The Bull Rider's Collection (57 page)

“We appreciate your valuable advice over the years, but I agree with Taylor, you stepped over the line with this action. I’m afraid we won’t need your services any longer.” He pushed a business card toward Mike. “Please transfer our company and personal files over to Samantha Jones at this address. She’s now our attorney.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “You’re firing me? Over this?”

“According to our new attorney, you’re lucky we aren’t filing charges against you with the law board. But I convinced her that you were a longtime family friend and, as such, probably had our best interest at heart.” Taylor leaned back in her chair, waiting for the reaction.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“This is because you’re sleeping with him. Taylor, he’s a player. You don’t know how many women he’s had in his bed.” Mike turned his attention on her. “You’re just the flavor of the month.”

That stung for a few seconds, but she knew Mike was hurt and lashing out. Hadn’t she thought the same thing about Jesse? Now Mike had to go explain to the partners at his firm why he’d lost the DeMarco family and the gallery’s business. That conversation wouldn’t be pleasant; not at all.

“My personal relationships have nothing to do with this decision. I’m sorry, but your services are no longer needed.” She stared at him, waiting for him to leave.

“You are cold-hearted. All I ever wanted was to help you, even when you came up with this crazy scheme.” Mike stood. “I’ll send over my final bill this afternoon.”

He walked toward the door and her father called after him. “If you’re smart, you won’t be charging us for that problem yesterday.”

Mike didn’t answer, slamming the door as his farewell message. Taylor sighed and looked at her father. “Thanks for being here, Dad. I can’t believe he even pulled something like this. I was mortified when Jesse and the lawyer showed up yesterday.”

Her dad stood and held his arm out. “I think you need a hug.” She fell into his arms and held back her tears. She wasn’t sure why she felt like crying.
Pick a topic
, she thought. Jesse, Angie, Mike’s betrayal, losing her job at the gallery … it could be any or all of the above.

He sat her down in one of the chairs. “We do have to clear something up, though. If you want to buy the gallery, we won’t sell to him. Your mom and I thought you’d be pleased with having the freedom to travel and explore the world. We didn’t want you to feel stuck here in Boise, running a small gallery.”

Here was her chance. She could stop this entire problem with one word. Well, three.
Don’t sell to Jesse.
Okay, it was four. Last night, she’d made her decision to walk away. Her life wasn’t just the gallery, it needed to be more. And this was one way she could force herself to change. Instead, she smiled. “Dad, I want you to sell the gallery. And you and Mom are going to do just that. I’m looking forward to finding a new path.” As the dark cloud lifted from her father’s face, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she might even mean the words.

When her father left her office, she dug into the monthly reports. She’d let the paperwork slide for the last week or two. Her boy trouble had left her too busy to do her job. And by God, as long as it was her job, she’d make sure she walked away with a clean conscience. Besides, she would probably need this reference for her next appointment. No need to burn a bridge and hope her contacts in the art world would keep her solvent.

She paused a moment, then went to the website for her favorite airline. Glancing at the calendar and adding two weeks for complications, she booked a flight to Paris without a return ticket. Taylor would figure out the details later, but for now, she had her first stop on her freedom tour. Her parents would be happy for her. Too bad she didn’t feel the same way.

Her stomach growled, and she glanced at the clock. She’d been reviewing the ongoing contracts for over two hours. Time for lunch. Today, she was going out. Might as well start feeling like the unemployed bum she would be in less than a month’s time. Learn to relax, as Brit would say.

Angie was on the phone when she entered the front of the gallery.

“I’ve got to go,” Angie whispered into the phone. She quickly hung up and stood to greet Taylor. “Thank you for bringing me back.”

Taylor felt the tears well in her eyes. Then Angie threw her arms around her, and Taylor was engulfed in a warm hug. One or two of the unwanted tears fell down her cheeks. “I didn’t do anything; I just stopped someone else from being a jerk.”

Angie brushed off a stray teardrop. “You stood up for me. And I’ll never forget that.”

Taylor smiled. “I should be thanking you. Mike was off the rails and out of control. If Jesse and your lawyer hadn’t told me, I would have thought you’d quit. The guy had become too controlling.”

Angie studied her with a look on her face Taylor couldn’t decipher. “Love can make you act crazy.”

“That’s the problem—I never even saw that coming with Mike. Brit told me he had a thing for me for years, but I always thought we were just friends.” Taylor swung her tote bag on her shoulder. “Anyway, I’m heading out to grab a long lunch and maybe even a glass of wine before I come back and tackle the rest of those contract reviews. I have my cell if you need me.”

“Take your time. We’ll be fine. Brit just left to grab a pizza for us, and she’s going to teach me how to set up a display.” Angie beamed. “She says I have a knack for visual placement.”

“You’ll be running the place before Jesse knows it.” Taylor cringed at the words. She could see the family involved in the gallery. Picking artists and giving their own twist on the art world, just like she and her grandfather had done when she started working with him. Grief stabbed at her heart. For a minute, she wasn’t sure if the pain was caused by losing her grandfather, the gallery, or her connection with Jesse and his family.

“He cares about you,” Angie said, interrupting her thoughts.

Taylor smiled and shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ve closed that door. However, I know he cares about you. You told them about the cancer, didn’t you?”

“I told Jesse when I got that lawyer letter. Then he brought in the entire group. I swear, that boy can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“You’ll appreciate the support later. Don’t be so stubborn—it’s nice to have family.” Taylor paused at the door. “But, if you ever need something, you know you can call me too.”

Angie nodded, then waved Taylor out the door. “Go to lunch. We can sing ‘Kumbaya’ and roast marshmallows when you get back.”

Taylor left the gallery, and as she walked past the large picture windows she saw Angie pick up the phone.

• • •

An hour later, filled with seafood, pasta, garlic bread, and not one, but two glasses of wine, Taylor strolled back to the gallery. She’d stopped in a dress shop and picked up a new purse that she had seen in the window as she passed the storefront. She patted the new bag on her shoulder as she walked. Impulse purchase or not, it represented her new life. The canvas tote was huge with hand-painted purple pansies strung across the outside. She’d been able to stuff her old bag inside with no problem. Time to take care of Taylor. She might even take the rest of the afternoon off and go walk through the art museum.

Taylor swung open the door to the gallery, deciding to do just that. She’d take a cab down to the museum and walk away this pleasant buzz she felt.

“Angie? Brit?” No one was at the front desk. Odd, but Angie had mentioned they were working on a display. She dumped her bag behind the counter and headed toward the first display room. Empty. Frowning, she stepped farther into the gallery. Her stomach clenched and the pleasant buzz in her head disappeared fast. Something felt wrong.

Entering the last display room, she saw the picture. The room had been draped in all black, letting a single light shine on the painting. A painting of her.

Taylor walked up to the easel and studied the lines. The way her smile teased and her eyes in the portrait danced, she almost looked like a Renaissance model. She half expected to find fat cherubs circling her nearly naked form. Instead, the rest of the picture was set in a bed. Sheets tangled, keeping her modest, but hinting at a perfect body that she knew didn’t quite match her own.

“Do you like it?”

The question came from behind her. Jesse. She didn’t turn when she answered. “You did this? How?”

“From your sitting at your mom’s class. Of course, I played with the surroundings a bit.” Jesse’s voice sounded closer now. She could almost feel his hand on her back, supporting her.

“Typically, it takes several sittings to finish a portrait like this. You did it from just one?” She turned, challenging him. If she’d found out he’d taken pictures of her when she was asleep, she was going to kill him.

“The rest was from memory. Believe me, you’re hard to get out of my thoughts.” Jesse took her hand. “I need to ask you something.”

She wanted to pull away. She felt a jolt of energy run through her body as he held her hand. Something so simple shouldn’t feel so sexual. Shouldn’t make her want to kiss him. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about. I’m getting the office ready for the transition. You should be able to work directly with Brit on any questions you have.”

“You didn’t read the proposal George drafted.” Jesse stepped closer.

Taylor shrugged. “No need. Angie shouldn’t have been fired. It was a mistake, and one I’ve corrected, so you didn’t need to convince me to keep her on.”

Jesse stared at her hand and the look made her shiver. “I didn’t just want Angie to stay on. The papers said you’d stay on as manager after the sale.”

Taylor sighed. “We both know that’s not going to happen.”

“Why not? We make a good team—as long as we’re completely honest with each other.”

Taylor laughed. “When have we been honest? We always seem to be doing this dance. If I’m chasing, you’re running. And if you chase . . . ”

“You run. I get it. You need more of a commitment.”

“Like a painting of me in your bed.” Taylor turned back to the painting. It was hauntingly beautiful, not because she was beautiful, but because the artist had painted her that way.

“I never said it was my bed. But no, that isn’t what I’m talking about.” Jesse paused. “I know I’m not in your league. But I’m going to take a chance here. If you say no, I’ll quit bothering you. You can stay on as manager, or not, it’s your choice.”

“So you’re asking me to keep running the gallery?” Taylor kept her voice steady, even though she wanted to scream, or turn and kiss the heck out of the man next to her. How could he mess with her feelings so much? No one ever got her this worked up. No one, except Jesse.

“No. I mean, yes, but that’s not my question.” He took her shoulders and spun her around to face him. As she searched his eyes, he kneeled before her.

This can’t be happening,
she thought.
No way. I’m misunderstanding the action
. As she watched, Jesse pulled a ring out of his shirt pocket.

He held the diamond up to her. “Taylor DeMarco, will you marry me?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Taylor stared at the perfect marquise-cut diamond in a platinum setting. It couldn’t have been more perfect if she’d chosen the ring herself. Brit had to have had a hand in this decision. Her mind raced. Marry Jesse. She glanced at the painting.

Jesse sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Probably. I can’t sleep, food tastes like sawdust, and all I’ve been able to focus on for weeks is that painting. So, insanity is an option. Is that a no? I’m feeling a little foolish down here on one knee, especially if you’re going to blow me off.” Jesse rubbed his thumb over the top of her knuckles. “Think about it. We’re good together.”

“When we’re not trying to kill each other.” Taylor’s heart was going to beat out of her chest. So this was what it felt like. She felt scared, disoriented, and ecstatic, all at the same time.

“Life will never be dull. We have passion.” Jesse squeezed her hand. “I can’t imagine going through the rest of my life without you. When we met, something in me awoke, like I’d been asleep for a really long time. And honestly, that scared me. You weren’t a one-night stand.”

“Two.” Taylor reminded him.

“Fine, two-night stand. Stop interrupting me, woman, I’m trying to make a point.”

“Yes, sir,” Taylor said, stifling a laugh.

“Anyway, you scared the crap out of me. I know love doesn’t come to everyone. I’m not stupid enough to throw it away when it does. Someone once told me to marry the person I can’t live without. That’s you.”

“I think it’s from a movie. Don’t marry the person you can live with, but the one you can’t live without.” Taylor broke her gaze away from Jesse and looked at the picture. “Do you really see me like that?”

Jesse swore under his breath. “No, I couldn’t get the right look. You’re so much more beautiful than I could hope to draw.”

She turned back, her free hand waving at the portrait. “Oh, Jesse, I could never be this beautiful.”

This time he stood and pulled her into his arms. “To me, you are.” He then captured her lips in a deep, slow kiss.. A kiss that was more of a promise than a desire. When he stopped, he stared into her eyes, pausing just a moment before asking, “Will you marry me?”

She took the ring away from him. “I just bought a ticket to Paris for next month.”

“So that’s a no?” Pain flitted across Jesse’s face.

Taylor shook her head and slipped the diamond on her left ring finger. “That’s a yes, but my ticket better be refundable.”

This time when he kissed her, she felt the room moving under them. “I’ll eat the cost if it isn’t.”

The first weekend in May was unseasonably warm that year. Lizzie and James had pushed off the seasonal opening of Hudson’s Spa, the rural bed and breakfast retreat they ran, for a week, letting the family take over the four cabins surrounding their home. James had been busy remodeling the big house to add more bedrooms. The twins were getting kicked out of the nursery to make room for a new arrival coming that fall.

“I swear, you’re carrying a girl,” Angie said, patting Lizzie’s stomach. They sat around a picnic table out in the large backyard, enjoying the spring sunshine next to the riverbank. Angie’s hair was spiky, short, and gray—a look she’d sported after being able to give up her scarf collection. She donated all the scarves to a cancer support group for newly diagnosed members. “You’re carrying her totally differently than you did the boys.”