Chapter Five
It was raining when Josh picked her up Monday morning, and Whitney wore a white, belted coat that mostly kept out the rain but looked good while doing it. He’d come into the B&B with an umbrella for her, in case she didn’t have her own, but she was a city girl with a big purse and room for everything. Yet she appreciated the gesture and tried to focus on that rather than the way she’d gotten a little breathless when she’d come downstairs and seen him talking with Debbie in the foyer, tapping his wet Stetson against his jeans-clad thigh. Beneath his dark jacket, she’d seen a white, open-necked, buttoned-down shirt that made his skin look so tan. Then his eyes had met hers, and he’d openly let his gaze admire her body.
Breathless had been the least of her reactions.
His pickup was dusty on the outside, the rain beginning to trace paths through the dirt, but as he held the door open for her, keeping the umbrella overhead, she noticed the interior was neat and clean.
“I hope you didn’t straighten up just for me,” she said, after he slid behind the wheel.
“Nope. I’m not fond of clutter.”
“That gives me hope for your workshop.”
“Well, that’s pretty cluttered to an outsider, but organized the way I like it.”
They left Valentine Valley behind, and the rain came down harder on Highway 82 as they headed southeast to Aspen. Their conversation meandered casually, from favorite movies to favorite books. He made her laugh more than once, and though her phone rang several times, she ignored it, then finally put it on vibrate. Her assistant could wait. Almost too quickly, they passed the airport and entered the city. Along Main Street, remodeled Victorian houses were interspersed with newer, elegant homes and the occasional restaurant or hotel.
“So where do you usually stay when you’re here?” Josh asked.
“The Little Nell.”
“Only the best, and right at the base of Aspen Mountain.”
“My parents like to be at the center of all the excitement.”
He shot her a curious glance, and she regretted the faintly sarcastic tone of her voice, but he didn’t pry, and she appreciated his tact. “So what’s the name of this place again?”
“Savi. It’s along the Cooper Avenue mall.”
They found a place to parallel park, and had to walk a few blocks. She insisted on using her own umbrella, so neither of them would get too wet, which gave her a little bit of breathing room to get control of herself. As they entered the mall, traffic was routed a different way, so only pedestrians could walk along the tree-shaded walkway, with the creek meandering through the center between shrubs and flowers and benches. Shops and restaurants lined the mall.
Savi was in a two-story brownstone with a large window overflowing with women’s scarves, shoes, and small, beaded purses. It seemed disorderly, but Whitney understood the pattern and its purpose, to lure the customer with an abundance of items for sale. When they walked up the steps and went inside, they could hear faint jazz music and smell something citrusy. Display tables were scattered about, and Josh randomly picked up a woman’s sandal. His eyes widened at the price before he set it back down.
“I better not break anything in here,” he said, shaking his head.
Whitney smiled.
A thin woman dressed all in black glided toward them, her blond hair loose, reading glasses on her nose. “May I help you?” she asked, smiling.
Whitney noticed her give Josh a second, longer look, before turning her attention back to her.
“I have an appointment with the owner,” Josh said. “Can you tell her Josh Thalberg is here?”
The woman’s smile widened, and her eyes openly drank him in. “Mr. Thalberg, I’m Geneva Iacuzzi, the owner. How nice to meet you.”
“And this is my agent, Whitney Winslow.”
Whitney’s eyes widened, but what could she say? In a sense, she’d be acting in that capacity. Maybe she should take 15 percent, she thought with amusement, to give as good as she got. They shook hands, and though the woman’s grip was firm and straightforward, she barely spared Whitney a glance, as all her attention was focused on Josh.
“I’ve seen your work in Valentine,” she went on, “and since you don’t have a website, I didn’t really picture you. I must admit, you’re… not what I expected.”
He grinned. “Disappointed?”
Did flirting just come naturally to him? Whitney wondered with exasperation.
“Not at all,” Geneva almost gushed, then openly looked him up and down. “In fact… seeing you reminds me how important ‘display’ can be. Would you consider allowing me to take your picture and use it to sell your work?”
Josh frowned. “You mean on your website?”
“Yes, but also right here in the store.” She turned to the display of shoes beside her. “Imagine your work grouped around your photo, with you looking just like a cowboy.”
“He is a cowboy,” Whitney pointed out, in case that favorably affected the prices they would soon negotiate.
“Oh, I know,” Geneva said. “When I first saw your work in Valentine, I questioned the store owner.”
“Monica Shaw,” Josh said.
“She didn’t reveal too much, but I did understand that you work on your family’s ranch. You’re authentic, and that would be a draw.”
Whitney thought it was time to get to the heart of the matter. “We haven’t even agreed on price or completion schedule, nor have we seen a contract.”
Geneva nodded absently at Whitney. “I’d like some of your work as soon as possible, of course,” she said to Josh. “I’ll be more than generous with the price.” She lowered her voice. “It’s amazing what people will pay.”
Was she so addled by his handsome face that she didn’t care if it raised the price? Whitney wondered in disbelief. This negotiation was going to be a piece of cake.
“So will you let me take a couple photos?” Geneva continued, turning an imploring gaze on Whitney as if for help. “I am quite the amateur photographer, and of course I’d give you approval.”
“Allow me to speak with my client in private,” Whitney said.
Geneva smiled with relief. “I’ll be in my office behind the counter.”
When she’d gone, Josh sighed. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”
“What can it hurt? She’s obviously excited about selling your work, and if a photo helps…”
He looked around. “I don’t see other photos.”
“Guess the artists aren’t handsome cowboys.”
He glanced at her, a smile turning up a corner of his mouth. “So I’m handsome.”
“You don’t need me to tell you that,” she said dryly.
“Well, I think I need more than compliments from you.”
She eyed him. “Yes… ?” she said, drawing out the word.
He propped one hand on a display table and leaned toward her. “If I agree with this, you have to agree to a date.”
Whitney hesitated, looking deep into his green-brown eyes, at half-mast like he’d just woken up after a pleasurable night in bed. He hadn’t shaved, of course, and she knew with the cowboy hat he’d be even harder to resist.
So why should she bother resisting? It was just a date, and she’d gone so long without a guy as to be baffling. But she didn’t want to give in quite so easily.
“You’ll only do this great promotion if I agree to being blackmailed?”
“Blackmail?” he countered, all innocence now. “All I asked was a reward for giving in to this silliness. Like I would want to be photographed.”
“Oh, all right,” she huffed.
He grinned. “That wasn’t difficult.”
She only rolled her eyes, then walked toward the counter, calling, “Geneva?”
The woman came out immediately, already carrying her camera, as if she had no doubt of their answer. She’d hung something made of black leather over her arm.
Josh arched a brow, but only said mildly, “I’ll agree with your plan as long as I like the photo.”
Geneva grinned. “I knew you’d see it my way if only because it’s harmless promotion. It’ll help us both.”
“I don’t need any help, thanks, but if it helps you sell the bags…”
“Speaking of bags,” Geneva said, “now that I’m excited about the marketing idea, when do you think I’ll have them?”
“Assuming we agree on price,” Whitney put in.
“Of course.” Geneva waved a hand in easy dismissal.
“Since our first discussion last winter,” Josh began, “I’ve been working on the shoulder bags. I have twenty completed, and another twenty in various stages.”
“Wonderful!” Geneva’s blue eyes seemed on fire with her eagerness. “Send me one, and I’ll make an offer.”
“I have one in my truck. Remind me to leave it with you.”
“Can we have it for the photo shoot? That would be perfect.”
Whitney tried not to smile too broadly. Geneva had definite ideas of what she wanted. Whitney’s gaze dropped to the item on her arm, and as Josh fished for his keys in his pocket, she asked, “What’s that?”
Geneva held it out. “A leather vest. I thought it would… complete the look.”
Josh took it and examined it critically, as if making sure there were no beads or sequins. “Seems okay.” He removed his jacket, tossed it to Whitney, then slid the vest on over his white, buttoned-down shirt.
“And the hat,” Geneva prodded. She glanced at Whitney absently. “Can you get the shoulder bag?”
Josh jingled his car keys. “I’ll get it.”
“No, let me,” Whitney insisted. “You two need to strategize.”
“Strategize?” Josh echoed doubtfully. “Don’t I just smile, and we’re done?”
Geneva glanced up from her camera. “I’d like to take a few different poses. And I think you need to unbutton another button or two.”
Smiling, Whitney went out the door, holding it for two well-dressed women who went inside. By the time she returned, there were several other women as well, from teenager to geriatric, all discreetly watching as Geneva moved display tables away from the original brick wall and fireplace mantel.
As she handed the shoulder bag to Geneva, the woman’s eyes went wide, and she fingered the soft leather, carved with delicate swirls along all the edges. Understated and elegant, Whitney thought, and it was obvious Geneva wasn’t going to argue about Josh’s talent. Whitney’s negotiating position just kept strengthening.
And then she glanced at Josh, all masculine cowboy, leaning casually against the brick wall like something out of an old Western movie. The black vest brought out the white of the shirt, his tanned skin, and made his eyes luminous. Whitney felt her own pulse take a leap and knew that the other women in the store had shown equal interest.
But none of them were going to go out with him.
So now she was feeling proprietary—and even smug? Good Lord.
But she stayed back and let Geneva bring her vision to life. She hung the shoulder bag from an old-fashioned coat stand to the side, near his midtorso, then snapped a few photos of him lounging against the wall, arms folded across his chest, eyes glimmering with amusement. More than once, he met Whitney’s gaze, and she felt the tug of his masculinity. She wasn’t immune to the fact that this handsome man was interested in her.
She’d experienced that plenty of times, of course, but Josh was different than the wealthy and educated businessmen she usually favored. He was part of the outdoors, a man of the land and family heritage, who provided food for the whole valley and beyond and took pride in it. He worked with his hands, and none of the men in her past had. The two of them should have nothing in common—but it didn’t seem to matter where her libido was concerned.
She heard a click nearby, and turned her head in time to see one of the teenagers snapping another quick photo of Josh with her phone. Whitney wasn’t the only one affected by him. It reminded her of those days eight years before, when her fame for her scandalous underwear had caused the original owners of her lingerie store to name an exclusive, expensive line after her. They’d wanted her to model them, and she’d refused. But now, seeing the power Josh had over this small assemblage of women, had she been right?
Geneva soon had him sitting in a chair, and when she suggested he unbutton his shirt all the way, Josh’s gaze went straight to Whitney’s. She thought for sure he’d refuse, but never breaking their contact, he slowly undid the buttons. When Geneva suggested he lean his elbows back behind him, the shirt gaped several inches, showing the lines of his abdominal muscles, the dark hair scattered across his chest. Whitney couldn’t look away, couldn’t pretend indifference as her heart thumped heavily in her chest, and the sound of rushing blood filled her ears.
The room had gone silent, but for the jazz music that seemed faintly alien. Even Geneva had stopped talking, placing the shoulder bag on a table near Josh’s side. He wasn’t smiling now, and she didn’t ask him to, only gave quiet commands so that he’d turn his head, or look out from beneath the brim of his cream-colored Stetson.
Geneva suddenly glanced at Whitney, and her distracted gaze focused on her. “That white coat is perfect. Come here.”
Bemused, Whitney started to unbutton it, and Geneva shook her head.
“No, keep it on. Wear the shoulder bag, and stand off to the side. Don’t worry, we won’t see your face.”
Was she supposed to be relieved? It was hardly flattering. But as Geneva positioned her, then had Josh glance to the side as if watching her as she wore the bag, Whitney understood the image. She told herself it was only the bag he was staring at, but she was so aware of him, she almost felt as if he’d taken her hips in his hands—as if he had thoughts of what he intended to do. Part of Whitney obeyed commands, while the other part imagined what Josh was thinking.
When at last Geneva said she was done, and Josh hastily stood up, Whitney took her first deep breath in what seemed like hours. He was still watching her, wearing the faint smile of a man who understood what he did to her yet wasn’t immune to the charged atmosphere that simmered between them.
The other patrons applauded, and Josh blinked and finally grinned, tipping his hat before buttoning his shirt.
“These will be perfect,” Geneva gushed, glancing at her customers with eager curiosity. “See the reaction this will get?” she said for their ears alone.
“They’re just curious,” Josh said blandly.
“Curious enough to come see your work, we hope. I’ll use it on my website, in my promotions, and on social-media platforms.”
“That is assuming we come to an agreement,” Whitney said cheerfully, glad to focus on something practical as her racing heart slowed back to normal.
“Then come into my office.” Geneva smiled. “We can look at the photos together.”
Josh found it hard to listen as Geneva and Whitney negotiated. He was still thinking of the photo shoot, which had started out so awkwardly and ended up being the best persuasion he could have imagined for his cause where Whitney was concerned. She certainly wasn’t unaffected by him and couldn’t hide it. He’d felt like he was… performing just for her, then when she’d been part of the shoot itself, he’d barely noticed the camera or the curious customers.
Geneva now passed the camera to them to look at the photos, and although he didn’t see what the fuss was about, none were objectionable.
He smiled as Whitney focused all her attention on the paperwork Geneva offered, made changes until Geneva reluctantly reprinted the contract again and again, until at last they were satisfied.
A thousand dollars a shoulder bag. He’d have been happy for five hundred, so it was a good thing Whitney had come along. This was Aspen, of course, and the women here knew how to spend money—and so did their husbands, Whitney had pointed out.
When they were back outside, Josh glanced at Whitney. “That was impressive.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Your work is impressive. That’s what did the trick.”
“My leather tooling or my modeling skills?”
She shot him a grin. “Both, I guess. I thought Geneva and all those ladies would have their tongues dragging on the floor.”
He resisted the urge to ask if she’d been affected. Her color was high, and she wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. That was all right because he felt the same way—he’d been glad to sit down for the rest of the shoot so he could disguise his erection. There’d been something powerful about watching Whitney watch him.
And he didn’t want these feelings to end. “You must be starving,” he said. “How about a late lunch?”
They settled on Ajax Tavern at the foot of the mountain, where just outside, a gondola took summer tourists up for the view. Sadly, the rain wouldn’t let them use the patio. The inside was wood-paneled, with red booths along the outer walls, tables in between, and a large bar taking up a corner.
After they’d ordered their food and were already sipping drinks, Josh cleared his throat. “I want to thank you for your help today.”
She smiled at him over her white wine, dipping her head forward a bit as if using her hair to shield her face. “Believe me, it was nice to use my negotiating muscles again.”
“You certainly used them last winter in dealing with the town council. And I bet you’ve been driving a hard bargain with the owner of the old funeral home.”
She shrugged, which made him glance down at her top, a sheer, green-patterned fabric that draped in folds across her breasts and rippled when she moved.
“Your gratitude is nice,” she said, “but you know you probably didn’t need me. Geneva was pretty straightforward, and she wanted your bags regardless of the price—and wanted the exclusivity at Savi, of course. I just think you enjoyed letting me do all the work even though this might interfere with the necklaces you’re making me.”
“I won’t let it, I promise.” He took a sip of his beer, then leaned his forearms on the table. “One thing that would have changed without you here—I probably wouldn’t have done all that posing.”
“I didn’t twist your arm behind your back.”
“You didn’t have to. You agreed to a date, and that was enough for me.”
She glanced at the large windows that framed the grass-covered lower mountain stretching up above them. “You didn’t have to work so hard to get me here.”
He straightened. “Oh, this isn’t our date. This is a business lunch.”
“I see.” She smiled and took another sip of her wine.
“I can be much more creative than this. I’m an artist.”
“Any hints?”
“Nope. It’ll be a surprise.”
They both sat back as the waiter brought over their appetizer, paté.
“If you want to thank anyone for my presence,” she continued, “it should be your mother.”
He grinned, spread the paté on a hard, round crostini, then closed his eyes as the taste coated his mouth. “I’m not exactly thinking about my mother at this moment.”
“Well, think about her. She looks a lot better than she did last winter.”
“She is, thanks. She’s had flare-ups before, but I’m always worried there’ll be a day she won’t be able to leave the wheelchair.”
“When was she diagnosed?”
“In her midtwenties, when Nate was just three years old.”
Her gray eyes seemed to melt with concern. “So young! I’m sure your dad helped her.”
“They weren’t married then.”
“Excuse me?” she said, blinking her surprise.
“She was married to Nate’s dad, who, when he found out her diagnosis, wiped out their bank accounts and took off.”
She covered her mouth with one hand, eyes wide. “I had no idea! Oh, Josh, your mom is even more courageous than I thought.”
“She is pretty amazing. She just carried on, supporting Nate as best she could as a teacher. Then she met my dad, and they fell in love. He adopted Nate, and soon Brooke and I came along.”
“To complete the family. Perfect.”
“You have a brother, right?”
She nodded, but he thought she withdrew a bit inside herself.
“Yeah, his name is Chasz, well, Charles, after our father.”
“Does he work for your father?”
“Yes.”
There was a tension in the way she carried herself that hadn’t been there before. She didn’t like talking about her family, but he could hardly drop the subject so abruptly.
“Married?”
She nodded. “Her name is Courtney. She and I went to college together, which is how they met. No kids yet.”
She barely withheld an expression of relief when their double cheeseburgers and truffle fries arrived, so he didn’t press her further. But his curiosity was hardly appeased, and he hoped someday she’d feel able to speak more freely with him.
Someday?
What was that about?