by Patricia Kay
Yesterday, BTK (before the kiss!), she’d have immediately called Marcus to tell him the good news. But now, after the way he’d left her, she knew she wasn’t going to have that pleasure. Oh, she’d tell him about the space once she had the finalized contract in hand, but she’d do it during business hours and it would be in the form of an email.
Because those kisses and, afterward, the way he’d so quickly agreed they needed to cool it, had changed everything.
She had learned her lesson.
She wasn’t going to spin daydreams about him anymore.
Their relationship was going back to being about business only, because she had no intention of ending up with a broken heart.
* * *
Marcus spent Saturday morning at the gallery. Brenda didn’t work weekends unless something special was going on. Instead, a young graduate student named Peter Truby manned the showroom floor. He was a nice kid. Normally when Marcus was there, he enjoyed talking to Peter. Today, though, Marcus spent most of his time back in the office where he had intended to look at the financials and pay some bills.
But he was finding it hard to concentrate today. His thoughts kept turning to Friday night and everything that had transpired between him and Joanna. He wasn’t happy with the way he’d conducted himself or with the way the evening had ended. He knew her suggestion that they cool it was a sensible one, but he couldn’t help wishing he hadn’t been so quick to agree. Why hadn’t he asked her why she felt that way? Why had he been so rattled that he said okay and then just left?
Because you lost control.
Yes. That was the crux of the problem. He’d lost control, done something without thinking of the consequences and whether he was ready for them, and it had unsettled him.
Dammit, anyway.
He couldn’t help feeling he’d acted like a jerk.
And he wasn’t a jerk. In fact, he prided himself on being a gentleman, someone who always conducted himself in a way that would have made his father proud.
Marcus was still trying to decide what action, if any, he might take to try to make amends without also looking like a fool when his cell phone rang and the name Jamison Wells showed on the display.
“Hello, Jamison,” he said, pleased to hear from the artist.
“Hello, Marcus. Sorry to bother you on the weekend, but I wanted to let you know I’m coming into Seattle Monday and will be bringing as many of my finished paintings as I can fit in the car.”
Marcus smiled. He had been wanting to talk to Jamison in person rather than try to explain what he envisioned for his exhibition, especially what he was planning for the show where Joanna’s and Vanessa’s work would also be showcased, and now he’d have the opportunity sooner than he’d expected. “No problem. I’m at the gallery this morning.”
“I was hoping I could meet that woman whose fashions are going to be shown along with my work,” Jamison continued.
“Absolutely,” Marcus said. “She’s anxious to meet you, too. How long are you planning to be in town?” Jamison lived in Anacortes, which was about an hour-and-a-half drive, sometimes more, depending on traffic.
“I can stay the night if I have to.”
“If you want to meet Joanna, you might have to. She’s working out a notice and probably won’t be able to get away from her office before five.”
“Okay. I’ll plan to spend the night, then. Got any recommendations about a place to stay that isn’t too far from the gallery? Or too expensive?”
Marcus thought for a minute. “Tell you what. You can use the Barlow company’s corporate suite. The one we keep for visiting VIPs. No one is scheduled to be there all week, so it’s free and it’s only about fifteen minutes from here.”
“That would be great.”
“Consider it done, then.”
“I’ll come straight to the gallery, and you can show me how to get to the suite when we wrap up on Monday.”
Marcus checked his calendar, saw that Monday afternoon was blessedly free of appointments at work. “I’m free in the afternoon Monday. I can be here by one.”
After they’d hung up, Marcus realized Jamison’s call had given him the perfect reason to contact Joanna again without it being awkward. He still didn’t know what he’d do going forward, but at least the first part of his problem was solved.
* * *
On Monday morning Joanna was in the middle of showing Lonnie how to process a new order when a call came in from Marcus’s assistant, Judith Holmes.
“Ms. Spinelli,” she said, “Mr. Barlow is tied up on an international call and asked me to phone you.”
Even though Joanna was only talking to his assistant, her stupid heart still thumped harder. God, she was a mess. No wonder she attracted losers like Chick instead of the kind of man she hoped to someday find.
“He wanted me to tell you,” the Holmes woman continued, “that Jamison Wells will be in town and at the gallery this afternoon. Mr. Wells is anxious to meet you, and Mr. Barlow wondered if you could come to the gallery after you finish work.”
Joanna knew she couldn’t refuse. Nor did she want to. She was anxious herself to meet the artist with whom she’d be sharing her big night. Plus she couldn’t help wondering how Marcus would react when they were together again, and this was an ideal way to find out—when someone else would be there to act as a buffer between them. Her only concern was her own ability to stay cool and confident and professional, yet friendly and warm enough so that Jamison Wells would like her.
Piece of cake, Georgie would say.
Yeah, right, Joanna thought.
But her tone didn’t convey her doubts when she agreed that yes, she could be at the gallery no later than five-thirty. She would even leave a few minutes early to ensure that there would be no problems. Lonnie might as well learn how to lock up herself. She would have to be doing it next week anyway.
“Mr. Barlow was hoping you might have your portfolio with you,” Judith Holmes said before they hung up. “He knows Mr. Wells would like to see it.”
“I always carry it with me,” Joanna said. She’d gotten into that habit long ago, because another of her mother’s favorite pieces of advice was that you never knew when opportunity would come knocking, and you should always be ready.
For the rest of the day, part of Joanna’s brain was engaged by something other than Lonnie’s training. Instead, it was firmly centered on the upcoming meeting at the gallery. And, of course, from time to time, especially when Marcus entered her thoughts, that stupid heart of hers would give a little flip just to let her know no matter how many times she told herself she could see Marcus again without letting it affect her emotionally, her heart might not have gotten the message.
* * *
Marcus was nervous. And he didn’t like that feeling, either. What the hell was it about Joanna that had so strongly affected him? He only hoped his ability to keep his emotions hidden from public view wouldn’t desert him today.
When Joanna walked into the gallery a few minutes after five-thirty, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull it off. Just looking at her—the way her hair had gotten blown by the wind and was even messier than usual, the way her dark eyes met his for one naked moment before moving to Jamison, who stood beside him, and the way it seemed to take an effort for her to smile as naturally as she had Friday night before he’d kissed her—all reminded him more forcefully than words or any lectures he might have given himself that he might already have crossed into territory he’d never been in before. That maybe it was too late to go backward.
Today she was dressed more like the first day he’d seen her—in a black velvet miniskirt, black-patterned tights, those granny boots of hers, paired with a formfitting woven, glittery silver top over which she’d slung a black capelike jacket. Huge silver disks dangled from her ears, and both arm
s sported a combination of silver and black bracelets. If he hadn’t known she’d learned about this meeting a short while ago, he might have thought she’d purposely dressed defiantly, because her makeup was exaggerated even more than usual, topped off with black lipstick. Was she trying to tell him something? Surely she’d guessed he liked her in more conservative clothing. He’d certainly complimented her enough when she’d exhibited less attention-getting outfits and appearance.
Regardless, if Jamison hadn’t been right there, Marcus might have forgotten everything he wanted to change about her and pulled down the front shades, locked the door and carried her off to the leather sofa in his office, where he could easily have removed the in-your-face clothes and jewelry and done what his body was telling him might be useless to fight.
Truth was, he still wanted her.
Badly.
But Jamison was here. And Joanna was walking toward them. Now her smile was wide and friendly. And it was directed at Jamison.
Marcus looked at Jamison, too. What he saw rocked him, possibly more than he was already rocked by his own reaction to Joanna. For Jamison looked as if he’d been hit by a truck. His expression seemed stunned. There was no other word for it.
“You must be the wonderful artist I’m going to have the privilege of sharing a show with,” Joanna was saying. She gave Jamison her right hand to shake as well as an admiring smile. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I’m Joanna.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Jamison said. He kept hold of Joanna’s hand and bent down and kissed her cheek. “Marcus didn’t tell me you were so beautiful.”
Marcus stiffened. For the first time in many years, he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Unlike when Giacomo had called Joanna beautiful, she didn’t contradict Jamison. Instead, she said, “And he didn’t tell me you were such a charmer.” She laughed softly. “I expected some scruffy old guy with paint on his clothes, not someone like you.”
They were flirting with each other! Right in front of him! Marcus wondered if they’d forgotten he was even there in the throes of their mutual admiration society.
He cleared his throat. “I see you brought your portfolio,” he said to Joanna in the most cool and collected tone he could muster. “Why don’t you put it down and we’ll go into the back and you can see the paintings Jamison brought in today.”
Joanna beamed. But not at Marcus. At Jamison. She practically batted her eyelashes at him. Was she doing this on purpose? Marcus wondered. Was she trying to make him jealous? He’d never been jealous over a woman a day in his life.
And he wasn’t jealous now.
He was just disgusted, that’s all. Couldn’t these two restrain themselves? Jamison was practically salivating; he couldn’t take his eyes off her. And she was lapping it up, like a kitten attacking a bowl of cream. Next thing he knew, Jamison would be asking her for a date. And going by the way she was looking at the younger man, she would say yes.
This wasn’t going to work.
It wasn’t going to work at all.
Maybe Brenda had been right. Maybe Marcus should never have thought about combining the shows of these two. Huh. Maybe he shouldn’t have ever given Joanna a show at all.
Well, it wasn’t too late to change his mind.
Chapter Eleven
Joanna couldn’t believe how well things had gone today. She needn’t have worried about seeing Marcus again. Jamison Wells being at the gallery had changed everything. His reaction to her, the way he so obviously liked and admired her, had given her a much-needed ego boost. And when he’d held her hand as they parted and asked if he could call her, saying he didn’t live that far away at all, that some of the people who lived in Anacortes actually commuted to Seattle on a daily basis, he had made her feel as if she really were beautiful and desirable and someone he’d never just walk away from.
“Maybe I could come into town and take you to dinner or lunch on a weekend,” he’d suggested.
“That would be lovely,” she’d answered in return. She’d sneaked a quick peek at Marcus and was totally satisfied to see the almost imperceptible tightening of his lips. He didn’t like the way she and Jamison were acting. Well, wasn’t that just too bad?
Feeling a surge of power, she’d smiled at Jamison even more warmly, and when he then suggested she might like to come up to Anacortes and see his studio and that he’d love to visit her workroom, she’d warmly agreed to both. The look on Marcus’s face then had been priceless. He’d tried to hide what he was feeling, but Joanna knew he was furious. She’d seen that same expression when he got mad at Vanessa. Good. She hoped he was upset! Did he think he was the only man who had ever looked at her twice?
She told Jamison she’d be looking forward to his call and took out one of her business cards. Before handing it to him, she wrote her cell phone number on the back.
Then she politely thanked Marcus, gave Jamison another I-really-like-you smile and said goodbye. Her only regret was she couldn’t see Marcus’s reaction or hear what he said to Jamison once she was gone. Now she was on her way to the parking lot where she’d left her car.
Oh, it felt good to know Marcus wasn’t as cool as she’d first imagined. The fact that Jamison was young and handsome and such a talented artist sure didn’t hurt. Knowing how Marcus had had to give up his dreams of a career as an artist, she felt a pang of remorse for the hurt she must have caused him today.
And yet that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? She had no reason to feel bad. Marcus didn’t want her. He’d walked away without a backward glance. So today he’d gotten exactly what he deserved. To hell with Marcus Barlow.
But the moment that thought formed, she stopped short, almost causing a man walking behind her to crash into her.
“Jeez, lady,” he said, “watch what you’re doing!”
“Sorry,” Joanna said. Watch what she was doing? She’d better watch what she was thinking. She couldn’t say to hell with Marcus Barlow. He was her benefactor. He was giving her a huge opportunity. How could she forget that fact, even for a second?
Was she losing her mind?
So it was flattering that someone as appealing as Jamison Wells had found her attractive. But did she have to rub Marcus’s nose in it by gushing all over the artist? While he was watching?
Suddenly clear-eyed, Joanna knew she’d better be careful. When dealing with Marcus, she’d better always be aware that he wasn’t just some guy she was dating. He was the man who was giving her the chance to show her work to the movers and shakers in Seattle society. For she had no doubt that most of Marcus’s crowd would come to her show, if only because of him and his sister.
What was more important?
Making a point with Marcus?
Or the opportunity of a lifetime in terms of her dreams and goals?
All of Joanna’s elation over Jamison Wells and his reaction to her disappeared as if it had never been. She just prayed she hadn’t totally blown everything today.
* * *
After Joanna left the gallery, Marcus didn’t have to wonder what Jamison was thinking, because the man couldn’t stop talking. And every other word out of his mouth contained her name.
“I didn’t see a ring on her finger,” he said. “And she didn’t say no when I suggested getting together, so I don’t think she’s involved with anyone. Do you?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Marcus said stiffly.
“She would have said so, don’t you think?”
Marcus shrugged. He had no intention of encouraging Jamison’s juvenile infatuation with Joanna. To halt his nonstop raving about her, Marcus said, “I’m getting hungry. You ready for dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Jamison said.
Marcus suggested a Thai restaurant close to the building where the corporate suite was located. The food there was
excellent; plus, the restaurant had the added benefit of a decent-sized parking lot. Jamison followed Marcus in his car, and after they were inside the restaurant and had placed their orders, they discussed the paintings Jamison had brought to the gallery that day and what Marcus had planned in terms of advertising and promotion.
Their discussion continued through most of their dinner and Marcus had finally relaxed and begun to enjoy himself when Jamison said, “You probably think I’m nuts, but I can’t stop thinking about Joanna.” He smiled sheepishly. “You’ve known her longer. Do you have any advice for me?”
Marcus drank some of his wine to give him time to think. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but it’s never a good idea to mix business with pleasure.” What a hypocrite you are.
Jamison nodded. “I know that, but...she’s really special...don’t you think?”
Now what could Marcus say? Without being a liar as well as a hyprocrite? “She’s definitely unusual.” He tried to keep his tone noncommital.
Jamison frowned. “Don’t you like her? Is there something I should know?”
Marcus had always prided himself on being both honest and fair. And Jamison was too nice a guy, and Marcus had too much respect for him, to be anything less. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give that impression. As far as I know, she’s a very nice person.”
Jamison smiled. “Even if you’d said she wasn’t, it wouldn’t have stopped me calling her.” His smile got broader. “A guy doesn’t meet someone like her every day.”
Even after they’d said good-night and Marcus was on his way home, he couldn’t get Jamison’s last comment out of his mind. A guy doesn’t meet someone like her every day.
Marcus knew he had to do something.