Of course, Xavier hadn’t been the first jerk to cross her path. That was Gary Billings, art dealer to the stars, who turned out to be married Gary, and about the worst art dealer on the West Coast. He hadn’t managed to sell a single piece of her work after nearly eighteen months. True, he didn’t steal anything, but he did lie his ass off the entire time they were together.
So, at twenty-seven, she’d sworn off all men and decided to look after the one who’d never let her down—her father, Ivan. And now that he was slowly returning to good health, she could begin to concentrate on her career again. In the past year, well before Ivan’s stroke, she’d sold several small pieces and had orders for two more, including one for the foyer of the O’Sullivan Hotel in the middle of town. The same hotel owned by Sean O’Sullivan’s family.
Even with his shaggy hair and unshaven jaw, he was to-die-for sexy. He still had the same broad shoulders and loose-limbed frame. And he was still the same guy who’d ignored her completely the last time their paths had crossed. Admittedly, it had been eight years ago, but for her the memory was still there. She’d been back for the Christmas break from college in Denver, visiting her parents, and had brought along her roommate who’d been alone for the holidays because her family was in Europe on vacation. They’d made their way to the bar at the O’Sullivan Hotel for a few laughs and a pitcher of sangria, and he’d walked in with one of his brothers and a couple of friends. She’d heard he’d moved to Los Angeles a few years earlier, but returned a couple of times a year to visit his family.
Back then she’d had a serious crush on him, naively ignoring his wild reputation with women. Not that he’d ever look in her direction. No, rumor had it that Sean O’Sullivan had a type. Tall and thin and blond. Like her friend Carissa—who ended up spending the weekend with him at the hotel. When he’d said hello to Leah at the bar, she had been flattered and hopeful, but quickly realized he was only interested in her tall, willowy friend. Of course, he hadn’t lasted with Carissa. He returned to California three days after that, and Carissa saw him in LA a few weeks later, before the relationship fizzled. She’d lost touch with her friend after college, and the last Leah knew, Carissa had married an investment banker and lived in Texas. It proved to Leah that Sean O’Sullivan was a womanizing jerk.
The years seemed to have changed him, though—he didn’t appear to be the arrogant, commitment phobic playboy who had a different woman in his bed every weekend, because according to her father, he’d rarely ventured out in the evenings since he’d bought the house by the river. Not that Leah had listened to her father’s conversations about his new neighbor with a whole lot of interest. Her fleeting infatuation with Sean O’Sullivan had ended years ago. Still, it irked her that, first, he didn’t recognize her from the picture on the mantel, and second, that she was so forgettable, period.
He’s still shallow and always will be.
“Who is?”
Leah turned from her task of preparing lunch, realizing she had said the words out loud. Her father came into the kitchen, his walking stick clicking on the linoleum, followed by the familiar sound of his shoe scuffing over the floor as his left leg dragged slightly behind him. Ivan Petrovic had a short, trimmed gray beard, glasses and a shiny bald head. Her mother, Sandra, had died five years earlier in a plane crash. Leah had a half brother, David McCall, who was an accountant and lived on his family’s small ranch outside of town with his fiancée and two kids. David’s first wife, Jayne, an accomplished pilot, had been flying the plane that had crashed, killing both herself and Leah and David’s mother on impact.
Leah had grown up in Cedar River until she left for college when she was eighteen. After graduation, she’d made her home base in Aspen and had mostly been happy there, returning to South Dakota for the holidays. But her failed relationship with Xavier had reinforced her desire to move back home to be with closer to family, and for the last year she’d been working at a gallery in Rapid City and teaching an art class at a local technical college. However, when her father had a stroke over a month earlier, Leah knew it was time to come home for good. She wanted to help her dad with his recovery, and suggested she move in with him for a while. It took some convincing—Ivan was proud and independent and didn’t like admitting he needed help. But eventually he agreed, and when he offered her the chance to turn the old shed into a studio, she jumped at the opportunity.
She pushed out a smile and shook her head. “No one, Dad,” she said, answering his question. “I’ve made lunch.”
He gave her one of his lopsided smiles. “Did I hear voices earlier?”
Her back stiffened. “Your neighbor stopped by.”
“Ah... Sean. You didn’t invite him to stay for lunch?” he asked, motioning to the pile of sandwiches on the plate she now carried.
Leah shrugged and placed the plate on the round oak table. “He didn’t seem inclined to hang around.”
Ivan nodded and
