Read Sea of Dreams (The American Heroes Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
Aside from his wife and Gina, Beck’s attention was on a third woman in the bar. At the front of the house, Lizzie was the official hostess as people entered, showing them to their tables with her tall, blond and beautiful elegance. She had no shortage of male admirers, much to Beck’s concern. Two hours into the opening, she already had three date offers and, to her father’s horror, she was considering all of them. As a junior at San Diego State University, Elizabeth Seavington was a very beautiful and very popular Communications major.
Marshall Thorne and his new wife Gabrielle came later in the evening, thrilled to see how successful the opening was. Marshall had helped Blakesley pick out the selection of wines she would carry and as he and Gabrielle shared oysters on the half-shell and a fine bottle of pinot grigio, he reflected on how his daughter had come to such a happy place in her life. From the hell of nearly seven years ago until now, it was like day and night. He’d never seen her happier or more beautiful.
As Blakesley had said, Ms. Sarah brought the Seavington brood over to the bar somewhere around seven at night because Blakesley had wanted her children to see and be seen by her friends and patrons. Cadee, now almost a teenager, hung at the front of the house and helped Lizzie as Crosby and Charlotte, the social creatures, made the rounds with their mother. Beck had charge of Emma and Colt, four years and three years old respectively, and he proudly showed them off to his friends and fellow officers who had showed up for the opening.
“Baby,” Blakesley came rushing up to him, no mean feat with the high heels she was wearing. Crosby and Charlotte tagged along behind her. “Guess what? I’ve already sold four of my paintings!”
She was so excited that she was nearly jumping up and down. Beck, his arms full of blond toddlers who, now that their mother was near, began to whine for her, grinned.
“That’s great,” he congratulated her. “Who bought them?”
Blakesley reached for Colt when the little boy practically threw himself at her from his father’s arms. With her son on her hip, she turned and pointed to a group over near the bar.
“See that guy over there, kind of round, with the dark hair?” she said.
Beck was following her finger. “The balding guy”
She nodded. “He owns a very prestigious art gallery in Beverly Hills,” she turned to her husband again. “They guy carries all kinds of art for sale. He bought four of my paintings. We just made about $18,000.”
Beck’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, in pleasure. “Wow,” he exclaimed softly. “That’s really great. Congratulations.”
Blakesley was thrilled. With the somewhat sleepy and crabby Colt in her arms, she made her way back over to the group of art gallery owners, charming the socks off of them. Beck watched her, so proud he could nearly burst. He just watched his wife, her beauty and charisma, feeling like he felt every day since he had known her. He was absolutely the luckiest man in the world.
“Beck?” Crosby, now nine years of age and already an exquisite beauty, tugged on her stepfather’s arm. “Can Charlotte and I go help Lizzie?”
Beck looked to the front of the house, crowded to the rafters. It was standing room only, spilling out into the sidewalk beyond.
“Okay,” he said. “But listen to what she tells you. If she doesn’t want your help, come back and find me, and we’ll figure something else out for you to do.”
With a grin, Crosby skittered away with Charlotte close behind. Beck smiled as he watched them go, turning to look at his youngest daughter when she yawned and laid her head on his big shoulder. Emma was the spitting image of Blakesley with her doll-like face and slightly tilted eyes. Instead of Blakesley’s bluish-green, however, she had her father’s intense green eyes. She had his temperament, too, rather laid-back and accommodating.
“Daddy, I’m tired,” Emma yawned again. “Can we go home now?”
He kissed her little head, his eyes searching for his wife, who seemed to have disappeared. “Let’s find Mommy,” he said. “Are you hungry, baby girl?”
Emma nodded her head, still cuddled up on her father’s shoulder. “Uh huh,” she said, suddenly spying Marshall and Gabrielle over on the bar. Her head came up and she pointed. “Grampy Marsh is eating something. Can I have some?”
Beck made a beeline over to the bar and handed Emma off to Gabrielle, who hugged and kissed the child. Emma declared she was starving, whereupon Marshall ordered her a Shirley Temple and home-made potato chips. Beck stood behind them, searching for a glimpse of his wife, when he caught sight of her above him in the loft. She was directing two male employees down the stairs from her studio with a giant canvas between them.
Beck went around the bar to the staircase just as Blakesley reached the bottom step. She directed the employees with the canvas to take it over to the bar.
“Hi, baby,” she said brightly. “Where’s Emma?”
“With your dad and Gabrielle,” he replied. “Where’s Colt?”
“With Sophia and Richard.”
Beck looked at her as if she was crazy. “You left him with Davis to babysit?”
She laughed. “Relax,” she said, taking his arm and pulling him back over to the big, modern bar where they were hanging up the canvas she had just brought down from the studio. “Richard’s his godfather, so I don’t know what you’re upset about. He wanted to hang out with him for a few minutes.”
Beck just shrugged, not entirely sure he wanted to burden his former captain with watching his son, but he went along with his wife as she pulled him towards the bar. The two employees were working on hanging the canvas as Blakesley, in her lovely evening gown, held out her arms to her husband.
“Sit me up on the bar, please,” she asked.
Beck did as he was asked, lifting her up by the waist and sitting her on the long wood bar with the beautiful pounded-metal siding. With a wink, Blakesley stood up and all Beck could see were her gorgeous, tanned, smooth legs in those sexy silver shoes. He found himself grinning up at her, leaning against the bar, his eyes all over her legs. He didn’t even care what she was doing up there; he just wanted to sex her up. Not entire oblivious to her husband mentally undressing her, Blakesley held up her hands to the crowd and let out a loud whistle.
“Everyone,” she held up her hands, getting the attention of the packed bar. “Welcome to the Art Bar. I’m Blakesley Seavington and I just want to thank you all for coming out tonight. I really hope you like everything you see and taste, and we hope to see you all back frequently.”
Everyone clapped and roared, and Blakesley grinned broadly, the big dimple in her left cheek flashing.
“Thank you so much,” she said, waving off into corner by the door when someone whistled loudly at her. “And thank you. My husband thanks you.”
The crowd laughed as Beck was acknowledged. He grinned at the crowd and then looked back to is lovely wife, who had his attention, and everyone else’s. Blakesley continued.
“As you know, the concept of this place is a little different,” she said, pointing around the room. “Every painting on the wall is my work. I’ve always loved art and I hope you like what I’ve done. It’s all for sale, so don’t be shy if you see something you like.”
Again, the crowd clapped loudly and whistled, and Blakesley took a couple of bows before continuing. “Now, as a kick-off for the Art Bar tonight, I have a little surprise for you,” she glanced at Beck, who was gazing up at her adoringly. “My husband doesn’t know this yet so I hope he doesn’t get too angry, but we have a representative from the Navy Widow and Orphans Foundation here tonight and I’m donating a percentage of the evening’s proceeds to the foundation, including a percentage of the sale of the art.”
Everyone clapped heartily, including Beck. He had no idea she had arranged for that and was deeply touched. The NWO Foundation was something near and dear to their hearts, especially since it was something Gina benefitted from. They had generously donated to it over the years. Blakesley smiled down at Beck.
“If you haven’t met him yet, this is my amazing husband, Beck,” she pointed to her husband at her feet. “He works at Coronado Amphibious Base training new S.E.A.L.’s. Before that, he was a S.E.A.L. himself for fourteen years and, as someone told me once, a real American Hero. He’s the love of my life and I’m very proud of him.”
The crowd was on their feet, clapping loudly for Beck, who was a little embarrassed by all of the attention. He acknowledged the applause modestly before turning to his wife, giving her an “I’m going to kill you” expression, to which she simply smiled. She held up a hand to quiet the crowd down.
“Here comes the good part,” she said. “A few years ago, my husband did a Navy calendar where the proceeds all went to the Naval Widow and Orphans Foundation. In fact, he was the cover boy, so I had that picture blown up and I’m going to auction it off tonight to benefit the NWO Foundation.”
Stunned, Beck watched as the two employees pulled the soft cover off the giant canvas that had been brought down from the loft. It was a picture of him emerging from the surf, bare-chested, clad only in his black combat pants and boots. It had been taken at sunset and the colors were reflected off his tanned, muscular body as he gave the camera a deliciously smoldering look. It was the sexiest pose to ever grace the cover of a calendar and the crowd went mad.
People began screaming monetary amounts at Blakesley, who stood on the bar and laughed at her husband’s mortification. Beck, seized with embarrassment, suddenly leapt onto the bar next to his wife and grabbed her as the crowd screamed with delight.
Blakesley was laughing as Beck tried to spank her, much to the thrill of the crowd, but he just ended up hugging her tightly as everyone yelled and clapped. It was evident how much affection there was between the pair. The old woman who had slipped Beck her phone number pushed her way to the front of the bar and lifted a piece of paper up to Beck which, on closer inspection, was a check. He hesitantly reached down and took it, his eyes bugging when he saw the amount. As the crowd demanded to know what he held in his hand, at Blakesley’s prompting, he held it up for the crowd to see.
“It’s a check for the photo,” he said in his smooth, deep voice. “Seventy-five thousand dollars made out to the Navy Widow and Orphans Foundation.”
The crowd roared in approval but there was more drama to come. From the table where Robert Karayan sat with his gay friends, one of the men ran up to the bar and handed Beck another check. This time, Blakesley took it and she began laughing loudly.
“Oh, my God,” she held up the check. “I have a check for double that amount. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. My lawyer wants to hang it in his office.”
Once again, the crowd went crazy. They were cheering and clapping loudly. Everyone but the old woman, that is; in her fur and bullet bra, she marched over the table of gay men and slapped one of them across the face. A couple of Beck’s men, who happened to be close enough, jumped in before a brawl could start but the entire restaurant was roaring with laughter over the old woman and the gay lawyer. It was just too funny to believe. Up on the bar, Beck watched the scene, holding Blakesley, his cheek against hers.
“You are so dead,” he murmured. “When I’m done with you, you’re not going to be able to sit down for a week.”
Blakesley laughed softly, her arms around his neck. “You sexy beast,” she nuzzled his cheek with her nose, kissing his lips. “You just bring out the animal in everyone.”
He grinned, looking at her. “You’re the only one I want to bring it out in.”
“Do you even have to ask that? Ever?”
He shook his head, kissing her again, catching a glimpse of his picture over her shoulder. “Oh, God,” he groaned. “I can’t even look at that. I’m so embarrassed.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the sizzling shot. “If that was me in a bikini, would you be so embarrassed?”
He scowled. “God, no,” he said. “But I would have auctioned it off, either. You in a bikini is my dirty pleasure and no one else’s.”
“You get to take the bikini off.”
He cocked a sexy eyebrow. “And I have done just that, many times.”
Blakesley giggled and moved in for another kiss but she felt someone tugging on the bottom of her gown. She and Beck looked down to see Cadee pulling at her.
“Mom,” she said,” Colt’s crying. He needs to go home.”
Beck dropped off the bar, holding his arms up for his wife, who slid down into his embrace. The realities of family needed her attention and Blakesley would give her children her full focus, but not before she went to the table with the still-angry old woman and furious gay men and arranged to get them both a big canvas of Beck to soothe everyone’s ruffled feathers. She also made that promise to seven other people that night and before all was said and done, the Navy Widow and Orphans Foundation had eight hundred thousand dollars in donations. It was the biggest fundraiser they had ever had.
The opening of the Art Bar was an overwhelming success.
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Copyright 2012 by Kathryn Le Veque