Peace ought to know. That must be some kind of record, four kids in five years?”
“Your sister understands the importance of family.”
“My sister needs to get a VCR or find some other way to spend her evenings.”
“My clerk is calling,” Mona told her in clipped syllables that fully and completely conveyed her disappointment in her firstborn child. “Can I count on you to handle this situation?”
“Of course you can,” Destiny told her. “Have I ever let you down? Wait!” she quickly amended. “Don’t answer that. Love you, bye.”
“How is her royal nastiness?” Gina asked.
Destiny shrugged, sure her friend had heard enough of the conversation to understand the status quo between mother and daughter was basically the same.
“You look exhausted,” Gina commented. “Do you want coffee now or do you want to try and get some more sleep?”
Placing her fingers over her tired eyes, Destiny knew returning to sleep wasn’t a possibility. Visions of Wesley Porter had haunted her dreams, leaving her feeling oddly lonely in the first light of day. Her dreams, like most everything else about her, tended to be bold and vivid. The resplendent images of being locked in his strong arms had awakened her on more than one occasion during the night.
“Probably best if I start the day,” she said as her feet hit the floor. “I sure hope my mother’s call won’t set the tone for the day.”
“Maybe that cute doctor will find another lame excuse to drop in.”
She looked up to find Gina staring at her, one brow arched toward her neat French twist.
“Meaning?”
“Are you telling me you aren’t attracted to him?”
“I don’t even know him,” she said as she pulled on her robe.
“What’s to know? The guy’s gorgeous, friendly—seems like the perfect material for a short-term fling.”
“I don’t have short-term flings.”
“Well,” Gina persisted, “maybe it’s about time for one.”
“It’s career time,” Destiny insisted. “Once I’ve established myself, then I can think about a husband and a family.”
Feeling Gina’s hand on her shoulder, Destiny looked up into the sad, chocolate-colored eyes. “I didn’t suggest anything permanent, necessarily. But don’t keep kidding yourself, Destiny. You’re counting on a future. Futures change. I’m an expert on the subject.”
* * *
SLIPPING HIS GLASSES from the bridge of his nose, Wesley surveyed the flurry of activity from the shadows near the door. An appreciative smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he admired her from a distance. That woman didn’t need stage paint and glitter. “And she sure as hell doesn’t wash out,” he muttered.
“No, she sure doesn’t.”
“Hello,” he said, tearing his gaze from the stage and glancing in his mother’s general direction.
“Is everything all right?”
“I guess.” Clipping his glasses into the front of his shirt, he allowed his eyes to travel back to the small woman cradling the microphone.
“I thought you were supposed to be studying,” Rose observed.
“Just taking a break,” he said defensively.
“Or have you decided to study the human body instead of the human mind?”
He gave his mother a sidelong look meant to quell the optimism he heard in her voice. “I was simply taking a break, and wandered in here for a couple of minutes.”
His mother nodded but gave absolutely no other indication that she was convinced about his motives. “Shelby called, said she and Dylan were coming by tonight to catch the show.”
“I’m sure they’ll enjoy themselves. They haven’t had much time together since Cassidy was born.”
“I told them we’d reserve a table for six down front.”
“Six?”
His mother patted her lacquered hair and averted her eyes. “I asked Destiny’s manager and that woman Gina to join us.”
Wesley swallowed the groan in his throat. “Her manager’s a jerk.”
“Is that a medical observation?” Rose teased. “Or personal, maybe?”
Wesley smiled at his mother. He knew better than to pursue this line of dialogue. Rose had made no secret of her desire to have a daughter-in-law and some grandchildren in residence at The Rose Tattoo.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” Wes said.
“You can’t do that,” Rose told him.
“Why not?”
“Because I told Destiny you’d drive her home after they finish setting up all these lights and microphones.”
“Why did you do that?” he asked, trying to sound perturbed, though the thought of spending some time alone with Destiny appealed to him much more than he was willing to admit—even to himself.
“Because I was under the impression that you were protecting her from whoever is sending her the flowers. Shelby told me that you’ve enlisted Dylan, as well.”
“I simply asked him to give me an assessment of the situation.”
“So that explains why you dragged him out to the beach in the middle of the night.”
Wes felt his cheeks color.
“And—” Rose tapped her finger against his breastbone “—Shelby is very unhappy that you dragged her husband out in the middle of the night. But I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it this evening.”
“Great,” Wes grumbled. “Maybe I’ll skip opening night.”
“Why would you do that?”
Wes spun and found himself staring down into those breathtaking violet eyes. “My mother got me into trouble with Shelby.”
He watched, fascinated, when her lips parted and she blew a steady stream of breath upward, toward perspiration-dampened bangs. Her mouth was perfect. Her lips reminded him of sweet cherries—full and ripe. His mind flashed vivid images, all of which, he felt sure, would earn him a resounding slap from either Destiny or his mother. Or both.
He smelled good, she thought as she tilted her face up. And he was staring rather intently at her mouth. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but Destiny’s pulse increased when she noted the blatant curiosity as he scrutinized her features. Without even trying,
