development.’
‘Another bunch of displaced people, then?’ And instantly felt less-than-stellar for the jibe. Did she want to blow this whole deal before she got started? Especially when his eyes glinted with some emotion she didn’t recognise…Regret? For past business actions maybe? Or for something that struck much deeper and closer to the heart.
She was still frowning when he said, ‘I’m not the bastard you seem to think I am.’ And took a breath—
She perked up, ready to listen. Personal information, great,he hadn’t volunteered a word about his personal life. But either the sound of scratching and an annoyed yowl from her bedroom distracted him or he deliberately chose not to elaborate.
‘Charlie,’ she murmured. ‘He’s lonely. And hungry, no doubt.’
‘No doubt.’ The dismissive tone didn’t bode well for poor Charlie. ‘It was a disused warehouse,’ he continued, ignoring the feline sounds. ‘Boarded up and covered in graffiti. High ceilings, plenty of space. It has a whole new look.’
‘What type of art are you showcasing?’
‘Paintings, textiles, jewellery, you name it. The idea is to foster new talent.’
‘So why a Sheila Dodd commission? She’s hardly new.’
‘I’ve admired her work for several years and a big name brings in more customers and encourages new sales.’
‘Why me? With your contacts you must know others who fit the bill.’
‘This opening’s being publicised as a big event in the art community. I don’t have the time to look for someone at such short notice.’ He glanced at the piece, looked back to her. ‘Your work’s unique—I’m prepared to take a chance. I want you.’
His voice was neutral, all business, but his eyes…his eyes imbued a different meaning to those last three words. Her pulse seemed to throb in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. She gulped down more wine and held his gaze.
But he didn’t want her so much as need her and that gave her a sense of power that she’d never had. Which emboldened her to say, ‘I have another request…Perhaps favour is a better word? It’s about Charlie.’
‘Ah. Yes. Charlie.’ His tone predictably cooled.
‘Could we perhaps compromise?’ Her parents had often mentioned the word and Didi in the same breath. ‘If I’m here for nearly three weeks, it’s hardly fair to keep him shut away by himself all day while I work. Would you agree to him being in here with me?’ Cameron didn’t look impressed with her idea—his brows lowered, his lips thinned, then pursed as ifabout to speak. ‘And I know he’d love the sky garden,’ she hurried on. ‘He couldn’t do much damage there and if I could leave the door open a fraction…’
He blew out a sigh. ‘I guess we can try it before he strips the paintwork on the bedroom door to kingdom come.’
She paused, knowing, hating that she had to say, ‘I love him to bits, but I know I’m going to have trouble finding a place that will take me and a pet…if you know anyone who wants a cat…’ She blinked away a sudden moisture.
‘I’ll ask around at the office,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile he’s okay here.’
‘Thank you.’ She polished off her wine and felt the grin pull at her cheeks as the bubbly danced through her system. ‘And it’s a wonderful compromise. I’ll go tell him the good news now.’
‘You do that. Then we’ll eat; I assume you’re hungry?’
‘Famished,’ she called as she all but skipped on those pretty bare feet across the room and disappeared from view down the passage. ‘All I’ve had today is an apple.’
Yeah. The apple. Cameron stared at the place where she’d been seconds ago. It was as if she’d left something of herself there. Hell, his whole apartment suddenly seemed crammed with her presence. His gaze lobbed on the usually pristine dining-room table, now a jumble stall jammed with her stuff. Littering his floor was a haphazard scatter of cardboard boxes brimming with colour. A fresh
‘Another bunch of displaced people, then?’ And instantly felt less-than-stellar for the jibe. Did she want to blow this whole deal before she got started? Especially when his eyes glinted with some emotion she didn’t recognise…Regret? For past business actions maybe? Or for something that struck much deeper and closer to the heart.
She was still frowning when he said, ‘I’m not the bastard you seem to think I am.’ And took a breath—
She perked up, ready to listen. Personal information, great,he hadn’t volunteered a word about his personal life. But either the sound of scratching and an annoyed yowl from her bedroom distracted him or he deliberately chose not to elaborate.
‘Charlie,’ she murmured. ‘He’s lonely. And hungry, no doubt.’
‘No doubt.’ The dismissive tone didn’t bode well for poor Charlie. ‘It was a disused warehouse,’ he continued, ignoring the feline sounds. ‘Boarded up and covered in graffiti. High ceilings, plenty of space. It has a whole new look.’
‘What type of art are you showcasing?’
‘Paintings, textiles, jewellery, you name it. The idea is to foster new talent.’
‘So why a Sheila Dodd commission? She’s hardly new.’
‘I’ve admired her work for several years and a big name brings in more customers and encourages new sales.’
‘Why me? With your contacts you must know others who fit the bill.’
‘This opening’s being publicised as a big event in the art community. I don’t have the time to look for someone at such short notice.’ He glanced at the piece, looked back to her. ‘Your work’s unique—I’m prepared to take a chance. I want you.’
His voice was neutral, all business, but his eyes…his eyes imbued a different meaning to those last three words. Her pulse seemed to throb in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. She gulped down more wine and held his gaze.
But he didn’t want her so much as need her and that gave her a sense of power that she’d never had. Which emboldened her to say, ‘I have another request…Perhaps favour is a better word? It’s about Charlie.’
‘Ah. Yes. Charlie.’ His tone predictably cooled.
‘Could we perhaps compromise?’ Her parents had often mentioned the word and Didi in the same breath. ‘If I’m here for nearly three weeks, it’s hardly fair to keep him shut away by himself all day while I work. Would you agree to him being in here with me?’ Cameron didn’t look impressed with her idea—his brows lowered, his lips thinned, then pursed as ifabout to speak. ‘And I know he’d love the sky garden,’ she hurried on. ‘He couldn’t do much damage there and if I could leave the door open a fraction…’
He blew out a sigh. ‘I guess we can try it before he strips the paintwork on the bedroom door to kingdom come.’
She paused, knowing, hating that she had to say, ‘I love him to bits, but I know I’m going to have trouble finding a place that will take me and a pet…if you know anyone who wants a cat…’ She blinked away a sudden moisture.
‘I’ll ask around at the office,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile he’s okay here.’
‘Thank you.’ She polished off her wine and felt the grin pull at her cheeks as the bubbly danced through her system. ‘And it’s a wonderful compromise. I’ll go tell him the good news now.’
‘You do that. Then we’ll eat; I assume you’re hungry?’
‘Famished,’ she called as she all but skipped on those pretty bare feet across the room and disappeared from view down the passage. ‘All I’ve had today is an apple.’
Yeah. The apple. Cameron stared at the place where she’d been seconds ago. It was as if she’d left something of herself there. Hell, his whole apartment suddenly seemed crammed with her presence. His gaze lobbed on the usually pristine dining-room table, now a jumble stall jammed with her stuff. Littering his floor was a haphazard scatter of cardboard boxes brimming with colour. A fresh
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