What did wow her about Love Divine was the resemblance between herself and the figure—the upturned, almond-shaped eyes, high cheek bones, and full lips—but it couldn’t be Esme because she’d never met Alexander Smith before.
It had to be a coincidence.
“Why this one?”
“I don’t know. It’s beautiful, I mean, an absolutely beautiful and stunning work of art from Mr. Smith, but I don’t look at this statue and feel warmth and love. More like… arrogance. As if the she knows she’s better than everybody else. That’s not love to me.”
He studied her with a quiet intensity. Reminded of a disapproving professor, Esme resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. She must have sounded like a romantic idiot.
“That is a unique perspective. Insightful,” he finally said. “But I suppose you’re right. You seem to like Alexander Smith’s work.”
“I love it. I’ve followed his career for years, ever since I was a child I wished I could sculpt like him, but sculpture and metalwork isn’t my artistic talent.”
“What medium do you prefer.”
“Water colors and charcoal.”
“I see. Both are respectable and beautiful forms of art. So which of these do you like best?”
“Oh, that’s easy. My favorite is this one.”
She bypassed several other donations and moved to the back wall where the largest piece in the auction occupied a space beneath two spotlights. Copper, bronze, and black steel made up the sculpture that had been fashioned in the likeness of a dragon. The entire piece stood seven feet tall, and it had taken a guy with a forklift and several men to bring it in and get it into place once they’d opened the crate. The title card identified it as The Fire God.
“You like dragons?” he asked.
“I’ve never really cared for them much, to be honest. I wasn’t into that sort of stuff as a kid.”
“So why choose this piece?”
“I can’t really explain it, but this one calls to me. Even though it’s crafted from metal, there’s a life to it. Even though it’s a dragon, the artist was able to depict an expression on its face. While the other statue appeared arrogant, this one is… majestic,” she finally murmured after a pause to collect her thoughts. “And the wings are unfurled just ever so slightly, indicating the dragon is poised to take off or pounce. See the amount of detail in the individual scales?”
“I see what you mean.” He turned to her and smiled again. “And if you could purchase this piece, would you?”
“If I could afford it, yes.”
He nodded. “Thank you for your time, and your assistance Miss…”
“Esme. Esmeralda, really, but all of my friends and family call me Esme.”
He took her hand and bowed over it, brushing a soft kiss across her knuckles. The old-fashioned gesture made her stomach flutter.
“A pleasure, Esme. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her mystery man stepped away and moved into the crowd. As tall as he was, she was able to follow his progress for a moment until he disappeared around a corner. She hadn’t even asked his name.
“Oh my god, Esme, you lucky heifer.”
“Huh?” She blinked and turned toward Marie’s voice. Her friend hurried over, eyes wide. “Why am I lucky?”
“Girl, that was the big-time artist. The guy you couldn’t get ahold of on the phone, remember?”
“Alexander Smith?”
“Yes. I only know what he looks like because—okay, so you know Jasmine is a nurse at Lakeside General Hospital, and last year she was stuck pulling a twelve-hour shift on Christmas Day. She says this guy—this really scarred guy with a cane—showed up with an assload of toys and gifts for everyone, introduced himself, and said he’d received permission from the director. Then he spent hours reading and gaming with all the kids who didn’t have visitors. He let her take his photo with a few of them. Like, he specifically asked to meet the kids with parents who never visited them.”
“Oh no.” The blood drained from her face and a sense of vertigo overcame her. “Oh my God, Marie. I was gushing over his work like a clueless idiot while he just nodded along and humored me.”
“At least you didn’t say anything bad, right?”
“No. I didn’t trash any of his work, thank goodness.” She didn’t particularly like the piece of work that she suspected was the goddess Aphrodite, but she did see the skill involved in its craftsmanship. The flawless lines and polished curves made the statue hyper realistic, bringing to mind myths about gorgons capable of turning humans to stone with a stare. He’d chiseled and shaped every wrinkle of her gown, added the illusion of silk draped over nipples hardened into tiny pebbled points.
At any moment, she expected the statue to walk down from the pedestal.
“—know if it’s that crazy new cocoa diet you’re on or those perfumes you bought online, but if it is, I need to buy some.”
Esme realized Marie had been talking the whole while and turned a sheepish look on her friend. “Sorry. I was thinking about where I could dig a deep enough hole to hide in.”
“Well, buckle up, girl. We still have a dinner to get through. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to see him again tonight.”
Alexander had paid a member of the staff fifty dollars to change his assigned seat to Esme’s table in the banquet hall. Then he’d paid the guy another two hundred to pretend they’d never met.
Sometimes a god had to make his own miracles happen, and he definitely needed every helping hand he could get.
When he reached the round dining table, Esme had just arrived before him. She stood behind her chair, eyeballing the small white card displaying his name on the setting to her left. Her friend stared directly at Alex then leaned in close to whisper.
Esme stiffened, jerked around to look at him too with widening, horrified eyes.
Shit. Alexander didn’t know much about socializing with women, but tense shoulders and a straight spine seemed like a bad way to start the dinner.
He took the risk and closed in on the table until he stood behind his chair. The other diners hadn’t found their table assignment yet, which gave him a moment to break the ice on his own. “Good evening, ladies. What a pleasure to discover such fine dining company,” Alex said amicably, although he towered over both of them and Marie craned her neck in the close distance to look up at him.
“Hello, Mr. Smith,” Marie said, taking her seat on the other side of Esme.
Esme turned to smile up at him. The tension vanished, her smile radiant, and he wondered if he’d imagined her discomfort, perceiving something that wasn’t there. “Hi again.”
Beau or Luke would have said something charming, and as he stood there fumbling for something remarkable to say about meeting her again, he floundered and realized he was never going to be like them.
He drew her chair out instead. “After you.”
Once Esme settled, he took the seat on her left. His knees touched the bottom of the table. When he glanced up, both girls were staring, and he wondered how much he looked like a gorilla in a suit.
A waiter brought fresh water and lingered long enough to take requests for tea or coffee.
Alex asked for tea. The ladies requested coffee.
Servers moved into action and swept over the room with carts loaded with salads. Alex didn’t care for salad, but eating it passed time.
“I am so sorry for what I said about your sculpture,” Esme blurted out.
“Why? You told me your thoughts on it. That’s all any artist can ask for.”
Esme picked at her salad, pushing spinach and orange segments around. “Why didn’t you say who you were?”
“Forgive me for the deception. I’m not used to…” He gestured with a hand, feeling helpless. Aphrodite was—Esme was in her element, at ease and comfortable with the crowd of diners. The room felt too small to Alex, tiny. Cramped. It hurt to remain in the uncomfortable suit for so long, and he rea
lized quite sadly that he could never be the posh gentleman she wanted. Couldn’t be Luke in a nice suit or Beau in his leathers and jacket on a motorcycle. His back had ached from the moment he left the estate, but he wanted to do this for her and was no quitter to skulk back home in failure over mild discomfort.
“It’s okay, Mr. Smith.”
“Please call me Alex.”
“Alex.” She tasted the word on her mouth, repeating it with a smile on her gorgeous face that cleaved through his pain like a sharpened ax. “All right. If you don’t mind my asking, what changed your mind about attending our fundraiser.”
“The children.”
“You like children?”
“Sometimes. I, ah, did donate last year. Anonymously.”
An arched brow raised. “Really?”
“I didn’t offer anything for the auction, but I gave a monetary contribution.”
“And this year you donated two.”
“I did.” He wasn’t even sure himself why he’d added the sculpture of Esme at the last minute. “I’m told you called me.”
Esme blinked and set down her fork, turning her full attention upon him. “I did, and I’m sorry if I crossed a line there.”
“No, it’s fine. Augustus passed on your message, and I decided it was time to step out of my comfort zone, as it were.”
“Which part is out of your comfort zone?” Marie cut in. “Fancy banquets or socializing with other people.” Esme shot her a hard, impossible to miss glower, but her friend ignored it. “Your face is such a mystery, Esme didn’t recognize you earlier.”
“I value my privacy,” Alex said, avoiding eye contact with Esme’s pushy friend. “So both are, I suppose.”
Two more diners arrived, one of them a woman in a plain black dress contrasted by her jewelry. Diamonds sparkled around her neck and at her ears, rubies flashed from her fingers, and emeralds gleamed against her wrists. She had on enough bling to stock a jewelry store.
Esme smiled across the table at the two, but it didn’t reach her eyes. The warmth had dimmed, leading Alex to suspect the two diners wouldn’t be the best company. “Good evening again, Mr. and Mrs. Griswald. I’m glad you were able to attend again this year.”
“Yes. As are we, honey. Once again, you and Director Coolidge have put together a magnificent event for the children.” Mrs. Griswald looked down her nose at Alex, as much as one could when standing but still eye level with the man placed beside your chair. Then her eyes darted to the folded card identifying him. Her expression changed from appearing as if she’d smelled curdled milk to false geniality, her smile a thin veneer over her initial reaction.
“Alexander Smith? The Alexander Smith?”
“Yes.”
“What a pleasure to be seated beside the man who has decorated so much of our estate.”
The man accompanying her chuckled. “My wife has bought several of your pieces.”
“Yes, including your Love Divine. As soon as I saw it, I wrote my number on the buy-out line. I would have been devastated if someone else took her home.”
“Congratulations.” Alex glanced sidelong at Esme. “You were right.”
She blinked at him a few times, and then she laughed, her amusement as musical as chiming bells.
He’d always loved her laugh the most, and it pleased him to discover it hadn’t changed over the centuries.
Servers came around and swapped out their salads for dinner. Alex examined the miniscule filet mignon on his plate and held back a sigh. Four bites of meat and a flimsy bacon strip? That was it? These modern humans had a strange way of providing a banquet. He remembered the days when the tables would be overflowing with food and drink, more than enough for everyone to eat. He often missed those times.
Of course, he also missed the days when artisans would build temples in his honor and throw festivals celebrating the god of fire and crafts.
When Marie engaged the rich couple in conversation, he turned to Esme. “If you are truly fond of the dragon, there are many more in that particular style in my home. You’re welcome to visit and view them at any time.”
Esme’s fork clattered to the plate. She fumbled for it, reclaiming it before it tipped off onto her lap. “I—really?”
“Of course.” He paused, considering the nature of the invitation, and cleared his throat. “No pressure of course, I completely understand if you—”
“I would love to come look at your work, Mr. Smith.”
“Fantastic. And please, call me Alex. Perhaps you might join me for dinner tomorrow as well, so we might discuss another donation for the hospital.”
Mrs. Griswald’s eyes grew larger than the small saucer holding the dessert.
“I would love to,” Esme said, looking starstruck.
He passed her a card with his personal number, different from the landline manned by Augustus. “Text me at your convenience tomorrow.”
Coming out had been worth it, if only to hear her laughter and see her smile.
8
Approaching winter had dumped another two feet of snow on Ashfall Springs and the surrounding area, so there was no finer day for a double feature at the theater. Luke had returned from Vegas and picked her up sometime after noon that Sunday, and they’d driven to a popular dine-in, only to discover most customers had stayed home to avoid the snow and poor weather.
They’d watched an epic fantasy movie, a thing of beauty with elves, dwarves, and magicians, while gorging themselves on pizza, concession candy, and alcoholic beverages. Afterward, Luke convinced her to stay for a second film.
He bought another pair of tickets and led the way. Esme followed him to the rear of the theater to his preferred seat, farthest row in the back, middle chairs. “Kinda empty.”
“That’s fine. Less people cackling during the movie. Less people standing up and blocking your view with their big heads.” He chuckled, and memories of their last outing came to mind when the enormous man in front of her had stood up during the movie and searched for his misplaced phone for almost five minutes.
The screen was still blank, the lights dimmed but not darkened for full theater ambience. No one else had arrived yet for the six-thirty showing of the current brain and guts comedy slasher starring sentient zombies.
They sat in silence, perusing the drink menu and writing down dessert treats on small order forms, but she felt the weight of his attention occasionally settling over her, a palpable thing, like a gentle caress on her nape.
“What?” she finally asked.
“Nothing.”
“You keep looking at me.”
He grunted, gaze darting away. He twirled the pencil between his fingers and didn’t look at her again. “I was not.”
“You were.”
“Okay, so maybe I was. Can’t a guy appreciate his beautiful girlfriend?”
It touched her heart, because from Luke, it didn’t feel like a load of bullshit to get into her panties. “So, girlfriend?” she said in a gentler voice, lowering to a whisper because people were entering again. “What’s happening here? With us, I mean.”
A crease formed between Luke’s brows. “I’m not sure I’m following.”
“Are we an item now? Is this just a few dates for fun? We’ve never really spoken of it and…”
“And what?”
“I’ve sorta been asked out by someone else. I had coffee with him yesterday, but it wasn’t a date,” Esme said in a rush. Technically, she’d been sitting at the cafe with a novel when Beau helped himself to the other chair at her table.
If he’d been anyone else, she would have left. But his company had been… oddly satisfying, and she’d set the book aside to talk about Old Ashfall’s Norwegian style architecture with him. Before leaving, he’d convinced her to meet him at the gym next Sunday for boxing lessons.
She didn’t bother to mention the dinner with Alex. That had been business, though there were so many moments of fleeting sexual chemistry between them she’d had to excuse
herself to the bathroom twice to pace in a panic.
Whenever Alex looked at her, she felt bare and exposed.
Those were the wrong feelings to have about a stranger, even if she did stalk his online art gallery.
“Oh… okay. That’s cool.”
“That’s it? It’s just cool?”
“Well, what did you expect me to do? Rampage and ask who the fuck it is so I can go choke him out? I mean, you’re hot. If someone else didn’t want you, I’d be concerned you were hanging around blind dudes.”
“I’m not hot.”
“I beg to differ. Anyway, like I said, go for it.”
“Just like that?”
Luke shrugged.
Esme nibbled her lower lip and shooed the tiny, niggling feeling of self-doubt chiseling her confidence. “Are you only saying this because you want to stay open too?”
Now Luke looked offended, unconcealed irritation flickering in his golden eyes, like she’d dealt him a serious insult or blow to his masculinity. “What? No. As far as exclusivity goes, I don’t plan to date anyone but you, but I’m not going to lose my shit and lurk outside your window at night if you go out with another dude.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Seriously. Call the guy up and accept the date if I’m what is holding you back. All I care about is that you’re happy.”
She pursed her lips, studying him. She’d developed a good method of determining if Luke was fibbing with her, because his fidgeting intensified and he had a difficult time leaving his sleeves alone. Or his buttons, messing with his jacket zipper or anything else attached to his clothes.
His hazel gaze didn’t flinch from eye contact, his serene expression still and serious.
“That’s… a little unusual.”
“Let’s just say I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to smothering chicks and wanting too much too fast. I don’t have anything to fear, and well, if you do date some other guy and like him more…” He shrugged. “Anyway, you do you.”
“All right. Maybe I will.” She leaned across the armrest between them and slanted her mouth over his lips. He tasted like gummies and sour sugar again, sweet lime flavoring his tongue along with a hint of the tropical mixed drinks they’d sipped during the previous movie.
Divine Ambrosia Page 8