receive its message. When none came, his rational mind tried to sortand categorize the fading familiarity.
This cove, I’ve seen it before… I just can’t recall… maybe as a child? No, it doesn’t look like Santa Barbara
.
What logic and memory couldn’t explain, acquisition could solve. Even as Zack made his decision, he tried to explain it to himself.
It’ll go right on my office wall… the ocean, those rocks, that magic cove
. Almost in a trance, he walked toward Nicole’s sales desk. “Excuse me.”
Her head was bowed over a file, the front lock of her short, smooth hair concealing her face. She looked up, sweeping her hair out of the way. “Yes, sir?”
“I’ve decided I’d like to buy one of your paintings.” He could hardly believe he was saying it. “That one over there, with the cove and the beach.”
“I see Monsieur is a man who decides quickly.” Zack heard skepticism in her voice and saw a question in her expression, as though she doubted an impulse buy could happen this quickly.
“Well, yes I… I suppose I do. Is it available?”
“Let me just look it up in our catalogue,” said Nicole. Lifting a large leather-bound volume from the edge of her desk, she carefully turned plastic-covered sheets of color reproductions. After a few moment, she said, “Ah.” Looking up, she explained, “This one is on loan from the artist. I’m afraid it’s under contract—”
“Uh, look, I’m just up here for a few days,” Zack interrupted her, “and I’d like to be sure to settle this before I leave. Do you think you could put me in touch with the artist? I’d like to just call him myself.” A strange anxiety gripped him at the thought of losing the painting.
“Actually, the artist is a woman, and she does not answer the studio phone between noon and 4 p.m., but since you’re in a ’urry why not drop by her studio? Probably you could catch her either today or tomorrow… I do not think she would mind, in this case.”
Slightly taken aback at the prospect of having to explain his sudden passion to the artist herself, he nonetheless overcame his hesitation. “All right… I’ll do that.”
Pulling some materials from the file drawer, Nicole gave him a professional smile. “’ere is a brochure about her work, and it ’as the address on the back.”
Zack took the brochure, flipping to the back. For the second time that day, something stopped him. “She’s a beauty!” The words burst out of him involuntarily, under his breath, at the sight of her picture.
Nicole, busying herself with preparing a small package of marketing materials, she looked up again. “Pardon, Monsieur?”
“Oh, it’s a beauty, that painting.”
“Oh. Yes, sir.” Nicole seemed to suspect his attempt to cover his blurted comment. “Well, you go out the gallery front door, and turn left, and go up the ’ill….”
She was giving him directions to the private studio of the artist, Miranda Jones.
Chapter 4
Cynthia Radcliffe stood in front of her full-length mirror to admire the view. Her hair was always a slightly different shade of blond. She left that to her hairdresser, just so long as the tone he chose made the best of her caramel-colored eyes.
André did a good job this month… with the cut too—long enough to play with and short enough to make a fashion statement
.
To please herself, she dabbed some Fracas onto her wrists, enjoying the piquant gardenia scent. Then she scrutinized again the soft suede dress that clung to her curves.
Actually it’s ultrasuede, but it
is
a Halston. And it’s that delicious color of butterscotch
. She’d chosen it especially for an upcoming date with Zackery Calvin.
What statement does the dress make?
The thought of his face when he saw her in it made her throw back her head and laugh. Whether it did more to emphasize the sculpted waist or the shapely breasts was hard to say. In any case, the strategically placed silver buttons and the feel of thesensuous
This cove, I’ve seen it before… I just can’t recall… maybe as a child? No, it doesn’t look like Santa Barbara
.
What logic and memory couldn’t explain, acquisition could solve. Even as Zack made his decision, he tried to explain it to himself.
It’ll go right on my office wall… the ocean, those rocks, that magic cove
. Almost in a trance, he walked toward Nicole’s sales desk. “Excuse me.”
Her head was bowed over a file, the front lock of her short, smooth hair concealing her face. She looked up, sweeping her hair out of the way. “Yes, sir?”
“I’ve decided I’d like to buy one of your paintings.” He could hardly believe he was saying it. “That one over there, with the cove and the beach.”
“I see Monsieur is a man who decides quickly.” Zack heard skepticism in her voice and saw a question in her expression, as though she doubted an impulse buy could happen this quickly.
“Well, yes I… I suppose I do. Is it available?”
“Let me just look it up in our catalogue,” said Nicole. Lifting a large leather-bound volume from the edge of her desk, she carefully turned plastic-covered sheets of color reproductions. After a few moment, she said, “Ah.” Looking up, she explained, “This one is on loan from the artist. I’m afraid it’s under contract—”
“Uh, look, I’m just up here for a few days,” Zack interrupted her, “and I’d like to be sure to settle this before I leave. Do you think you could put me in touch with the artist? I’d like to just call him myself.” A strange anxiety gripped him at the thought of losing the painting.
“Actually, the artist is a woman, and she does not answer the studio phone between noon and 4 p.m., but since you’re in a ’urry why not drop by her studio? Probably you could catch her either today or tomorrow… I do not think she would mind, in this case.”
Slightly taken aback at the prospect of having to explain his sudden passion to the artist herself, he nonetheless overcame his hesitation. “All right… I’ll do that.”
Pulling some materials from the file drawer, Nicole gave him a professional smile. “’ere is a brochure about her work, and it ’as the address on the back.”
Zack took the brochure, flipping to the back. For the second time that day, something stopped him. “She’s a beauty!” The words burst out of him involuntarily, under his breath, at the sight of her picture.
Nicole, busying herself with preparing a small package of marketing materials, she looked up again. “Pardon, Monsieur?”
“Oh, it’s a beauty, that painting.”
“Oh. Yes, sir.” Nicole seemed to suspect his attempt to cover his blurted comment. “Well, you go out the gallery front door, and turn left, and go up the ’ill….”
She was giving him directions to the private studio of the artist, Miranda Jones.
Chapter 4
Cynthia Radcliffe stood in front of her full-length mirror to admire the view. Her hair was always a slightly different shade of blond. She left that to her hairdresser, just so long as the tone he chose made the best of her caramel-colored eyes.
André did a good job this month… with the cut too—long enough to play with and short enough to make a fashion statement
.
To please herself, she dabbed some Fracas onto her wrists, enjoying the piquant gardenia scent. Then she scrutinized again the soft suede dress that clung to her curves.
Actually it’s ultrasuede, but it
is
a Halston. And it’s that delicious color of butterscotch
. She’d chosen it especially for an upcoming date with Zackery Calvin.
What statement does the dress make?
The thought of his face when he saw her in it made her throw back her head and laugh. Whether it did more to emphasize the sculpted waist or the shapely breasts was hard to say. In any case, the strategically placed silver buttons and the feel of thesensuous
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