His By Design (11 page)

He snorted derisively.

“Well, you are strong and handsome. And you’ve been completely honest in your business dealings with me. The loyalty part? I guess I’ll have to wait and see about that.”

“You make me sound like a saint, Zoe. When really”—he chuckled evilly and twirled the end of an imaginary mustache—“I’m much more comfortable in the role of sinner.”

She gave him a seductive look. “Well, everyone’s entitled to a
few
flaws.”

She handed him a glass of wine and clinked hers with it. “Here’s to the success of the first half of my renovation. It turned out better than I ever could have imagined.”

He drank to her toast, grateful she was so happy with his work, but feeling more and more trapped by her idealistic vision of him.

They sat on barstools at the counter and feasted on bread and wine and pasta.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that obnoxious dude who showed up at the gallery the day you cut your finger. He said he was your partner.”

“Fredrick Barker isn’t my partner. He’d like to think he is but believe me that’s never going to happen.” Zoe took a sip of wine. “He used to be my boss. He’s rolling in money and owns several art galleries on the East Coast. I worked in the one in D.C. cleaning and repairing canvases he bought on the cheap and sold for thousands. He was training me as an appraiser, and at first I was very grateful for the opportunity, since I’d had to leave school before I completed my master’s degree in fine arts. Made it tough to find a job. He let me live in the apartment above the gallery, too, which stretched the meager salary he paid me a good bit.”

And kept her nice and handy for after-hours activities, I bet.

Jeff refilled her glass and she took another swallow, then continued. “It’s pretty hard to move up in this field without credentials, so of course I was enthusiastic and willing to work long hours to prove my dedication.”

Jeff nodded. He had a good idea where this was going.

She grimaced. “At first everything was fine. Fredrick taught me a lot and free rent helped me pay for the courses to get my master’s degree. When he saw my work, he had me copy a few famous paintings to ‘sharpen my skills.’ Paintings which he then sold as knock-offs. Lots of people would like to have a painting close enough to the original to pass off as the real thing to their friends. As long as we sold them with the understanding that they were copies, I had no problem with it.”

Zoe slid off her barstool and began to pace. “Then Fredrick started taking me out to dinner. At first with clients, another ‘learning experience.’” She made air quotes. “Then just the two of us, discussing his plans for the galleries he owned. It wasn’t until he tried to kiss me one night when he brought me home that I realized he had more in mind than training me to run one of his other galleries. From then on it was a constant struggle to stay out of his reach without pissing him off enough to fire me.”

Seeing that his plate was empty, Zoe put the remaining linguine in the refrigerator and set their dishes in the sink.

“I imagine that must have made your job . . . difficult.”

“Yeah.” She paused while she wiped the counter top. “I’m not a fan of big cities and the art scene in D. C. was elitist, high-powered and intense. I grew up in Santa Fe and I longed to live somewhere with that kind of culture. It occurred to me one day that maybe I could find a small town not too far from some big cities and start an artistic community.” She gave him a big grin. “I did some research and here I am.”

Jeff split the remaining wine between their glasses and led her toward the new sofa. He sat and she snuggled up against him, curling her legs underneath her.

“And your old boss? How did he feel about your plans?”

“He laughed at me. Told me there was no way in hell I could take on something like that and succeed. I bet him that I could and he took me up on it. He loaned me fifty thousand dollars and gave me one calendar year to make good.”

Jeff began to have a bad feeling about this. He was almost afraid to ask, but her success was key to getting the money for Jen’s surgery, so he needed to know what she was up against. “What happens if you don’t pay him back on time?”

“There are two things Fredrick has always wanted from me. The first is a painting I did for my mom. It’s probably the best work I’ve done so far, and she adored it. When Fredrick saw it, he offered to buy it for seventy-five hundred dollars, right on the spot. I told him it wasn’t for sale, and he didn’t believe me. He kept offering me more and more money, figuring sooner or later I’d sell. But I’ll never sell that painting. It reminds me of my mother every time I look at it.”

“Do you have it here?” Jeff looked at the corner of the studio where boxes and canvases from her storage unit were stacked against the wall, waiting to be unpacked.

“No, it’s over at Marjorie’s in my room. Tomorrow I’ll bring it here and you can help me hang it, okay?”

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to see it. All of your work actually. The samples I got to see when we cleaned out your storage locker were amazing. I think you’re a very talented artist.”

“Thanks, it’s nice of you to say that. I’ve never had much recognition. Over in D. C. I was a small fish in a very big pond. Here, I think my works will have a better chance to sell.”

“So, the painting is one of the two things Fredrick will get if you don’t make the gallery fly?”

She nodded.

“What’s the other thing?”

Zoe didn’t answer him for a long time. She stared into her wine glass and shook her head. He coaxed her, “You can tell me. If you think I would judge you for whatever you agreed to, don’t. We all do what we need to do, no matter the personal cost. I truly understand that.”

Zoe looked at him, her large brown eyes somber. “He’ll get this gallery. Become sole owner. I’ll be his employee again.” She grimaced. “It’s not your problem in any case. Let it go for now.”

Shit.

Her unspoken worry was obvious. He only had to look at Zoe to know what he’d want from her. She’d be back to fighting off Barker’s advances. Or maybe
not
fighting them off was part of their ‘deal’. The thought sickened him.

She may think it wasn’t his problem, but if Barker became sole owner, he’d decide what paintings to accept for display. Considering their instant animosity, Jeff felt his chances to keep Jen’s works on the walls would be slim to none.

Jeff wanted her to count on his help, if she wanted it. He’d never let that jerk force her to do anything. He’d let the secrets of her deal go for now, but until when? Until she trusted him? Considering his current plans, that day may be a long time coming. From her reticence and the downward turn of her mouth, he suspected he was right.

The son of a bitch! The moment Barker walked in, I knew he was trouble. I should have . . . done what? Punched him out? What good would it have done to bloody his nose, other than give me the pleasure of rearranging the guy’s face? Maybe a nice boat ride five miles out into the bay would work. With Mr. Sleaze accidentally falling overboard. Shit floats so there was a chance he could make it back to shore . . .

Chapter 11

Zoe led Amanda around the curve of the counter to the last, and most secluded, booth in Ed’s Diner. At Amanda’s questioning look after they passed several empty booths, she explained, “It’s quieter back here and more private.”

Amanda’s brows rose. “Are we sharing secrets?”

“Not secrets exactly,” Zoe hedged, then paused as the waitress came over to take their order.

“Hi, ladies. Are we doing breakfast or lunch?” She held a pen poised over her order pad.

It was eleven o’clock and the lunch rush hadn’t started, while most of the breakfast crowd had come and gone.

“I haven’t had anything but a cup of coffee and a cheese danish, so I’m going for your full breakfast,” Zoe decided. “Eggs, over easy, bacon, home fries, and toast. Oh, and orange juice too, please.”

Their waitress scribbled hastily then turned to Amanda. “And for you, miss?”

“I’d like to take advantage of your lunch special, if I could, Christy. It’s not too early, is it?”

The girl smiled. “Not at all. Today’s special is a cup of broccoli cheese soup and a BLT.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

“And to drink?”

“Oh yes, coffee, please.”

The waitress nodded and hurried away.

Zoe watched her for a few seconds. “If that skirt were any shorter we’d know what kind of underwear she’s wearing.”

“Well, it probably gets her better tips.”

“I thought her shirt would take care of that. The strain on the top button is pretty severe.”

Amanda laughed. “I guess she goes by the ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it’ rule.”

“I guess. Anyway I wanted to tell you about a new uh, development.” Zoe leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Between Jeff and me.”

Amanda followed suit and leaned closer. “Tell me.”

“Well, last Friday when I moved into my new place, Jeff helped me unpack and move the furniture around, so I invited him for dinner.”

Both women sat back as Christy brought Amanda’s coffee and Zoe’s juice, then leaned in again as soon as she walked away.

“And after dinner?” Amanda prompted.

“Actually, before dinner,” Zoe confessed, feeling her cheeks heat.

“And? Was it everything you’d hoped it would be?”

“No.”

Amanda stopped with her cup halfway to her lips. “No?” she gasped.

“It was a million times better than I hoped.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “He’s amazing, Mandy. I’ve never . . .” She found herself speechless, trying to come up with superlatives to describe the man’s expertise in the sexual prowess department.

“That’s all right. You don’t have to give me all the delightful details. It’s enough to know you’re happy.”

“Happy? Ha! I’m two blocks away from the gallery and just talking about him makes my nipples stand at attention. Yeah, I’m happy.” She couldn’t hide the ridiculous grin she sported every time she even thought about Jeff.

“Here you go, ladies.” The waitress slid a plate loaded with food in front of Zoe and placed a bowl of soup and a stacked BLT in front of Amanda. “Do you need anything else? Ketchup? Mayo? More coffee?”

They both shook their heads. “Thank you,” Zoe said, pulling her plate closer. “We appreciate the speedy service.”

Christy gestured toward the nearly empty booths. Only one stool was occupied at the other end of the counter. “Pretty easy to be quick this time of day. By noon I’ll need roller skates to keep up. Enjoy.”

Needing no further encouragement, they abandoned conversation and dug in.

Christy and Anita, the waitress behind the counter, went about refilling sugar dispensers in the empty booths. Their chatter suddenly caught Zoe’s attention. She put her finger to her lips and nodded to Amanda to listen in.

“I’m going to have to break something soon, to make Ed call Jeff to repair it,” Christy complained. “He used to be in here to eat four or five days a week, but lately he only dashes in to pick up take-out and flies out of here before I can even get to say hi.”

“I thought you two were getting kinda friendly?” the other woman prodded.

“I did too,” Christy replied. “He always ordered another whole meal after he ate, to take with him. I mean, I knew he just did that so he could spend some extra time in here and give me a bigger tip.” She smiled suggestively. “I know he appreciated my, ah, attributes.” She preened and brushed an imaginary crumb off her blouse.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be back more often once he’s done work over at the new gallery. He’s probably just real busy over there.”

Amanda settled her coffee cup in its saucer. “Zoe, stop thinking what you’re thinking. Even if Jeff did have an interest in her before, it’s obvious he’s moved on. To better things.”

“I guess.” But she remembered that night. When Jeff left to get their order from Donatelli’s, she threw on her robe and went to the window just so she could watch him walk down the street. When he stopped and took his cell phone out, she wondered who was on the other end. Who would he need to call? And why wouldn’t he have done it while he was in the apartment? Unless he didn’t want her to overhear his conversation. Was he canceling his date with someone else? Christy, maybe?

Zoe looked at her plate and lost her appetite. She pushed it away and took a sip of juice. Damn! It wasn’t as if she didn’t know any better. She’d been the target of lots of guys who only had one thing in mind—a new notch on their virtual bedposts. The charmers. The sweet-talkers. The hot-as-hell seducers. It took a couple of bruised hearts to teach her a lesson, but she’d thought she’d learned it well. Don’t trust ‘em. Unless they come bearing a diamond ring and talking about forever, and even then better to get it in writing.

Maybe her first impression of Jeff Petrosky had been right on the money. Was he a card-carrying member of the genus
homo-erectus bedpostii
?

“Zoe? You’re not going to let a bit of gossip between co-workers get to you, are you? Come on, if that wasn’t wishful thinking, I don’t know what is. Ignore them. Let’s—”

“Well, speak of the devil.” Anita jabbed Christy in the ribs. “Look what the cat dragged in.” She went back behind the register.

Jeff gave Christy a curt nod and went up to the counter.

Christy smoothed her uniform and sauntered over. “Hi, handsome. What can I get for you today? How about you take this booth right here”—she patted the high back of the end booth—“and I’ll get you a menu. Not that you need one. You’ve been here so often I’m sure you know it by heart.”

“Sorry, Christy. I don’t really have time to sit today. Can you put together a take-out order for me? Cheeseburger, fries, and a vanilla shake?”

The waitress pouted prettily. “Aw, Jeff, you hardly ever stay to talk any more. You’re hurtin’ my feelings.”

Meanwhile, Zoe practically slid under the table to keep from being seen. She needn’t have bothered. Jeff took a stool at the counter while he waited for his order. Which put Zoe out of his line of sight, although Amanda could still watch the drama unfold.

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. The gallery is a big job and the owner wants it done in a hurry. I don’t have time to sit and be sociable.”

“I see.”

Christy spun on her heel and strutted over to the closest booth where she leaned over to put the filled sugar shaker against the wall. The maneuver hiked her skirt up a good three inches and Amanda thought they would all know if she wore bikinis or thongs. She watched Jeff to see his reaction, but he had already turned away to pay Anita at the register.

In another moment he was gone, the rumble of his bike fading as he rode away.

Zoe sat back up.

“I’ve never seen a less interested man,” Amanda reassured her. “Trust me, Zoe, Christy holds no strings on his heart. I think her hopes are based on fantasies.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do, Zoe. Any man with even a passing interest would not have missed the show she just put on. He couldn’t have cared less. Come on, now, finish your breakfast.”

“All right.” Zoe picked up a strip of bacon and nibbled on it. “But I’m not leaving her a big tip.”

Amanda merely rolled her eyes. “How come you’re not working in the gallery today, anyway?”

“Wet floors. The second coat of polyurethane went down late yesterday. It’s not dry yet, so there’s nothing to do till we can walk on it.”

“It’s such a gorgeous day. You and Jeff should take the afternoon off and go for a ride somewhere.”

Zoe frowned. “I thought so too, but Jeff said he has a lot of things to do at the motel that he’s been neglecting to work at the gallery. He’s trying to catch up today.” She sighed. Since their passionate lovemaking Friday night he seemed to be doing his best to avoid her. She couldn’t help but think he was sending a message.

Looks like he’s a Lothario, after all. And I should have known better than to ignore my first impression.

Jeff parked his bike and retrieved the take-out for Jen from his saddlebag. A
s he opened the door to his studio he saw the door to Jen’s apartment click shut. Even though she should know it was him from the sound of his bike, she still wouldn’t take the chance of staying in the studio until she was sure he was alone.

“Bug, come on out, it’s only me.” He went to her door and opened the paper sack. “I’ve got lunch. Can I come in?”

“Hang on, I’ll be right out.”

A couple of blank spots on the walls caught his attention. Jen must have decided which paintings he should take to Zoe. Yep, three canvases stood stacked against his workbench. He looked them over, glad she had included his favorite. The cove they had visited weeks ago was vibrant with the colors of sunset and slender dune grasses bent in a breeze you could almost feel. A trio of gulls flew low across the water and a few rocks along the shoreline glistened wetly, highlighted by the late-afternoon sun. The work was so realistic Jeff seemed to smell the briny scent of the bay and hear the cry of the gulls.

“What do you think? I picked the ones I thought most people would like, not necessarily those I think are my best work.” Jen slid onto the stool by her easel and toyed with the brushes in a jar on a table nearby. “You don’t have—”

“To do this.” Jeff finished for her. “I know, Bug. This is a chance too good to pass up. I’m doing it. Don’t argue with me anymore.”

“Okay, I won’t.” She gestured toward the group of paintings. “Are you happy with these, then? Do you think you can carry off the forgery and answer whatever questions a potential buyer may have?”

“First, let me get Zoe to hang them. Then I’ll worry about potential buyers.”

He grimaced at the thought of talking to patrons when the gallery opened. His plan was to be available as little as possible—imitating a reclusive, quirky artist with no time for the public. If Zoe wasn’t interviewing each artist personally, he might have gotten away with portraying Jen like that and himself as her agent. But no way was Jen going to the gallery to talk to Zoe in person.

He pointed. “I’m glad you want this one to go. I think it’s one of your best. In fact, it’s the one I’m taking in first to impress Zoe. I’m sure she’ll like it.”

“Listen, Jeff, don’t get your hopes up too much.” Jen swiveled around to look directly at him, which showed how serious she was about their plans. “Sometimes it isn’t such a good idea for an artist to own a gallery.” She bit at her lower lip. “It’s harder to be impartial and accept work that is very different from your own. And”—another hesitation—“she may not want something she’ll view as competition.”

He’d already seen some of Zoe’s own work. She painted fantasy landscapes, almost lyrical in their beautiful use of color and form. Trees and plants nowhere to be found on Earth grew in forest glades populated with unicorns and dragons. And waterfalls, from mere trickles to tumultuous cascades, graced several of her canvases. Occasionally there would be several moons in the sky, even in daylight, or rings like Saturn’s arcing overhead. She’d also done some portraits of warriors, male and female, dressed in leathers and armor too beautiful to be worn into battle. Her style was very different from Bug’s but he hoped she could see the beauty in the everyday scenes his sister brought to life.

“Zoe’s not like that, Bug. For weeks she’s been meeting other artisans, evaluating their work and offering to display whatever she thinks is up to a certain professional standard. She’s including everything from modern metal sculptures to tiny porcelain oil lamps shaped like sea urchins. Paintings from modern to medieval and everything in-between. I think she’s pretty impartial.”

“You also think she’s pretty wonderful, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I think she’s a smart, hard-working, lady who’s willing to put it all on the line for what she believes in.”

“Wow, you’ve really got it bad, don’t you, brother-mine?”

“I don’t have it—”

“Oh stop. I can tell by the look on your face when you talk about her that you’re completely enamored. I’m just sorry I can’t meet her myself.”

“You think you know everything, Bug. But believe me—”

She interrupted him again. “I don’t know everything, Jeff. But I sure as heck know you, maybe even better than you know you. So I really hope our charade doesn’t ruin everything you’ve got going with Ms. Silvercreek. That would break my heart, as well as yours.”

“You know, it’s exhausting having a smartass for a sister.” Jeff sighed heavily.

“I imagine so,” Jen agreed and shrugged, “but you’re stuck with me, so make the best of it. Take my advice. It’s a beautiful fall day. Probably the last one before it gets too cold to go joyriding on a motorcycle. So go back to the gallery and sweet-talk your boss into taking a ride. When you get back you can show her the painting and, who knows?, maybe we’ll both get lucky.” She raised a brow. “And I mean that in the broadest possible terms.”