Inked in the Steel City Series (34 page)

“Actually, that’s why I called – I’m not going to be coming home tomorrow.”

Jesus
. He’d only been teasing. His heart slammed against his chest, then slowed, succumbing to a heavy certainty. It was like his brain was telling his heart
I told you so
. “Everything all right?” He managed to think rationally enough to ask, to make sure she wasn’t stranded or hurt somehow.

“Yeah, everything’s great. I managed to change my scheduled flight, and I’m paying the difference plus the cost of another night in the hotel out of my own pocket. It’ll be worth the money – I want another day to see the city.”

“You’re only staying one extra night?”

“That’s right. I made friends with another photographer today – one who shoots regularly for Marc St. Pierre – and she invited me to spend the day with her tomorrow.”

“Sounds fun.” His shock ebbed, but a deep-seated sense of caution remained. “What are you two going to do?”

“We’re stopping by her studio, going out to lunch and to a really cool framing place in SoHo. I’m going to buy a nice frame to use for a wedding portrait of Mina and Eric – it’ll be a gift.” She sighed. “This place does
museum
quality framing jobs, Jed. I don’t have a print with me, of course, so I’ll just be buying an empty frame, but it should still be amazing.”

Despite the heavy feeling in the pit of his chest, he couldn’t help but smile a little over her passion for photo frame shopping, of all things. “Hope you have a good time. Still need a ride home from the airport day after tomorrow?”

“Only if it won’t be too much trouble for you. If you’ll be with a client, I can see if Mina’s free, or take a cab home.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there. What time does your flight come in?”

“Six-thirty.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad you’ll be picking me up. I miss you, you know.” A breathy sound came from her end of the connection, and it sent a slow frisson creeping down Jed’s spine.

“Yeah. Spending the night in that big haunted house just isn’t the same without you.”

“You slept there alone?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

“Last night. Going back tonight, too.”

“Wow, you’re brave.”

“Just facing my fears.”

She laughed, but he hadn’t been joking. Spending the night alone in the place in Allegheny West had very much been about facing ghosts. Not the kind that walked through walls and whispered in your ear, but the ones in his head.

* * * * *

Karen reached out and touched one finger gently to the side of a thick picture frame, tracing the curve of a golden lily with the tip of one finger. Her grandmother would love everything about it – the way the burnished gold made it look antique, the way the ornate carvings scrolled from corner to corner in the shapes of dozens of lilies. She—

Realization hit Karen like an arrow to the heart, sharp and piercing. Her grandmother
would have
loved the picture frame. She lowered her hand and moved on, searching for something that would suit Mina and Eric’s style.

“These are gorgeous,” said Miranda, the photographer Karen had hit it off with the day before. “Very modern, but still unique, you know?”

Karen nodded. “I like this one.” She reached out and touched silver, thinking of Jed. How many times had he been hit by those sharp little arrows, those split second realizations that reminded you of a sickening truth you’d somehow forgotten?

He was strong, though, and she endeavored to be strong too as she glanced back at the lily frame and attempted to appreciate it for what it was, for what her grandmother would have liked about it. She didn’t want to stop thinking about her just because it hurt – truly forgetting her would be the worst tragedy of all, something she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for.

“It’s nice.” Miranda eyed the frame, giving it an appreciative nod. “Think the bride-to-be would like it?”

In the end, Karen decided that yes, Mina would like it. A salesperson carried it to the register, wrapped it carefully and surrendered the bag after a swipe of Karen’s credit card.

Moments later, Karen and Miranda were out the door, on their way to a place Miranda promised Karen she’d love.

Inside one of Miranda’s favorite restaurants near the frame gallery, Karen placed her shopping bag beneath the table.

“So,” Miranda eventually said, smiling over a bowl of soup, “when are you coming back to New York?

“I don’t know,” Karen said, a little wave of surprise rippling over the surface of her mind as she paused with a spoonful of French onion halfway to her mouth. “I don’t have any plans to return right now, why?”

“You want to be a fashion photographer, don’t you? That’s why you entered the contest. Well, it’s not like you’re going to make a name for yourself shooting fashion in Pittsburgh. That’d be like trying to fish in the desert – pointless.”

Karen mulled the analogy over and nodded. The Steel City was full of bridges, not runways. The fashion work was in New York. Everyone knew that.

“So, you’ve got talent,” Miranda continued. “But talented photographers are a dime a dozen. More importantly, you’ve got opportunity – give it a few months, and you’ll have Marc St. Pierre tear sheets. It’s tough to make it in fashion, in New York – but you know that. Point is, play your cards right and you’ll be a fresh – dare I say
exciting
– new arrival on the fashion scene instead of just another hopeful with a camera.”

“I guess I hadn’t looked at it that way – I hadn’t considered
moving
here.”

“Why not?”

Karen dipped her spoon back into her bowl, stirring its steaming contents as she bit down on her inner lip.

“Look,” Miranda said, “I grew up in a wide spot in the road in Georgia. I
know
how daunting the idea of striking out on your own here can be. But Marc St. Pierre – hell, I felt like I’d just discovered the Holy Grail the first time I booked a shoot with them. And it took me a long time to work my way up to landing that job. I spent years sharing an apartment the size of a postage stamp with two other women and eating peanut butter sandwiches most days.”

Karen finally lifted a spoonful of the soup to her mouth. As it slid down her throat, spicy and hot, she tried to imagine living in the city, devoting her life to shooting gazelle-like models in designer clothing – or at least, trying to land jobs where she could do just that.

“What I’m really trying to say is that if you do want to give it a real try here, I can help. You saw my studio – it doesn’t come cheap. I rent it out to other photographers on a fairly regular basis to help recoup the cost. If you move here, we can negotiate a rental agreement so that you’ll have a place to shoot indoors when needed, right off the bat. It wouldn’t be free, but I wouldn’t price-gouge you, either.” She grinned broadly from across the table. “I’d even make sure you don’t get stuck on an all peanut butter diet.”

Karen’s imagination soared at the thought of shooting inside Miranda’s studio on a regular basis. It was no wonder she rented it out – it was a dream facility in the city, with its amazing location, wide-open space, high ceiling and abundant natural lighting provided by huge windows that showcased the Manhattan skyline. And it was stocked with top of the line equipment – stuff that Karen’s own supplies back in Pittsburgh paled in comparison to.

“It’s your decision, obviously,” Miranda said, “and I’ve made my offer, so I won’t pressure you anymore. But I really think you owe it to yourself to make the most of the opportunity you’ve been granted and give New York a try.”

* * * * *

Jed’s heart beat just a little too quickly as he guided the Charger down a nighttime street, leaving the airport behind. When Karen had emerged into the baggage claim area, she’d embraced him, and when they’d slipped into the car together, she’d given him a sultry smile that had thrown him into the grip of memories of their night together in the Allegheny West house.

Now he drove, expectation tingling in his veins as a sense of apprehension weighed him down. Karen had been quiet since they’d entered the car – a rarity, for her. “How was the rest of your trip?”

She beamed. “Great. I found the perfect frame for Mina and Eric. It’s in my suitcase, but I’ll show you when we get to my place.”

When they arrived at her apartment, she invited him in first thing, then embraced him again before pulling a silver picture frame out of her luggage.

“Looks great,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

She set it on the kitchen table, reverently re-wrapping it in several layers of paper. “There’s something I want to talk to you about, Jed,” she said when she faced him again.

A weight tumbled from somewhere in his throat to the pit of his gut as a sense of the inevitable settled over him. “Okay. What is it?” He could handle this – he had to. She deserved New York; she deserved the best of everything, including the best possible chance for her career.

CHAPTER 8

“I want you to tattoo me.”

It took a few moments for her words to settle in. “You do?” He searched her face, meeting her unblinking eyes and examining them for any trace of a joke, any evidence that he’d misheard.

“Yes.” She stood with her hands clasped together, her eyes wide. “Will you?”

“Of course.” A fierce wave of emotion flashed through him at the thought of his gloved hands against her uninked skin, his needle poised to leave a permanent mark.

She breathed a sigh, her shoulders relaxing. “Oh, good. I thought you’d laugh at me.”

“Why would I?”

“Because, you know, I’m afraid of needles, and I’ve always said there was no way I could get a tattoo.”

He knew that, of course, and the knowledge only made it that much more gratifying that she apparently trusted him to tattoo her. “I’m not going to laugh. What made you change your mind?”

“I want a tattoo to honor my grandmother. When I was in that frame gallery in SoHo, I found a frame she would’ve loved. It had lilies worked into the design – stargazer lilies were her favorite flower. She loved them. She used to pick up a little bunch from the florist every week and display them in a vase in her kitchen, and I would always give her a huge bouquet of them on her birthday.”

“So you want a tattoo of those flowers?”

She nodded. “I thought of it a little while after I left the frame place. I know that was only yesterday, but I’m sure I want it.” She exhaled, eyes flashing. “Even if that means I have to voluntarily come into contact with a needle.”

“And you need a design?”

She nodded again.

“Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil I can use?”

“Yeah.” She retrieved both items and surrendered them, looking curious.

“Can you bring up a picture of a stargazer lily on your phone?”

“Sure.” She brought one up, and he took the phone, studied the image for a few seconds and then laid the device on the table where he could see the screen easily.

“Where do you want the tattoo?”