If We Never Met by Barbara Freethy
Chapter Eight
Keira spentmost of Monday and Tuesday in a state of distraction. When she wasn't reliving the unexpected and incredibly good kisses she'd shared with Dante, she was worrying about her mom, whose friendship with Mark Langley continued to grow. Her mom had been giggling on the phone like a teenager. She couldn't remember when her mother had last had so many long phone chats. It was like she was reliving her high school years.
By late Wednesday afternoon, Keira was ready to snap out of her lethargy. She'd been working at the store all afternoon, but she'd barely accomplished anything, and it was almost five. She was tired of her lack of focus and concentration. She needed to get over it.
She hadn't seen Dante since they'd left the patio. Thankfully, he hadn't stayed for the rest of the awards show, and she'd left as soon as she'd seen Chelsea make her acceptance speech. Dante hadn't tried to contact her since then, and she had stayed away from the inn, so it looked like they were back to being strangers. It was for the best. There was an unmistakable attraction between them—not just physical, but also emotional. She'd liked kissing him, but she'd also liked talking to him. It had felt so easy, so natural. But Dante was taken, and that was that.
She was a little surprised that Hannah hadn't been in touch to ask her what was going on. It wasn't like Hannah to butt out; she usually liked to butt in. Maybe that's why she was also distracted; she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But no more. She was moving on. She was getting her act together, and that started at six when she would show Mark Langley two houses. That would get her mother off her back and also give her another chance to talk to Mark. She hadn't dug any deeper into the fire at his house or any other part of his past. After telling Dante the story, she'd realized how far out on a limb she was getting. Hopefully, after spending more time with Mark tonight, she could put some of her doubts to rest.
She looked around the small boutique, which was currently empty. The last shopper had left ten minutes ago after trying on six dresses and not buying anything. But it had been a busy day before that and the racks needed straightening and the two dressing rooms needed to be cleared out. She should have had Daphne do it before she left, but Daphne had just gotten home from college and had a family birthday party to get to. She smiled to herself, knowing she was way too easygoing with the four women who helped out in her store, but aside from Daphne, Connie, her assistant manager, was a middle-aged woman who helped take care of her elderly mother, Pamela was a young mom with two kids under six, and Laurel was a high school senior, whose dreams of a career in fashion were being replaced by dreams of the hot guy with the motorcycle who showed up to take her home after work. She'd known them all for years, and it wasn't always easy to separate being their friend from being their boss.
She straightened as the door opened. She should have switched the sign to Closed. But to her surprise, it wasn't a customer; it was Hannah. She wore denim cut-off shorts and a short-sleeve blouse, and her red hair was swept up in a ponytail.
"You look like summer," she said. "No work today?"
"I switched shifts when I worked Sunday. Today, I went to the beach with my sister and her kids. It was fun and not that crowded."
"How is Kelly doing?"
"Great. She's really a good mother, but she has her hands full, that's for sure." Hannah looked around the shop. "No customers? That's unusual."
"It was busy earlier. I was actually just about to close."
"That's good," Hannah said, an oddly hesitant look in her eyes.
As the silence lengthened between them, she said, "What?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. You have something to say. I'm actually surprised you waited this long to say it."
"I was hoping you might call and tell me what's going on."
"There's nothing going on."
Hannah tilted her head to the side. "I saw what I saw, Keira."
"Did you tell anyone else?"
"No. I'm your friend. I can keep your secrets. I know you don't want anyone to know you were kissing Dante DeAngelis. But I am curious, and I am tired of waiting for you to spill, so here I am."
"There's nothing going on. We kissed. It was…amazing. But it was an impulsive moment that won't happen again."
"Why not? Seems like you're both interested."
"He has a girlfriend, and he's only in town for a few weeks. Those are two huge strikes against him."
"Oh. Well, the girlfriend is a problem. The couple of weeks could just be fun. It doesn't have to be something serious."
"I can't get involved with someone who isn't free. I did that once before; it did not end well."
"That guy was lying to you," Hannah reminded her. "You didn't know he was hooking up with his ex-girlfriend."
"Maybe I just didn't see what I didn't want to see. Either way, I learned my lesson. If someone is involved with someone else, he is not involved with me. I don't plan to see Dante again."
"Got it. But it may not be that simple or clear-cut."
"Why not?"
"There's another reason I came by. I was just at the inn, and Lizzie said she's been trying to reach you, but you haven't been picking up your phone."
"I don't usually check my phone when I'm working. Is something wrong?"
"A reporter came by the inn, looking for Dante."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"He asked Lizzie if she could identify the mystery woman in a photo he'd taken." Hannah took out her phone and set it on the counter between them. "This is the picture and the article that's running online today."
She stared down at a photo of Dante and herself leaving Micky's the first night they'd met. They were facing each other. He was smiling, and she was laughing as he handed her the bag of fish tacos. But the headline spun the simple interaction into something much more dramatic. "Dante DeAngelis Scores a Beautiful Brunette During Rehab."
"I can't believe this," she muttered. "He handed me a bag of tacos outside the restaurant. It was nothing. I never even saw the photographer take the picture. He must have gotten it before he jumped out of the van. That's why Dante bolted so fast. He said he wanted to keep me out of any photos."
"He wasn't very successful. And that wasn't the only time the photographer caught you together." Hannah swiped the screen to reveal another photo of them sitting together in the glass-walled atrium at the rehab center.
She was shocked. "I ran into Dante when I went to see Mark Langley, my mother's friend. I had a meeting with Langley, not Dante. He just happened to be in the building when I arrived, so I said hello." She paused. "I wonder if Dante has seen these."
"Lizzie said she texted him, but he's been at the rehab center all day. What are you going to do?"
"Nothing. I'm sure it will blow over quickly."
"Maybe not that quickly. It's not just Dante who's famous; it's his girlfriend."
"Really? She's famous, too?" She hadn't asked Dante anything about his girlfriend.
"You don't know who he's dating?"
"I didn't ask him about her. I didn't really want to know."
Hannah picked up her phone and flipped through it. "It's Nikki Voltari, the supermodel. They started dating in February."
"Nikki Voltari?" she echoed. "I met her years ago when I was in New York. She was about seventeen then. She met with the designer I was working for. She was stunningly pretty, blonde, tan, thin, with incredible hazel eyes."
"She's still all that." Hannah turned her phone around once more. "This was taken of them at a red-carpet event in LA last March."
Nikki was as beautiful as she remembered, but Dante was even more handsome in a black tux. "They look good together." A large wave of disappointment ran through her. "Really good."
Hannah gave her a commiserating smile. "I'm sorry, Keira."
She shrugged. "It is what it is. It's not like he didn't tell me he had a girlfriend. Actually, he seemed eager not to call her that. He just said they were seeing each other."
"Maybe it isn't serious."
"Or he was downplaying it because he's in a small town and feeling bored."
"There is that possibility," Hannah admitted. "But he seemed like a nice guy."
"I think he is a nice guy. But he's injured. He's lost. He's not in his real life. I can't just be a distraction."
"No, you can't. But even if you don't want to date him, you're going to have to deal with the fallout from these photos."
She sighed. "I'm going to be painted as the other woman."
"I'm afraid so. How about I buy you a drink, and we can talk about it?"
"That would be nice, but I have to meet my mother's friend to show him a house. Do you know Mark Langley? He's the administrator of the rehab center."
"I met him last night. We had a cocktail party to welcome the new rehab staff members."
"What did you think of him?"
"Handsome for an older man. Seemed smart, articulate. Why?"
"He showed up at our house out of the blue last Thursday. Apparently, he went to high school with my mom, and he's been taking her out ever since then. They've had dinner. They've gone on walks. They talk for hours on the phone. It's weird."
"Are you saying he's dating your mom?"
"It sure seems that way. She thinks he's wonderful, but I find him to be overly aggressive. My mother disagrees. She says he's just being nice and they're getting reacquainted."
"Wow. This is big news. I never pictured your mom dating again."
"I didn't, either."
"She is a lot better, though. Maybe this is good for her."
"She's still vulnerable. I don't know that her ability to see through someone's motives is that good. I need to protect her."
"I can understand that feeling. I was doubtful of my mother's boyfriend, too, because of her addiction issues. But he seems to respect the fact that she needs to be in a sober environment, so there's nothing else I can do. I just worry that my mom tends to lose herself when men come around. But your mom has never been like that. I hardly remember her seeing anyone when we were growing up."
"There were a few losers, like the one who stole money from her."
"Oh, right. I remember that one. So, what are you going to do besides show him a house?"
"Try to get to know him and see if I can figure out if he has a hidden agenda." She glanced at her watch. "I better lock up. I have to meet him in thirty minutes."
"Okay. If you want to talk later, you know where to find me."
"With Jake?" she teased. "Yes, I know where to find you."
Hannah gave her a big, happy grin. "Even if I'm with Jake, I'm still available to you. You know that."
"I do. And I'm glad you're with Jake. It was a long time coming."
"I just had to get out of my own way. That may be advice you need to take."
"I'm not in my way; there's a girlfriend, a baseball career, and now the paparazzi."
Hannah gave her a regretful smile. "I wish it were different. You and Dante seemed like you really clicked."
"I thought so, too. But it was just a click, nothing more—the end."
"We'll see."
"There's nothing to see. Go back to being cynical Hannah; I'm not used to this optimistic version."
"Sorry. I fell in love, and everything just looks rosier."
She pushed Hannah out the door, then locked it behind her and flipped the sign to Closed.
She not only needed to meet Mark Langley, but she also needed a minute to think about what the photographs might mean and what she needed to say if she ran across that photographer. One thing was clear: if she'd needed another reason to stay away from Dante, she'd just gotten it.