What was Austin doing in Royal? Had he come to find her? Surely not. He’d been with Gus Slade. If she put two and two together, maybe Austin was the architect Gus had hired to build the fancy stage and outdoor annex. How did Gus even know Austin?
Who could she ask? Alexis? Then again, did she really want to draw attention to the fact that she was interested in Austin? She wasn’t. Not at all.
Liar.
What made the situation even worse was the expression on Austin’s face when he saw her. He’d been equal parts flabbergasted and horrified. Not the look a woman wanted to see from a man she’d spent the night with.
And see what he’d done to her, damn it...now he had her ending sentences with prepositions.
When the coast was clear, she wiped her brush and gathered her supplies. Ordinarily, she went inside the club to a utility sink and cleaned up before going home. Today, she couldn’t take that chance.
For the rest of the afternoon and all night long, she fretted. She’d spent the last eight weeks trying to forget about her one-night-stand cowboy. Now he had appeared in Royal, completely out of the blue, and looking about ten times as gorgeous and sexy as she remembered. If he really was the new architect, she was going to be forced to see him repeatedly.
Her body thought that was a darned good idea. Heat sizzled through her veins. But her brain was smarter and more sensible. This was a bad development. Really bad.
The following morning, when the sun came up on another beautiful October day, she wanted to pull the covers over her head and not have to think. Still, the memories came rushing back. An intimate hotel room. A rugged cowboy. Two naked bodies. What was she going to do? With yummy Austin in town, there would be hell to pay if her secret came out.
More than ever, she needed to get her own place to live. With the money Alexis was paying her for the murals, there would soon be enough in her modest bank account for first and last month’s rent on a decent apartment. In three and a half years, she would receive her inheritance from her grandmother and thus be able to start her after-school art program. Everybody took dance lessons and played sports—Brooke wanted to build a small studio where dreamy kids like she had been could dabble in clay and paint to their heart’s content.
All she had to do in the meantime was find a permanent job, any job, that would give her financial independence from her parents. That task was tough in a town where the Goodmans pulled strings right and left. Brooke had been unofficially blacklisted time and again.
Her parents’ behind-the-scenes manipulations were humiliating and infuriating. And all because they wanted her to be the kind of high-powered entrepreneurs they were.
It was never going to happen. Brooke liked who she was. It wasn’t that she lacked ambition. She simply saw a different path for herself.
Fortunately, her parents were both early risers and left for the office at the crack of dawn. Brooke was able to enjoy her toast and coffee in peace. Her stomach rebelled at the thought of food this morning, probably because she was so upset about the prospect of seeing Austin again.
What was she supposed to say to him?
Could she simply avoid him altogether?
She was small. Maybe she could hide.
When she couldn’t put it off any longer, she drove into town. Her parents’ Pine Valley mansion had been her childhood home. She’d left it only to go to college and grad school. Now it had become a prison. Her whole family was seriously broken in her estimation. Her brother Jared’s poor fiancée had been forced to run away from her own wedding to escape.
Brooke was still trying to find a way out. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. But she was at least working on a plan.
When she arrived at the club, she parked one street over and gathered up the canvas totes that contained her supplies. At least she knew what Austin’s truck looked like. So far, she didn’t see it anywhere around. Maybe he was at his hotel doing whatever architects did on their laptops before they started a new job.
Hopefully she could get her murals done before he showed up again. Didn’t a project like this require site prep? Surely an architect wasn’t involved in that phase.
Her heart slugged in her chest. This was exactly why she had gone to another town for her secret fling. She hadn’t wanted to face any ramifications of her indiscretion afterward.
Remembering that night was both mortifying and deeply arousing. What thoughts had gone through his head when he woke up and found her missing? She had second-guessed that decision a thousand times.
In the end, though, it had been the only choice. She and Austin had been strangers passing in the night. Joplin wasn’t home for either of them. It had been the perfect anonymous scenario.
Except now it wasn’t.
To access the gardens, it was first necessary to go through the club. She greeted the receptionist and made her way down the corridor hung with hunting trophies and artifacts. Both of her parents had been members here for years. The building was familiar.
What wasn’t so familiar was the sensation of apprehension and excitement. She told herself she didn’t want to see Austin Bradshaw again. But the lie wasn’t very believable, even in her head.
It was almost anticlimactic to arrive in the gardens and find herself completely alone. The landscaping crew came and went at odd hours. This morning, no one was around to disturb Brooke’s concentration. Up until now, she had enjoyed the time to focus on her creations, to dream and to let her imagination run wild. Today, the solitude felt disconcerting.
Doggedly, she uncapped her paints and planned the section she would work on next. It was a large-scale, multilevel task. Instead of two long gray stucco walls at right angles to one another, Alexis had charged Brooke with creating a whimsical extension of the gardens. When spring came and the flowers bloomed, there would be no delineation between the actual gardens and Brooke’s fantasy world.
The work challenged her creativity and her vision. Not only did she have to paint on a very large canvas, but she had to think in bold, thematic strokes. It was the most ambitious project she had ever tackled, and she was honored that Alexis trusted her to handle the makeover.
When the stage was built, the new landscaping was complete and Brooke’s paintings were finished, the outdoor area would be spectacular. It felt good to be part of something that would provide enjoyment to so many people.
She selected the appropriate brush and tucked it behind her ear. Soon she would need a taller ladder, but for now, she was going to finish the portion she had abandoned yesterday. It was a border of daisies and baby rabbits that repeated along one edge of her mural.
Grabbing the metal frame that held four small paint pots, she climbed up three steps and cocked her head. White first. Then the yellow centers.
“Are you avoiding me, Brooke?”
The voice startled her so badly she flung paint all over herself and a huge section of blank wall and the grass below. “Austin,” she cried.
He took her by the waist, lifted her and set her on the ground. “So you do know who I am.” He smirked. “Yesterday, I wasn’t so sure.”
She scowled at him, trying not to notice the way sunlight picked out strands of gold in his hair without his hat. “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t tell Gus how we met.”
Austin’s lips quirked in the kind of superior male smile that made her want to smack him. “Most people would have come up with a polite lie.”
“I’m a terrible liar,” she said.
“I’ll have to remember that. It might come in handy.”
The intimate light in his warm brown eyes and the way he looked at her as if he were remembering every nanosecond of their night together made heat curl in her sex. “Why are you here,