Bannon Brothers (16 page)

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Authors: Janet Dailey

BOOK: Bannon Brothers
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“The cost is no object,” he was saying to Mrs. Meriweather. “So long as I get what I want.”
Erin cringed inwardly. What a way to put it. Well, there was nothing in writing. She could back out. One thing for sure, she suddenly didn't like the idea of being alone with him. If—and it was getting to be a big if—she took this project on, she would make sure she never was. Fortunately, a stable of this size and complexity was a busy place, with grooms and riders coming and going with horses often.
She wondered if he was going to talk to her directly at some point. Maybe not. Some rich people delegated everything, including relationships.
But the way he looked at her and the unhappy woman she'd seen at the window turned the fresh mood of the morning into something off-kilter. She no longer wanted to be there. However, it wasn't as if she could walk out and leave Mrs. Meriweather.
To distract herself, she walked down the paved center of the stable between the stalls. Tack and saddles were hung up in designated places on board walls and the floors were clean, with fresh straw carefully strewn about in wet spots.
She took a small notepad out of a jacket pocket and opened it, sketching details at random for later reference. Not the horses. She was concentrating on the setting. A mare stretched her neck and looked at Erin curiously, flaring velvety nostrils to get a whiff of the newcomer to the stables.
Erin scribbled a note to herself:
Bring carrots.
She put the pad back in her pocket and walked on. Mrs. Meriweather had followed Montgomery into an office that had a wide interior window set into a wall so the stables could be viewed from it. He was pointing to framed photos on the wall. Erin could just see a row of trophies and silver cups in a glass-doored cabinet, show ribbons pinned to its back.
But she couldn't hear them. Fine with her. Erin wandered on. She found a rough wooden bench in a quiet part of the stables and sat down. Thinking about the painting he wanted her to do was easier than thinking about the man who'd commissioned it.
What was he expecting?
A lot of horse portraits were just heads against plain, dark backgrounds—an Elvis-on-velvet look that she hoped he wouldn't ask for. Horses looking over stall doors were popular too. Neither interested her very much. She'd much rather portray Montgomery's champion racehorse at liberty.
Granted, a horse worth millions wasn't going to be let loose just because she wanted to see it gallop around. Just painting the head would be a lot easier. But what if it ended up looking like an ad for equine grooming products, all lustrous mane and sparkling eyes?
She would have to start over.
Erin told herself to stop obsessing over things that hadn't happened yet. She sighed and closed her eyes, stretching out her legs and relaxing, lulled by the sounds of the place. A stable had its own symphony. The muted clip-clop of hooves over compacted straw. The clang of metal pails and the whoosh of feed being poured. Soft snorts and whinnies. The low voices of men and women who worked with horses, talking to the animals and to each other.
“Erin! Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. Meriweather waved her over. They had come out of the office and were walking to her.
She scrambled up and met them halfway.
“Mr. Montgomery wants to know when you can begin.”
Erin avoided his unnerving gaze by looking at the older woman as she answered. Mrs. Meriweather's kind eyes met hers. “Ah—soon.”
“I need an exact date and time. The stables run on a strict schedule.” The deep voice sounded accustomed to giving orders.
“Tomorrow?” She took out her small notepad and flipped to the back, which had a calendar. Had he heard the slight quaver in her voice? Montgomery was intimidating.
“That can be arranged.”
Erin practically expected to hear a whip flick. But he wasn't carrying a whip. Other than that, he looked like the horseman he was, in riding attire that had seen hard use. His boots had a high polish, though.
Well, she couldn't look down forever or dodge the commanding gaze that reinforced his aura of power. The closer she got to him, the stronger the sensation of déjà vu became.
If only Bannon was here. That wasn't going to happen, though.
He disliked Montgomery—that much was crystal clear. But it wasn't as if the older man was a criminal. Yet Bannon had avoided explaining the reasons for his antipathy.
Unable to avoid it, she raised her eyes to Montgomery's. Her breath hitched in her throat. There was something wounded and raw in the depths of his gaze that pinned her to the spot where she stood.
Erin almost panicked. Was he a little crazy? For whatever reason, she felt a sensation of something like pity for him.
Mrs. Meriweather gave her a kindly, unruffled smile. Evidently she hadn't seen what Erin was seeing in the old man's eyes. Or else she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Mrs. Meriweather had said in a quiet aside on their way here that the loss of his daughter had broken Montgomery's heart forever.
Erin racked her brain for something to say, forcing herself to discuss the painting.
“Can you give me some idea of what you had in mind, Mr. Montgomery? I could do some preliminary sketches.”
“All right.” Montgomery walked away from both women, his large hands clasped behind his back.
“Are we supposed to follow him?” she whispered to Mrs. Meriweather.
“I think so,” the older woman whispered back with frustration. “He's behaving very strangely, Erin. He rambles on and then stops—”
“But I can hear.” He turned around to deliver the sarcastic remark. Mrs. Meriweather blushed to the roots of her white hair. “The horse is in the adjoining building. Please follow me.”
His stride was long and the two women lagged behind. But they caught up with him when they turned the corner.
He was still ahead but he wasn't alone. The blond woman Erin had seen at the window was facing him, saying something in a murmur. She broke off when she saw them, her gaze zeroing in on Erin.
Montgomery turned around. “Mrs. Meriweather, you know Caroline. But Erin doesn't.” He turned to Caroline. “My dear, allow me to introduce Erin Randall.”
The blonde's blue eyes blazed with jealousy. “It's a pleasure,” she said in a tight voice. She didn't hold out a hand or make any other welcoming gesture.
“Erin is a very talented painter,” Montgomery continued smoothly. “She will be working on a portrait of Take All.”
“I see.” The words were snapped out. Caroline looked Erin up and down as if she didn't see at all.
“The three of us are going to his stall.” His frosty tone automatically excluded her.
“Have fun. I'm going the other way,” Caroline replied angrily.
She didn't bother to say a single word to Mrs. Meriweather, who was too well-mannered to comment on the deliberate slight in public.
Caroline's high heels clicked angrily down the paved center of the stable. Montgomery didn't look back.
 
Erin dropped Mrs. Meriweather off at her house with a sigh of relief, glad the morning was over. The first thing she wanted to do was get her hands around a tall takeout cup of coffee and drink it down, and the second thing was to call Bannon.
She had pulled over and parked outside a fancy place and taken her time to read the chalked menu with its daily selections. Decaf would do it. Meeting Montgomery had left her jumpy, and Caroline—well, the blonde was a piece of work. At least Erin had her pegged correctly now. Mrs. Meriweather had offered a polite explanation of Caroline's relationship with Montgomery.
After several years with no promise of marriage, his blond mistress was apparently fed up. Mrs. Meriweather added that Caroline complained to whoever would listen that Montgomery's horse Take All was a lot more important to him than she was.
The horse was a gorgeous animal that seemed to know it was a star. Take All's trainer had shown him off with great pride.
Once Erin realized that she would be dealing with that man and not Montgomery for the portrait, she'd set aside her misgivings.
Tall cup in hand, she went back to her car, wanting to drink her coffee where it was quiet. The coffee bar wasn't. She checked the little window of the parking meter—the needle was safely in the black zone. There was plenty of time to enjoy her coffee.
She unlocked the door on the passenger side and slid in, setting the cup in the holder between the seats. Erin looked in her purse for her cell phone. She wanted to hear Bannon's voice. The urge was so strong that it made her wonder about what she was beginning to feel for him.
He'd seemed so at home in her place. She'd been amused by the way he'd looked around so carefully, being protective while trying to seem casual. Deciding to use him as a model had been a stroke of genius, she thought smugly. What a perfect way to admire all that muscle and chiseled scruffiness for as long as she'd wanted to.
And he'd kept the male territorial stuff under control, except when she explained that a friend had helped her with the computer setup. Obviously Bannon had been dying to ask more but he didn't have to know about her ex, who wasn't all that important to her. Gerry, a software engineer, had taken off for greener pastures and a big job in Seattle, although Virginia had plenty of tech businesses and opportunities.
Anyway, so long, been nice to know you
, she thought idly. Bannon made all thoughts of other men, past and future, vanish. It was easy to imagine him being a part of her life.
Slow down,
she told herself.
Just enjoy him
.
And make sure no one else has that privilege
, added a possessive little voice. Erin smiled to herself.
He finally answered, and she smiled at the sound of his husky hello.
“Hey. It's Erin.”
“Hi.” The obvious pleasure in his voice warmed her all over. “Nice to hear from you.”
She chuckled. “I just saw you yesterday.”
“Yeah, well—”
“And we're going to see each other soon.” Erin interrupted him before he could say anything about one kiss not being enough. Truth be told, it hadn't been enough for her, either, but she saw nothing wrong with the two of them taking their time. Jumping into bed by the third or fourth date wasn't something she wanted to do.
“When?”
Erin touched the coffee cup to see if it had cooled a little, then fiddled with the takeout lid so she could sip and talk. “Let me check with my social secretary. I'll get back to you.”
Bannon laughed. “Where are you?”
“In my car. In town. Drinking coffee.” She took a long sip. “And yes, I'm parked.”
“Good. So did you visit the legendary Montgomery stables and stud farm?”
“I sure did. I met the horse.”
“What about the old man?”
Thinking about that required two more sips. “Him too. And his girlfriend Caroline. She didn't seem too happy to see us.”
“Oh. Why was that?”
“She didn't give a reason,” Erin said dryly. “She didn't seem inclined to talk to any of us. And she was downright rude to Mrs. Meriweather.”
“Hmm.”
Erin filled him in on more details of the morning, but she left out the way Montgomery had stared at her, and her feelings of nervousness. There was no sense in triggering Bannon's protective reflex. He meant well, but she suspected he was apt to go overboard.
“So how's Charlie?” he asked.
“He slept right by my bed on my mom's old hooked rug. When I woke up I had to pull my slippers out from underneath him. They were nice and warm.” She laughed.
“That's great.”
“We went for a morning walk and I threw a stick for him to get him to run. Otherwise he stays right by me the whole time.”
“He's supposed to.”
Erin gave a mock sigh. “He doesn't have to.”
Bannon apparently decided not to argue the point. Not a problem. She really liked the dog, and that was going to work out fine.
He switched the subject. “So did you get started on the commission?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She finished up the coffee. “I did some sketches and then we went into the stable offices and I signed on the dotted line.”
“Okay.”
The nonchalant reply made her smile to herself. Apparently he'd decided not to be bossy. He had been right about the terms, though. She'd asked for what he said. Well, she would have in any case.
“I got half the fee in advance, and the other half I get when I'm done. Mrs. Meriweather made sure I understood the fine print, not that there was much.”

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