I Think I Love You! Page 5

  Last, was her hair. She’d washed the unruly mane and let it fall where it wanted to. And didn’t think the style went with the clothes. So she pulled it up and secured it in Chinese sticks. Some escaped. The style fit her, too.

  She glanced at the clock. Still too early to leave. Instead, she went to her studio and to the desk alcove in the back. Sitting down, she booted up her computer. Her email. Someone from the gallery had contacted her—not Blake. An assistant she’d met. And liked.

  Hi, Raven.

  We’re getting acceptances from critics who were invited to attend the pre-opening reception. Check the list out. Hurray!

  So the response must be good. She clicked in and was astonished to see who planned to attend. How could she attract...nope, it wasn’t her. The number was due to Parker’s, a gallery the art world took seriously. Well, that was why she went with them to begin with. She’d had other offers.

  Raven left her apartment an hour before she had to meet Blake and the hangers. She hadn’t seen him in two weeks. She’d taught at Stepping Stones, spent time with her sisters (miraculously without telling the rest of them what had happened) and painted. Thankfully, the activities helped her put the whole kissing incident behind her, helped her chalk it up to a mistake. Which was why, as she drove, she didn’t understand her anxiety at seeing him again.

  * * *

  Blake arrived at the gallery at the crack of dawn. He’d slept poorly—he’d been sleeping poorly for almost three weeks—but at least he was in a better head space. Caleb had been a helpful sounding board, and work had filled the time. The only thing missing had been quality time with Audrey, which was wholly unfortunate. Her father had come home from the hospital and she moved into his estate house to care for him—along with ’round-the-clock private nurses. She and Blake had managed a few dinners and coffees together, but there were no intimate moments, for which he was thankful. He’d suffered over his betrayal of her, and the guilt had finally dwindled, but it was better to wait.

  At eight, he walked to the wing, feeling confident, sure of who he was and what he wanted out of life. The red walls glistened in the morning light from the wall of windows across from it, and Raven’s paintings were out of the storeroom and up against one wall.

  He walked the length of them, staring at her work. Halfway down, he heard, “Hello, Blake.”

  The sultry voice curled through him like expensive brandy. He turned. A smile breached his lips. She looked adorable in a get-up that suited her.

  With an inscrutable expression on her face, she strode inside, and stopped a few feet away. For a minute, she stared at him. She was close enough that he got a whiff of something sinful.

  He’d thought about how to handle this moment, but didn’t plan on the erratic beating of his heart. He said, above it, “Hello, Raven.”

  She gestured to the room. “The color’s perfect.”

  “Did you come in and see it last week?”

  “Yes. I’m impressed all over again.” She spied the big square table set up off to the side.

  “We followed the written directions you sent to the staging crew. Though I have to say, this installation will be different from other exhibits we’ve had.”

  She inclined her head then said, “Thanks for accommodating me,” and walked to the table.

  Blake walked behind her. Per her request, the unframed paintings—like all of hers—had been measured and used as a pattern to cut out butcher block sheets the size of her work. There were eight altogether, the largest for Silenced, which stood a foot from the floor and a foot from the ceiling. Its paper spilled over the edge of the table. Wires and extra clasps sat at the end. “Are the clasps already on the backs?”

  “According to your specifications of size and type.”

  “Mind if I check?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He did mind, though. Because he had to watch her bend over to view the backs of the works, or squat down in those ridiculously high heels. Her long lean body swayed gracefully with the movements, and her cute butt stuck out when she lowered herself.

  His heart hurt in his chest.

  “All secure,” she said standing and glanced at a glossy red watch on her arm. “The hangers are coming at nine, right?”

  “Yes. I was hoping to get this room done today.”

  “Me, too. I saw the Do Not Disturb sign ready to hang on the door.”

  “I thought we’d turn off our phones, too.”

  She slid hers out of a pocket and powered it down. He did the same. And for a few moments until the workers arrived, they were dangerously cut off from the world.

  He couldn’t help it, though he managed to keep his distance. “How are you?”

  White teeth came out over her lush bottom lip. “Better. You?”

  “Better.”

  She asked. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Do you?”

  “Avoiding discussion will make it more present when we’re together. Let’s get it out in the open.”

  “Then start.”

  “I’m curious, Blake. What got into us, do you think?”

  “I have no idea. We’ve been adversaries for so long.”

  “I don’t want to be adversaries now.” Her voice held a note of panic.

  “Me, either.”

  He felt frozen to the spot, but she crossed to him and held out her hand. “Truce. And friends?”

  He wrapped his fingers around her palm. Covered where they jointed with his other hand.

  It was a mistake. He felt singed. And the want that had possessed him when they kissed resurfaced, triple fold.

  Thank God there was a knock on the door.

  * * *

  Raven experienced acute relief when the hangers walked inside. Touching him had been a mistake—the feel of his skin next to hers recalled the vivid experience of kissing him. But she couldn’t think about that now. She’d enjoy this next step in a show she badly wanted and had pursued. She crossed to the two men who’d entered the room. “Hi. I’m Raven, the artist.”

  They greeted her.

  “What are your names?”

  “Mick and Tim.”

  “Hi, Mick and Tim. I want to say first that I know the hanging stage can be tedious. I’m picky. But I’ll be calm. And if I irritate you too much, tell me.”

  They looked to Blake.

  “You heard the lady. You won’t get any blowback from me.”

  “So, I understand you don’t usually use butcher block paper as placeholders. But I’ve found that its use precludes a lot of trial and error with the paintings themselves.”

  “I’m game,” Mick told her. Tim agreed too.

  “Let’s start by looking at the art. So you can get a feel for it.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Blake lean back against the wall, fold his arms over his chest and watch them. This was her show, in more ways than being the artist.

  The guys crossed to the art work. Like Blake, they seemed startled by Silenced—they even stepped back a bit. As they went along, they alternated frowns and surprised expressions.

  “Mind telling me which you like best?” she asked when they finished.

  Mick gestured to Out. “My father kicked me out of the house when I was fifteen. This painting is how I felt.”

  Joy filled Raven. She rejoiced when her painting connected with the common man or woman. “That’s when I painted it. My father was responsible for my leaving. Only I was eighteen, and he didn’t exactly kick me out.”

  “Yeah, my dad said something like, ‘If you can’t abide by my rules, you can’t live here’.”

  “Exactly.” They exchanged warm expressions.

  She turned to Tim. He shrugged. “’Fraid I don’t see none of that.”

  “What do you feel when you look at them?”

  He frowned. “Sad. Alone.”

  “So of course you see some of it, Tim.”

  He seemed pleased with himself.

  “Now, let’s se
t up the paper.”

  Blake pushed away from the wall.

  Raven went to one point of the room. “The biggest goes here.”

  As Tim got the painter’s tape, and Mick scooped up the paper, Blake leaned into her. Their shoulders touched and his body was warm and secure against her. “Nice way to break the ice. Make them cooperative.”

  “I wanted to know their thoughts.”

  “Which came through loud and clear.”

  By ten-thirty, they had the eight papers placed. She turned to Blake. “How about a break before we hang the first one?”

  “Fine by me.”

  She slipped something out of her pocket and extended it to Mick. “Get some coffee on me.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Blake said. “I ordered coffee be left at the door at ten-fifteen. You guys can get some and go wherever you want. Or you can stay with us.”

  The men left. Blake turned. “You’re something else. They’re eating out of your hand.”

  “I’ve learned it’s best to treat everybody the same, regardless of occupation or stature.”

  “A good lesson.”

  “Shall I get us coffee?”

  “No, I will. Go sit for a bit.” His gaze dropped to her shoes. “Get off those incredibly high shoes.”

  “I’ll have you know they’re very comfortable.”

  “If you say so.”

  “But I’ll probably kick them off at some point. Can you handle that?”

  A big belly laugh rumbled out of him. She was teasing him. Unfortunately, Raven’s main reaction was that she wanted to make him laugh more often, in the worst way.

  * * *

  She sat at the empty table while he got coffee. When he came back inside, he saw her staring at her artwork. The same way he stared at The David when he’d gone to the Uffizi in Florence. With awe. He had to take a deep breath to calm himself. The morning was shaping up differently than he’d planned.

  When he put the black brew in front of her, she said, “How did you know I liked it black?”

  “I’ve had coffee with you before, Raven.”

  “Ah.”

  “Are you excited to get some of these up?”

  “Very.” She turned to him. “And I’m still grateful you chose me as the debut artist for your new wing.” She hesitated. “Someone in promo emailed me the list of critics coming in for the reception the night before. You’ve got a lot riding on this, Blake.”

  “I’m not worried. I know I chose well. And your paintings might be controversial, so we’re bound to get some negative reviews, but most of them will be positive.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask if you invited your family to the preshow. I invited a few guests.”

  Her face shadowed. “My parents will come to the opening. My sisters are alternating nights so I have support for a week.”

  “I can’t imagine belonging to a big family.”

  “As I told you before, it’s wonderful.”

  He smiled.

  After coffee, but before the guys came back, Raven stood and stretched. Her blouse pulled out of her waist, baring toned and tanned skin. His hands itched to touch her. Was it as silky as it appeared? Blake cursed himself as soon as he had the thought. She turned and caught him leering. He could feel his face flush. He could see hers turn red. But he wouldn’t name what he saw so clearly etched in her lovely features.

  Standing too, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “This is harder than I thought.”

  “For me, too. Damn it, why did we have to go there?”

  “It was a mistake. But I had no idea being with you afterward...would be difficult.”

  “Please don’t let our reaction to each other jeopardize the show.”

  He rounded the table and grasped her arms. They were smooth with lotion. “I promise, I will never let that happen.”

  “I promise, too.”

  * * *

  At the end of the day, when they finished hanging the first two rooms, Raven sat on the S-curve bench with Blake and faced her work. “So this is it. My work is being exhibited in a major gallery.”

  He actually grinned. “What’s more, I know the show will be a success.”

  She turned to him. “You’ve never wavered from that, have you?”

  “Nope. I only bet on sure things.”

  She nearly snorted. “Most people call me a wildcard.”

  “I guess I’m not most people.”

  Unable to resist, she picked up his hand. Ran her fingers over his long ones, his masculine skin. “No, you’re very special, Dr. Parker.”

  Leaning over, he gave her a quick peck on the nose. “Thanks. We’re making good progress. The other two sections will go up faster. Then the lighting. We’ll have weeks to spare.”

  “Will you show anyone the finished product before the opening?”

  “Um, Audrey wants to come in and see what I’ve been up to.” His face colored again. “Oh, God.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  “My father probably. You?”

  “Nah, I’m keeping everybody out until the big shebang.” She thought about what her father’s reaction might be. She was worried about that. Mamá and her sisters would be honest. While they still held hands, a voice behind them made her jump. “Hello there.”

  She quickly let go of him. Then, over her shoulder she saw a familiar face so she stood. “Scott, it’s good to see you.”

  Blake stood, too. “Hi, Blasdell. You’re a week early.”

  His long lean legs covered the space between them and he stood close to Raven. He was a tall man, with silvery gray hair, and since he was a fitness buff, he was muscular and well-toned. His long-sleeved gray shirt accented all that. “I always come out when there’s some of the show up. I was in the neighborhood and called Blake to see how things were going, but there was no answer.”

  “Everything’s going just fine,” Blake answered coldly. When she glanced at him, she saw his jaw was stiff.

  She put in, “I can’t wait to see them lit.”

  “I can’t wait to help you tell your story.”

  Raven had read this man’s published work. Taken a class or two from him. He believed that lighting would determine the perception of the painting and help guide audiences as they explored the works. She knew the lighting was important, but his philosophy was far-fetched in her mind. Still, he was a master at his craft and she’d asked for him specifically.

  He took her hand. “Let’s sit.”

  Uninvited, Blake said, “Go ahead and absorb the work. I have some things to do.” He strode out.

  They dropped down in front of Silenced. She noticed Scott didn’t let go of her so she eased away. “I’ll be able to add context to your artwork.”

  He expounded on what he could do for her, and she listened, but grew bored.

  After about fifteen minutes, Blake came back to the room. “Have you had your fill?”

  Taking her hand again, Scott stood and drew her up with him. “Hardly. Raven and I were talking about my contribution to the show.”

  “Ah.”

  She intervened to explain. “We’ve met a few times when I took some classes from him.”

  “And had coffee.” Even that sounded like an innuendo.

  Blake approached them and his gaze laser-focused on their hands. He held out his. Scott broke his contact with her and shook. “We’re glad to have you working for us.” Blake’s tone was even.

  “Thanks. What a gem you found.”

  “Gem?” she said. “That’s a first.”

  “Yep.”

  Pointedly, Blake checked his watch. “I’m about to close up.”

  Raven’s eyes widened. He was being rude.

  Scott said, “How about if I treat you two to a drink?”

  Raven caught his gaze. She hoped he could tell she signaled no.

  “Unfortunately,” he said stiffly, “I have dinner plans with my fiancée.”

  Now Raven
’s eyes narrowed. Then she turned to Scott, all smiley. “I’d love to go, Scott. You can tell me more about your plans for my work.”

  This time, he slid his arm around her shoulders. Raven resisted the urge to shake him off. “Looks like it’s you and me, girl.”

  “Looks like.”

  Chapter 6

  “I’m sorry I’m in such an ugly mood.” Blake meant the sentiment and the words when he said them to Audrey. Dinner had been a disaster, and they were driving back to her father’s place.

  “That’s all right, darling. Waiters are used to cranky diners.”

  “I should have been more patient.”

  “The food took a long time to come.”

  Instead of making excuses for him, Raven would have told him he’d been an ass during dinner, and insist he stop brooding. Which was what he was doing.

  After a while, Audrey said, “You didn’t want to talk about the show. I’m assuming the setup didn’t go as it should have.”

  It had, until Scott Blasdell had shown up. “The set up was fine. Maybe I get this way when a show’s about to open.”

  “You don’t. You save that till the week before.” Over the console, she took his hand. She was flawless tonight in a conservative gray suit and delicate pink top beneath, with pearls.

  Eyes back on the road so he could maneuver through the Baltimore streets, he asked, “You look good tonight. Did you do something different with your hair?” The notion was a distraction. He had no idea if she had.

  “I got it cut today. A little too short.”

  “Hmm.”

  Silence.

  “I thought Anderson was doing well before we left.” He’d gone inside to pick her up and to visit with her father some.

  “On his best behavior for visitors. Not so much with me.”

  He frowned. “Do you have to stay at the estate? He has nurses.”

  “Blake, he’s family. Of course I have stay with him.”

  More silence. Finally, they pulled up to the gate. They were allowed in and he drove up to the building and pulled around in the circle in front.