Love By Association. Tara Taylor Quinn

Love By Association - Tara Taylor Quinn


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at the renovations that had been made since they’d last toured the place.

      “You just met her and already roped her into helping us?”

      He would have, if he’d thought of it first. “Leslie did.”

      “And that’s how you met her? Leslie hooked you up?”

      He might have been exasperated by his little sister’s nosiness if he wasn’t so damned glad to see the old teasing light in her eyes.

      “No. I managed to make her acquaintance all on my own. She’s new to town...” Did he bring up Chantel Johnson’s publishing background now...or after Julie had a chance to meet—and like—her?

      “And she was on the auction invitation list?”

      “She’s from New York. I’m assuming her family had connections.” And if they hadn’t, they’d just have needed to make a call or two to ease their daughter’s introduction to LA society.

      “Let me guess—she’s slender, blond hair, big brown eyes and isn’t quite as tall as you are, but she’s not short. Oh, and last night she was wearing a black halter dress that she’d probably purchased last season.”

      Her grin had turned into a mischievous smile. She’d been messing with him. Lucky for her, he was in an unusually good mood.

      “You’ve been talking to Jaime.”

      “She called as soon as the auction was over. I’d asked her to. I wanted to know how she did.”

      He’d have sought the woman out himself the night before, as he’d originally intended, but when he’d heard that Chantel had arrived in a hired car, he’d offered to see her back to her hotel.

      “How’d she do?”

      Julie named a figure that elicited a long whistle from Colin and then said, “So what’s her story? This Chantel person. She must be something to have monopolized your time the entire evening.”

      Here’s where he could tell her that Chantel was a writer, too. That maybe her family could take a look at Julie’s series of children’s stories.

      He ate a couple of bites of melon from the crystal plate in front of him instead. “I’d rather you find out for yourself,” he told her. “I’m interested in your opinion.” True. And also prevarication.

      “Ohhhh...” Julie’s brows were raised, her lips still tilted slightly upward. “You’re looking for familial approval.”

      He could have firmly denied the accusation. Laughed her off. “I like her,” he said instead.

      Julie set her spoon down. “As in, you-want-to-see-her-again like her?”

      Scrolling down on his tablet, he said, “I just met her last night.” And then—partially because she was soon going to find out, anyway—he added, “We’re going to be playing the leading roles in the murder mystery.” He left out the part about Chantel juicing up the script.

      “You agreed to play a part?” Her mouth hung open.

      Looking her in the eye, Colin nodded. It had occurred to him that perhaps part of the reason his little sister didn’t feel more of a drive to get out of the house and start really living again—as in looking for a relationship so she could start a family of her own—was because she was following his example.

      It was one of his theories. Right along with the one where she’d go out with him, if he kept after her, because she felt safe with him. And once she started getting out more, she’d remember how much she’d enjoyed it. He’d been working off that one for more than a year...

      “Wow. She must really be something if you’re coming out of the background at a party.”

      He didn’t know about that. But Julie’s reaction did add to his suspicion that she held back more because he did. Could he help it that he took after their father? A man who preferred to observe and be aware? Julie had been more like their mother—the social one.

      For a while, too long probably, he’d understood her reticence. But she was only three years from thirty. And hadn’t been on a date since high school.

      “Well, I think that since I’m going to be way out of my comfort zone on this one, you could join me in that state by at least attending the event.”

      She was still watching him. Her gaze more curious than guarded. She hadn’t said no.

      “Will you? Please?” It was still a month away. She could think about it. And say yes and then change her mind, too.

      “Maybe.”

      “Maybe?” He raised an eyebrow at her, while inside he was hosting a minicelebration.

      “I kind of want to watch you with your leading lady...” Her expression pointed, her tone wasn’t filled with despondency. He took that as another small victory. “But it’ll depend on the guest list.” The last was issued with a matter-of-factness that had become a way of life.

      It depended whether or not the Smyths were attending. He’d wanted to keep them off the list, but they both knew that he couldn’t. Not while maintaining Julie’s front of there being nothing egregiously wrong between the two high-society families. Because she didn’t want it known how damaged she’d been. She wasn’t going to let that family run her out of the town she’d been born to, raised in and loved.

      Which was why, on rare occasions, she’d go to evening functions—to maintain her own status quo. But it was usually only when the Smyths were vacationing elsewhere.

      And they weren’t going to be this time. He’d heard the night before that they’d be attending the library event. It was turning out to be the event of the year. Everyone was going to be there.

      Except his sweet sister, who was helping to put on the event?

      Julie went back to her grapefruit and toast. Colin scrolled on his tablet and thought about the woman he’d met the night before. Thought about the fact that he was still thinking about her.

      About ensuring that, aside from murder-mystery business, he’d be seeing her again. Soon.

      “She really had an effect on you.” He was deep in thought about him and Chantel on a yacht on the ocean—something about a private dinner at sunset—when Julie interrupted him.

      Glancing up, he saw her studying him. This time minus the grin. “Who?”

      But he knew who.

      “You were grinning again,” she told him. “And not scrolling.”

      Did Julie spend every morning watching him scroll, for God’s sake? Making a note to read his news before or after he got to the breakfast table—to spend those few minutes every morning paying more attention to his sister—he said, “There’s something different about her, Jules. She’s not like the rest of the women I know. I’m eager for you to meet her.”

      Julie did smile then. “And I’m getting more and more curious.”

      He hoped so. He wanted Julie to like Chantel. Not just because he did and hoped the woman would be around awhile, but because her publishing experience, her own drive as a writer, could help Julie take enough of a step out of her shell to submit some of her work for publication.

      Maybe she’d even be able to help him convince Julie to attend the murder mystery gala. It would be a miracle.

      But who knew? Colin being preoccupied by a woman was a bit of a miracle, too.

      ON DUTY AT four on Friday, Chantel finished off a pint of chocolate ice cream for breakfast and lunch at a computer at the precinct, looking up names from the party the night before. Pulling police reports for any that had them. She already had everything there was to have


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