He rose and walked over to greet her. Of all the models, he liked Madison the best. She was a straight shooter with a heart of gold. He still couldn’t figure out why she was such good friends with Chloe. “You’re working late, Maddie.”
She kissed his cheek. “So are you. I’m surprised that you aren’t in your studio painting. But I guess there’s a lot to do with Deacon and Nash both gone.” She pulled back. “So you decided to shave the beard.”
“It was time. Is there a problem? I hope you’re not here to cancel on the ET interview tomorrow. Your and Natalia’s presence will take some of the heat off me.”
“No, I’ll be there. I just stopped by because I have a dilemma that I thought you could help me with.”
He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “Shoot.”
“I want you to call Nash and make sure he doesn’t let Eden talk him into cutting their honeymoon short.”
“But why would they cut their honeymoon short?”
Madison gave a guilty shrug. “Because I made the mistake of calling Eden and telling her that Chloe is skipping town.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Mondays were a slow night at The Lemon Drop, and since the tips were dismal, Chloe probably should’ve called in sick. She was a nervous wreck all night waiting for some private detective to walk in the door looking for her.
“Got a late date?”
She turned to the man who sat at the table in the corner. Jeff was a regular at the bar and had been since his wife left him. He wasn’t the type of guy who was looking for solace in a bottle. He just wanted someone to talk to about his wife’s desertion, and for some reason he’d chosen Chloe. Which made her very uncomfortable, especially since she’d found out he was an FBI agent. All she needed was someone from the federal government getting suspicious about her identity. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to ignore the poor guy.
“Excuse me?” she said.
Jeff took a sip of his beer. “You keep looking at the door. I just thought you were expecting someone.”
Obviously she needed to do a better job of hiding her anxiety. “No,” she said. “No date, hot or otherwise.” She finished wiping off the table next to his before she picked up her tray and walked over. “And what about you? Don’t you think that it’s time to start dating again?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m ready. I let one of my friends at the Bureau fix me up with his sister, and it was a disaster. I talked about Shelly all through dinner.”
“Well, that explains why it was a disaster. Women don’t want to hear about past loves.”
“I gathered that after she went to the bathroom and never came back.”
His dejected look had Chloe trying to make him feel better. “Well, it’s her loss. If she had given you a chance, she would’ve realized what a great guy you are. Although I do think that it’s time to forget Shelly and move on, Jeff.”
After only a moment, he nodded. “You’re right. I need to move on. Shelly certainly has. She hasn’t even texted me since she left.”
Chloe wiped the table around his beer. “Which only proves that she’s not a good person and you’re better off without her. I’m sure there are tons of nice women who would love to date a handsome FBI agent.”
He lowered his eyes and fiddled with the damp napkin under his beer bottle. “So what about you? Would you like to go out some time?” He looked up and grinned. “I’ve already told you everything that happened between me and Shelly, so I’ll have to talk about something else.”
Jeff was exactly the kind of guy she should date. He was nice and clean-cut and didn’t look like he had an abusive bone in his body. Unfortunately, she was leaving. And even if she weren’t, her life was too screwed up to add an FBI agent to the mix.
“I’m sorry, Jeff. I can’t.”
“It doesn’t have to be serious,” he rushed on. “We could just go get coffee. Or a drive to Napa Valley.”
Just the mention of the Wine Country made panic well up inside, but before she could decline the offer, a voice spoke from behind her.
“I think the lady said no.”
The smooth Southern drawl had Chloe whirling to find Grayson standing there. He looked very different from the bum she had talked with earlier in the day. He’d shaved his beard to a light dusting of scruff, and his long hair was combed back from his forehead and smoothed behind his ears. He wore a suit, but without a tie, his light lavender dress shirt unbuttoned at the throat. Unlike this afternoon, he looked every bit the billionaire.
“When do you get off?” he asked. Or more like demanded. And the demanding tone had her bristling.
“That’s none of your business.” She hugged the tray to her chest and headed to the three businessmen a couple of tables away. But as she took their empty glasses and asked if they wanted another round, she could feel Grayson’s penetrating eyes on her. And sure enough, when she headed to the bar to drop off the glasses and place her order, he was sitting on a barstool watching her.
She tried to ignore him, but it proved to be impossible. The intensity of those eyes made her make one blunder after another. She screwed up orders. Brought back the wrong change. And slipped in a puddle of beer that someone had spilled on the floor and landed hard on her butt, breaking three empty margarita glasses when she dropped her tray.
Both Grayson and Jeff got up to help her but, unfortunately, Grayson got to her first. “Are you okay?” He held out a hand.
“Just dandy.” She ignored the hand and glared at him. “What do you want?”
“Rum and coke.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about a drink. Why are you here screwing up my night?”
“We need to talk.” He glanced at Jeff, who hovered over them. “In private.”
She couldn’t help it. She was curious. “Fine.” She got to her feet, careful to avoid the broken glass. “I get off at midnight.”
He nodded. “I’ll be waiting outside.” He pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty on the bar.
“You didn’t have a drink, so you don’t owe anything.”
A smirky smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Just call it a tip for entertainment.” As he turned to leave, Jeff snapped his fingers.
“That’s it! I’ve been sitting there racking my brain trying to place you, and it finally hit me. You’re one of those panty billionaires. The one who paints pictures of naked women.”
Grayson looked at him, his eyes devoid of any emotion. “You’re wrong. I don’t paint.” He turned and walked out.
Why that statement should bother Chloe, she didn’t know. It shouldn’t make any difference to her if Grayson could paint. And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not as she continued to serve drinks and fend off Jeff’s attempts to get her to go out with him, and not while she helped close up the bar. She finally stopped thinking about it when the owner informed her that she owed him twenty dollars of her tips for the broken margarita glasses. Which had her a wee bit snappy when she stepped outside and found Grayson leaning against the hood of a gray Bugatti sports car.