Nymph.
Yes. That was definitely more fitting, and if he were the kind of man who believed there were such things, that’s what he would have categorized her as.
He couldn’t form a single word.
Her expression turned slightly curious. “Hi. Um…Dr. Shaughnessy?”
She was looking for him? Seriously? Swallowing hard, Owen tried to speak—he really did—but all he could do was nod.
The easy smile was back. Her hand fluttered up to her chest as she let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry for showing up so close to the end of your class. It was inconsiderate of me. I meant to be here earlier. Well, I was supposed to be here for the entire lecture, but I lost track of time talking to Mr. Kennedy.” She looked at him as if expecting him to know who she was talking about. “He’s the head of the art department,” she clarified.
Again, all he could do was nod. He cleared his throat too, but it didn’t help.
“Anyway, I’m supposed to meet my uncle here—Howard Shields. He suggested I come and listen to you speak. He thinks very highly of you and thought I’d enjoy your lecture.”
Seriously? Howard Shields thought someone would enjoy hearing him talk about meteor showers? That wasn’t the normal reaction Owen received from his talks. Informative? Educational? Yes. Enjoyable? Never.
Not sure how he should respond, he offered her a small smile and felt a flush cover him from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair. She was probably regretting listening to her uncle. As it was, she was looking at him expectantly.
“Anyway,” she said, her voice still pleasant and friendly, “Uncle Howard talks about you all the time, and when he told me you were in Chicago guest lecturing, I knew I had to come and meet you. My uncle really respects your work.”
Owen finally met her gaze head-on because her words struck him. It was no secret that Owen looked up to Howard—he’d been a mentor to Owen for as long as he could remember—but to hear it wasn’t all one-sided? Well, it meant the world to him.
Most people in his field looked at Owen a little oddly. It wasn’t because he didn’t know what he was talking about or that he wasn’t respected, it was because of his social skills. Or lack thereof. It seemed to overshadow all of his fieldwork, research, and teachings. He was more well-known for being painfully shy than anything else. He was filled with a sense of relief—and pride—to know that Howard had said something nice about him.
And now he also knew he was going to have to speak.
“Um…thank you,” he said softly, feeling like his mouth was full of marbles. When he saw her smile broaden, it made him want to smile too.
So he did.
But he had a feeling it wasn’t nearly as bright or as at ease as hers.
“Ah, there you are!” They both turned and saw Howard walk into the room, his white lab coat flowing slightly behind him. “I was on my way here and was sidetracked talking with Dr. Lauria about the waiting list for the telescope.” He shook his head. “Students are up in arms over the lack of availability.”
Owen nodded but remained silent.
“I see you’ve met my niece, Brooke,” Howard said before leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.
“We haven’t been formally introduced,” she said shyly, smiling at Owen.
“Well, let’s rectify that,” Howard said, grinning. “Owen Shaughnessy, I’d like you to meet my niece, Brooke Matthews. Brooke, this is Dr. Owen Shaughnessy.”
Brooke smiled—a genuine smile—as she held out her hand to Owen. “Feel free to make fun,” she said.
Owen looked at her oddly. “Fun?”
Her head tilted slightly. “Yeah…you know. Because of my name.”
Now he was confused. “I’m sorry,” he said nervously, “is there something funny about the name Brooke?”
Howard laughed out loud and clapped Owen on the shoulder again as he shook his head. “Don’t mind him, Brookie. He doesn’t get pop culture references.”
Pop culture references? Owen looked back and forth between the two of them for some sort of explanation. Then he realized Brooke’s hand was still outstretched, waiting for him to take it. Quickly wiping his palm on his slacks, he took her hand in his and gave it a brief shake. He murmured an apology and averted his gaze before stepping back.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, Brooke continued to smile. “My parents named me after Brooke Matthews—the model.” When he still didn’t react, she added, “She’s also an actress.” Still nothing. Looking at her uncle, she shrugged and let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, anyway…um, Uncle Howard, I’m afraid I was late to Dr. Shaughnessy’s class.”
Howard placed an arm around her and hugged her. “I knew pointing you in the direction of the art department was going to be a problem.” He chuckled and turned to Owen. “Brooke is an artist and looking to either intern here at the university or maybe get a lead on a gallery where she can work and perhaps get her paintings looked at.” He smiled lovingly at her. “She teaches painting classes during the summer semester at the community college, but she’s far too talented to keep doing it.”
“Uncle Howard,” she said shyly.
“What? It’s true!”
Owen still couldn’t quite figure out why Brooke was here or why Howard had thought she should come to hear him lecture. He was just about to voice the question when Howard looked at him.
“Brooke’s specialty is painting the night sky.”
For a moment, Owen wasn’t sure how to respond.
Brooke blushed and then looked at Owen to explain. “I know most people would say the night sky is simply dark—or black—with some stars, but I don’t see it that way. I see the way the stars reflect off one another and how it causes different hues in the sky.” She gave a small shrug. “Most of the time my work is a little more…well, it’s not abstract, but it’s more whimsical than a true portrait.”
“Don’t just tell him about it,” Howard suggested. “You have your portfolio with you. Why don’t you show him?”
“Oh!” Brooke turned and took the leather case from her shoulder and laid it on the desk in front of her.
Owen watched in fascination as she worked—noting her slender arms and the music that came from her wrists as her bracelets gently clattered together. Her long hair fell over one shoulder, and it was almost impossible to take his eyes off her.
“I hope we’re not keeping you, Owen,” Howard said, stepping closer. “I probably should have asked you earlier about your schedule before we both sort of bombarded you like this.”
He shook his head. “I… I don’t have anything else scheduled for this afternoon. I had planned on heading back to the hotel and doing some reading before dinner. I’ll talk with Riley later.” Howard and Owen had known each other for so long that he didn’t need to specify anything regarding his family—Howard knew all about them.
“How’s he doing? Is he back in the studio yet?”
“Not yet. He didn’t want to do another solo project, but getting the band back together isn’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped.”
Hands in his pockets, Howard nodded. “That’s too bad. Still…I’m sure the time off is enjoyable. How is Savannah doing?”
Owen smiled at the mention of his sister-in-law. “She’s doing well. She found an agent, and she’s submitting proposals for a book she’s been working on.”
“Wonderful! Is it based on her work interviewing rock stars?”
Beside them, Brooke straightened and gasped.
“Are you okay, my dear?” Howard asked.
But Brooke was looking directly at Owen. “You’re Riley Shaughnessy’s brother,” she said. It wasn’t a question but a simple statement of fact.
A weary sigh was Owen’s immediate response. This was how it normally went—not that it happened very often. At least not to him. But he heard from his
other brothers what usually occurred when a woman found out they were related to Riley. And it wasn’t as if Owen knew Brooke or was involved with her, but he braced himself for the disappointment of knowing that from this point on, she was probably only going to want to talk about his famous brother.
And for the first time in a long time—possibly since high school—he resented his twin.
Might as well get it over with.
Clearing his throat, Owen nodded. “Um…yes. Riley’s my brother.”
Brooke nodded, her smile just as sweet as it had been since she walked into the lecture hall. “How fascinating! I mean, I think it is, anyway, to see such diversity in a family.”
And here it comes, he thought.
“You’re both so talented but in such different occupations. Your parents must be incredibly proud of you both!” Then she turned and straightened her pictures.
Wait…that was it? She wasn’t going to obsess or go on and on about how talented Riley was or how much she loved his latest song?
“So let me ask you,” she began as she turned to face him, and Owen braced himself again. Now she was going to do it. Now she was going to gush. “What colors do you see when you look up at the night sky? Do you just see black, or do you see different shades of blue?”
He stared at Brooke.
Hard.
And his jaw was quite possibly on the floor.
“Owen?” Howard asked, stepping forward. “Are you all right?”
He shook his head as if to clear it and then focused on Brooke and said the first thing that came to mind. “Why aren’t you talking about Riley?”
She looked at him as if he were a little bit crazy and then turned to her uncle before looking at Owen again, shrugging. “I’m sorry. Did you want to talk about him? I thought I was going to show you some examples of my paintings.”
He blinked—still unable to believe what he was hearing. Glancing at Howard, he saw the older man smirking as if he knew exactly what was going on in Owen’s mind. People always wanted to talk about Riley. He was big news. People liked celebrities, and he was far more interesting than most. Certainly more interesting than Owen.
“Oh…um. Yes. Yes. You were going to show me your paintings,” he said nervously, and he stepped forward to take a look.
And was rendered speechless.
Not that it was hard to do—Owen was already a man of few words—but the canvases Brooke had strewn across the desk were nothing like he was expecting.
The colors were bold and bright and made with large brushstrokes. He thought of Van Gogh’s Starry Night and admired how she had layered the paint.
He stepped closer to the desk, picked up the closest painting, and studied it. This one was darker—it portrayed gravitational waves—and Brooke had managed to capture all of the light and the colors and make it feel as if you could reach into the painting and touch the stars. It was brilliant. It was compelling. It was… He put it down and picked up the next one. A shooting star. It was a little more whimsical than the previous one, but the colors were just as vibrant, and looking at it made Owen feel as if he were looking through his telescope and watching the stars fly across the night sky.
“So what do you…?”
He placed the painting down—ignoring Brooke’s attempt at a question—and picked up the third painting. This was the one he thought reminded him of Van Gogh. This had depth, texture. Owen wasn’t in the least bit artistic, but he knew what he was looking at was amazing. Gently he ran his hand over the canvas, taking in the feel of the paint, and was mesmerized. How many times had he wished he could reach out and touch the sky—to feel the heat of a star and study its contours? And standing here now, that was exactly what he felt he was doing. Unable to help himself, he looked at Brooke with wonder. “This is…amazing.” And then he wanted to curse himself because that description didn’t do her work justice.
And yet she looked pleased.
Relieved.
Her hand fluttered up over her chest as she let out a happy sigh. “Thank you. I know they’re all different—I’m trying to find the style that calls to me the most and reflects how I’m feeling—but they all do. It sort of depends on the night. Does that make sense?”
Owen had no idea if it did or it didn’t—he certainly had never tried this medium, so who was he to judge? But he was still confused. What did her artwork have to do with him? And again—as if reading his mind—Howard spoke.
“Brooke’s favorite subject is nature—particularly the night sky and sunsets, that sort of thing. She’s been talking about wanting to go out to the desert and paint, and I immediately thought of you and the Nevada project.”
It still didn’t make sense to him. “The Nevada project?” Owen parroted. “But…that’s to watch the meteor shower, and it’s for students and undergrads. I… I don’t understand.”
Beside them, Brooke cleared her throat and began collecting her paintings. “I should probably let the two of you talk,” she murmured. “I thought it was already—”
Howard cut her off. “I meant to discuss this with Owen sooner, but our schedules haven’t quite matched up. You don’t need to leave, Brooke. It’s good that you’re here and we can go over it together.”
Nodding, she continued to put her things away and then stood back silently while her uncle explained his idea.
“I fully support Brooke’s work and her desire to experience different places to paint. But her heading off to the desert alone just isn’t practical or safe. Her mother has some…issues, and Brooke is willing to respect them for the moment. So she needs to go with a group.”
Nodding in agreement, Owen offered a suggestion. “Perhaps she could find painters interested in doing the same thing. Make it an artist’s retreat.” That was a thing, wasn’t it?
“I want you to hear me out, Owen. I have a proposition for you.”
Dread sank like a lead weight in his belly.
“You and I both know you’re going to need help on your upcoming trip to Red Rock. An assistant. Someone to help you manage your time and keep you on task.”
“I don’t have a problem with staying on task, Howard,” Owen argued lightly. “I have excellent time-management skills—”
“No, what you have is excellent social avoidance skills. You get too wrapped up in reading and studying, and you forget there are people around you are supposed to be interacting with. This project is going to require you to lead a group of twenty—and that means you have to be accessible to them and able to communicate with them without having a panic attack.”
All Owen wanted at the moment was to hide—especially from Brooke. While Owen knew of his own shortcomings, he didn’t appreciate them being pointed out with an audience.
Howard placed a reassuring hand on Owen’s shoulder and squeezed. “You are an amazing teacher and scientist, Owen. But your people skills could use a little…help. There’s nothing wrong with admitting that.”
Easy for him to say, Owen thought. The man was one of the most personable professors and scientists he’d ever worked with. “Howard—”
“Brooke is at ease in front of a class and working with people. She’s friendly and personable and very sociable. She would be an asset to your team and would free you up to concentrate on the science aspects. And while she’s in the desert with you, she could paint. It’s a win-win.”
“But…” And how did he put this without it coming off as arrogant or a put-down to Brooke? “She’s not a scientist, Howard,” he said softly, hoping to cushion his words. “I think it’s important to have someone working with me who understands the project and what we’re doing so if anyone has questions and I’m not available, that person can answer them.”
“Owen—”
“No, it’s okay, Uncle Howard,” Brooke said, her voice soft and not sounding at all offended. “I understand what Dr. S
haughnessy is saying.” Then she turned to Owen. “I know I’m not someone you would normally consider having as an assistant—especially here on campus or in the normal scope of your work. What my uncle is proposing is just for the time you’re working on this trip to Red Rock. I do have excellent organizational skills, and I’m comfortable working in an office environment and am proficient with all the computer programs you may need to get information ready for this trip. I can make phone calls and set up schedules for you and your group. And once we arrive in Red Rock, I’ll be there to help you with the group on a…social level. If that even makes sense.”
It did. It seriously did. But Owen wasn’t sure he was comfortable with it.
Brooke must have sensed his hesitation because she smiled and then looked at her watch. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you think about it and let Uncle Howard know? I have an appointment to get to.” She held out her hand to Owen, and this time he didn’t hesitate quite so long to shake it. With a quick wave to Owen, she gave her uncle a hug and wished them both a good day.
Owen watched her leave and immediately felt as if the sun had gone behind the clouds. The lecture hall felt dark and quiet and…lonely. He stood and watched the empty doorway for several minutes until Howard cleared his throat.
Damn.
He looked over at his mentor and hoped he didn’t look like some sort of lovesick puppy.
“Think about it, Owen. I believe Brooke is the perfect person for you.” He paused. “And for this project.”
And then he was gone too and Owen was completely alone and left wondering if Howard’s words were somehow a double entendre.
* * *
Brooke slipped into the first empty lecture hall she could find and felt completely defeated.
Not sure what to do with herself, she walked over to the first row of desks and took a seat. A long, slow sigh came out as she sat there and replayed the last several minutes. It wasn’t as if she had been expecting Owen Shaughnessy to jump at the chance to have her work with him, but she still couldn’t help but feel…disappointed.
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