Page 9 of She’s a Big Deal

The comment hit a raw nerve and also properly stole her breath. Grace heard Chloe gasp, and even Reece turned to frown at his brother in obvious condemnation. She managed not to react, at least outwardly, and give Jeremy that satisfaction. She could see he was looking for one, studying her. You fucking bastard. Grief and sadness surged. She hid it well, but she felt sick.

“Grace? Let’s go to my office,” Mark invited wisely.

Not trusting her voice, she nodded and followed him. Once there were only three of them, Chloe felt obliged to pull her into a hug. It was predictably awkward.

“I’m sorry, Grace. That was a low blow even for him.”

“Yeah.” It was nasty and cruel, designed to make her bleed. Grace did not point it out; it was enough for her to know. “What pissed him off so bad? And why didn’t you tell me about Reece when you called me the other day?”

“Well…” Chloe squirmed, and she cast her husband a quick glance for help.

“Chloe,” Grace simmered. “I’m asking you.”

“Oh, gosh. I was just—” Her sister threw both hands in the air in frustration. “Look, he didn’t want me to, okay? You know, it’s his private stuff. ”

“Private stuff. Family business. None of mine. Yeah, got the message.”

“Grace, you know I’m not saying you wouldn’t care, but—”

“I do care,” she interrupted. “A lot. So, what’s wrong with Reece? He looks like he’s been on a bender for weeks on end.”

“He’s been drinking a lot, yes.”

“Since the accusations?”

“No, since the woman he asked to marry him turned him down and left the country.”

“Wow.” Frowning, Grace considered. “Seems a bit extreme, leaving the country in reaction to a marriage proposal.”

Mark chuckled. “Well, she was Russian to begin with.”

“An ice skater, former Olympian. Gorgeous,” Chloe added. “They’d been dating for about six months when he proposed. She said no and flew back to Moscow like she always planned to do.”

“He didn’t know?”

“Sure did.” Mark put in. “But Reece was in denial. He was convinced she’d stay if he proposed.”

“Like God’s gift to women.” Grace was not unkind in her assessment.

“Something like that. When she said no, he was devastated. He’s been going downhill ever since.”

“You think he did what these women accuse him of?”

“To be honest, Grace, I don’t know. I don’t want to believe he’s capable of it, but two women came forward, and I wouldn’t think they’re the type to make up stuff. If he’d been drinking…” Mark shrugged in reluctance. “Who knows?”

He exchanged a loaded glance with his wife. Some silent communication passed between them. Oh, man. Now what?

“Tell me,” Grace demanded. “What else is there?”

◆◆ ◆

Olivia did not often hold clients’ meetings in hotel bars, but she had made an exception for this one since the man was only in town for a couple of days. They had a drink and a nice chat, over which he enthusiastically outlined his plans for what he called a ‘Forest Wet Room’ in his Burlington lake house. The natural world should inspire every piece of furniture in the new bathroom.

“I want a vanity counter fashioned out of a slab to make it look like a polished tree trunk, rustic oak cabinets, and a mirror encased in sturdy roots. Then I’ll add lots of plants to the space.” He grinned at her over his pint of beer. “Like I imagine it would be inside a hobbit house.”

“Ah,” she chuckled. “You’re a Tolkien fan?”

“Yeah, big time. You?”

“Yes, me too.”

“Great. So that’s the vibe I’m looking for. Could you do it?”

“Absolutely, sounds like a fun challenge. I’ll have a think over the weekend and send you drawings to look at by Monday at the latest.”

“Perfect! Thanks, Olivia, I appreciate it.”

Olivia was ready to leave when she spotted Grace Michaels coming in. She froze instantly and lingered as she watched her make her way to the bar. What is she doing here alone? Grace had looked exceedingly attractive the other day in her expensive, no doubt made-to-order, outfit. Now she was equally arresting in tight-fitting blue jeans, black heels, and a white linen shirt half-tucked in on one side. Stylish and relaxed in equal measures. Olivia bit on her lip as Grace found a stool and ordered a drink. She’d been excited to go home and start on her new project. Maybe with a hot chocolate and Lord of the Rings on screen for inspiration. Little Everett on the sofa next to her. Now she was tempted to go over and at least say hello. Hopefully, a bit more. She watched Grace run a single hand through her hair, then let out a heavy exhale as if she had a lot on her mind. Olivia found her own legs propelling her forward before her mind had time to decide if it was really a good idea.

“Good evening, Ms. Michaels.”

Grace glanced aside with an eyebrow already half-cocked in dismissal, from which Oliva deduced she must not be in a mood to chat. She pretended not to notice that and remained standing with a smile firmly on her face.

“May I join you?”

Crystal-blue eyes performed their usual assessment. Top to bottom and up again, razor-sharp, before Grace nodded vaguely in reply.

“May as well.” Warm and inviting, she definitely was not, but it did not stop Olivia from being attracted to her like a hungry bee to a fragrant flower. “Though I did not take you for the bar type, Ms. Bianchi.”

“I had a meeting with a potential new client here tonight. And it’s Olivia.”

“Ah.” Grace merely glanced at the bartender, which was all it took to bring him back from the other end of the bar, where he was talking to someone else. Talk about a magnetic personality. “What would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have the same as you.” This meant expensive whisky, neat, in a tumbler engraved with the head of a stag and a pewter bottom. Classy... It fit the woman. Olivia slid on the nearest stool. “Thanks. I do go out from time to time, you know.”

“Hmm-mm.” Grace flashed an enigmatic, almost lazy half-smile. “I’m sure you do.”

Olivia observed the way she held her glass and swirled the gold amber liquid inside it—casual and precise at the same time. She noted red-painted nails—long, elegant fingers. Everything about the way this woman moved was graceful and effortless. If Olivia were not careful, the whole thing might even strike her as erotic.

“I didn’t take you for the drinking alone type,” she stated to take her mind off things.

“Maybe I’m waiting on a date.”

“Oh…” Disappointment flared, which Olivia did her best to hide. “Are you?”

“As it happens, not tonight. But what am I supposed to do? Call a friend every time I want a drink?”

Not tonight? Olivia wondered privately.

“Good point,” she granted. “I just thought you were staying at Charlie’s.”

Grace flicked her a wry glance. “And didn’t I tell you not to assume things about me?”

“Certainly. But didn’t you also assume that I wasn’t the bar type? And got it wrong? You’re not following your own advice.”

Olivia teased, even as she stood her ground, which earned her an appreciative smirk. Just like the whisky, it warmed her up from the inside out.

“Touché,” Grace conceded and offered that she was staying at the hotel. “It’s easier that way for both of us. I had dinner with Charlie at the house, then sent her to bed nice and early. She needs the rest.”

“And she listened to you?”

“Of course.”

“I guess people do, huh?” Olivia grinned, entertained at the unapologetic smugness of her tone.

“Yeah.” Grace shrugged as a fleeting shadow passed across her face. “Most of the time, anyway, if they know what’s good for them.”

She seemed preoccupied, slightly irritated. Olivia wondered if she might have been catching up on the latest family scandal. It would put anyone in a bad mood. She decided not to ask.

“I’m glad you listened to me this time,” she told her with a smile instead.

“How do you figure that?”

“We’re having this drink. Dinner next time. At my house. Yes?”

Grace’s eyes narrowed again slightly in that feline way she had of studying her. It sent a lovely tingle sizzling down Olivia’s spine. She suppressed a shiver.

“Didn’t we have this conversation the other day?” Grace prompted in a voice as silky-smooth as the whisky.

“Yes, but I’m still waiting for you to agree.”

“I told you no.”

“See?” Olivia grinned. “My point exactly.”

As she clinked her tumbler softly against hers for effect, she wondered if Grace could sense how nervous she actually was, flirting with her like this. Olivia surprised herself by doing it. The whole thing with Beth had shot her confidence and left her reeling for way too long. But now something about Grace Michaels, for all her rude glances and apparent dismissiveness, made her feel more alive than she had since the breakup. It felt pretty amazing to want to be playful again with another woman. And bold. Even better was the realization that Grace seemed to enjoy this sort of thing.

“Humor and perseverance are two qualities I appreciate in a woman,” she declared.

“Good for me, then,” Olivia winked.

With what definitely looked like an approving smile, Grace raised two fingers at the bartender, signaling for another round. Olivia was already getting a nice buzz from the quality whisky, but she was not about to stop when the woman showed signs of wanting to pursue the conversation. She just resolved to go slow and be careful.

“What is it you do again? Charlie said you’re an artist.”

“I design nature-inspired furniture using woods like oak or birch. And more artful pieces as well, yes.”

“May I see?”

“Uh… Sure.” Olivia pulled out her phone.

She planned to hold it, as one does, while she showed a few photos of the work she kept on there for just this kind of request. But Grace took the phone from her with no hesitation. And she was both silent and extremely thorough as she flicked through the shots. As a professional artist, Olivia was used to this kind of scrutiny, of course. But because it was Grace, she could not help but be a little nervous again. Not only did she want her to appreciate her work on a personal level, but she knew Grace would be able to assess it on a professional one as well. She knew her stuff and was one of the most influential players in the industry. Not just anyone ended up on the cover of Time Magazine, did they? So, the pressure was on to make a good impression. Forgetting her resolve, Olivia gulped more whisky as Grace used two fingers to zoom in on a specific piece. She did it again on the next photo. Thankfully, when her verdict was delivered, it was positive.

“These are good, Olivia.”

“Thanks.”

Grace held her gaze intently. “I mean, this is excellent work. You are obviously very talented.”

“Thank you. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Yes.” Grace nodded matter-of-factly, demonstrating once more that she certainly did not suffer from any lack of self-confidence. “How come I’d never heard of your work before?”

“Ah… Perhaps because you favor different styles?”

“Not likely.”

“If you say so.” Olivia chuckled. “I don’t know then. Maybe you need to broaden your horizons.”

Grace eyed her like a challenge. “You have a website?”

“Of course.”

“Show it to me.”

Olivia brought it up dutifully. Again, her phone was swiftly snatched. Feedback was quicker than before and a lot less enthusiastic.

“Takes a long time to load, doesn’t it?”

“Oh? That’s news to me.”

“Where’s your gallery?”

“It’s on the menu, right under—”

“Ah, yes. Just a few too many clicks to get to it. Mmm.”

“What?” Olivia asked when the woman winced and shook her head at the same time. “What’s wrong with my gallery?”

“Again, it’s slow. You’ve got too much content on there. It’s just… Well, clunky. Far from the best website I’ve ever seen, you know?”