“This is Melanie Laurent,” Jared says, making introductions as he and Nick shake hands and Avery greets me with a hug as if we’re already friends.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell them.
Avery smiles. “You, too, Melanie. I understand you’re friends with Evelyn Beckham.”
I’m not sure how she knows that, but I suspect the brief look exchanged between Jared and Nick helps explain it. “Eve’s my best friend. We’ve known each other for years.”
“Then you probably know she’s designing the lingerie for my upcoming wedding and honeymoon in a few months.”
I nod. “I’ve seen some of the pieces. They’re absolutely gorgeous.”
“They are. Eve’s designs have blown me away.” She gives me a conspiratorial smile. “I have photos from our last fitting on my phone, if you’d like to see them.”
“Hold on,” Nick interrupts, one black brow winging up. “Why have I not seen these photos?”
Avery pivots toward him, placing her palm on his chest. The huge diamond on her engagement ring catches the light, sparkling like a star on her finger. “If you see them before our wedding night, it’ll ruin the surprise.”
He makes a low, appreciative sound in the back of his throat. “Seeing them early won’t ruin a thing for me. I’ll still be the lucky bastard who gets them off you.”
Their heat is almost palpable. So is the depth of their love. It radiates between them as they look at each other, a thousand silent promises in that brief moment their eyes hold.
At my side, I feel Jared’s hand brush mine. That subtle stroke of his fingers is our own private communication. That’s all it takes for my senses to quicken, every fiber of me tuned solely to him. When I glance over and meet his gaze, the connection sends a spiral of longing through me.
“Have you been to the rec center before, Melanie?” Avery asks, her attention returned to me.
“Um, no. This is my first time.”
“Then, follow me. Nick and I will give you a tour on our way to the art center.”
The four of us set off together, Avery leading the way and pointing out all of the fascinating details and thoughtfulness that went into the facility’s design.
“Nick wanted to create a true gathering place for the kids of the community,” she tells us as we progress from one end of the modern, beautifully laid out building to the other. “The goal was to offer not only a place for them to come and relax or exercise their bodies, minds, and imagination, but also provide a safe shelter for the ones with nowhere else to go.”
I nod, awestruck by the care that went into every aspect of the center, from the motivational words of encouragement and strength that decorates each room and common area, to the spare-no-expense equipment and supplies.
“I grew up dirt-poor,” Nick adds, a surprising statement coming from a man who built one of the most formidable business empires in the country, if not the world. “For kids like me, having somewhere to go, somewhere safe, could’ve meant the difference between having a reason to live or just praying to make it out of a bad situation alive.”
I remember that Jared explained his feelings regarding the center’s role in similar terms. I could tell then that he was reflecting on his own past, too. He’s gone still beside me while his friend speaks, and I wonder how much these two powerful, wealthy men had to overcome to get where they are now.
I sense it took some courage for Dominic Baine to reveal this much of his personal life and struggles, particularly to me, someone he doesn’t know. I don’t have to wonder where he gets his strength.
Avery gives him a gentle, yet proud look. “And now you’ve given that chance to hundreds of kids, Nick. You’re making a big difference, not just here with this first center, but with all the others you’ve built since.”
Jared nods. “I think it’s a great idea to expand the concept nationally. Hell, take it worldwide.”
Avery’s blond brows lift. “Does that mean you’re ready to sign on to help bring art programs to all our centers?”
He chuckles. “Like I’ve told you, I’m on board for whatever funding or advice you need. You want additional artists to commit to lectures and instruction? I’ll make it happen for you.”
“There’s one artist in particular who’s proving to be quite the challenge,” Avery replies, slanting him a wry look. Then she glances at me. “I’ve been working on him for months, trying to persuade him to come in and teach sometime. We have some really gifted students in the classes, and I think they could learn a lot from Jared. Besides, the kids adore him.”
“I’m not surprised.” I glance at him, unable to curb the warmth I feel toward him.
I’m not about to comment on the idea of Jared instructing a class. As wonderful as I think he’d be, I won’t add to the tension I feel coming off him right now. He’s obviously close to Nick and Avery, but I know they’re unaware of the neurological disease he’s been grappling with the past couple of years.
It’s a secret he entrusted to me, and I’ll keep it for him as long as he wants me to.
I’ll protect it, and him.
I know he hears that promise, even though I don’t speak it aloud. Our hands brush again, and this time he threads his fingers through mine.
“Let’s have a look at the new classroom equipment,” he says, his deep voice casual and nonchalant, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to be holding my hand in front of his friends.
We follow Nick and Avery to a large art classroom that’s currently in use by a dozen teenage kids. Bright and spacious, it’s set up with easels and workstations for twice as many students, with skylights overhead and lots
