His grip tightened on the glass he was holding. “Don’t remind me. I made her change twice, and each outfit was worse than the last. She was hoping I’d cave and let her stay up in her room, but I called her bluff.” No one outsmarts Shane Brannigan, especially some kid. Tori had looked horrified when he’d accepted the glow-in-the-dark dress. She’d tried to backpedal, but he hadn’t given her a chance to change. That would teach her a lesson for trying to play games with the king of gamesmanship. He’d regretted it as soon as they’d walked into the ballroom. He’d felt her stiffen at his side, but it had been too late.
Tim nudged him and suggested they spend some time with Tori’s sponsors, so they headed back the table. He did his best not to overreact when he didn’t see Tori there. Damn it, if that kid sneaked out and went back up to her room... He glanced out to the veranda and realized with a jolt that a better man would be concerned about her safety first. What if she’d followed some creepster out to the now-dark lakeshore? What if someone had followed her up to her room because she was alone? How long had he and Tim been at the bar? Who’s watching out for this girl? He was starting to feel a sincere sense of panic when Tim made an odd strangled sound. Shane followed his gaze and nearly choked on his whiskey.
Melanie Lowery and Tori Sutter walked into the ballroom, and heads everywhere were turning. Tori’s crazy getup had been transformed, and so had she. Her tangled hair had been slicked back and up into a tight twist on top of her head, secured with what looked like chopsticks. Her makeup had been toned down, and her lips were soft peach instead of the nearly black shade she’d been wearing earlier. She still had that crazy orange dress on. At least, he thought it was the same dress. The top was visible under a short white jacket, but the bottom was covered with some kind of colorful fabric wrapped and knotted at Tori’s hip. It allowed a peek of the short dress beneath where it was tied, but just a peek, as the rest of it fell to sweep the floor. The sneakers were gone, replaced by orange stilettos. The kid suddenly looked like the young woman she kept insisting she was.
Mrs. Covington jumped up and hugged Tori, who was relaxed and smiling. She twirled to show off the outfit. Even cranky old Mrs. Winthrop seemed to approve. Melanie, sipping from the drink in her hand, nodded at something Mrs. Covington said, then raised her head. Her gaze slammed into his before she headed his way.
Her hair had been hidden under a towel earlier, but now he could see it was dark and, although it was knotted together at the back of her head, there were enough strands falling free that he could see it was long and wavy. In those crazy shoes, she was as tall as he was.
Her dress swirled like liquid mercury around her ankles, and it looked as if polished steel had been poured over her body, hugging every long line of her. It was a dress a kick-ass female superhero would wear. He half expected her to whip out a jeweled sword and strike a battle pose. Instead, she just stopped and looked at him, violet eyes assessing. A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth, painted to match her eyes, and his breath hitched. So that was her superpower—a smile that could paralyze a man.
Her hand rested on her waist in a challenge, but she was smart enough not to be the first one to speak. In negotiation, everyone knew the first one who talked was the loser. Shane was impressed. He was also not about to say anything.
It was Tim who finally broke the silence.
“I apologize for my friend. I think that dress may have caused him to have a stroke.” Tim winked at her as he took her hand. “I’m Tim Monroe, and you are a sorceress based on the transformation of Miss Sutter over there.”
She laughed, and Shane discovered superpower number two. Her laugh was deep and husky. It was a whiskey laugh, and it warmed his skin the same way whiskey warmed his throat.
Tim was still holding her hand. “You know, when Shane told me he met a woman named Melanie, it never occurred to me that it could be Mellie Low. It’s great to meet you.”
Shane frowned. Tori had recognized her upstairs earlier. Was she famous or something? She gave the briefest of glances down toward Tim’s artificial leg.
“I go by Melanie Lowery now, and my friends call me Mel. Did you serve?”
“Two and a half tours in Afghanistan, ma’am. Mostly in the western mountains. Army Rangers. Our chopper went down in a storm.” Tim wasn’t usually chatty about his service time. He’d almost died on some godforsaken Afghan mountain five years ago, and even with good financial resources and the support of family and friends, he’d had a tough time of it when he’d first come home.
But Tim wasn’t done sharing. “I’ll tell you something, Miss Low...Miss Lowery. The winters were long and cold over there, and more than one guy had that cover shot of you in nothing but paint taped up next to his bunk to keep him warm.”
Her laugh now seemed more self-deprecating than pleased. That made sense, since Tim was basically implying soldiers did impure things to themselves in front of her likeness. Not Tim, of course. Tim would have been keeping himself warm to a clandestine picture of Matt Bomer. But it finally clicked where he’d seen Melanie before. She’d been on the cover of that bathing suit issue a few years back in a painted-on bikini. Literally painted on, without a stitch of actual fabric. He hadn’t known her name at the time, but the photo was unforgettable. It had been locker-room talk for weeks. He cleared his throat, anxious to take back control of the conversation.
“I appreciate what you did to help Tori with her dress, Melanie, but I was trying to have a teaching moment with her. Tori needs to show a little more maturity.” Christ, he sounded pompous to his own ears, so he could only imagine how it sounded to everyone else.
“So you thought it was a good idea to ‘teach’ a teenage girl by humiliating her in a room full of people and cameras? Brilliant move, Socrates.”
“Yeah, brilliant move, Socrates.” Tim rolled his eyes at him before turning back to Melanie. “You’ll have to forgive him, Melanie, he tends to say really stupid shit in front of pretty women.” Shane started to object but stopped when Tim’s foot—the titanium foot—came down on his toes. Tim pressed on, “He was basically left at the altar by one of you not long ago, so...”
Melanie’s eyes went wide.
A low growl came from Shane’s throat. Karina had split when Shane “stopped being fun.” Funny how the death of a man’s father could do that.
“How convenient to blame all women for the actions of your runaway bride rather than looking in the mirror.” Her smile was deadly now.
The truth of her words, and the fact that she’d had the guts to say them right to his face, left him silent, torn between rage and admiration. Maybe Melanie was more than a pretty face, after all. Maybe she was a damned flamethrower dressed in steel. Tori joined them before he could come up with a reply.
“Shane, isn’t this awesome?” She waved her hand down toward her clothing. “Mel did this in, like, ten minutes! It was like having a fairy godmother or something. And she said she’ll help me find makeup for tournaments that won’t melt away in the sun. She lives here in Gallant Lake, right above that coffee shop you love, and I’m going to do yoga with her tomorrow morning. She says it’ll be good for my focus.”
Shane pressed his lips together and shot a suspicious glance at Melanie. Just because she was famous didn’t mean her interest in Tori was healthy. And his experience with models wasn’t exactly stellar—they loved to latch onto rich athletes. Too many young bucks were happy to hand over their dough just to have a gorgeous woman as arm candy. Was Melanie doing some twisted kind of attention-seeking by attaching herself
