The Masterpiece (Work of Art #3)

by Ruth Clampett

  I breathe a sigh of relief as I head back and find Max talking to an older gentleman. Watching him subtly fend off the aggressive senoritas is wearing me out. But I’m still about twenty feet away when Paloma darts over to him, whispers something in his ear, and drags him to the back of the room and inside a doorway.

  Oh, no she didn’t!

  I hurry after them as fast as my high-heeled sandals will allow. The entire way, I imagine what I’ll do to her. I could pull out her gorgeous mane of hair a chunk at a time or whip off my sandal and stab her repeatedly with my spike heel. Death By Manolos the papers would say.

  I can’t believe she pretended to be my friend while ignoring him, all the while scheming how she would conquer Max. Not gonna happen while I’m around. She has no idea who she’s dealing with.

  Logically, I know Paloma thinks Max and I aren’t involved. But she also knows he’s serious about a girlfriend. Besides, there’s something creepy how she hasn’t shown this kind of interest in him until I disappear. It’s very underhanded.

  But just before I storm through the door, I stop. There’s something about the way she presses him against the counter at the far end of the room that makes me immobile. A wave of nausea hits me. I have to handle this carefully.

  I look quickly around the room that appears to be a type of pantry or event kitchen. There’s another open door much closer to where they’re standing. I tiptoe down the hallway and pause just outside it and catch a glimpse of them in profile.

  Her voice is raspy, wine soaked, and brash.

  “Do you like me, Max?” She runs her hands across his lapels.

  He puts his hands on her shoulders and gently pushes her back.

  “Sure, Paloma, you’re really great. But, you know, I think you’ve had a bit too much wine. Let me get you some coffee.”

  “I’m fine,” she huffs. “But I need you to do something for me. I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?”

  I notice his whole body stiffen. “I thought you said there was a problem. What do you need me to do?” His tone is wary. If he only knew how worried I am about her answer.

  “I need your help distracting Diego and Andres so I can sneak Ava out early. I can’t wait another moment to seduce her.”

  Okay, not expecting that. I clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle my gasp. I already have one foot in the door, but I pull it back and stabilize myself from falling over.

  “You’re going to seduce Ava?” The tops of his ears turn bright red.

  “Yes, I want her in my bed.”

  “Your bed? You want to sleep with Ava?” I almost don’t recognize his voice, it’s so layered with disbelief.

  “What do you not understand? I want to possess her, consume her. She is glorious.” She stops to take a deep breath, and Max folds his arms across his chest.

  Oh, good God, the pictures flying through my head are class A, girl porn. So that’s why she ogled my breasts during the fitting. My suspicions were right—her look wasn’t comparison, but sheer hunger. Pieces of the puzzle are falling into place, the stroking, the back rubbing, the whispering in my ear. She must have wanted me all along.

  Hot tamale Paloma is hot for me. In another place or time, that may have actually turned me on a little, but certainly not now with Max growing agitated.

  Paloma gestures dramatically with her hands. “She’s so delicious. I must have her. So, will you go occupy Diego and Andres so I can take her somewhere private?”

  “Ah, I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.” His voice sounds very tense and edged with anger.

  “Why not? Do not be that way, Maxfield. You’re an artist. I thought you would embrace the passion I have for Ava.”

  She pauses and considers him. “Ah, I see the look in your eye. You must want her too? How could you not? So, we could share her, yes?”

  She did not just ask him that. I don’t think so, girlfriend, we don’t share. Come on, Max…Tell her…

  He takes a moment to think. The pause is a little too long for my taste, but then he squares his shoulders.

  “Well, thanks for the offer, but you can’t have Ava because she’s mine.”

  I can’t even be mad that he just spilled the beans about our relationship. There’s an unwavering strength in his statement that’s incredibly satisfying.

  “Yours? She’s your lover?”

  “Yes, but she’s more than that. She’s my life, and I don’t share her. She’s also going to be my angry girlfriend when she finds out I told you we’re in love. We were advised to be professional at this event and keep our private lives private.”

  Paloma slams her fist on her hip. “What idiot dictated that? You’re an artist with paint, she with words. You should be out for the whole world to see.”

  “That’s what I said,” he grumbles.

  “Donde es los cojones! Go out there and claim your woman. Kiss her in front of everyone, and then take her to your hotel and make the passionate love to her. This is Spain! We are a passionate people…We expect such things.”

  She throws her long mane of hair over her shoulder and walks out of the room with a flourish.

  Max stays behind just long enough for me to sneak into the room. When he sees me, he blanches.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Every word.”

  He considers me carefully. “Are you mad?”

  “Mad that you spilled the beans about us? Not when you consider the circumstance you were in.”

  He smiles. “Yeah, well, you can bet I won’t leave you alone with her again.”

  “See, and all this trip you were worried about the men hitting on me, when it was a woman who really wanted me.”

  He arches his brow and runs his hand over my hip. “Yeah, everyone wants you. This is what I get for having such a sexy girlfriend.”

  “So, are you going to take me back to the hotel and make passionate love to me?”

  “You bet.” He pulls me into his arms and I get the big kiss. And although we aren’t doing the tongue tango in front of everyone, it’s still great.

  Thank you, Paloma.

  Although it’s our last evening in Barcelona, the need to be alone in our suite is overwhelming. But the museum has booked the private room at Casa Calvet, one of Barcelona’s best restaurants, located in the Placa Catalunya, one of Gaudi’s buildings. So, despite our yearning, we attend the dinner, our last formal obligation of the trip. There’s still an excited buzz from the show, and everyone’s festive. We aren’t the only ones thrilled the opening is such a success.

  Max maneuvers the seating around so I’m next to him. There are about a dozen of us around a long table in the softly lit private room. When the wine is served in fine crystal goblets, Max proposes a toast.

  “I’d like to thank Diego, Paloma, Andres and all of the new friends we’ve made during this amazing experience. I’m so proud to have my work in your world-class museum. We’ve been treated with great hospitality during our time here. We’re enchanted with Barcelona and hope to return soon.”

  I look around at the candle-lit faces, and am satisfied to see the smiles from Max’s speech. Max slides his hand across my back before resting it on my shoulder, his fingers lightly caressing me.

  “Finally, I’d like to thank this wonderful author, my girlfriend, Ava, for her support. This trip was even more amazing because she shared it with me. I love you, Ava.”

  “I knew it,” someone whispers.

  “Ahhh,” another says with a sigh further down the table.

  He raises his glass higher. “Salud!”

  “Salud!” echoes through the room as everyone joins in the toast. Max gives me a devilish look and kisses me hard before he settles back in his chair.

  My eyes drop to my plate as a blush moves across my cheeks. But when I look up, Diego is grinning with a knowing look and raises his glass again.

  “To love!” he exclaims, and we all laugh happily.

  I don’t know what I feared, but thankfully, there
’s no fallout from Max’s announcement yet. For a moment, a feeling creeps up my spine as I remember Paloma’s conversation with Travis. Have we blown bigger opportunities for me with our big reveal? Is that why Max’s manager, Dylan, was so insistent that we remain professional? I feel a wave of concern, but fight to force it out of my mind. After all, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it now, and ruining our last remaining hours in Barcelona would just add to the feeling of loss.

  With all the colorful conversation, the dinner goes by quicker than I would’ve imagined. At the end, when we finally say our thank-yous and farewells, Paloma is the last to say good-bye. Her smile is almost shy as she takes my hand.

  “Friends?”

  “Of course,” I respond warmly, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you for everything. You took such good care of us, Paloma.”

  She gently kisses me on each cheek before stepping in front of Max and grabbing his lapels.

  “As for you, Señor, you better take good care of her.”

  “I will,” Max says to assure her.

  When we get back to the room, there are candles lit and a bottle of champagne chilling. There’s a card next to the bottle with a single letter P.

  “Now, that’s a good PR person.” Max laughs. “That Paloma is one of a kind.”

  “Yes, well, as she said, the Spanish are passionate people. I’m actually glad she knows our secret.”

  “No more secrets.” He smoothly opens the bottle and fills the two flutes before handing me one.

  I lift the glass. “To you, Max…your art, your vision. I don’t know when I’ve ever been more in awe of you than I was tonight.”

  We clink glasses and take long sips.

  He looks deep in thought. As he gazes out the window, his voice takes on a wistful quality. “You know, this show was planned a long time ago, before I’d even met you. So, when I used to imagine how it would be to have my very own museum show, and then try to picture what it’d be like, I never imagined I’d have the love of my life here with me. You have made the whole experience mean so much more.” His breath catches. “I’m so damn happy right now.”

  “Me too.” My heart aches in a good way.

  I step closer and sink into him before lifting my chin and kissing him gently. As his mouth moves softly over mine, we focus on each other with a brilliant intensity. Every feeling is saturated with color and painted with the brilliant light of love.

  Chapter Seven / Defy Gravity

  The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

  ~William Shakespeare

  Travel can be a raving bitch and end the best trip with frustration. Max and I arrive at the airport relaxed from our idyllic morning at Gaudi’s magical Gruell Park, but after six hours of waiting to get reassigned seats at the Charles DeGaulle airport, we’re definitely edgy. Our flight leaving Barcelona is delayed, and as a consequence, we miss our connecting flight in Paris. By the time we arrive at LAX, we’ve been traveling for twenty-three hours straight, only to find that our luggage is somewhere in Dallas. Damn.

  Originally, we only arranged one airport car pickup because we were going to have dinner together. But it’s so late, and we’re so fried that Max decides to give me the car and he’ll take a cab to Malibu. I’m supposed to be back to work in nine hours, and I need to lie in my own bed before I step back into the real world again. He has things he needs to take care of at home as well. He has a ton of work and commitments that will keep him occupied most of the week.

  Before we part, I hold him, my eyes closed and face pressed to his chest. He rubs his chin over the top of my head and pulls me tighter.

  “You know, if you lived with me, we wouldn’t have to say goodbye right now.”

  “Stop it!” I moan into his neck. “I’m too tired to be tortured. Believe me, right now, I wish I lived with you too.”

  “Then just stop being so stubborn, woman. I’ll send the moving van over Saturday. I’m ready to clear out half of my closet to give you space.”

  “Only half? No deal, Mr. Caswell.”

  “Take it all, my love, just come be with me.”

  My lips find his and the passion in my kisses shows just how much I want to be with him. “Soon, handsome, very soon.”

  “Promise?” he asks, his eyes wide in disbelief.

  “Yes, promise.”

  The smile he gives me before we part is so joyful I grin all the way home.

  In that heavy thickness of jet lag, I do my best to get through the following workday. I’ve gone from princess of the art ball to working stiff in a matter of hours. It’s a rough transition. I go over my task list with Brian, but my mind is somewhere else.

  “Earth to Ava,” he teases.

  “I’m here, I’m here. Why are you so pushy anyway, mister?”

  “Because, my Spanish señorita, I’m leaving early today, and I need you to pick up the slack. Thomas is whisking me away for a mini-vacation in Vegas.”

  “Vegas?”

  “Yeah, he has a work gig, and they’re putting him up at the Wynn. So we’re going to lie by the pool all morning, then he’ll go and do his thing, and when he’s done we’ll party all night. He even got us Celine Dion tickets.”

  “Honestly, you’re so gay, Brian.”

  “I know, but you love that about me.”

  “Yes, I do.” I hug him hard. “You big, gay, beautiful boy. I love you so much it hurts.”

  “Watch it, girl, your man has a sixth sense about someone touching his woman, and he’s going to break through the door in a minute and beat the crap out of me.”

  “So, you think he’s the jealous type?”

  “Does the sun shine? I mean, seriously, I’ve never seen anyone look at their lover the way he looks at you. It’s rather endearing, even when he pisses me off.”

  “Pisses you off? How?”

  He gives me an exaggerated wide-eyed stare before shaking his head. “He doesn’t like to share his play toys. Sometimes, I worry that he’ll lock you in his dungeon, and it’ll be the last we will see of you.”

  I shrug playfully. “Ah, come on, he’s a little caveman, but he’s getting better every day.”

  It’s all well and good that Sean and I have been getting along at work. Wednesday, we even grab burgers together after working late, but by the time I get back to my apartment, I’m really getting itchy. There’s nothing like spending time with the wrong guy to put a hot spotlight on the right guy. I need my Max fix.

  Coincidentally, Max must need his Ava fix, because when I turn my phone on I find five messages from him. If he goes caveman on me, I’m going to be furious, I think irritably. I was with my buddy Sean, for goodness sake.

  I call him and steel myself for the jealous onslaught, but it never comes. Instead, he sounds calm and concerned.

  “Are you all right, Ava? I couldn’t reach you.”

  “I told you I was working late, and Sean and I grabbed a quick dinner afterward.”

  There’s a long silence on the other end before he calmly asks, “And how is young Sean? Has he found a boyfriend yet?”

  “Oh, Max, you know he isn’t gay.”

  “I don’t know, love, my gaydar goes a little wonky when he’s around.”

  “Is that why you called five times…to make sure my gaydar was on?”

  “No, I actually have a legitimate business reason to call. And sorry for the late notice, Dylan swears he told me about this already, but…are you free three Saturdays from now to do a big book signing at Barnes and Noble at the Grove?”

  I suppress my desire to squeal. “The Grove? They only do the biggest authors and personalities there.”

  “Yes, looks like we’ve made the big time, Angel. How does it feel?”

  “As long as I’m with you, fantastic.”

  “Well, one other thing came up, but it will be more problematic…I want you to think about it, though, okay?”

  “You’ve got me curious, what is it?”

 
“The Pompidou in Paris wants to meet with me, and they’re asking me to come out. I know this is sooner than you expected, but I want you to join me. We could keep it short and just stay a week. Our first trip to Paris.”

  “Damn, Max. Are you serious? Of course, I want to go, but how will I get more time off from Adam?”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “No. Let me think about how I want to handle this. You know how much I want to go with you. I just have to figure out the logistics.”

  Somewhere in the apartment, my roommate, Riley, sings at the top of her lungs. She must’ve come home while I was on the phone. She’s singing Wicked. Things must really be bad.

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “It’s Riley,” I reply, baffled. “She must’ve had a crappy day. She sings Broadway musicals when she’s really upset. I better go see what’s up.”

  Riley launches into “Defy Gravity,” and I’m pretty sure Max can hear the words through the phone. The last time she sang that song this loud, she’d found out she’d been passed up for a promotion at work.

  “Okay, you better make sure Riley’s all right. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”

  Riley’s upset reminds me that sometimes we can try our best and still some tornado or flying monkey can turn things upside down.

  The next morning at the gallery, my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number and let it go to voicemail. But on my break, I listen to the message.

  “Hello, Ava. It’s Travis, from ArtOneWorld. There’s a great opportunity we want to talk to you about. I know this is short notice, but can you come to my office late this afternoon? We’re in Hollywood just off Melrose. Give my assistant Susanna a call and she’ll schedule it.” He leaves the number before hanging up.

  I hold the phone to my ear for another minute in a daze. Great opportunity? This afternoon? I’m overwhelmed with curiosity and a touch of anxiety, and my mind races with possibilities. This must be why he’s been paying so much attention to me…all the checking up and phone calls. I call Susanna and she schedules me for six thirty. They must work late. At least I don’t have to take time off work.