Hummingbird Lake by Emily March Page A

watched the women go, his gaze dipped to the swing of Sage’s hips while his lips twitched with a smile. He sipped his champagne and wandered in the opposite direction, thinking he’d take a closer look at these fairies of hers.
    The majority of her paintings sported tags marking them as sold. Appreciating that success, he lifted his glass in silent toast to her marketing acumen, then studied the work. He’d give her an A+ on effective use ofcolor and texture, an A on composition, an A- on originality. But where was the emotion? Where was the energy?
    The Sage Anderson he knew could do better than this.
    He moved closer to one work and read the label. Pixies at Play . How ridiculous was that? What was the difference between a pixie and a fairy anyway?
    Not that he had anything against fantasy. Colt liked a good fantasy as much as the next man, but this work simply didn’t do it for him. He studied the painting in front of him, noted the tiny eyes and little wings peeking out from behind a pink hibiscus flower, and shook his head. Maybe it’s a girl thing .
    Or maybe painting fluff is how she copes . “Hmm,” he murmured to himself. Interesting idea.
    Turning away from the paintings, he glanced around the room looking for both Sage and Melody. The crowd had thinned out in the few minutes they’d been here. He glanced at his watch. Only fifteen minutes left if they kept to the advertised time.
    He didn’t see the guest of honor, but he did spy Melody conversing with an older couple. He wandered over to join her, and she introduced him to a local oilman and his wife. Colt learned that the couple already owned two paintings by Sage Anderson and had purchased another here tonight. “I smile every time I look at an Anderson,” the oilman said. “In this day and age, smiles are something to value, don’t you think?”
    “I can’t argue with that,” Colt said, meaning it. That was the second “smile” comment he’d heard. Maybe he should give his position a bit more thought.
    They made small talk for a few more minutes, and then the other couple took their leave. Melody turned to Colt and said, “I probably should be going soon, too.”
    “All right. Why don’t we track down the elusive artist and say goodnight?”
    It hadn’t escaped Colt’s notice that while Sage continued to work the room, she managed to avoid whatever section he occupied. He wished she hadn’t heard him express his reaction toward her work, but at the same time, her hostility intrigued him. Challenged him.
    He positioned their approach so that Sage couldn’t see them coming and scoot away. Eavesdropping on her conversation, he discovered that she, too, was staying in a downtown hotel. Well, now. That’s convenient .
    He smothered his grin when Sage turned toward them and her smile momentarily faltered. Melody said, “I need to get home, but I wanted to tell you I’m so glad to have met you. I would love to own a painting of yours someday, and that I absolutely plan on visiting your gallery next time we’re in Colorado.”
    “Thank you so much,” Sage replied. “It’s been lovely to meet you, too, and I do hope to see you in Eternity Springs.”
    She once again favored Colt with one of those fake smiles. “Have a good trip back to Washington, Rafferty.”
    “Why, thank you, Sage. I so appreciate your good wishes.”
    Colt took her hand, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it. “It’s been a revelation.”
    She snatched her hand back, and Colt halfway expected to see her wipe it off on her dress. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he and Melody made their way back to her car.
    “That was entertaining,” the lady observed as she slipped her key into the ignition. “I am so glad you accepted our speaking invitation, Colt. For many reasons.”
    “I take it as a personal challenge never to bore my dinner dates,” he drawled. Melody laughed and pulled out onto the road, and Colt added, “Seriously, though, I appreciatehaving