“It’s her?” he asked with a grin.
“Totally. You’re attractive and everything—”
“You think so?”
She sighed. “Unfortunately.”
He arched his brow.
“But don’t get any ideas,” she said quickly, raising her hand, “because I’m not interested in dating anyone now, either.”
“So the Taylor sisters are both resistant to relationships.”
She frowned. “You make us seem like we have issues.”
“Everyone has issues, it’s just a matter of how they manifest.”
“What are you, a psychologist?”
“A psychiatrist, actually. I have a private practice specializing in performance anxiety.”
Bijou gaped. “No way.”
“Why not?” he asked with a curious tip of his head.
“Therapists aren’t supposed to look like male strippers.”
He laughed. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
Bijou blushed. She
never
blushed. She hadn’t even blushed when she was a little girl.
Then what he said caught her attention. “You’re a performance anxiety therapist?” she asked.
“For athletes, mainly, but I also deal with actors and musicians.”
“My mother didn’t have you come over to date KT, did she? She wanted to hire you to help her.”
“But it’s flattering that you thought I could date your sister.”
She tossed her towel aside. “Let’s talk therapy.”
“Do you need help?”
“Of course not, but KT does.” She slipped her arm through his. “Let’s get out of here and find a quiet place to talk.”
Grounds for Thought was the logical place to take Will.
In Los Angeles, Bijou had gone to the same café every day for three years, and they always looked at her like she was a stranger. She’d been frequenting Grounds for Thought for the two weeks since she’d been home, and she felt like she belonged.
As they entered, she waved to Eve, who owned the bookstore café, and her friends Gwen and Lola. They all smiled and called out to her as she and Will headed to the counter.
“Friends?” Will asked softly as they approached the register.
“New friends.” She smiled brightly at them. “Hey ladies!”
Lola leaned over and held her croissant up. “Did you come here to flaunt the fact that you’ve worked out and I’m eating a buttery pastry? Because I may have to kill you off in my next book.”
Gwen frowned at her friend. “You write romance novels. There’s no murder.”
“There’s always a first time.”
Bijou grinned. Lola had a perfect body—whatever she was doing was working for her. “Would you feel better if I order a pastry, too?”
“Yes.” Lola pointed at her but faced Gwen. “I love this woman. She
gets
it.”
Laughing, Eve wiped the counter. “Lola has her priorities straight. What can I get you guys besides a treat?”
Gwen prodded Lola with her elbow. “I love when she offers people a ‘treat.’“
“I know. I’d totally tap that if I didn’t have Sam.” Lola smiled at Bijou. “Treat is Eve’s husband’s name. He’s hot.”
Not as hot as Will. She glanced at him, hoping her face didn’t give away her thoughts. “Share a chocolate croissant with me?”
“Yes.” He ordered a coffee for himself, and Bijou added an herbal tea for herself. Will paid for it despite her protests and then went to scope out a spot for them to sit.
Lola leaned across Gwen to whisper, “Okay, quick. Who is he, and are you doing him?”
“He’s someone I just met, and no, I’m not doing him.” She was tempted to go there, though, which was exactly why she wasn’t going to think about it. Much.
“Bummer.” Lola craned her neck to look at Will. “He has a great butt.”
“What happened to Sam?” Gwen asked with a quirk of her eyebrow as she lifted her tiny espresso cup.
“Sam is my world. This is research.”
Gwen laughed. Then she gasped and turned her big eyes onto Bijou. “Wait. You’re a musician, right?”
“Right.”
The woman leaned toward her, intense in a way that was unexpected given her bohemian appearance. “I chair the Purple Elephant, a foundation that gives kids a place to learn and create, and I have a girl who needs a piano teacher. Would you be interested in volunteering? It’d just be twice a week.”
“I’ve never taught anyone anything, but I’d be glad to help.” Bijou pursed her lips as an idea hit. Maybe she should pass this on to KT, as part of her reformation, even though she thought it was lame to try to con their mom into thinking KT was anything other than a hermit. “Actually, let me talk to my sister. She’s looking for something like this.”
“Great!” Gwen beamed at her as she took out a card from her clutch. “Have her contact me.”
Will came up behind her right as she slipped the card into her sports bra. His eyes flicked to her cleavage, and she thought she saw a second of appreciation there, but he schooled his expression quickly. “I saved us the window seat,” he said while picking up the drinks that Eve slid across the counter.
“I’ve got this.” She took the croissant and smiled at the ladies. “See you guys later.”
Lola winked at her, and they all looked at Will and laughed.
“Do I want to know what that was about?” he asked as they sat down.
“I doubt it.” She grinned playfully as she angled her seat toward his.
He pushed her tea closer to her. “It seems like you’re good friends. How long have you known them?”
“A couple weeks.” She shrugged at his surprised look. “I live in LA normally, but I’m performing with my parents at their benefit concert in a few weeks, so I’ve been staying up here with them. I figured it was easier than commuting from Southern California.”
Not to mention that she wanted to get away from the LA music scene because in the past month her song—the one Brice stole—had hit the charts and was everywhere. She’d needed to get away.
She realized Will Shaw was studying her. He looked so much like a bad boy, with his man jewelry and worn jeans—so much like Brice in some way. Except for the expression in his eyes. He looked at her like he could see all the way into her. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
For a second, she thought he meant about Brice, and she stiffened. But then she realized he meant with her sister.
Relaxing, she nodded. “KT has stage fright, as I’m sure Mom told you. You know she’s supposed to perform at our parents’ benefit concert, too?”
“Yes.”
“Is that enough time to help her overcome her fears?”
“If she wants to overcome them.”
That was the rub, wasn’t it? “Fair enough. I can get her to come see you. Do you have an office in the city?”
He handed her a card. “Downtown. Lara led me to believe it might be difficult to get Karma to come in to see me.”
“My sister will do anything for me,” she said, giving him an intent look as she slipped the card into her sports bra alongside Gwen’s.
To his credit, his gaze didn’t waver from her face. “You believe that,” he said.
“I know that, because I’ll do anything for her too.”
He studied her intently, as though he could see into her. “I believe it. Bring her in tomorrow, at two.”
Bijou held her hand out. “It’s a date.”
He took her hand and held it firm and steady in his. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Heaven help her, she thought, feeling a shiver of pleasure from his touch, so was she.
Chapter Three
As Chance Nolan bent to stretch his hamstrings, he gave his buddy a stern look. “You better get ready to run. You’ve been eating a lot, and I don’t want a porker on my hands.”
His little pig, Ante Up, tossed its snout in the air.
“I know you’re young, but if you don’t start working out now, you’re going to lose your figure. It’s all in the genetics, my friend, and I’ve seen pictures of your mother.”
He swore the pig rolled his eyes before trotting away to investigate the vast Carrington-Wright garden.
Chance rolled his eyes, too. If someone had told him one day his closest friend would be a farm animal, he’d have laughed—hard. When he won the pig in a poker game a couple months ago, he’d thought he’d give it away or sell it, but in the end he hadn’t been able to. The little sucker was too endearing.
Part of the reason Chance remained in San Francisco was because of Ante Up. A pig wasn’t meant to live on a boat. Ante Up had been a good sailor, all things considered, but Chance could tell the oinker was happier on
terra firma
.
Frankly, Chance was happier, too. After college, when all his friends had gone back home to establish their lives, he’d been at a loss over what to do. When he’d won the boat in a poker game, he’d decided it was a great idea to set sail. It wasn’t as though he had a home to go back to.
It’d been the best decision he’d ever made. It’d been what he needed to distance himself from the past. At first, he’d been lonely, but he’d grown to enjoy the solitude. It made him look forward to pulling into port and connecting with people. He supported himself by playing poker whenever he needed to. He’d spent many a night on yachts of rich men, winning money and jewelry from them.
Now it was time for a new chapter.
He’d realized it as he’d set sail for California. It was time to give up the gypsy lifestyle and lay down roots. He’d begun yearning for things he hadn’t wanted before. A family. A purpose. He couldn’t be a poker player forever. At some point his luck would turn.
He’d known as soon as he’d arrived in San Francisco for his college buddy Scott’s wedding that this was the place where he was going to stay. Scott’s mom, Elise, had very sweetly encouraged him to stay with her while he looked for an apartment and employment.
Ironically, it was at Scott’s wedding where Chance had met Roger Leif, the CEO of a finance company, Paragon International Group. The moment Leif had discovered Chance played poker, he was eager to discuss hiring him.
A lot of finance companies hired poker players as quantitative analysts. It was right up his alley—he had a business degree, and he understood numbers.
More than that, he was excited about the opportunity. Some people might see researching investments and developing trading strategies as dull, but it was all a game, just like poker, and Chance loved to play. The only difference was that a nine to five job would give him the flexibility to have a life, as well as the stability of a paycheck.
“Chance! There you are.”
He stiffened, recognizing the voice. He turned around to see Tiffany Woods headed toward him, as if he’d conjured her with his thoughts.
What was she doing here? How did she get his address?
His résumé.
Of course. He internally groaned, wishing he’d had another option, but as the headhunter in charge of hiring for Paragon, Tiffany Woods was the person standing between him and the job. He had to give her whatever she needed. Within reason, because he knew she wanted way more from him than he was comfortable with.
She walked carefully toward him on her tiptoes, probably so the spiked heels she wore didn’t sink into the grass.
Ante Up snorted derisively and trotted away. Chance couldn’t blame him; she looked ridiculous teetering across the lawn.
She smiled brilliantly as she reached him. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I got your résumé.”
Obviously. He smiled politely. “I hope Roger will be able to meet soon.”
“I think we can arrange that.” She gave him a shark-like grin. “I’m sure we can find a way to help each other out.”
As a poker player, he knew how to read people. When he looked at Tiffany Woods, he recognized the look in her eyes, and he was pretty sure she meant helping each other out of their clothes.
He might have been flattered under normal circumstances—she wasn’t unattractive. Most of his friends would have loved to be preyed on by her. She was blond and petite and beautiful in the way expensive women were perfectly put together. He knew from past girlfriends that she probably took over an hour to do her makeup to make it look “natural” and that her shoes cost a fortune.
He’d never understood why women paid so much for shoes that they couldn’t walk in—it defeated the purpose of footwear.
The problem here was that she stood in the way of his dream job. Nothing good could come from a fling with the woman who was the gatekeeper to the company he hoped to work for.
Which was why he couldn’t just tell her to go away. So he said, “Thanks for taking the time to come over.”
Ante Up made a derisive noise, clearly calling him a coward. But what was he supposed to do? He had to play his cards right.
“I was thinking of going to lunch.” Tiffany flipped her hair back. “Want to join me? I can tell you more about Paragon. I know a great place that has an outdoor patio.”
“Sorry. I’m about to take Ante Up for a run.”
She barely gave the pig a glance. “Then maybe another time.”
“Sure,” he said noncommittally.
“Like tomorrow.”
Chance started to say
no
, deciding that maybe it was a good idea to set the boundaries clearly, but then he saw a glimmer of something in her gaze that shocked him. Loneliness.
He understood loneliness—too well.
But he wanted to smack himself upside the head when he heard himself say, “I need to check my calendar. Why don’t you text me?”
“I can do that.” She reached out and caressed his arm. “Chance, I think this is a fantastic opportunity, and we’re looking forward to seeing a lot more of you.”
He subtly extricated himself from her clutches. “Well—”
The hedges to the left began to rustle. Ante Up snorted and waddled over to investigate as a long jean-covered leg appeared over the top of the high bush. The second leg slung over, followed by a surprisingly shapely ass. The woman dangled up high by her hands and then dropped into the yard with a billow of honey hair and a muffled “
Oof
.”
Chance recognized her as Scott’s best man, a childhood friend who lived next door. He’d met her at the wedding, but he couldn’t remember her name. It was something strange.
Like he could judge.
And not like it mattered. The important thing was that she was here. It was like the universe was handing him a gift, and he never looked a gift horse in the mouth.