The Dark Side of the Rainbow (22 page)

He offered to have the car valet parked, but she asked if they could park a few blocks away instead so they could walk to the museum. She enjoyed the atmosphere of the town at evening, and the night was cool, but tolerable.

As they began their walk, Landon offered Brooke his arm. She was worried she might be under-dressed but he assured her that she looked perfect in her black slacks and red cardigan. Underneath the woven angora, she wore a patterned gold silk camisole. Having come straight from work, Landon wore khaki suit pants, a blue striped shirt with a yellow tie and a dark navy suit coat with gold-toned buttons.

Brooke could tell his outfit was tailor made: the fit was too perfect. It caused her to wonder about his wealth. By the looks of her wardrobe and the amount of money she had deposited in the bank in Bariloche, it seemed she came from money as well. It made her feel less like his unequal. Why she would even feel such a thing reminded her of the odd feelings she experienced at times.

She put her arm through his, savoring the feel of his strength.

“How well did the kids cooperate this afternoon for their photo shoot?” he asked as he led her down the street toward the museum.

Brooke gave a modest laugh at his choice of words. “You make me sound so professional.”

“Well, you are, and you do wonderful work.”

She glanced up at him with appreciation. “Thank you, but from the looks of it, I don’t know that I would qualify as a professional photographer of people. All the pictures I seem to take are of nature. While I enjoyed the challenge of capturing moving targets rather than still ones, it requires a certain finesse that doesn’t come naturally to me. You’re sister seemed pleased with the photos. I guess that’s what matters most. She offered to pay me. I refused.”

Landon smiled. “Of course she offered to pay you. She’s a business woman at heart. When the kids are all grown, she’ll be back in the thick of things with NLG Property Group. I know she misses it at times; however, it’s what she needed to do for her children as well as for herself. We both love our parents, but we can’t help but feel resentful at times.”

“But you had each other?”

“The first eight years of her life she didn’t have me. As much as we enjoyed growing up with each other, nothing can ever take the place of your parents. It’s never the same. There is always something missing.”

They were silent for a moment as they walked at a leisurely pace, Landon lessening his stride to match hers.

“Your sister told me about Michael Bledsoe.”

Landon glanced at Brooke. “Wow! I hadn’t thought about that jerk in years.”

“I was wondering if she ever told you the specifics about him when you were older.”

“Ha, not only did she tell me, she threatened to skin me alive if I ever did to someone what Michael had done to her. Did she show you the picture? I can’t believe she kept it after all these years.”

Brooke was quiet for a moment.

Landon didn’t push; she would tell him what was on her mind in her own time.

They were a few hundred feet from the museum entrance when she finally spoke. “I don’t want to be afraid of remembering anymore. Hearing the story and seeing the picture you drew makes me wonder if I have similar keepsakes tucked away at home.”

“I’m glad you no longer want to keep your past locked away and buried. I’m sure you have lots of valuable moments stored away, waiting for you to appreciate them once more. I look forward to hearing your own stories someday.” Before leading her through the doors of the museum, he untangled his arm from hers to hold her hand instead.

T
he first thing Brooke noticed when she entered the old, beautifully restored building were the quiet sounds of a cello and piano playing in a choppy, peppery beat. It was a vibrant and heated use of the two instruments.

“What kind of music is that?” she asked Landon, as he handed their jackets to the person at coat check. He placed the ticket stub into the pocket of his khaki trousers, then reached for her hand before explaining.

“Tango. You’re in for a treat. In about an hour we’ll move to the atrium for a tango performance. There are a few well-known artists who live in the area who offered to provide the entertainment for the museum’s fund raiser event.” Spotting a server, he asked Brooke if she wanted some of the champagne the gentleman held on his tray, or something else.

“Champagne sounds good.”

Letting go of her hand, he reached for two glasses, offering her one.

“They’ll bring out hors d’oeuvres in a moment. How about we start over there and make our way around the exhibits?” he offered, pointing to the west end of the cavernous building.

Nodding, Brooke asked, “So this is a fundraiser? It’s a very nice way to raise money. Is the Grand Vue one of the sponsors?”

“We supplied the hors d’oeuvres along with a few tickets for the three-day cruise that will be a part of the auction. It’s set to begin after the tango dances. I believe you’ll enjoy the evening.”

Landon was right. Brooke was having a wonderful time. The exhibits were all in Spanish. Reading the cards, he would then explain to her in English what the piece represented in Patagonia history. Not only did she enjoy hearing him talk, she savored the brief moments of physical contact when he would place his hand at the small of her back to gently guide her to another area. The sensations caused Brooke to feel cherished and protected. When his hands were free of food and drink, she found him reaching for hers in a subconscious sort of way. His touch sent warmth shooting through her. It was a sensation she wanted to explore.

As they made their way among the other guests, Brooke realized Landon knew many of them. Most stopped him for a moment to engage in polite conversation; several of the party goers were other businessmen and women in the area. They greeted him in Spanish. When he introduced Brooke in English, they would greet her in her native tongue. She found the laidback politeness of the Argentinians refreshing.

After viewing all the exhibits, it was time to move to the atrium for the exhibition. The space was very large and, to ensure that everyone could see the artists, the chairs were set up in a circle only two rows deep. Shortly after finding their front row seats reserved for the sponsors, the lights dimmed and a spotlight illuminated the empty circle of floor space the chairs surrounded.

There were a few measures of sultry music that played before a second spotlight lit one of the aisles. A long-legged dancer with a platinum-colored fringed gown began slowly sashaying down the aisle, while a third spotlight lit upon a tall man wearing a metallic gray suit and a fedora. He was swaying down the opposite aisle. Mimicking the woman’s movement in perfect timing, they made their way to the center spotlight, eyes locked on one another.

Brooke could feel her pulse begin to race at the image of the two lovers making their way toward each other. Not wanting to rush the moment, it was as if they were savoring the awareness they had for one another, creating a tension that would explode on contact, making the slow purposeful delay worthwhile.

She must have sighed outwardly when the couple finally met in the middle. At that precise moment, when the sound escaped her lips, Landon reached for her hand, as if he, too, was caught up in the union of the dancers.

Cheek to cheek, the lovers began to move in soft, yet swift, fluid motion. Legs seemingly began to tangle and then untangle with precision and ease. The steady hand of the man guided the woman he held in his arms, his touch firm but sensuous.

At one point the woman clung to her lover in apparent ecstasy. He held her body so close to his they were practically one. With ease, he glided her across the floor, keeping her body close to his as she arched her back in desire. When she came up to wrap her arms around his neck, their lips were ever so close, their bodies moving to the rhythm of the beat in perfect timing. The music began to wind down and suddenly the lovers stilled.

The crowd stood and applauded with fervor; members of the audience whistled their appreciation as the dancers bowed. It was obvious everyone had felt the raw, evocative emotion of the performance.

“They must be in love in real life,” she exclaimed over the din of the applause.

Giving her a soft look, he responded, “Eliana and Diego are happily married,” he paused for effect, “to others.”

Brooke looked at Landon as if he couldn’t be serious.

“How do their spouses bear to watch them?” The applause had stopped. The crowd was talking quietly amongst themselves as they waited for the next number. Lowering her voice, Brooke added, “There is no way I could watch y . . . my husband in another woman’s arms, even if they were merely performing.” She had been about to say ‘you,’ referring to Landon.

He knew it and felt the warmth of her near slip wash over him. “I feel the same. So, no tango dancers, movie stars who have to do love scenes, or Broadway performers for us.” The words were whispered close to her ear.

No tango dancer for me
, she thought as the nerve endings along her spine tingled from his nearness.

After the last performance, Landon looked at Brooke. “Do you want to stay for the auction?”

“Yes, I would like that.”

Standing, he helped her from her seat so they could find some refreshments while they set up for the bidding.

When the auctioneer’s voice came over the sound system, Brooke and Landon took their seats. Since the dealer was speaking in Spanish, Landon translated what items were up for bid, converting the amounts in US dollars, until a compass necklace came up for offer.

Landon was mesmerized by the 150-year-old, 14 karat gold necklace, with diamonds at each point and a sapphire in the middle. Looking at the brochure, she could tell it was a beautiful piece of jewelry. Brooke could see why he was enamored with it.

The young executive soon found himself in a bidding war with a man on the other side of the room. Brooke tried to understand the dollar amounts but didn’t know Spanish well enough to make the translation. Bid after bid she could hear the murmuring of the crowd increasing in volume.

Back and forth, Landon and the other man battled it out. The crowd gasped in awe at the hotel owner’s last response. He must have hiked his offer. The auctioneer looked to the other man across the room as he counted down the bid. She could see someone leaning over and whispering something into the stranger’s ear. Brooke imagined it was either to tell the man that he was insane or to inform him of who he was battling with in this high stakes bidding war. He was possibly a tourist who didn’t know the extent of Landon Gray’s wealth and influence. The man conceded. The compass necklace was sold to Landon, for how much she didn’t know. He didn’t offer to tell, nor did she ask.

As they made their way to the cashier, she overheard one of the guests exclaim in English to her companion something about five thousand dollars. Brook was stunned to think he actually paid that amount for the necklace. After completing the transaction, Landon didn’t even glance at the piece of jewelry before placing it in his pocket. He turned his attention to Brooke, offering her his arm. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

She shook her head. “I ate too many canapés. How about we go somewhere for coffee instead . . . unless you’re hungry?”

“I know a place where we can get both.”

* * *

L
ater, while at an all-night café, sipping espresso, Brooke reflected on some of the people they had met. “Did you date any of the women I was introduced to this evening?”

Landon arched his eyebrows, wondering where the question had come from. “Why do you ask?”

She looked down at her coffee for a moment before turning her gaze back to him. “I suppose it’s reasonable for me to wonder about your past relationships, as you may be curious about mine. The only problem is I can’t remember.” She paused. “I’m especially curious about the brunette in the red dress. She didn’t look too happy to see you, nor was she thrilled that you were holding my hand.”

Brooke was right: Landon was curious about the men she had loved before coming to Patagonia. The day at the waterfall when he had asked, she suddenly became sad and uninterested in talking about her past. He recalled the odd sensation that had taken hold in the center of his chest at the thought of her having loved another man. He’d wondered about it ever since.

“Claire is a nice lady. We dated for a while. She knew upfront that it would never lead to more. I guess she didn’t believe me. I’m not the type who needs a woman dangling off my arm everywhere I go, if that’s what you’re wondering?”

Brooke shook her head. “Actually, I’m baffled by the fact that you haven’t found someone with whom to share your life. I can appreciate why Claire might not have been happy seeing you with another woman.” She paused to search his eyes. “I wonder if you realize how kind and caring you are, Landon. Your attentiveness to me these past weeks has only served to reinforce my high opinion of you.” The sincerity of her words washed over him like the heavy rains that filled the cracked, scarred surface of the desert floor. He wanted to tell her what they did to him; but he simply listened, allowing her to finish her thoughts. “Do you remember what you told me while we were on your sister’s deck, about how we feel things deeply?”

He nodded.

“I believe that about you, Landon, because you’re not the type of person to hide the real you from the rest of the world. It would have been impossible for Claire to not see the same wonderfulness in you. I’m certain she thought she could persuade you to have a future with her and was devastated when she proved unsuccessful.”

Landon was processing all that Brooke shared, dazed by the powerful effect her words had on him. “Claire was the last woman I dated.” He didn’t tell her that their friendship had ended nearly two years ago. “On the way to the waterfall when we were docked in Villa La Angostura, I asked if you had someone waiting for you back in Montana. You told me no, but I could tell you were sad. I never asked why. You then questioned why a man like me was still single.” He paused, hesitant to reveal too much, yet knowing it was necessary.