For Joy's Sake. Tara Taylor Quinn

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      No time for the second shower he’d planned before seeing Julie again.

      “Hunter. I thought I’d be the first one here.”

      Either her voice had invaded his brain, along with the images he’d been playing for weeks now, or she was standing behind him.

      He turned slowly, his ready smile pasted on his face. “Then you don’t know me well enough yet,” he told her, immensely relieved to find that in spite of his tardiness, he’d beaten her to the venue. Timeliness mattered to her. He’d figured that out when another board member was late for their first meeting. She’d been gracious. But the way she’d continuously rubbed her hands together while they were waiting had given away her distress.

      He was trained to notice stuff like that.

      Or rather, the psychology degree he’d earned in college, in an effort to better understand people so that he could better know how to please them, had taught him that he needed a class in body language. Which he’d sought outside of his college training.

      “I know you arrive fifteen minutes early for every meeting,” she said, coming toward him. Her long dark hair was pulled back, but the white shirt buttoned up nearly to her throat covered any skin she might have left exposed.

      Hunter swallowed, pretty sure that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Then he shook himself awake. Yeah, Julie Fairbanks had a perfect figure, great features and memorable eyes, but he was a California boy, and he’d had his pick of more beauties than most men met in a lifetime.

      “Ah, but this is a dress rehearsal,” he said, leading her to the stage at the front of the room. He’d reached for her arm, but he’d somehow missed making contact again, just like at the festival. He wondered if she’d avoided his touch this time because she could tell he was sweating. He stopped just short of sniffing his armpit.

      That she would certainly have noticed.

      “Tensions tend to run high when acts come face-to-face for the first time,” he said. “They’re all vying for position in the lineup, while trying to determine which position would be best for them. They’re looking at the venue, determining how to fit their act into the space, assessing stage wing options for props or easy entrances and exits. They’re also finding out who they know, avoiding people they might’ve had words—or relationships—with in the past. Plus, they’re staking their claim to dressing-room space. And they’re doing all this while trying to appear blasé about the whole thing.”

      In Hunter’s world, he and his staff dealt mainly with talent that could make it big, but hadn’t done so yet. Galas like Julie’s could be a chance at a big break. If the right person noticed them. Was impressed by them. Was in the audience at all...

      Usually, with events of this size, there was at least one well-known agent or producer in the audience. He always saw to that. Kept the talent coming. Made the whole evening a win-win. And the level of his talent brought the producers and agents back.

      All of it was in a day’s work for him.

      Not that he expected Julie Fairbanks to know or care about any of that.

      “So, what position would be best for them?” She actually met his gaze as she turned her head to look at him.

      That was a first. Normally their eyes meeting, no matter how hard he tried to make it happen, turned into yet another near miss.

      Blue. Her eyes were blue. He’d known that, of course. His were, too.

      Blue and blue make blue. Crazy thought. From a crazy man. He needed to get a grip fast.

      She’d asked a question. His mind struggled to recall it. Position. Right. She’d asked about position.

      He had a flash of her on the couch in his study with her shirt unbuttoned...

      No. What the hell was wrong with him? Hunter had never looked at a woman he was with and pictured her with her clothes off. Not unless he knew she wanted him to see her with her clothes off.

      Some men did that. Lots of normal men did. Not him.

      Just a rule he’d set for himself after a particularly heated fight between his parents, with his mother accusing his father of mentally undressing some woman at a party. His father had eventually become so riled, he’d admitted to having done that. Hunter, a kid at the time, had been completely sure his mother was wrong, but having heard his father’s admission, he’d made the rule for himself.

      Julie turned those blue eyes on him a second time.

      Position. Oh, yeah.

      “I’m not sure there is a best position in a show like this one,” he said now, more serious than usual as he considered her question. Serious because he had to focus to stay on topic. “First is good since it guarantees you’ll be seen by everyone. But it’s so early in the evening that some folks might not have arrived. People are still eating. Chatting. Catching up. Generally just enjoying themselves. And not worried yet that the evening might end too soon.”

      “Because the first acts are covered in the initial ticket price, no one needs to pay attention or push their buttons to stay. It won’t affect their wallets.”

      “Exactly. It gets more intense, with more people actually watching the show as folks start to really pay attention. They have to decide whether the talent warrants another spend. Some will stay for the duration, just to donate, but a lot won’t. They’ll stay as long as they’re enjoying themselves.”

      “So maybe, for the performers, it’s more about not getting the worst position,” Julie said. “Because if the talent that comes ahead of you isn’t good, you might not get to go on. And even if you do, there’ll be fewer people there watching.”

      “The evening is wearing down at that point. People are usually quiet and watching the stage. Besides, any talent scouts in attendance are going to stay until the end.” At least Hunter’s did. Which was why his shows drew the level of talent they did, and why people paid so much money to attend one of his functions...

      They’d reached the door that led backstage. Holding it for her to precede him, he told himself not to look at the perfectly shaped backside in the black jeans, or notice the way her wedged heels gave height to legs that had been crashing his thoughts for weeks now.

      Still, as she turned toward him, waiting for him to follow, there was something...different about her. Like maybe she’d found the lightness in her step that he’d lost from his. Maybe she’d stolen it from him on Sunday. Yeah, maybe that was it.

      Starting to feel a smile coming on, Hunter got to work.

       CHAPTER SIX

      JULIE HAD THE table set with fruit and fresh flowers, place mats and her favorite breakfast dishes before Colin and Chantel entered the breakfast room Friday morning. The family of three had a housekeeper who also did a lot of the cooking, but Julie had always reserved the right to prepare breakfast. When it had been just her and Colin, she’d needed the promise of time alone with her older brother to get her out of bed in the morning.

      Needed to know that he’d know if she didn’t get up.

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