The oddest thing was Fernsby, who was getting in on the conversation, offering his services in any way possible. Now that Troy thought about it, at any of the barbecues or family events, Fernsby was right there in the midst of all those Maverick babies.
Michaela, on the other hand, stood slightly apart. Did that mean she didn’t have baby fever? There was so much he needed to learn about her.
Finally, as Smith and Valentina moved on to do more mingling, Susan tucked her hand in the crook of Flo’s elbow. Her eyes lit with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind if I steal your mother away.” Then she beamed at Flo. “We need to talk clothes. I can see my grandbabies dressed in your beautiful creations.” And she carried Flo away.
Fernsby said, “Your mother has very admirable qualities.” Then he bowed slightly to Michaela. “But I must attend the buffet. I’d promised to return with an assortment of provisions for—” He shot Troy a look that said he’d been quite besieged. “—your family.”
Then he left them too. For the first time, Troy was alone with Michaela in the crowd.
“Since my mom is with Susan Spencer,” Michaela said, a bit too sternly for his liking, “don’t you think it’s time to introduce me to Gabby so we can get on with our deal?”
His gut screamed, No, no, no. He wanted her to himself for a little while longer.
She waited expectantly, and it wasn’t as though he could admit he wanted more time alone with her. So he said almost ungraciously, “Fine, but you’ll have to meet the whole family because, according to Fernsby, they’re all in that room.” He pointed to the large archway through which Fernsby had first appeared.
She smiled thinly at him. “I don’t have any problem meeting your family.”
He eyed her. “They can be intimidating.” That wasn’t true, but maybe she’d think twice about staying out here with him.
She snorted, and he found it charming. “You’ve introduced me to all manner of intimidating people tonight.” She spread her hands. “Do I look intimidated?”
She didn’t. In that sexy dress, she looked like nothing could intimidate her. Thank God his brothers were already attached.
Overhead lights showcased the paintings in the room, which were all as amazing as the ones in the front room. Gareth Tate painted landscapes, flowers, and ocean views, but most incredible were his portraits. They were all a little off—nothing grotesque, but a cheekbone pulled out a little too far, eyes reaching a little too high on the forehead. And those anomalies were what made the paintings so fascinating. Sometimes Michaela couldn’t at first see what was out of place, only that something wasn’t quite right.
She wondered if he’d picked out the models’ most perfect feature and altered that.
The Harrington clan—she recognized them from the photos she’d looked up online after meeting Troy—clustered around partitions set up in the middle of the room, paintings hanging centered in each one.
Clay Harrington groused, “Is that really me?”
A beautiful redhead, very tall in her spiked high heels, said, “For God’s sake, Clay, of course that’s you. I’d know that cocky smile.”
Clay snapped back, “I don’t smile like that. That’s some weird manic grin.”
The redhead—Michaela recognized her as Troy’s older sister Ava—raised her hands in the air. Which said it all.
Another tall, dark-haired man, so like Troy that they could be twins, slung his arm around Clay’s shoulders. This was Dane, the eldest of the clan. “Gareth definitely paints ’em like he sees ’em.”
His hand on Michaela’s arm as if he couldn’t let her go, Troy muscled his way through to see the painting. Then he laughed. “Oh my God, bro, that is so you. It’s not the Joker’s smile, it’s your smirk.”
Clay grumbled under his breath.
But the painting looked exactly like him—like all the Harrington men—except for that mouth. The smirk was a bit Joker-like.
It was obvious that Gareth Tate saw Clay Harrington as a joker. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
When Troy broke into the laughter, saying, “Hey, everyone, I’d like you to meet Michaela Killian,” suddenly she was the one being spotlighted.
He went around the group, introducing everyone. She’d already met Clay and Saskia. Ava stood with Ransom Yates, whose proprietary hand clasped hers. A little older, probably mid-forties, he was as devilishly attractive as the Harringtons and the Mavericks. The gossip magazines had caught the celebrity chef together with Ava more often than not in the last few months.
Dane shook her hand, then introduced the beautiful woman next to him. “Cammie Chandler.” He slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight against him. While Ava’s red hair was deep and eye-grabbing, Cammie’s was a lovely rose gold.
Dane said with a smile, “Cammie is my right-hand everything.” By the glitter in his eyes, Michaela knew he meant everything.
Nope, these Harringtons didn’t need her help at all.
Except the only single woman in the group. Michaela held out her hand. “You must be Gabby. I’ve heard so much about you.” Troy shot her a look, which she ignored.
