Commissioned In White (Art of Love Series) Read online

  “Are you kidding me? I am so attracted to the woman I married that every time I’m with her I just want to crawl inside and never come out,” Steve declared. “And now I can do it legally.”

  Will reached out and took the still half-full champagne glass from Steve’s hand. “TMI, Lipton. You’re obviously as tipsy as your bride. Have you eaten?”

  “Who needs food? I’m living on love, my friend,” Steve said, laughing at having embarrassed Will again.

  “Well, I don’t want to hear any more about your love life, so let’s go get some food for my sake,” Will ordered, grabbing Steve’s arm to steer him to the table.

  “You know, I really like you, Larson. Because of you I don’t have to feel guilty anymore about being so freaking happy with Susan. You going to love Jessica forever?” he asked.

  “Yes, Lipton. I love her. You can quit worrying Jessica’s going to end up a shriveled-up old maid. She dated twenty guys between the two of us. Now man up and go be a groom,” Will said, laughing. “You’re as bad as my sons.”

  “I’m forty-four, not that much younger than you,” Steve said, protesting.

  “You handle your drink like a kid,” Will told him, picking up several crackers and pressing them into Steve’s hand. “Eat these and don’t talk until the alcohol wears off some.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” Steve teased, popping the crackers into his mouth one at a time.

  “Can we go home now?” Will whined the question to Jessica as she came back to his side, making the bride and groom both laugh.

  Jessica patted his cheek and sighed. “No—they have to toss the bouquet and the garter, and then they have to cut the cake. Another hour, honey.”

  Will sighed in resignation. “Oh, alright.”

  “Man up, Larson. You have to do this in a few weeks yourself,” Steve told him, highly entertained by the big man’s irritation.

  “Yes, but we’re doing the wedding-lite version,” Will said. “All the commitment ceremony, but with half the traditions that take forever. We’ll be in and out of the church in under an hour.”

  Susan giggled and walked over to fiercely hug a surprised Will. “You really are funny. No wonder Jessica likes you so much.” She pressed her woozy, happy face into Will’s chest, causing him to sigh heavily again and her to giggle more.

  “Uh, Lipton. . .I think your bride needs a hug,” he said to Steve over Susan’s head.

  When she leaned even more intimately into him, Will ended up holding Susan more firmly as he tried to restrain her champagne enthusiastic embrace.

  Shaking his head and grinning, Steve popped a piece of cheese into his mouth and gently unwound a very tipsy Susan from Will. He pulled his wife into his own arms, kissing her temple and murmuring how much he loved her into her ear. Her hands rubbed his back, and slid to his backside to squeeze. When Steve could trust himself to speak over his giddiness, he raised his head and mock glared at an even more embarrassed Will.

  “Go get your own wife,” Steve ordered harshly, fighting not to laugh as he grinned harder at Will’s instant glare back at him.

  Will turned his glare on Jessica. “We need new friends. If I wanted this kind of grief, I’d hang out with my sons.”

  Jessica smiled at the frustration on Will’s face, but also knew he wasn’t really mad. “Sweetie, we are making new friends. That’s why we’re having dinner with Ellen and Luke tonight,” she said dryly, watching Will’s chin drop to his chest.

  She bit her lip to keep from giving in to her amusement.

  “You just had to remind me, didn’t you?” Will protested.

  Jessica let herself laugh then, and held out a cracker to Will. “If you eat, you don’t have to talk to happy drunks.”

  Will took the cracker and popped it into his mouth, not saying another word.

  Jessica stepped into him and hugged hard. But standing there looking at the beaming bride and groom, Jessica ended up battling the now familiar butterflies she got every time she thought about committing herself forever to the man in her arms.

  When the guilt came, she chastised herself for being afraid. On the plus side, she knew Will would always be there for her. The man would absolutely love her until the day she died—probably even after that.

  But on the negative side, she’d have to divorce Will to get rid of him. She couldn’t just get fed up with his macho nonsense and look for another man. Not that Will would ever let her do such a thing. Just the thought that he had that much control over her future sent the butterflies into a mad dance as they tried to escape.

  Oh God, Jessica thought, this whole marriage thing is getting way too real. “I definitely need more champagne,” she said firmly, looking for the fastest way to calm the butterflies before she passed out.

  Chapter 2

  “Are you sick again?” Brooke asked, watching Carrie push the hair back from her face as she walked into the kitchen.

  “I’ve been nauseated since yesterday. I tried the Chinese restaurant down the street from the gallery. I guess the cashew chicken didn’t agree with me,” Carrie said, getting a glass of ice water from the refrigerator. “Please don’t tell Michael. He hovers and worries if I complain about the least little thing. I even hide my menstrual cramps from him.”

  Brooke snorted at the woman’s complaints. She had never received any sympathy for a physical ailment from any male—ever. “Do you even realize how lucky you are?”

  Carrie nodded. “Well aware. Michael is an excellent husband, but he’s not perfect. I tell myself I just have to work around those one or two really annoying things.”

  Brooke laughed as she sipped her coffee. “Do you see Shane much these days? I haven’t seen him since I picked up his drawings. When Reesa showed up, he kicked me out.”

  Grinning, Carrie shook her head and came back to sit at the table. “Not much. Of course, he and Reesa have some adjusting to do. Shane’s given notice at the condo, but they haven’t moved him completely out yet. I think they’re still sneaking away to it now and again to have sex.”

  “I guess you have to be creative with a house full of children. How are they transitioning to being married?” Brooke asked. “They barely knew each other. I still can’t believe they actually made it legal so quickly. I would be scared to marry someone that quickly.”

  Carrie sighed. “No one really knows how it’s working out. I think they have a lot to deal with only having known each other a couple of months. Not that Shane cares, but I have my suspicions that Reesa is still reeling. Oh, she never complains, but when I mention Shane around her, she still has a deer-caught-in-headlights look in her eye.”

  “Weren’t you like that with Michael?” Brooke asked, grinning.

  “Pretty much a basket case,” Carrie admitted on a laugh. “That’s why I took one look at you sitting in my kitchen and thought the worst. On the plus side for them, I don’t think Reesa is nearly as resistant to Shane. She’s in love with him. I think she’s just in shock because it all happened so fast.”

  “Well, that’s understandable. Plus, even if you’re marrying the right man, who wants their wedding to happen in a courtroom in the middle of a custody hearing? I’ve never been overly romantic, but damn—that’s pretty rock bottom on the big white moment scale,” Brooke declared.

  Both women sighed and drifted into silence.

  “I hated my wedding to Michael,” Carrie said finally, breaking the quiet. “I was sick, scared, and absolutely sure I was making the worst mistake of my life, despite having finally confronted the fact I was in love with him and only him. I still don’t know how I ever stood there long enough to actually complete the ceremony. I think Michael in his dark suit cast some lust spell over my common sense.”

  She heard Brooke laughing, but Carrie had to close her eyes and work to push the bad memories away. Never again, she promised herself.

  “Yeah—I remember your wedding too. When Michael was harassing you, I had to practically hit him over the head with the reality of how b
ad off you were for him to get it,” Brooke said. “Both the younger Larson grooms could have done a lot better by their brides.”

  “Well they didn’t get their lack of decorum from Will. Will is a sweetie. I’m sure Jessica and Will’s wedding will be the kind that every woman dreams of having,” Carrie said. “I just wish I didn’t have to go. I’m afraid I’ll get flashbacks and ruin it for them. It’s in the same church.”

  “You’re a stronger woman than that,” Brooke said, laughing. “It’s not Will that worries me—it’s Mom. She’s scared to death. Did she tell you she almost passed out when she saw herself in her dress? She nearly squashed your mother-in-law who tried to catch her when she started falling.”

  Carrie put her head in her hand and laughed. “I heard about it. Now I’m sorry I didn’t go. I’m being a real weenie about all things bridal. At least she didn’t barf on Ellen. That’s what I did.”

  Brooke laughed, imagining Carrie being sick on the meticulously groomed woman. “You know, getting married doesn’t even phase me. I never dreamed of getting married or having babies or any of that. I did dream of finding some great guy who would love me madly, but I’d be just as content not marrying at all. Since I got that from Mom, I understand her reticence to make a legal agreement. Marriage is so not sexy, unless you want a family. Then I guess it’s a good idea.”

  “Or maybe if the guy is very rich and good looking,” Carrie volunteered, her gaze teasing.

  “Or maybe if the guy is absolutely outstanding in bed and it gets better every time,” Brooke pitched in, her own gaze twinkling.

  “Or if you want to make sure other women know the man is committed only to you,” Carrie said firmly, her turquoise gaze thoughtful.

  At that moment, Michael slid the patio door open and stuck his head inside. “What does a hard-working artist have to do to get a cold beer around here?”

  Carrie rose slowly, got a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, popped off the top, and carried it to the door. “See that band on your finger, Michael Larson? It means you’re mine, so don’t forget it.”

  “Okay. No argument from me,” Michael agreed, sneaking a look at Brooke, who only arched a manicured eyebrow. “Have I done something to indicate otherwise?”

  “No. I just felt the need to confirm it,” Carrie said sweetly.

  Michael nodded, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Consider it confirmed then and in front of Brooke as a witness. If I’ve passed the daily devoted husband test, can I have my beer now?”

  Carrie looked at the beer still in her hand with a bit of shock. She held it out to her husband, confused by his knowing look.

  “Good thing I love you even when you’re being crazy,” Michael said, smooching the air, and shaking his head as he slid the patio door closed again.

  “Was he mocking me?” Carrie demanded as she swung back to Brooke.

  “I couldn’t tell,” Brooke said, grinning at the bickering she was trying not to envy. “Michael’s so arrogant about his relationship to you, I’ve started thinking it’s normal.

  “He is mine,” Carrie said, resuming her seat at the table.

  “Good thing you went through with the wedding then,” Brooke said, nodding vigorously as Carrie started to giggle. “It’s a lot harder to control a man when you’re not sleeping with him every night.”

  “Too true,” Carrie said, sipping her ice water and rubbing her belly. “Yuck. No more Chinese food. Are you bringing a date to the gallery grand opening?”

  Brooke shrugged. “I haven’t had a date since I moved here. Shane was supposed to set me up with some guys he knew, but after he found Reesa, that was never going to happen.”

  “Drake’s coming,” Carrie said casually, watching Brooke pull her full height up to sit rigid in the chair. “Why do you tense up every time I say his name? If you like the man, go for it.”

  “I do not like the man,” Brooke denied, using her fingers to quote mark invisible words in the air.

  “He’s. . .” Her mind drifted to thinking about Drake saying she was beautiful and asking to paint her. “He’s way too old,” she said finally, bringing her attention back to an amused Carrie, who had narrowed her gaze.

  “Too old for what?” Carrie prodded. “I’ve seen him in jeans and all dressed up for teaching. If he looks that good in clothes, imagine how good he would look without them. He might be the father of a teenager, but he looks better than men lots younger than him.”

  “What was all that mine stuff about a few minutes ago?” Brooke asked, choking on a laugh.

  “I’m just saying the man is fine, as in you know damn well what I mean, Dr. Daniels,” Carrie protested, laughing. “Drake is practically Michael, except nicer and more well-mannered. He’s not for me of course, but I have to tell you, Drake could use someone fun like you in his life. Brandon told me his father never dates or goes out, no matter who does the asking. Doesn’t breaking him in again sound appealing?”

  “No, it sounds boring,” Brooke said, lying through her teeth as she was wondering why a good-looking man like Drake didn’t have women lined up.

  Truth was—and Brooke studied the truth for a living—she liked the art professor a little too much. Not many men in her life had ever made her hands sweat or her heart pound. If she spent any more time with him, Dr. Drake Barrymore might be severely dangerous to her mental state. And she certainly wasn’t planning to get serious with someone that much older than she was.

  “Sorry—just not interested,” Brooke said firmly.

  “I think that’s going to be your loss then,” Carrie advised, pretending to ignore Brooke. “Maybe I’ll hook Drake up with my sister Darla.”

  “Darla? Are you serious? Isn’t she only in her twenties?” Brooke protested, frowning. “He’s twice her age.”

  Carrie shrugged. “So? I’m not suggesting she marry the man. Good grief, Brooke. Don’t you feel sorry for him not dating? Darla won’t hold his attention long, and also she lives in Bowling Green. But she’s lots of fun and might bring Drake out of his shell a bit when she visits.”

  “Out of his shell? The man offered to paint me nude,” Brooke said, her tone tight. “I think he’s out enough.”

  Carrie was shaking her head. “You must have misunderstood. Drake hasn’t painted a nude since his wife died. Whatever he said that day was probably just nerves talking.”

  “You are so naïve,” Brooke told her. “How do you thrive in business so well?”

  “I am not naïve,” Carrie denied hotly. “I am trusting. And people generally live up or down to your expectations of them.”

  Brooke snorted. “Maybe. But Barrymore is not that fine,” she complained.

  Carrie nodded slowly but firmly as she held Brooke’s nervous gaze. “Yes he is. Drake is absolutely fine. I think you should come alone to the opening.”

  Now it was Brooke’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even have a home yet. Right now, I’m thinking about moving into Shane’s condo. Anybody ever call you stubborn?”

  “Sure. All the time,” Carrie admitted, completely unrepentant about it. “I take it as a compliment, though I prefer the term ‘persistent’ instead.”

  Michael slid the door open again, this time with an empty bottle in his hand. “Can you make the next one water, honey?”

  “Husbands are so much trouble. I swear I’m never getting married again,” Carrie declared, laughing as she went to the refrigerator for the second time.

  “Damn right you’re not getting married again,” Michael said, smiling at the cold bottle of water and then at his wife. “I’m keeping you. You’re mine.”

  Carrie nodded, not at all surprised to hear him say it. “So it would seem,” she said flatly, handing Michael the water bottle and taking the empty beer bottle from him.

  “Besides,” Michael said. “You’ve been so much hassle to train, I don’t have enough energy to start over with a nicer model.”

  Grinning, he slid the door closed in front of her
furious face before Carrie could say a word in rebuttal.

  “See? He’s definitely not nice,” Carrie announced, looking at her husband as he worked. “But he’s also not boring. I never saw myself as stupid, but I’m definitely dumb as a rock about that man.”

  “You two make my head hurt,” Brooke complained, rising from her chair. “Boring Barrymore is looking better after a couple hours with you and Michael. Skip Shane’s book. You two should have your own reality show. You’d make a fortune.”

  “Wish I had thought of that before we sunk a fortune into the gallery. Now I have to make it successful,” Carrie said on a laugh. “Come alone and leave with Drake. My instincts say you won’t be sorry.”

  “You’re just saying that because you think I can’t come up with a better date,” Brooke teased. “But I will keep Barrymore in mind as a backup plan. Okay?”

  “I’m telling you—you won’t be sorry,” Carrie said with a smile.

  ***

  “Zach and I are going to drop off the rest of the donations downtown and then I’m running him to the school for his game,” Shane said, sighing at the ever present mountain of laundry folded on the bed. “We need a better system for clothes management. I swear you spend three or four hours a day doing laundry.”

  “That’s probably true, but it won’t wash itself,” Reesa said on a laugh. “So is the garage completely cleaned out?”

  “Yes. After Dad and Jessica get moved into their new house, he’s going to come by and help me insulate the door. I think the least expensive answer to sealing out the rest of the cold is to hang large sheets on hospital track mounted to the ceiling,” Shane said.

  “I like it,” Reesa said, nodding in approval. “Are you going to be able to divide the space enough to make a work area big enough for your drafting table?”

  Shane nodded. “I think so.”

  “Next thing we tackle is the closet in here so you don’t have to keep sharing Zack’s. I need to go through my stuff and make some room. A lot of my dress clothes can be donated since I won’t need so many anymore,” Reesa said, thinking aloud even as she mentally thought about how much work it would be. Maybe she’d recruit Jillian and Chelsea to help.