discussionsand socializing with art scholars from all over the country.”
“Where is it?”
“California.”
“When do you get back?”
“Next Tuesday on the red-eye. I’ll probably sleep during the day.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “I can make myself free on Tuesday night.”
“Perfect.” She touched his arm, and his muscles leapt. “I’ll cook you dinner.”
“I’d like that.”
“Aroundseven.”
“Yeah. See you then.”
Elizabeita turned back to her computer. She forwarded the email to security, then tried to think about something else. Nick had seemed so anxious to see her, she’d totally forgotten about the possible threat. He was good for her.
Chapter 7
The next morning, Nick was still cursing himself for the slip of his tongue with Elizabeita yesterday. There was no reason in hell a workman should be privy to the emails. He’d had to ask her out to distract her. He knew, he
knew
, he shouldn’t be involved with her. His concentration on his job was shot when he was with her. He should be glad that she was going toCalifornia.
Except that he missed her already and she’d left only last night. Hell! His emotions were a mass of contradictions, and that had never happened to him. Things had been easy with Angie. The relationship had progressed normally to its natural conclusion. He didn’t tie himself in knots over women. But with Elizabeita, time together had been a roller coaster out of control.
Theintrospection didn’t stop him from checking his texts, though, to see if she’d contacted him.
She had.
Arrived safely. I slept on the plane. Workshops today on Paul Klee, Piet Mondrian and de Kooning. I’m sending a picture of one of the latter’s paintings.
He opened the attachment. What on earth?
It looks like a robot with breasts.
She sent back,
Do you like breasts, Mr. Caseman?
I like yours
.
See? He couldn’t control himself around her even on the phone. Thankfully she’d had to leave for the breakfast, so he stuck his cell in his pocket and tried to banish her from his mind.
Ellen greeted him at Gallery 12. “Hi, there.” She smiled at him. “Glad you’re here. So are the interns.”
“You picking up the slack for Elizabeita?” he asked innocently.
Her eyeswent from warm to glacial in seconds. “I wouldn’t call it that. I’ve been working here almost three times as long as she has.”
“Yeah, sure.” Ellen’s reaction was something to analyze later. “So, we should make a lot of progress today, right?”
“Let’s see.”
By the end of the day, one wall that he’d painted slate blue was measured, coordinated with the cardboard simulations of the artists’work, then nails were pounded in. Ellen came over to him after they finished. “Some of us are going for a drink down the street, Nick. Would you like to come?”
“I can’t. I have a daughter I like to spend some time with before dinner.”
“I’ve seen you around at this time with Elizabeita.”
“Not tonight. Thanks for the offer, though.” His tone was dismissive.
Again, she scowled. He’dhave to think about that, too.
o0o
Devon Kent was a beautiful man. His dark hair was shorter than Nick’s, tightly clipped at the back of his neck. His eyes were blue, too, but didn’t match the intensity of Nick’s, especially when his gaze rested on her. Tall and thin, not muscular and rugged, Devon was a refined English gentleman. She’d seen him from afar at the day’s workshops,and he’d emailed he’d be here, so tonight, he sought her out at the cocktail party.
“Elizabeita.” He kissed her on the cheek, and his expression was appreciative. “You’re even more beautiful than when you left us.”
She wondered briefly what he’d think of Lizzie’s streaks in primary colors.
“Oxford is not the same without our shining star.”
She’d been a Rhodes Scholar, which shedidn’t discuss much because she didn’t want to brag. “Thank you, Devon. You’re looking
“Where is it?”
“California.”
“When do you get back?”
“Next Tuesday on the red-eye. I’ll probably sleep during the day.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “I can make myself free on Tuesday night.”
“Perfect.” She touched his arm, and his muscles leapt. “I’ll cook you dinner.”
“I’d like that.”
“Aroundseven.”
“Yeah. See you then.”
Elizabeita turned back to her computer. She forwarded the email to security, then tried to think about something else. Nick had seemed so anxious to see her, she’d totally forgotten about the possible threat. He was good for her.
Chapter 7
The next morning, Nick was still cursing himself for the slip of his tongue with Elizabeita yesterday. There was no reason in hell a workman should be privy to the emails. He’d had to ask her out to distract her. He knew, he
knew
, he shouldn’t be involved with her. His concentration on his job was shot when he was with her. He should be glad that she was going toCalifornia.
Except that he missed her already and she’d left only last night. Hell! His emotions were a mass of contradictions, and that had never happened to him. Things had been easy with Angie. The relationship had progressed normally to its natural conclusion. He didn’t tie himself in knots over women. But with Elizabeita, time together had been a roller coaster out of control.
Theintrospection didn’t stop him from checking his texts, though, to see if she’d contacted him.
She had.
Arrived safely. I slept on the plane. Workshops today on Paul Klee, Piet Mondrian and de Kooning. I’m sending a picture of one of the latter’s paintings.
He opened the attachment. What on earth?
It looks like a robot with breasts.
She sent back,
Do you like breasts, Mr. Caseman?
I like yours
.
See? He couldn’t control himself around her even on the phone. Thankfully she’d had to leave for the breakfast, so he stuck his cell in his pocket and tried to banish her from his mind.
Ellen greeted him at Gallery 12. “Hi, there.” She smiled at him. “Glad you’re here. So are the interns.”
“You picking up the slack for Elizabeita?” he asked innocently.
Her eyeswent from warm to glacial in seconds. “I wouldn’t call it that. I’ve been working here almost three times as long as she has.”
“Yeah, sure.” Ellen’s reaction was something to analyze later. “So, we should make a lot of progress today, right?”
“Let’s see.”
By the end of the day, one wall that he’d painted slate blue was measured, coordinated with the cardboard simulations of the artists’work, then nails were pounded in. Ellen came over to him after they finished. “Some of us are going for a drink down the street, Nick. Would you like to come?”
“I can’t. I have a daughter I like to spend some time with before dinner.”
“I’ve seen you around at this time with Elizabeita.”
“Not tonight. Thanks for the offer, though.” His tone was dismissive.
Again, she scowled. He’dhave to think about that, too.
o0o
Devon Kent was a beautiful man. His dark hair was shorter than Nick’s, tightly clipped at the back of his neck. His eyes were blue, too, but didn’t match the intensity of Nick’s, especially when his gaze rested on her. Tall and thin, not muscular and rugged, Devon was a refined English gentleman. She’d seen him from afar at the day’s workshops,and he’d emailed he’d be here, so tonight, he sought her out at the cocktail party.
“Elizabeita.” He kissed her on the cheek, and his expression was appreciative. “You’re even more beautiful than when you left us.”
She wondered briefly what he’d think of Lizzie’s streaks in primary colors.
“Oxford is not the same without our shining star.”
She’d been a Rhodes Scholar, which shedidn’t discuss much because she didn’t want to brag. “Thank you, Devon. You’re looking
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