Chapter Six
Erin had tossed and turned all night, her mind racing. She’d sent Pat Sinclair a quick email telling her that she’d secured the interview for the very next day. Pat, in her usual way, didn’t heap praise on Erin’s head for doing such great work. Instead, she sent a list of questions she’d already prepared, which only confirmed Erin’s suspicions that she’d never had a choice about this assignment. Erin had read them while she brushed her teeth. They weren’t exactly the most hard-hitting newspaper in the world, but sometimes Pat’s background at the Chicago Tribune showed and the questions were designed to get a subject to reveal more about himself than he’d like. Still, Jay was an old hand at publicity. He’d answer exactly what he wanted to in exactly the way he wanted to. And frankly, she’d probably let him.
If she’d wanted to be the kind of journalist who went for the jugular, uncovering corruption and lies and skeletons in the closet, she wouldn’t have taken a job at the Sea Shell newspaper in Carmel-by-the-Sea.
What worried her more was dealing with Jay on a professional level. Whenever they spent time together, it was as part of a big, noisy group that almost always included all of her annoying brothers. She’d never been anything but the little sister to Jay. Now, not only had he pretty much rescued her from hypothermia while she shivered in her bikini, but she also had to show up the next day as if all that hadn’t happened, and interview him.
When she was assigned these profile pieces, she usually crafted them carefully to show a side of the person that would make them an interesting part of the community. Their readers were more interested in understanding the real essence of the human being than how many Academy Awards they had, or what Clint Eastwood had said to them twenty years ago. Not that she wouldn’t include those things, but she always searched for something a bit deeper and more relatable. Trying to pry more sensitive information like this from the overconfident Jay Malone was truly going to put her to the test.
Maybe that wasn’t the only reason her mind had been racing. There was something else from the evening that had clung to her memory and hadn’t let go. For a miniscule moment on the beach, she could swear that Jay had looked at her as a man looks at a woman for the first time. She’d tried telling herself that she’d imagined the whole thing, but each time she returned to the scene, there was heat there, something undeniable floating between them, teasing and forbidden. It was true she was starting to see a whole new side of Jay, what with his huge home library and his caring way of making her hot chocolate when she was cold.
She’d thought she knew him well after all these years, but now she had the sense she was just getting started.
By the time she arrived at Jay’s house at eleven the next morning, she was pretty tired from her sleepless night. Luckily, her dog had energy enough for them both and rushed in ahead of her, tail wagging. The great thing about Buzzy was that he was absolutely convinced that every single person he met was his new best friend. If they didn’t feel the same way, he would back away looking so hurt that he’d been known to turn genuine dog haters into people who asked to pet him. It was his canine superpower. But straight away she saw he wouldn’t need to use his superpower on Jay.
After squatting to accept Buzzy’s enthusiastic overtures of friendship, Jay glanced up at Erin, laughter in his eyes. He was dressed as though he’d come off the beach, in a navy polo shirt and chinos. Both designer, obviously. Still, he looked both relaxed and put together. Now she knew exactly why she’d asked if Buzzy could come along this morning. Yes, she normally brought him to work, but he was also talented at breaking the ice, and if there was any awkwardness when the two of them were alone, she could always fuss over Buzzy. From the enthusiastic pets he was giving, clearly Jay would do the same.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been in town long enough to meet your dog.” Jay shook his head in disbelief. “What’s his name again?”
“It’s Buzzy. Buzzy, this is Jay.”
He glanced at the dog and then back at Erin. “You call your dog Buzzy?”
“His name’s Boswell. Buzzy for short.”
“Ah. Boswell, after the guy who wrote The Life of Samuel Johnson ?”
Erin blinked. Nobody ever got that. She swallowed and then nodded. Then she had to ask, “Have you read The Life of Samuel Johnson ?”
“Of course,” he said, looking a little incredulous. “He’s a fascinating character. I’ll admit I haven’t read all of Johnson’s works—the dictionary, for instance—but his Rasselas was brilliant.”
Erin needed to sit down. Who even was this man?
Jay was clearly a reader. Funny he never shared that with others. She’d always thought he was such an oversharer, but now she wondered if he only overshared things he didn’t mind people knowing in order to hide things that he kept private.
Maybe Erin had been unfair. She’d made so many assumptions about him because he wore slick suits and was, in fact, a brilliant agent. He just went overboard sometimes by being tough and never taking no for an answer when he wanted something for his clients.
Fortunately, he didn’t leave her any more time to dwell as he guided them through the house. As she looked around on this third visit, she saw that more items had been delivered and arranged. How many people, from interior decorators to movers, had been involved to make this move so quick and so smooth? Just a few days since he’d received the keys and he was already perfectly at home. So many people who moved to Carmel-by-the-Sea hired an agency that furnished the place for them in an identifiable Carmel Beach style, but his pieces looked as though he’d picked them out personally, or at least accompanied the designer when they’d chosen everything. She spotted a Tessa Taylor-Davenport painting—one of the sea scenes for which she was becoming justifiably famous—hanging in the hallway.
Jay opened the door to the study and said, “I thought this would be a good place to be interviewed. If I need to reference anything, it’s all at my fingertips.”
She nodded, pleased to find herself in such a businesslike environment after a night worrying about how to be professional. But she melted when Jay excused himself for a moment and then returned with a bowl of water for the dog.
“Is it okay if I give him a treat?” He held up a pack of organic dog treats that Erin recognized from one of the many exclusive pet shops in Carmel.
She nodded and then said, “You have treats? You don’t even have a dog.”
Jay laughed. “I know. But everyone else in Carmel seems to have one. I see them walking on the beach. Plus, I’ve never seen so many stores catering to dogs. I had to go in and buy some locally made, organic, vegan dog treats.” A wry smile played around his lips.
Erin knew he was making fun of her hometown, but it was gentle, maybe even teasing. She smiled back. There were a lot of vegan dog treats sold in town.
“Besides,” he went on, “I really do love dogs. I’d get one if I was ever in one place long enough. But, as it is, I get to enjoy dogs like yours. Right, Buzzy?” he said in an entirely different tone, rubbing the dog’s head, who nodded, his tongue hanging out blissfully, and then daintily accepted the offered treat. Buzzy curled up on the floor, delighted. Erin smiled. Her dog was a great judge of character, and she felt soothed that he was immediately drawn to Jay.
Jay said, “Before we start, can I get your advice on something? It’s about home decorating.”
She laughed. “Mila’s way better at this stuff than I am, but sure.”
“I think I just need a second opinion. Something’s not feeling right.”
Buzzy, who’d made himself instantly at home, curled up for a nap, so she left him in the study and followed Jay out to the garden, which was a beautiful, enclosed space. It felt more like a French or Italian courtyard garden than a place adjacent to the ocean. There were roses and irises growing, and a wrought-iron bench next to a splashing fountain. He pointed to a gorgeous, sinuous sculpture sitting on a column under an arch of roses.
“Is that a Barbara Hepworth?” Erin might not be the artist that her sister-in-law was, but she knew the famous Cornish sculptor’s work. She couldn’t even imagine what Jay must have paid for an original Hepworth. But she kept that thought to herself.
“It is,” he said, sounding pleased that she knew the artist. “I can’t find the right space for it.” He carried the piece around and set it near the bench, near the roses, dead in the center, talking all the while about how he would have a proper base made and how Barbara Hepworth’s work was so organic and worked so well outside.
He was right, of course, she knew that, but after looking at every spot he’d chosen, she finally said, “You know, I don’t think it works out here at all. It’s such a sensual piece, I think it belongs in your bedroom.”
As the words slipped out of her mouth, their gazes connected and a moment of heat arced between them. It flared bright and true and she suddenly dropped her gaze, embarrassed.
She knew she was right about the sculpture, but she wished she hadn’t mentioned the bedroom. Or the word sensual . It seemed suggestive, as though the two of them might end up in the bedroom together engaging in sensual activity.
As if that could ever happen.
And yet Jay didn’t look at all embarrassed. In fact, he was now looking at her as if she were Einstein and had just discovered the theory of relativity. “You’re right. The bedroom. I never would have thought of it.” Then his expression changed again, softening with what appeared to be admiration. “Come on, let’s try it right now.”
Erin laughed, relieved to feel the tension between them dissolving into something more familiar. That was the Jay she knew: desperate to do everything yesterday. His enthusiastic impatience was infectious and she found herself joining him in all but running up the stairs with the Hepworth.
As soon as she walked into the bedroom, he looked at her with a huge grin on his face. “You’re a genius. An absolute genius.”
He moved one of the bedside tables to a blank wall opposite the windows and placed the sculpture there, and she nodded. “That’s it. That’s perfect.” She could imagine how the light would change, giving even more movement to the piece.
He stepped back and nodded. “You’re right. The sensuous lines are like the curves of a woman’s body. This is exactly the right space for it.”
He came a little closer to Erin and she felt herself take a sharp breath. For a second, she wondered if he was going to kiss her. But no. He just gazed at her earnestly for a moment and then quietly said, “You just see things the way they need to be. It’s a gift.”
They shared a look that seemed to go on for hours, so lost was she in the gray of his eyes, like the soft foam of ocean waves when they rolled at dusk.
A bark from Buzzy downstairs broke the moment. She shivered, not from cold, but from the startling realization that her whole body was tingling.
Jay smiled. “I think that’s Buzzy asking if we’re ready to get to work.”
“He’s a tough taskmaster,” Erin said, relieved for the millionth time that Buzzy was in her life.
They went downstairs, and Jay made a pot of coffee and carried two cups into the study. He took a seat at a stylish desk that looked as though it was made of glass. The chairs looked fancy, but she found hers was actually comfortable.
“Do you mind if I record this?” Erin asked as she always did, setting her phone between them. Sometimes she needed to go back and get a quote exactly right or listen to something she might have misunderstood. But she also took notes in an old-fashioned notebook for the bulk of her story.
He told her to go ahead and they settled across from each other. She had all his attention as those gray eyes focused on hers.