Under A Painted Moon Read online

  His commitments couldn't wait while he negotiated his future with Courtney. If he had to take a place with a year's lease, then he would. Before heading home to shower, he clicked off a digital picture of each partially completed canvas for his files and uploaded them to the computer.

  It was almost three-thirty when he arrived at Desert Moon. Sally was with a customer when he walked in. She motioned him back to the corner where Courtney had a comfortable and stylish seating area for chatting with clients while they looked at catalogs.

  Her client and her designer were still flipping through pages. Barry looked closer. He knew her. Amanda Harris. When had she moved to back to Reno?

  She glanced up and saw him.

  "Barry! I was hoping you'd stop by!” Amanda scampered over to him, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

  He glanced at Courtney.

  Fuck. She was not pleased.

  No matter what Courtney was thinking, he had to be polite. He didn't want to compromise a sale for her.

  "Hello, Amanda. When did you move back to Reno?” And why?

  Amanda linked her arm through his. Courtney glowered at him from behind Amanda's back.

  "I've only been in town a few weeks.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “This was my third divorce. I just moved into a new townhouse and I need to get it furnished. Everyone says this is the place to start.” She smiled up at him. “Congratulations on that New York show. The society page said it was a huge success."

  "Thanks. The show was moderately successful, enough so that I've been invited to have another one next year."

  Amanda beamed up at him, squeezing his arm and making sure he got a good feel of her breast.

  "I'm so glad to be back in town. Vegas isn't that far. There's Lake Tahoe. You can fly to anywhere on the coast in just a few hours. And you're here, of course."

  He could feel Courtney's eyes drilling into him.

  Likely she sensed, the same as he did, that Amanda Harris had come to Desert Moon looking for him, not home furnishings and art pieces.

  Male intuition, something women didn't seem to realize existed, knew when a female had a guy in the crosshairs and had locked on their target.

  He gently moved away from Amanda. This is where he should suggest something stupid like they get together and talk about old times, only he was not about to do that.

  "Well, a belated welcome back to town. Courtney, I need to use your office phone, if you don't mind. My cell phone service is down again."

  Her lips smiled, but the eyes that met his shot daggers at him.

  "Certainly. You know your way to the office."

  He might as well fight fire with fire. He'd put it right out front for Amanda Harris to see. He smiled at Courtney.

  "Do you have a preference for dinner tonight? We can go out again, or I can grill something."

  Surprise flickered in those brown eyes. She glanced away, then back at him. The gleam in her eyes took on a definite feline resemblance. He knew better than to believe he was off the hook.

  "Why don't you grill chicken? I'll stop and get salads on the way home.” She paused. “Excuse me, Amanda. I have to tell Barry about something that happened at the house this morning."

  Out of the corner of his eye, Barry noted the speculative look Amanda shot in Courtney's direction, but he was too busy allowing Courtney to drag him to her office to dwell on it. He truly disliked being a piece of meat between two women.

  Courtney closed the office door and turned on him.

  "So you know her. How?"

  "Just calm down. It's been ten years and two husbands since I bought her dinner. What happened at the house?"

  "So her being here is just a coincidence? I don't think so, bucko. Did she come here looking for you?"

  Barry took a deep breath.

  "I don't read minds. Now what happened at the house?"

  "She did, didn't she? You don't have to read minds. That woman is no more interested in buying anything from me than she is flying to the moon—unless you'd be there.” Courtney stalked around the room.

  Barry remained silent. What could he say? She was likely correct. Why throw fuel on the fire?

  Courtney made another circuit of the office.

  "She came in here hoping you'd show up and you didn't disappoint her, did you?"

  "Now wait just a minute, babe. I'm not at fault. She likes money. Why don't you nudge her in Waynie-boy's direction and let her and Crystall fight?” He gently grasped her arm and pulled her to him. “We are not going to fight because someone I knew ten years ago blundered in here."

  She was stiff in his arms, refusing to meet his gaze. Anger, hot and careless, swept through him.

  "I'm not your ex-husband. I have nothing to do with her being here. I'm not going to look her up when she leaves here."

  "That bitch came in here looking for you and wasting my time to find you!” She tried to break free of his grasp. He refused to let go, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

  "All right. So she's prowling around looking for men. Maybe she had a hankering to find me. I didn't know she was back in town. I don't fucking care that she's back in town. What I do care about is that you're upset."

  "Let go of me!” She tried to kick his ankle with her heel. He easily avoided her.

  "No. Now settle down!” He spun her around to face him, resisting the urge to give her a little shake. “Are you listening to me at all? I'm not interested in her. Period. Now what happened at the house?"

  "I'm listening to you. I hear you loud and clear. What about the dozens of other women who are going to waltz in here and flaunt themselves in front of me? What do I do about that?” She shoved him in the middle of his chest. Surprise dampened his anger, but not for long.

  "What dozens of women? Jesus, Courtney. I haven't whored my way across the town, you know. And for what it's worth, babe, you never had the time of day for me. So yes, I had a few lady friends along the way. Sue me. Then came Wayne Collins and you were married."

  He wasn't helping the situation. Courtney was becoming more agitated by the moment. He knew why. She slipped past him as he reached for her again. He followed her, unwilling to back off. He wasn't the same kind of man as her ex-husband, and he had to find a way to get her to believe that fact.

  "How many times am I going to have to sit and smile at some woman, knowing you've been in bed with her?"

  "Lower your voice, Courtney. It won't..."

  "Don't give me orders!” she screamed at him.

  Barry took a deep breath. She was simply too upset to talk about it now. Maybe he was, too. If he were the sort to manhandle a woman, he'd turn her over his knee.

  "I'm not giving you orders. Do you want her to hear us fighting? Do you want to give her the idea I might be receptive to having her slink around after me like cat in heat? I'll thank you not to do that to me.” He dropped onto the loveseat and ran his fingers through his hair.

  She finally stopped pacing and looked down at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. He patted the seat beside him. She stared blankly at the spot.

  "There might have been someone in the house."

  "What?” He washed cold with shock. He rolled back to his feet and pulled her unresisting to him. “Why do you think that?"

  She leaned on him but didn't put her arms around him. He slowly rubbed her back, willing her to relax and accept some comfort from him.

  "I went up to the attic to open a window. There was a beer can up there."

  "It could have been there a while, babe,” he said quietly. “The house was empty for a long time. Kids could have partied up there."

  "I know. That's what I thought, too, but it still had liquid in it. It hadn't been there long enough to evaporate."

  Barry hugged her. “It wasn't my brand, was it?"

  She snorted softly, finally sliding her arms around his waist. “You might be a man, McWaters, but you're a neat freak. You'd never leave trash lying about."

  He cupped th
e back of her head and brushed a kiss to her hair. She wasn't over her anger at Amanda Harris showing up. She just was finished talking about it. For now.

  He wasn't going to let her hold her anger, and her fear, inside for it to fester. As soon as she was calmed down, they were going to finish their conversation. He wasn't going to let her off the hook.

  Finding the evidence of someone being in her house hadn't helped. That would have already had her on edge. It stung that she'd not called him immediately.

  They were going to talk about that, too. Just as soon as he thought he could talk without yelling at her. She needed him to be calm more than he needed to vent the fear and hurt her words had given him.

  She should have called him. She didn't have to shoulder everything alone.

  "We need to call the police, and a locksmith. And probably the cleaning company. The most probable thing is one of the cleaning crew sneaked up there for a little break."

  "I called a locksmith. He's there now. I didn't bother with the police. Whoever was there is long gone. They have to know by now I'm moving in.” She looked up at him. “I told the locksmith that a crazed man with a Scottish sounding name might show up while he's working and demand to have the keys."

  "You did, did you?” He managed a smile for her. “What did you tell him to do?"

  "Ignore you for the most part, but give you the keys."

  "And if I didn't show up, how was he going to get the keys to you?"

  "He said he'd drop them off on his way to his next job.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Did you think I didn't have it covered?"

  He was sure she had arranged to get the keys. She was used to taking care of herself and not asking for help. She'd not been able to depend on Waynie-boy and she'd been too proud to enlist the aid of friends. Getting her to shift some of that load to him was not going to be easy.

  Barry did the only thing a smart man could. He kissed her.

  Chapter 17

  Courtney melted against him. The logical part of her brain knew it wasn't his fault Amanda Harris had shown up. The logical part of her brain knew she had to stop allowing the hurt of her ex-husband cheating on her stain everything in her life.

  But damn, it still hurt. And it hurt that Barry saw how much.

  She'd seen the shock in his eyes when she'd said she thought someone had been in the house. His hands had moved up and down her arms, across her shoulders, and down her spine like he was checking her for injuries.

  She opened her lips to him, coaxing him for more than the soft, tender kiss he was giving her. His arms tightened around her. She took the opening and flicked her tongue to his. He started backing up. She put up a mock protest, planting her feet firmly.

  It wasn't a fair contest. She didn't want it to be. He was stronger by far. He held her tightly and unbalanced them, falling beneath her on the sofa.

  His kiss went on and on, washing away the distrust, the anger. His arms soothed away the shock of knowing someone had taken advantage of the empty house. She was aware of his growing arousal. The glory of last night called her to him.

  She pushed away from him.

  "Damn, Barry. That ... that ... woman is sitting out there. I've got to go back out there."

  Amused green eyes swept over her face.

  "We have to go back out there.” He wiggled his hips. She tried not to laugh, and failed.

  Actually, she liked the idea of him walking out there in front of that ... witch ... with his jeans leading the way. Let Ms. Amanda Harris know he was hot for her, Courtney Nichols, and not looking for anything on the side.

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Get off me, woman. Let's get this over with. Let me run out the door."

  Courtney slowly inched off him, sliding across the ridge of his maleness. Her eyes never left his, sparkling with dark desire.

  "I'll remember this,” he purred at her.

  She hoped that he would. She flashed him her most innocent look. He snorted and sat up, quickly pulling her back on his lap.

  "Our conversation isn't over, babe."

  "I know, Barry. I know.” She knew it well. He was letting her go—for now—and she appreciated it.

  He stood, dropping her back to her feet.

  "Listen, Barry, about dinner..."

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “I'm cooking dinner. Just show up at my place about six. And be hungry. And bring your pajamas. Or not."

  "You don't have to try and make everything easy for me, you know.” But I'm so grateful that you are. “And it's too warm for pajamas."

  His face broke into a huge grin.

  She shook her head and laid her hand along his bristly cheek. He covered it with his hand, turning his head to kiss her palm.

  "We're doing all right, babe. We just have to learn each other's inner language."

  She stared at him. “Oh, dear God. You have been watching all those chick shows, haven't you?” She backed away from him. “Don't answer that. I really don't need to hear you say it. I don't want to hear you say it."

  "Okay. I won't say it.” He stepped behind her and opened the door for her. “I'm going to politely say adios to Amanda. Then I'm going to the Victorian and then home. See you at five."

  "Six! You said six!” She was sure he'd said six. There was nothing wrong with her hearing or her memory.

  "I'm in a hurry, babe."

  * * * *

  Courtney finally walked Amanda Harris to the door at quarter of six. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself, that woman, and the world in general. She must have been giving off some sort of vibe. She was certain that woman had known she was anxious to get rid of her.

  She'd forced herself not to react when that blond bimbo had looked her and Barry up and down as he'd said his good-byes. Amanda had given them a little smirky smile. Courtney's palm had itched to smack her.

  And if that woman had looked at Barry's zipper one more time, she may not have been able to control herself.

  She was actually proud of herself that she'd been able to give Ms. Amanda Harris a look of her own. One that said “he's mine."

  She went to her office and collapsed in her chair. She was going to be late. She reached for the telephone. Sally popped her head in the door.

  "Why don't you go ahead and leave, Courtney? I'll close up."

  "You don't mind?” Courtney cradled the receiver in her hands. Sally had been locking up more and more lately. “I'd really appreciate it."

  Sally grinned at her. “I don't mind a bit. I'm not blind, you know. That man has mooned over you for a long time. You've got a good chance with him. Don't let him get away."

  "Did everyone know he had a thing for me, but me?"

  "Probably.” Sally closed the office door. Courtney rubbed her eyes then dialed Barry's home number. He didn't answer. She dialed his cell phone. He answered promptly.

  "Are you cooking yet?"

  "Hell no. I'm sitting three blocks from home, trapped in my truck by a backhoe, a grouchy cop, and an unhappy bus driver. Traffic is backed up for a mile, but at least I get to watch the sideshow."

  "Sounds like fun, but I'm hungry. Starving, as a matter of fact."

  "So am I, babe. But I can't get to my grill."

  "That's good, because I'm running late. Your girlfriend just left."

  "Which way did she go?” he asked eagerly.

  Courtney breathed a quiet sigh of relief. If they could tease each other, they'd be able to talk about it.

  "Pfft. I guess I deserved that. I'll be at your place as soon as I can."

  "Okay. I won't start the grill until you get there. By the way, your new keys are in an envelope on your front seat. You left your car window down an inch and I shoved it though the crack."

  "Didn't want to see Ms. Bimbo again?"

  "Nope. Your locksmith did a good job. Traffic is moving. See you later.” The connection went dead.

  Courtney said her good-byes to Sally and sped home to gather up a few things. She didn't really have the
time, but she wanted to stop by the Victorian. It felt more and more like that was where she should be. The rancher was just brick and mortar. The Victorian was hearth and home.

  She opened the back door of the Victorian and stood completely still, eyes closed. The house was empty, she was sure of it, yet it greeted her. She went through each room, all the way to the attic. Whoever had been here had not left any traces other than the empty beer can.

  Barry was probably correct. The cleaning crew, or some kid or kids, had used the place to hide out and drink illegally. Teenagers did that sort of thing all the time. Nothing was damaged or out of place. Installing new locksets was the logical thing to do, and she'd done it.

  Perhaps Barry had every right to be angry with her for not calling him. Looking at it from his perspective she could understand how he must feel. Men liked to feel needed. It was the sort of thing she should have at least consulted him about. Instead, they'd come close to quarreling over it.

  She went to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Last night had been wonderful and she'd almost ruined it with her jealously today. It had been a knee-jerk reaction. Next time she'd be better prepared. If there was a next time. She knew Barry well enough to know he was not the kind of man to cheat on her. She flopped across the mattress.

  He was the kind of man she could depend on. Next time, she'd call him and at least let him offer to help. She could always thank him and tell him how much she appreciated the offer, but she could pick up a phone and arrange for work all by herself. Politely. Nicely. Gently.

  And because she didn't want to ding his male ego, sometimes she'd allow him to do things for her. At least as long as he understood she really wasn't a helpless female.

  She reluctantly made her way back to the kitchen, hating to leave the house. Tomorrow her favorite kitchen designer was meeting her here to get the layout. Once that was done, they were going to go select a few things. Courtney grinned at the four walls. She had big changes in mind.

  * * * *

  Barry was waiting on the deck when she finally pulled in at his house. She walked up the steps and into his arms. His kiss was much too brief, but his neighbors were watching.