Chapter 13
Simon paced the gallery office, his jaw working. Who the hell was she having over for dinner every night? And why didn’t they eat inside the house? It was obvious she’d cooked for someone. Two plates, two wineglasses, two pieces of pie. The meals implied man, but that wasn’t certain. Since he didn’t have cameras outside the house, he couldn’t see who was sitting on the patio and sharing the meal. Damn it.
He’d looked for areas to place cameras on the exterior of the house, but there were no locations she wouldn’t notice. And unless she installed them herself, he was stuck with just watching who came and went inside the house.
He needed to make his move soon. Otherwise she was going to hook up with someone else, and he would have to get rid of him the way he’d gotten rid of Andy.
If the damn wolves in the area hadn’t chased him back to his car while the police were there, he might have been able to find out what the hell was going on at her house without reading about it in the paper. Next time he’d take his gun and kill the damn animals.
He opened the app on his phone and watched Genevieve working in the studio. It was time to make his first move and get her attention. He’d take her to lunch and invite her to attend the library fund-raiser with him on Thursday night. Or better yet, he’d bring her lunch so she wouldn’t have to change.
He could go to The Dish and get dessert. They had pie, which he knew she liked. But what to get for the main meal?
He settled on food from small deli down the street from the gallery. He ordered croissants, chicken salad with grapes and nuts, and a tray of sliced cheese with sesame crackers. He chose a wine from his own wine collection, and collected two glasses. The pie was still warm when he swung by The Dish and picked it up.
When he pulled into Genevieve’s driveway a few minutes later, he could hear the saw going from the open window of his car. He waited until she lowered the tool before shouting her name and waving his hands. She looked up, her eyes narrowed behind the safety glasses, the look of determination he often saw while she worked making him smile.
She put the saw on the table, shoved the safety glasses atop her head, and pulled off the headphones. “Hey. Did I miss a message on the answering machine?”
“No. I thought I’d treat you to lunch today. Just a spur of the moment thing.”
Her brows rose, and she continued to look at him for a moment. “Let me knock this area off with the hammer and I’ll be right with you.”
“Okay.” He walked out onto the patio, listening to her pounding away at the stone for several moments, then running water.
Her clothes were covered with stone dust, but she’d pulled the kerchief off her hair and washed her face and hands. She walked around the side of the studio with a brush, and moments later he saw particles drifting through the air.
When she joined him at the table, the imprints from the safety glasses still marked her skin. He stood and waited for her to take the seat opposite him.
“This is really nice of you, Simon. Thank you.”
He poured her a shallow glass of wine. “You’re welcome.” He served her a croissant sandwich in its Styrofoam container and laid out the cheese and crackers. “I have a special dessert as well. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I thought you wouldn’t mind taking a break to eat.”
“Yes. But usually it’s just a quick sandwich, nothing as fancy as this.” She smiled, and even though she didn’t have anything on her face, he leaned forward and pretended to brush away a little dust with his napkin. Her expression shifted, but he couldn’t read her emotions.
For a few minutes they talked about the piece she just sold, and when Water Baby, which was what she was calling the girl bathed in blue polymer, would be ready to sell. “I’ve had to move it into the house so the dust from the stone carving won’t get into the medium before it dries. I’ll show her to you once we’ve eaten.”
“I’m eager to see her.” He was. The clay sculpture was beautiful, the girl high-breasted and slender. He hadn’t seen the model in person as he had Juliet Templeton. Clothed or not, Juliet was beautiful, but she had a reputation, and he didn’t really approve of the friendship between her and Genevieve.
“Did you tell your model for Reclining Woman about the modeling offer?”
“Yes, I did. She wasn’t interested. She has family here, and a boyfriend. And she’s in college and close to getting her degree.”
“Really. Everyone seems to be in school these days. What kind of degree is she working toward?”
“Business. She’s very sharp. She’s given me a few tips that have paid off lately.”
“Like what for instance?”
“Just some stock tips. I’d have never pegged her for following the stock market, but she seems to have a knack for it.”
He’d never have guessed. He thought her all body and sex appeal. “So beauty and brains.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re friends as well as artist and model?”
“Yes. But don’t ask me to tell you who she is.”
“I think I recognize her, but I’ll stay mum about her identity in return for something.”
He read the wariness that instantly sprang into her eyes and resented it.
“What?”
“Accompany me to the library fund-raiser on Thursday night.”
“Sure. I’m going anyway. I can meet you there.”
“I want you to go with me as my date, Genevieve.”
She bit her lip. “As friends,” she stated, her expression carefully controlled.
“Friends with the possibility of more,” he pushed.
She sat back in her seat and reached for her wine, taking a small sip. She kept her eyes on the glass instead of looking at him. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to mix business and dating, Simon. Besides, I’m not ready for anything romantic yet.”
“It’s been two years, Genevieve.”
“I know how long it’s been. Believe me.”
“You can have more than one romance in a lifetime.”
“Maybe.” She looked away. “We work very well together, and it’s a relationship that’s financially beneficial to us both. I don’t want to risk messing that up, Simon.”
“I have feelings for you, Genevieve.” It took all his control not to scream at her, You’re mine.
“I’ve never thought of you in that way. Certainly as my agent, and my friend, but…”
“Because I was giving you time to get through your grief. It’s time you tried to get past it, Genevieve. Just think about it, and come with me to the fund-raiser.”
She hesitated longer than he liked. “I’ll come with you, but I can’t promise anything more than friendship, Simon.”
“I’m not asking for a promise. I’m just asking for a chance.”
He read the resistance in her features and forced his emotions back in their box. “Enough serious talk. Now for dessert. I brought a strawberry-rhubarb pie. Someone told me it’s one of your favorites.” He got the pie out of the bag and reached for the plastic knife they’d given him to slice it.
“Who told you?”
“The woman at The Dish who bakes the pies. I called and asked if she knew.” Although he already knew, since he’d been watching her for months, he made the call in case Genevieve decided to check. He dug the paper plates out of the sack. With the knife and a fork, he managed to transfer the pie to the plate without dropping it. He looked up to find her studying him and smiled. Was that a measured glance? He’d given her something to think about.
It was hard not to push, but he sensed the resistance in her, and didn’t want to risk an outright rejection. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if she rejected him.
He’d never tasted strawberry-rhubarb pie, and after the shock of the first sweet-tart bite, he decided he probably wouldn’t again. He forced himself to eat it despite his revulsion. When he owned up to having made that sacrifice later, she’d better appreciate it.
* * *
Emotions bounced back and forth inside Genevieve like a ping-pong ball. It never occurred to her that Simon was interested in any kind of personal relationship. He’d blindsided her with this sudden announcement out of the blue. He was her agent. And if she rejected him…it would ruin their working relationship, and their friendship. She swallowed the last bite of her pie and wondered if she’d associate this moment with strawberry-rhubarb pie from now on.
“I’m leaving the pie with you. Enjoy it at your leisure.” He leaned back in his chair to enjoy the wine.
“You didn’t like it. Why did you eat it?” And why did it bother her that he pretended to like it?
He raised a brow. “I’ve never had it before, and was curious. It’s a little too bold for me. Isn’t pie supposed to be restful? That was a little bit challenging.”
She laughed. “I hadn’t thought about it in quite that way.” She took a sip of her wine. “My grandmother used to make it from the rhubarb she grew along the fence out back. It’s still there, and I do cut it now and then and fix rhubarb dumplings and cobbler.”
He grimaced. “No.”
“Yes.” She smiled.
He tilted his head toward Finn. “Your friend over there is looking a little better now he’s clean.”
“Yes, he is.” He was looking better. Something had changed. The color of the stone was lighter, and the surface looked freshly polished. Maybe it was because she’d been treating Finn to regular meals. She couldn’t bear the thought of him eating raw meat with the wolves. And the wolves hadn’t returned since he sent them off. She didn’t understand why they obeyed him. Maybe it was a magic thing.
In any case, Butterbean was happy he could roam free as he’d always done.
And Finn roamed, too. Where did he disappear to every night?
They had spent several evenings together, sharing meals and talking for hours. She was interested in his life before the transformation and after, interested in him. He could speak Latin and a little French. And there was nothing bestial in the way he ate. His table manners were fine, despite his lethal-looking teeth and claws. And she’d discovered how protective he was of her and Butterbean when she saw him patrolling the area around her house at night.
But she’d never been able to catch him at the moment of transformation. His block would be bare one moment, and he would be there the next, frozen in position.
“Why did you buy him? Really?” Simon asked.
Why had she? Had Finn cast a spell on her? He never mentioned any kind of magical ability, but Juliet and Miranda had both warned her about the magic surrounding him. Or had it been her own empathic ability? Had his suffering reached out to her from behind the magic?
She looked up after a moment. “He was sitting in a garden covered in pigeon droppings. A statue created in thirteen-fifty! And the owners wanted to get rid of him because the tourists didn’t really care for him. So I offered to buy him. They turned me down at first, but then decided he’d have a better home with me.”
“Your cat seems to like him as much as you do.”
She glanced over to see Butterbean perched on Finn’s shoulder and shook her head. “He thinks I bought the statue just for him. He’s constantly climbing on him.” Even when he’s the live gargoyle.
“Have you made a decision about the drawings yet?”
“I haven’t finished the stone carving yet. But I have finished the clay sculpture if you’d like to see it.”
“Certainly.”
She carried her wine with her to the living room. The figure was on display in the light of two windows.
She’d fastened the clay sculpture onto a wooden block, and from the distance across the living room, the woman appeared to be rising from a pool, with her chin tilted up and her hair streaming down her back. Her shoulders and arms were back in a ballerina pose, as though she was offering herself up to the sun. Her hands, expressive and slender, fanned out at her sides.
The polymer, both clear and with different tints of blue and green, coated her in streams and swirls as it rolled down her shoulders, then over her torso and legs. Color spread like water across the block of wood to the edge where it spilled over the side here and there in heavy drips. The figure glowed in the light of the sun.
“She’s…breathtaking, Genevieve.” His tone was hushed, his attention focused intently on the sculpture.
If nothing else, he was a fan of her work. She could always trust that. The thought gave her pause. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t understand what you meant by a polymer. This is extraordinary.” Simon circled the figure, studying her intently.
“I’m pleased with her. I had to put a support through the bottom of one foot and run it up through the leg to her internal armature and anchor it to the block. I would have preferred to have her support-free but the figure is too heavy, and the ceramic not strong enough to carry the weight of the polymer by itself.”
“You’ve hidden it well. I couldn’t tell you where it is.”
“The polymer coats her body and covers the hole I had to drill between her shoulder blades to attach it.
“This one will fly off to a new home as soon as we list it.”
She knew it would, as soon as she’d finished it. But with it being part of a series… “I have two more sculptures planned in the series. I think we should wait until they’re all finished and offer them as a set.”
He continued to study the sculpture. “If that’s what you want to do. You won’t get attached to it and refuse to part with it?” He was smiling as he said it, but there was a crease between his brows.
“I don’t think I will. I can give you the drawings I did while I planned her now, though,” she offered to appease him.
But she couldn’t promise to give up the next ones, or the stone sculpture in her studio. She’d been working on the drawings for days. She might have to do four sculptures and keep the next one.
She had convinced Finn to allow her to take some photos while he was the stone gargoyle. She’d felt compelled to ask his permission now she knew he was alive. “Ye’ve paid for that with all the food ye’ve cooked for me,” he’d commented, seeming unconcerned.
Simon started to take his leave. He moved in close, slipped an arm around her waist and held her lightly against him. “I’d like for you to give the idea of us dating some serious thought, Genevieve.”
His lean form felt more muscular than she expected. She studied the width of his shoulders for a long moment before looking up into his face, taking in his features with new eyes. She felt no physical response to his nearness, no spark of passion or recognition between her body and his.
Simon pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “I won’t rush you.” He breathed against her skin.
She shivered. There was possessiveness in the way he held her.
“Just think about it.” He stepped back. “If you’ll get those drawings, I’ll take them to be framed, and we’ll see how they do.”
She retrieved them from the studio, went to the kitchen table and took some time to run a kneaded eraser over the edges of the paper where her fingerprints had marred them. The sketches were nice. She’d never thought of herself as an artist, only a sculptor, but she used both skills to complete her process.
Simon appeared from the living room while she finished cleaning up the drawings. She returned to the studio for two pieces of mat board and a cardboard portfolio. With the drawings secure inside, she handed off the portfolio to Simon.
“I believe these will sell as easily as all your other work. I’ll let you know when they’re framed and hanging in the gallery.”
“Thank you, I’d like to see them when they’re done. And thank you for lunch.”
“We’ll do it again soon.”
She stood on the porch, watching while he backed out of the driveway and turned his car toward town. When her shoulders fell, she realized how tense she’d become while he was with her. It would be like walking a tightrope, trying balance their business relationship with an emotional one.