. So I guess they’re for me.” Her ears burned and she stared at her feet.
“That is one of the best reasons I’ve ever heard for doing nudes.”
Her eyes shot up. She expected to see him on the verge of laughter, but he was serious.
“If you’re interested, I’d like very much to take your portraits.”
The heat spread to her neck. She felt naked with his eyes on her. “I don’t know. Would I end up in your portfolio?”
He laughed. “Not unless you want to. I have permission to use all of those photos. If at any point a client asks me to pull theirs, I will.”
If he were half as honest as he appeared, she’d be in good hands. “So what happens? I come to the studio one day and get naked?”
“Pretty much.”
She shivered at the thought. “I’ll have to think about it. I thought I could do this, but I’m not sure.”
“You have my card and Cathy’s number. It won’t be as painful as you imagine.” His gaze wandered the length of her. “Would you like to go to the deli down the street? It could be a working lunch. I’ll give you my professional background and you can tell me what you’re looking for. If we’re not a good fit, we go our separate ways and you call Cathy.”
Quinn’s mind screamed, “Bad idea,” but her gut whispered, “He looks like fun.” Before she responded to his offer, the loft door swung open.
“Cindy, this is Quinn Adams, prospective client.”
Cindy crossed the room in a halter-top and short-shorts. Her blond hair stood up in short spikes revealing brown roots. Her sandals flapped against the concrete floor as she approached.
“Hi.” She extended her hand. “We spoke this morning.” The smooth, professional voice didn’t match the incredibly young exterior.
“Yes, we did.”
“You won’t regret hiring Xander. He’s the best.” The statement came from an adoring fan, much more package-appropriate.
“I haven’t hired him yet.” Quinn felt old. “I better get going.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Cindy said. Xander simply nodded as Quinn turned to leave.
I’m such a chicken. Indy was right.
CHAPTER 8
Quinn and Indy pushed through the smoky glass doors of Twilight. Quinn stood still while her eyes adjusted to the atmosphere. The room immediately gave off the same feeling as the glossy flyer Ryan had given her. Sleek and mellow. The tables were black and shiny, as was the bar itself. A purplish glow illuminated the edge of the bar.
It was like stepping into a vintage movie. She could almost smell the clouds of cigarette smoke that would’ve hung in the air if Chicagoland hadn’t gone smoke-free. Even as a nonsmoker, she could appreciate a smoke-filled blues bar. She scanned the area to find Indy. The woman walked like she owned the place. She flicked her wrist for Quinn to follow. She’d already nabbed a table.
Quinn wove through the crowd carefully, afraid her short dress would ride up if she walked too quickly. As it was, she had to remind herself not to tug at it. She cursed Indy’s taste in clothes. In payment for being the designated driver, Indy chose Quinn’s outfit. Being totally sober and embarrassed in front of a crowd was sounding better than having even one stranger get a peek at her bare ass.
Indy sat at the outer edge of the seating area at a booth with high-backed seats. They only had a view of the stage and dance floor. The bar and front door were behind them. Quinn slid into the curved booth next to Indy. With the exception of color, the arrangement felt much like O’Leary’s.
“Are you sure Kate will find us here? Maybe we should sit at the bar.”
Indy whipped out her phone. “I’ll text her. She’ll find us. Besides, these are excellent seats for the performance.”
Quinn’s eyes went back to the stage wh
ere a guy fumbled with the words to Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive.” He shook his fist and his head with the beat of the music. This promised to be a long night.
The waitress appeared at the table carrying a small, round tray. She stood to the side so she wouldn’t block the view of the stage. She wore tailored black pants and a crisp white blouse. “Hi. My name is Rachel. Tonight is karaoke night at Twilight. Here is a playlist of the songs available. If you want to sing, go up to Dan the DJ, and give him your name and song title. What can I get for you ladies tonight?”
“Vodka and cranberry.”
Quinn’s head snapped around to face Indy. “We had a deal.”
“It’s one drink. I promise to switch to Sprite after this.” She turned back to Rachel. “Okay, Rachel? I’m designated driver, so no matter what I say, after this, no alcohol.”
Rachel smiled brightly. “No problem. Nonalcoholic drinks for the DD are on the house. How about you?”
“Margarita,” Quinn answered automatically.
Indy sighed.
“What?”
“Try something new. Be adventurous.”
“How am I supposed to know what to ask for or if I’ll like it if I’ve never had it?”
“Your boyfriend owns a bar. I’m sure he can arrange a sampling.”
“First, he’s not my boyfriend. Second, that won’t help me right now.”
“Can I offer a suggestion?” Rachel interrupted. She squatted to Quinn and Indy’s eye level.
“Please do,” Indy answered.
“One of our most popular drinks is Blue Smoke. I’ve never had a customer try it who didn’t like it.”
Indy perked up. “Sounds great. Make it two and scratch the vodka cran. Thanks, Rachel.”
Rachel turned the corner out of their sight.
“I’m capable of making my own decisions. Isn’t it enough you dressed me tonight?”
Indy shook her head. “Obviously not. The point of this summer is to try new things. If the drink sucks, you never order it again. Chalk it up as a mistake. As far as the dress goes, based on the number of guys checking you out as we walked through, that is no mistake.”
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