Beauty and The Best (Once-Upon-A-Time Romance) (15 page)

She heard, and she thanked him. And left him to his delusions. ’Cause what she was willing to pay and what constituted “safe” were worlds apart. Besides, it was just a place to put her head and her stuff until she finished her degree and opened her shop. She’d worry about the hominess of her home after that.

But she decided to keep that to herself as she made her way home.

Todd’s
home.

She really should find another place to stay in the interim. Todd had that big ol’ house empty for a reason and it just wasn’t right to impose.

She started to call her friend, Bella, then stopped mid-number punching. Who was she kidding? Bella was a newlywed. She was not going to want someone barging in on her at this stage of her marriage.

That option was out.

Option number two was Chloe. Chloe had a boarding house for girls like she and Jolie used to be—wrung through the system and coming out on the other side with no one to care. Chloe was the one who cared. For as many as she could get her hands on.

A quick phone call and Jolie realized Chloe had enough drama going on with some developer trying to take her house, so Jolie didn’t even mention her problem.

It looked like she’d be stuck at Todd’s. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad place to be stuck—as long as she made up for the imposition.

So, after hanging her new clothes in the closet and selecting a pretty pastel, handkerchief-hem camisole and white capris to go with her silver sandals, she headed out to his pool. Seemed a shame not to make use of it. She could read the newspaper poolside as easily as on a park bench. Easier probably.

“
I should have bought a bathing suit” crossed her mind before she took a seat at the wrought-iron table amid a beautifully landscaped garden. She opened the paper to scan the classifieds.

Apartments, here we go
. Sadly, there didn’t seem to be a glut of efficiencies or one-bedrooms, which posed a bit of a problem. She ran her finger down the column as she ticked off those that just wouldn’t do. Which left very few that would. Factoring in her budget, it left even fewer options. Then she took a look at the locations and she was even more discouraged. She sighed and put the paper aside, channeling Scarlett again.

She would’ve liked to read the book Mr. Griff had given her, but in all the drama of last night she’d left it in Todd’s car, so she decided to take this time to work on her own. It was a safe option. Todd wasn’t around, and she had new supplies and a few hours to plot and plan.

The late afternoon passed in a flurry of characterization. Her hero, Tom, was fleshing out very well. And if there was more than a little of Todd Best in him, well, no one would know. Not unless they spent some serious time with him. The man, not her hero.

Aren’t they one and the same?

Not daring to venture down that avenue, Jolie stopped periodically to dip her tootsies in the pool. Sheer bliss. Heavenly. Paradise. Whatever the adjective, it was just too wonderful to have the opportunity to cool off at will.

She grabbed a quick salad for a late lunch or early dinner—Todd did say meals were included—and lit a few of the tiki torches ringing the pool deck. All she needed was a virgin daiquiri, some Jimmy Buffet, and a sexy native island guy.

The French door from the kitchen opened and out walked Todd.

She glanced heavenward with a quick “thank you.”

“
Having a party and forget to invite me?” He chuckled.

“
Sorry, it’s just too nice of a night to be indoors. And the pool was calling me.” She scrambled to close her notebook. “What are you doing here? I thought you had dinner plans.”

Those laugh lines deepened near his eyes. “I do, but I started thinking you might be lonely and let yourself get down about the fire. I didn’t like the idea of you here alone. So, would you like to come to dinner with me?”

Where
was
this guy’s white horse?

Chapter Twelve

Todd didn’t lie. Mike was definitely earning a six-figure salary. His house was as big and gorgeous as Todd’s, with the perfectly manicured front lawn with down-lights along the brick walkway and up-lights on the trees. Double etched-glass front doors opened into an impressive marble foyer. Basil and cream wainscoting wound up the curved front staircase where a crystal chandelier glimmered overhead.

Mike’s wife was the requisite thin blonde, but any comparisons to the living embodiment of Barbie ended there. Except, darned if she wasn’t named Barbie. Well, Barbara, but close enough.

Todd made the intros and Barbara welcomed Jolie graciously into Versailles, er, her home even though she looked a little unsure of who Jolie was supposed to be. Was Todd springing her on them?

Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe Todd was just being nice and she should have declined, like last night at
The Midni
—

“
Jolie, huh?” Mike entered from a room on the right, drink in one hand, the other outstretched, a big smile across his face. Too late to back out now.

Not that she ever did. No quitting for her. No siree. “That’s me.”

Mike’s hand engulfed hers. As in, absorbed. He was big. Bigger than Todd, who was plenty big. They looked alike too, only Mike had some gray at the temples (another “distinguished” feature on a man that didn’t translate to women) and his eyes didn’t have Todd’s haunted sadness in them. But definitely good-looking. Their parents must have gone swimming in the gene pool at Lourdes to create these two.

“
You’re the new chef?” Barbara ran a manicured hand over the buttons on her peach blouse and fingered the pearls at her neck.

“
Yep. Omelets to bedtime snacks, I do ’em all.” Cute little slogan. Or so Jolie thought until Mike almost spit out his drink.

Oh. Probably not a good idea to mention bedtime snacks in conjunction with Todd.

Not that it meant anything. The man was safely ensconced in his memories. Nothing for anyone to worry about.

“
Well, my cooking experience isn’t in the same realm as yours so I hope dinner is somewhat—” Barbara’s fingers creased her crisp linen pants as they slid down the sides then linked in front of her, her shoulders so rigid she looked like there was a curtain rod holding up her dress.

“
Please.” Jolie put a hand on Barbara’s arm. More touchy-feely-ness. What was with that? “Don’t worry. I’m sure dinner will be marvelous. Really.” She smiled and got an answering one in return. “I don’t do critiques or restaurant reviews. And I usually do a pretty good job of clearing my plate.”

It was the one thing she didn’t like about her job. Everyone thought they needed to hire a five-star chef when inviting her to dinner. No way. She was just happy someone else had planned and cooked the meal. She wasn’t fussy. Not after some of what she’d eaten
before
going into the foster system and, sadly, during.

Barbara let go of the tight rein on her shoulder blades and they dropped back into place.

“
Would you like a drink?” Mike asked Jolie, his eyes taking her in. Of course, he’d had that little “is she cute” conversation with Todd, so she shouldn’t be surprised. It didn’t, however, necessarily make her comfortable.

“
Soda or iced tea if you’ve got it would be nice.”

“
Iced tea’s in the kitchen and I have to check on dinner,” said Barbara. “I’ll be right back.”

“
Would you like some help?” Jolie asked. The least she could do for her sudden appearance was help out.

“
Oh, but you’re Todd’s—our—guest. You needn’t concern yourself with the meal.” Barbara still looked flustered.

“
I don’t mind. Really. It’s about time I started earning my pay.” And it was the perfect excuse to remove herself from Mike’s inquisitorial looks. She’d let Todd deal with those.

***

“
Earning her pay? What does that mean?” Mike asked after the women left. He took a sip of his drink then headed toward his study.

Todd shoved his hands into the front pockets of his khakis and followed. Not where he wanted to go, but he knew his brother. Mike never let up when he got his hooks into something. It made him a great negotiator for a businessman, a pain in the ass for a brother, and sometimes, now for instance, too damned nosy.

But he followed Mike anyway. He wasn’t going to get out of this conversation so he might as well get it over with.

The study’s cherry paneling reminded him of a principal’s office, more so when Mike chose the seat behind the desk, drew his elbows onto the leather blotter, and linked his fingers with feigned nonchalance.

Todd knew the posture. Had used it himself when bargaining with hotels and whatnot to display his works.

How long ago those days seemed.

But he hadn’t forgotten, which was why he only glanced at the padded leather wing chair across from Mike, opting, instead, to rest his hip on the edge of the deep windowsill. “Got another one of those?” He indicated Mike’s drink.

“
Really? Two nights ago wasn’t enough?”

“
Are you my keeper or my brother, Mike?”

“
I can’t be both?”

“
Not anymore.”

Mike sat back with a wry grin on his face. “Well, well, well. What’s gotten into you?”

Todd exhaled. “Nothing’s gotten into me, but the other night was an ending of sorts. Maybe a beginning, I don’t know. But I’m back. In my head and in my life. You’re off duty.”

Mike chewed the inside of his lip, fighting the smile—not that he did a good job of it.

“
The drink?” Todd reminded him, pointedly.

“
Right.” Mike slid to his feet and poured a Dewars.

Todd took the tumbler and saluted. “Thanks for everything, Mike.”

“
Aw, come on, Todd. It’s what brothers do. I’m just sad I had to step in. You know Barb and I miss Trista, too.”

“
I do, and I appreciate everything you’ve done. Even if it didn’t seem that way at the time.”

“
So does this mean I can go back to my old job?”

Todd swirled the amber liquid in the glass. Did it? “Give me some time. It’s been two days and I’m still coming to grips with things.”

“
Okay. That’s fine. Whatever you want.” Mike sat behind the desk again, putting his boots on the gleaming polished surface. “So what’s with bringing your chef to dinner?”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“
Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t. It just seems a little unusual. I mean, I haven’t exactly met any of the other hires before.”

The Dewars burned going down, just what Todd needed. “It’s a long story.”

“
Does she have anything to do with my being off duty?”

Did she? Todd shook his head and took another swallow. “Mike, I just met her.”

“
And Trista sideswiped you with one look. There’s precedence, Todd.”

“
You’re out of your mind.” He was, right?

Todd studied the liquid in the tumbler. Jolie didn’t have anything to do with his decision to wake up. Well, okay, she’d had something to do with it. He hadn’t considered the correlation between giving up his art and locking Trista’s memory away before it had come from Jolie’s lips.

It made sense. But, damn, he couldn’t do it again. Couldn’t look at an apple tree or a rolling hill with the same eyes because he’d seen them through Trista’s. She was his muse. And now she was gone.

But her legacy, that he could address. That he could carry on. He and Trista weren’t just about paintings. Weren’t just about themselves. They’d given to the community, shared his talent and her inspiration in other ways, and he’d let that stagnate.

She wouldn’t want that.
He
didn’t want that.

He had Jolie to thank for that. Maybe that was why he’d asked her tonight. The thought of her sitting alone in his house, a new place for her, all of her things gone, she didn’t deserve that.

Oh, hell. She also didn’t deserve the third degree she was probably getting from Barb as he sat here contemplating the meaning of life.

Todd set the glass on the windowsill. For all Barb’s blonde sweetness, she was a barracuda when it came to family. Especially about him since Trista’s death. She’d been the one on the porch fending reporters off with the flick of a wrist. He couldn’t imagine what she was doing to Jolie in the kitchen.

“
I’ll be back, Mike.”

***

“
So how do you like working for Todd?” Barbara asked as they traversed the marble-lined corridor from the living room to the kitchen. “I’m sure it’s quiet compared to what you’re used to.”

“
Uh huh.” Jolie was pretty non-committal. Talking about a client definitely wasn’t a good policy. Not to mention, she’d hardly worked for the guy. One omelet did not a career make.

Barbara opened the door to the fridge and poured the iced tea, then fluttered around the kitchen with its bazillion—okay, maybe forty, but still—cabinets. Pristine white, with brushed nickel knobs, nothing pretentious, but classy and functional and elegant—just like Barbara and the world she inhabited.

“
Can I help with anything?” Despite Todd’s efforts, Jolie wasn’t used to being waited on. That, and silence, made her edgy.