Chapter Ten
Josh hit the steering wheel hard with his hand when he got back in the pickup, but he didn’t go to Whitney. The invitation to join her had been far too appealing, and he was going to regret it in the depths of the night when he couldn’t sleep.
But there was no chance to be alone when he got back to his loft. As he pulled into the yard next to the barn, his Grandma’s old station wagon was prominently displayed, angled haphazardly to take up two parking spots. It was late for the widows to be out, wasn’t it? He glanced at the house, only to see the front door open and his dad step out.
“Josh, come on in, we’ve been waitin’ for you.”
Curious, he waved and sauntered up the stairs.
Inside the spacious living room, all three widows were sitting in the furniture grouped in front of the big stone fireplace. His mom was just bringing out a platter of cheese and crackers, and Josh made a beeline for her.
“Uh-uh-uh,” she said, holding back the food. “You’ve been a bad boy.”
“I can’t believe I had to hear about it at Wine Country!” Grandma Thalberg complained.
“Hear about what?” Josh asked.
And then he saw the Valentine Gazette spread over the coffee table and his picture staring out at him.
He winced. “I just found out about the article myself.”
“And the website?” Mrs. Palmer reminded him, shaking her head. “That came up when I Googled your name.”
“I told you about the photos,” Josh said with exasperation, reaching past his mom’s shoulder for the cheese platter.
Sandy held it out to him. “That’s true enough.”
He took it from her and set it down on the coffee table, pushing aside the newspaper.
“If I’d have known,” Grandma Thalberg began, gesturing to the newspaper, “I could have told my poker club!”
Josh folded it up and put it out of the way. “It’s no big deal. No idea how it got in the paper, though.”
“I’m not surprised,” Mrs. Ludlow said quietly. “A photo like that will cause talk.”
He blinked at her. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
“You’re quite handsome, and you know it,” she said, almost looking down her nose at him.
“You’re gonna make me blush, Mrs. Ludlow.”
She rolled her eyes and helped herself to a slice of cheddar. “My oldest granddaughter always said, if she weren’t married—”
“She’s ten years older!” Mrs. Palmer said with exasperation.
Josh thought of Kim Ludlow—now Avicolli—in surprise. He’d had a crush on her when he was a kid, and she was a hot, high-school cheerleader.
“The article will probably sell those shoulder bags of yours,” Doug said, sitting down on the raised stone hearth so he could be near the food.
“Hope so. No choice but to put up with all the fuss.”
“Fuss?” Sandy echoed, watching him closely.
He shrugged and stuffed a cracker in his mouth. No one said anything until he was done, so he was forced to explain. “Some of the ladies in town came out to watch me play pool. Bored, I guess.”
Grandma Thalberg and Mrs. Palmer glanced at each other and started to chuckle.
“It’ll die down,” he insisted.
They only laughed harder.
Josh worked hard all weekend. When he wasn’t dealing with ranch chores, he closeted himself in his workshop and focused on the many projects he’d promised to three—no four different stores, if you counted Leather and Lace. At last he was able to put to paper all the designs that had been running around his head for the collars Whitney wanted. He called her up and told he’d bring them to her when he was done, and she told him to take his time.
As if she didn’t want to see him, he thought, amused.
His amusement didn’t last through the beginning of the workweek, when the ranch started getting phone calls for him from a couple national reporters. His dad took messages, and Josh swore he’d get around to calling back… one of these days. It must have been a slow news week because he couldn’t figure out why anybody would be interested in a story about a leather craftsman in a small Colorado mountain town.
By Tuesday lunch, his mom had a newspaper spread across the table when he arrived.
“That article again?” Josh said, barely pausing to glance as he went to the sink to wash up.
“But it’s not the Valentine Gazette.” Sandy trailed him across the kitchen, limping with her cane. “I had to buy it at the Open Book, where they get several national papers. Now we know why reporters have been calling you. The article was picked up in LA.”
He frowned at her. “How?”
“It went to the Aspen Times first, and now it’s spreading.” She smiled. “Josh, you’re becoming quite famous.”
He rolled his eyes as he washed his hands. “It’s no big deal. It’ll die down soon.”
“You keep saying that,” Doug said, setting a stack of paper in front of him. “More messages for you.”
“I don’t have time to call all of them back,” Josh said in disbelief. “I mean, it was a one-time thing. No one’ll care in a day or two.”
“But it could be great for your work,” Sandy pointed out.
Josh stared at the messages and felt the first clench of pressure in his gut. He already had far too much to do, and now he was imposing on his family even more.
His mom touched his arm and lowered her voice, as Nate, Adam, and Brooke came through the back door. “Let things happen as they will, Josh. Nothing is so important you should feel stress over it.”
“I wasn’t—until now. But you’re right. Everyone knows I work at my own pace.”
“And no one’s asking more of you,” she insisted.
Josh looked around at his family and friends, and wondered if perhaps they should.
“There’s someone here to see you, Josh,” Brooke said, smirking. “And don’t look too excited—it’s not Whitney. I left him in the office.”
He found a rangy, young man carrying a camera bag and his press credentials from the Post.
“I’m Brandon Vogt. You didn’t call me back,” he said, reaching to shake Josh’s hand, “so I thought I’d come on over.”
“From Denver?” Josh said wryly.
Brandon shrugged. “It’s my job. Seems our readers are sending e-mails and calling, wanting more information about you. I’m sure a reporter will call for more background stuff.”
“There’s really nothing more to tell,” Josh said, baffled.
“Then let’s start with some more pictures. You don’t have anything to hide, right, if you’re just a regular old cowboy?”
Josh remembered his mother’s calm words about ignoring the stress. What would it matter, after all? “I’ll be working in the barn. If you want to take some pictures, it’s up to you. As long as you promise to leave after that.”
Brandon grinned. “It’s a deal.”
Josh soon found himself having his picture taken as he cleaned out the hoofs of his sorrel, Bandit, and at last he was persuaded to ride around the corral.
When the photographer had gone, Josh decided it was time to have a talk with his “agent” about this newfound fame. He stopped in his workshop to pick up the folder of sketches he’d prepared and headed into Valentine.
He found Whitney at the building she was considering, architectural drawings spread out on a folding six-foot table. She looked up from her perusal when he knocked on the front door, and her wide smile did things to the inside of him that he better not think about during the workday.
She opened the door, gesturing for him to come inside, and he couldn’t help the second look he took at her, in her skinny black pants and sandals, and the sleeveless print blouse.
“Damn, you look good,” he said. “Is this corporate wear in the big city?”
“Hardly,” she said, smiling. “But I can get away with it in Valentine Valley.”
He walked to the table and looked at the drawings. “Still making decisions?”
“Decision’s made. I just talked to Howie Deering, and he’s getting the lawyers together for a closing in the next few days.”
He grinned his approval but had to ask, “What changed your mind? I thought Henry Birdsong had almost persuaded you, helped along by the graffiti.”
She shrugged as she came to stand beside him and looked down at the drawings herself. “I like Valentine, including most of the people I’ve met—not just you,” she pointed out dryly.
“I’m very likable.”
With a roll of her eyes, she continued, “It’s a nice place to come visit a few times a year. Aspen’s wonderful, too, of course, but it’s… different. I think Leather and Lace will be more appreciated here, where it’ll stand out.”
“For the good reasons, of course.”
“Of course. Women here would like to feel just as pretty as they already do in Aspen.”
“No lack of confidence there.”
“And I decided I’m not going to let some coward with a piece of chalk drive me away.” She gestured to the folder. “What’s that in your hand?”
“The sketches you’ve been wanting.”
“Wonderful!” She reached for them eagerly.
He held them out of her reach. “But first, I need to talk to my agent.”
“About what?” she asked, studying him with surprise.
“Reporters. I’m getting phone calls at the ranch, and a photographer even showed up today. I let him take a couple photos, but this can’t keep happening.”
“National reporters?” she clarified.
“The article’s been picked up by several papers, and now I seem to be famous.”
She covered her mouth and looked away.
“I don’t blame you for laughing,” he said, shaking his head. “I still think it’s ridiculous, but apparently, it’s not going away. Can you stop it?”
“I don’t think so. And I know from experience, the more reclusive you try to be, the worse it will get. Letting that guy take a couple photos was probably a good idea.”
“Unless more photographers show up.”
“Well there is that…”
“And my brother took another message for me from a modeling agency.” Josh grinned. “I’m never going to hear the end of that one.”
Her gaze roamed down his chest. “I can’t say I blame them… Are you interested?”
He snorted a laugh and enjoyed her relaxed, easy expression. Something had changed for her in the night—he liked to see her all fiery and optimistic again.
“You know I can’t really put a stop to this,” she said. “Enjoy your brief moment of fame and concentrate on how it’ll highlight your work. You can even tell your grandchildren about it someday.”
Rolling his eyes, he said, “I think it’s highlighting me rather than my work. We’d better go on our date soon, so people don’t think I’m a free agent.”
“Hey, we danced a long time at Tony’s. That was a date.”
“No, you barged in on a guys’ night out.”
“Barged in?” she echoed, hand innocently pressed to her chest. “We just thought you’d want to know about the article. It was your sister who tracked you down.”
“Can’t be surprised.” He opened the folder and spread out his drawings. “So what do you think about these?”
They spent a half hour going over his work, and she only had a few suggestions and no complaints. He liked seeing how excited she was at his designs, and knew she’d find the best way to sell the collar necklaces. In fact, he kept getting distracted picturing something of his around her neck, and he felt positively possessive.
As he was putting away the drawings, Whitney said, “Remember, every time a reporter bothers you, it could lead to even more sales.”
“And more work for me?” he said wryly.
“Or more value to your work because it’s rare and exclusive. You’re an artist. No one says you have to ‘churn’ things out. As for being in the spotlight, trust me, people will forget about you soon enough, so don’t worry about it.”
“You sound like you’ve had some experience.”
She shrugged. “When you grow up wealthy, there are always people fascinated with how you live because it might be so different than their own lives. Or it takes them away. I don’t know.”
He wanted to ask more, but just then, someone knocked at the door. Whitney opened it for Gary and Allen Sweet, owners of Sweet Construction. They were Emily’s uncles, a little younger than her dad, Joe, and both had variations on the family’s fair hair, now fading toward white.
After exchanging hearty handshakes, Josh excused himself and left them to their business. He caught Whitney’s eye as he started to close the door, and they exchanged slow, knowing smiles.
Damn, she made him feel good.
And curious, he realized. How much had she really been in the national spotlight?
When he got back to the ranch, he took two stairs at a time up to his loft and sat down at his laptop. Feeling a bit like he was invading her privacy—but how private was any information he could find online?—he searched her name, and after a few recent, business-oriented or philanthropic photos, he clicked on the “next” button, and his jaw dropped.
She was so young in the earlier photos, yet so aware of her appeal, with her sly smiles at the camera. He saw shots of her wearing a tiny bikini on Mediterranean beaches, and even a grainy one of her sunbathing topless on the deck of a luxurious yacht. Damn, the zoom button only made the photo quality worse.
She was wrapped in fur during an Aspen winter, laden with shopping bags on New York’s Park Avenue. And then there were the evening shots entering exclusive clubs and parties, where her dresses clung to her, or revealed a thigh with a long, enticing slit in the fabric. He saw her “casual” men, some older, all handsome and privileged. The photos of her leaving clubs weren’t always so pretty—glazed eyes, an occasional strap off her shoulder, and once someone carrying her to a waiting car. She’d been young and foolish—hell, who hadn’t gotten drunk in college? But for most of the world, their shame didn’t live on the Internet forever.
And then he saw the photo of her getting out of a limousine, long legs parted—and the flash of lacy underwear. He almost stopped breathing at the sheer sexiness of that unguarded moment. He skimmed the articles associated with that photo, then the underwear line named after her because of it. Was that the beginning of Leather and Lace? Had she taken her notoriety and turned it into something positive, even as she straightened out her life?
He couldn’t help but admire her ambition and achievements, even as he saw another photo of her, early in her teenage years, accompanying her parents through an airport. She could barely keep up, and her parents didn’t even look over their shoulders to see where she was. Her unhappiness was palpable, and he experienced a moment of gratitude for all the good things in his life. Their childhoods couldn’t have been more different.
But money certainly didn’t buy happiness. And neither did fame. But it had made her the woman she was.
And now it was his turn to find out what fame did to him.
Not that he was all that worried.
After spending Wednesday at the new Leather and Lace, watching the Sweet brothers begin to work and asking questions, Whitney knew it was time to give the men their space. They hoped they’d have the first floor remodeled within a month, but there was lots of special work involved preserving the historic touches. The funeral home had put a stained-glass window above regular windows in the dining room, and an artist had to be hired to repair the deteriorating lead. Only then would the construction company start on the second floor, which would have offices and a small apartment for when she visited Valentine.
On Thursday morning, she called Josh and asked if he’d like to go to the museum with her.
“This isn’t our big date,” he’d insisted.
She’d just laughed.
They met for lunch at the Halftime Sports Bar, then walked up to the museum across First Street from the town hall. For two hours, they explored the silver-mining history of the Colorado Rockies, and Valentine Valley’s part in keeping the miners entertained and fed. The old photographs were fascinating, and Josh was eager to show her one of his great-great-grandfather, who’d bought the family ranch in the 1880s and begun their little empire.
“Now that wasn’t so bad,” Whitney said, as they emerged back into the sunlight at midafternoon. “You seem pretty proud of your heritage.”
“I’m sure you can’t compare it to San Francisco museums,” he said, taking her hand.
“No need to compare, is there? We can enjoy all kinds.”
He smiled down at her, and she smiled back, caught up once again in the magic of his charisma, in the way he made her feel like no other woman mattered.
“Yoo-hoo, Josh!”
Surprised, they both turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice. Their hands slipped apart, and at the sight of a woman rushing across the street, arm raised in greeting, Whitney almost clasped his hand again. Was she actually feeling territorial, something no other man had ever made her feel?
“Hey, Sally,” Josh said, in that easy way he had of making a woman feel like he “got” you. He turned to Whitney. “Whitney Winslow, this is Sally Gillroy, a clerk at the town hall.”
Sally was a broad-shouldered woman with short hair who wore pressed pants and a no-nonsense vest over a button-down shirt. She smiled absently at Whitney, even as her gaze focused on Josh.
“Hey, Josh,” she said.
Whitney wasn’t certain if her jog across the street had made the fortysomething woman breathless, but she suspected not, what with the light in her eyes when she looked at Josh.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I saw all the photos of you in the paper,” Sally said, even as her cheeks reddened. “I’m so proud that a resident of Valentine Valley is having such international success.”
“I don’t know about international…” Josh said with doubt, giving Whitney a glance.
She just blinked at him, certain he didn’t need any help where women were concerned.
“My—my mom collects autographs,” Sally said, “and she’d love it if I gave her yours, right on the newspaper article. Would you mind?”
“Uh… not at all,” Josh said.
Grinning, Sally held out the newspaper she’d kept folded under her arm, and a pen as well. He signed his name and handed it back.
“Thanks a lot,” Sally said. “I know my mom will be thrilled. Nice meeting you, Whitney.” And she started to jog back across the street.
Both Whitney and Josh saw the oncoming car and called her name, but she’d already stopped short at the last moment rather than run right into traffic. She disappeared up the steps to the town hall.
Whitney turned to stare at Josh and tried to keep a straight face. “Well, that was interesting. An autograph for her… mom?”
Josh grimaced, although it was good-natured. “Let’s just forget that happened.”
“I don’t think we can,” she said, trying to hide her amusement with earnestness. “Your fame is growing, Josh, and we have to take advantage of it. I’ll have to come up with a promotional flyer, and next time this happens, you can hand it out and tell them all about the lingerie at Leather and Lace.”
He groaned and shook his head.
“No, no, really, you can talk about the leather necklaces you’re designing, and say how lovely they’d look around the throats of the Sally Gillroys of Valentine—”
He put his arm around her neck and pulled her close, then covered her mouth with his other hand. “You’re making me a little queasy. I think I’d rather run and hide than tell my mom’s friends about lingerie.”
She giggled and ducked out from beneath his arm, walking backward in front of him, both hands raised. “But seriously, Josh, no running and hiding. You know making yourself scarce will only make things worse. Just accept your fleeting popularity and use it to our advantage—says your agent.”
He caught up with her, and they resumed their walk side by side down Main Street, where US flags fluttered, and the occasional shopkeeper weeded window boxes filled with flowers.
Josh sighed. “I guess I could mention that I have some of my crafts in Monica’s already.”
“Now you’re catching on.”
They didn’t have long to wait before it happened again, when a dark-haired woman came out of the lobby of the Hotel Colorado. “Hey, Josh!”
Once again, he made the introductions, this time to Carmen Suarez, a manager at the hotel, whose dark eyes were played up with lots of eyeliner.
“Nice to meet you, Whitney,” Carmen said, her accent faint. “Josh, you’ll never believe this. I just had a woman check in, all the way from Las Vegas, who told me she came deliberately to meet you! Should I put her off?”
“Uh…” Josh began, looking bemused.
“Of course not,” Whitney interrupted. “Josh, you don’t want to make your fans angry. Let’s go meet her.”
Carmen grinned and started back up the stone stairs into the hotel, while Josh gave Whitney an incredulous look.
“I can’t believe you surrendered me like that.”
“Hey, I have a store in Las Vegas, remember? Let’s tell her all about it.”
Twenty minutes later, Whitney was showing her catalogue on her cell phone to four women before the stone fireplace in the lobby, only one of whom was the out-of-town visitor. It had been a long time since she’d been able to represent her own company directly to customers, and she’d forgotten how excited she could get helping average women feel beautiful and sexy. Until now, she’d been used to big cities, or exclusive, wealthy towns like Aspen. Valentine Valley was a different clientele, one she needed to learn to understand if she was to market her products correctly. Understanding these women meant understanding the town itself.
And there was Josh, quiet and calm and smiling, the kind of guy any woman would want to feel sexy for. He didn’t put the women down, or act like he had somewhere else to be, even though she knew he was busy.
She tried to tell herself that discovering Valentine’s joys and eccentricities wasn’t really about Josh. But understanding the town he loved would help her understand him even better.
When they parted at the B&B, she kissed him good-bye and watched him walk down the path through the gardens, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, so sexy ducking beneath an arbor vine. She was determined to be comfortable in Valentine—comfortable in Josh’s world—and who better to help her understand the town than the ladies of the Widows’ Boardinghouse?