“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 Xander 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
Q
uinn 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 where 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.”
Quinn tugged at the hem on her thigh and glanced around as if she was being watched.
“At least if they’re ogling my body, they won’t pay any attention to my singing.”
She picked up the play list and scanned the titles.
Rachel returned with their drinks. She placed small, square, purple napkins on the
table and topped them with their glasses. She spun away to deliver the rest of the
drinks on her tray. The drinks were a completely unnatural smoky blue color. Quinn
turned the glass in a circle.
“Wasn’t it George Carlin who made jokes about there not being any blue foods?”
“Yeah, and I’d bet he’d chug this down. Come on. Cheers.” Indy held up her tall slim
glass.
Quinn picked up hers and clinked. She took a tentative sip. Sweet. Smooth. When it
slid down her throat she felt the slight burn of alcohol. The drink had kick. It was
good.
She took a full drink. Still smooth. Hardly any aftertaste.
Rachel returned. “Well?”
Quinn smiled. “You were right. Excellent choice. Thank you.”
“What’s in this?” Indy asked.
“I don’t know. The owner came up with it. The bartenders are sworn to secrecy. Let
me know if you need anything else.”
“I bet I could get the recipe out of the bartender,” Indy commented, almost to herself.
“Hey, guys,” Kate said as she sat next to Indy. “What are you drinking?”
“We’re trying a really good new drink.” Quinn slid her glass toward Kate.
She sipped. “Wow. That
is
good. What’s in it?”
“No one will tell. Some hush-hush recipe created by the owner.” Indy sounded irritated
by the secret.
Kate looked around. “I like this place. It’s so much closer for me to get here. I
put the kids to bed and haven’t missed any of the fun.”
Rachel returned to the table for Kate’s order.
“I’ll have one of those,” Kate said, pointing to Quinn’s glass.
Rachel nodded and left.
“What did I miss?”
“Nothing. We’ve only been here a little while. This is our first drink.” Quinn drank
from her glass.
“How have the singers been?”
“We’ve only seen one. They must be taking a break.”
They all looked at the empty stage. Sure enough, DJ Dan picked up the microphone.
“Next up . . . Kelly,” he read from a small card.
The girl who stood wore a halter dress in a bright flowered print barely skimming
her butt.
And I thought my dress was short
. The bright lights made Kelly squint as she took the stage.
The music started. Quinn didn’t know the song, but it was something Britney Spears-ish.
Kelly’s eyes fixed on some point in the middle of the dance floor. The poor girl was
obviously nervous, which didn’t help her carry a tune. Every note was off. Quinn’s
stomach clenched nervously, but Kelly finished. She didn’t run away screaming.
No one heckled her.
Quinn glanced around at the other tables. Although many people carried on their quiet
conversations, no one laughed at poor Kelly. It was a good sign. When Kelly bowed
at the end of her performance, people actually clapped.
Maybe I can do this
.
Indy nudged Quinn from her musing. “Let’s pick a song.”
“Let me have another drink first. I think I’ll be ready by then.”
Indy caught Rachel’s attention and pointed at Quinn. Moments later, her fresh drink
arrived, along with a Sprite for Indy, and a new singer took the stage.
After her introduction, Sadie stood onstage in a loose, glittery black tank top and
skintight black pants. Her orange-red hair rolled in waves past her shoulders. Her
makeup was heavy, and it took Quinn a minute to recognize Sadie’s attempt to hide
her age. She must’ve been at least fifty.
When she took the microphone, Sadie reintroduced herself. Her voice was smoky and
a bit raspy. She chose to sing Stevie Nicks’s “Stand Back.” A perfect choice.
By the end of the song, the crowd had hushed. Instead of the polite claps the previous
singer received, they applauded Sadie.
“Oh, please. She’s good, but I can do better,” Indy commented.
Quinn raised her eyebrows. She had no doubt Indy could do better, but she was rarely
a snot about it. The comment confirmed Quinn’s suspicion that something happened to
trouble Indy. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She took a drink of her pop. “Are we singing or what?”
“I’m not ready. Besides, I don’t want to follow her. I want to follow someone who
sucks.” With another gulp of Blue Smoke, the glass was half empty.
“Scoot over and let me out. I’m singing.”
Indy walked toward the DJ, who shuffled cards at his table. Before he rose to announce
the next singer, Indy leaned over and offered a wink and a flash of cleavage. The
next minute, she took the stage.
There was no introduction. She didn’t offer her name. Within the first thirty seconds,
most people in the room stared at Indy. She’d chosen “Stay” by Sugarland. The country
ballad told the story of being the other woman. The accompaniment was so soft, Indy
might as well have been singing a cappella. And she had the voice to do it.
Quinn leaned forward with her chin propped in her hand. Her sister’s voice always
sucked her in.
“She’s really good.”
“She always is when she sings from the heart.” After the words left her lips, Quinn’s
mind registered that the comment had come from a man.
She looked over her shoulder and looked up at the tall man behind her. He looked vaguely
familiar.
“Hi.” The broad smile clicked in place and recognition dawned.
“You’re motorcycle man.”
He chuckled so deep and rumbly, her fingers remembered feeling his diaphragm vibrate.
“I usually go by Griffin.”
“We weren’t introduced last time we met.”
“I think Ryan planned to introduce us tonight, but it looks like he got distracted.”
She turned back to the stage. The song ended and tears waved down Indy’s cheeks. Before
the last beat, the crowd stood, cheering.
Quinn saw movement to the left of the stage from the corner of her eye. She stood
and turned her attention to see Ryan parting the crowd to get to the stage. With a
spotlight on his back, he handed something to Indy. A handkerchief? She blotted her
eyes.
He held his hand for her to take. Ryan put his arm around Indy’s shoulder and hustled
her through the mass of people.
Griffin leaned close to Quinn’s ear. “Now that the entire room thinks my best friend
is a married lech, maybe you’ll tell me why you weren’t the one onstage.”
Quinn shrugged in response. She only halfway paid attention to the question. She focused
on Ryan and Indy. Ryan didn’t look like Ryan tonight. He was dressed in all black—pants
and a collarless button-down shirt, the top two buttons undone. She was used to seeing
him in jeans and a T-shirt. It didn’t occur to her to imagine him wearing anything
else. She became aware of the crowd, nudging each other and pointing in Ryan and Indy’s
direction. The way they were huddled together, they did appear to be a couple. The
same irritation pricked her. Rationally, she knew it was stupid, but she couldn’t
control her emotions.
What was Ryan doing here anyway? How could he have known she planned on singing tonight
instead of one of the other Thursdays? Unless someone told him. Her irritation grew,
this time not because she felt like Ryan was making a play for Indy, but because Indy
seemed intent on getting him to make a play for Quinn. She felt the muscle in her
jaw twitch. The crowd swallowed up the path Ryan and Indy walked, and Quinn lost sight
of them.
She eased back into her seat and gulped the remainder of her drink. The noise of the
crowd leveled off once they figured out Indy wouldn’t sing again.
“Would you like another one of those?” Griffin asked, still standing next to her seat.
Quinn straightened her shoulders. “Yes, I would. Thank you.”
Griffin returned quickly, carrying two glasses of Blue Smoke and a bottle of beer.
Quinn inched over to make room for him to sit. It would’ve been rude to accept the
drink and not offer a seat. When he was settled with his long black denim-clad legs
stretched out under the table, Quinn made introductions.
“Griffin, this is my friend, Kate. Kate, this is Ryan’s friend, Griffin. He’s the
one who took me on a motorcycle ride.”
Kate extended her hand. Griffin shook it politely and slid a glass in front of her.
“I figured you could use another one too. How do you like it?”
“The drink? It’s fabulous.”
If Kate gushed any more, it would become a swoon. Quinn bit her lip to stop the smile
and a smart-ass remark. Kate had always been a sucker for a man with a motorcycle.
“I’m glad you like it. I helped Ryan create it. That was one long night of drinking.”
He took a pull on his longneck.