by Bird, Peggy
“Deal.” He held out his hand for a handshake, but she ignored it.
“Did you go up into my apartment for something yesterday while I was gone?”
His hand dropped and she could tell from his expression that she’d hurt his feelings. “Of course I didn’t. I wouldn’t go into your place without asking you beforehand. Why are you asking?”
“Stuff got moved around in my office. I just wondered if you needed access to something about the gallery and … ”
“I would never invade your space like that. I wasn’t even here yesterday. We went to a matinee of A Chorus Line and then dinner.” He was looking her straight in the eyes and all she saw was how hurt he was that she thought he’d do something like that.
“I don’t mean to sound distrustful. I apologize. I just can’t figure it out. You have the only other key. And the only other person around was … ” She stopped. “I’m sorry. I must have done it myself.” Shaking her head to clear the suspicions, she changed the subject. “Was it a good production of A Chorus Line?”
“Mason said he’d seen better but I loved it.” His indignant look had softened somewhat, but he still sounded like a hurt puppy.
She put her arm around his shoulders. “I apologize again. Forgive me?”
“I’ll think about it. If you satisfy my curiosity about your overnight guest.” That sounded more like the real Jamie.
“He’ll be back in a while and you’ll meet him.”
Jamie put up his hand for a high-five. “It’s about time. All you’ve done since you bought this place is work. I was beginning to worry you’d forgotten how to play.”
“Then you’ll be happy to hear that I’m going to take the next couple days off. Since I won’t be here, you can stay home, too, if you’d like.”
“No, it’s perfect timing. This’ll give me the chance to set up the inventory and billing systems and update the website. We have images from all your artists now … ”
“Except for the new one. I’ll ask him for … ”
“You signed someone else? Who?”
“A metal sculptor named Collins.”
“You signed Collins? Oh my god, Liz. How did you manage? Oh my god, is that who … ?”
“You know who he is? Am I the only person in Portland who didn’t know?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You know everything about what hangs on the walls. I know more about what sits on the pedestals. Collins is one of the hottest new sculptors in the region. But you didn’t answer my question. Was that who I heard tromping down the steps?”
She shook her head, trying to find a way to avoid telling him the truth. When she realized she couldn’t, the headshake changed to a nod. “Yes, it was but … ”
“This is sensational. Wait ’til Mason hears.”
“Jamie, please. I don’t want this spread around. First of all, it may be nothing, just a one night — few nights — thing. In the second place, if people think I sleep with artists to get them to sign with me, I’ll be the laughing stock of the city.”
“I promise I won’t say a word to anyone except Mason. And he’d never do anything to damage your reputation so he’ll keep his mouth shut.”
“You both better keep your mouths shut. Now, before I can take off for that downtime you think I need, we have to get the hanging system reinstalled and some more work done on the pedestals. If you’ll drag out that ladder for me, please, I’ll work in here and you can keep painting.”
A half-hour later, Jamie was in the storage space working on display pedestals and Liz was on the ladder finishing the installation of the last section of the hanging system that would eventually display the paintings of her artists. She was about to climb up one more rung when she felt someone caress the calf of her leg.
“The logo for this gallery should be you on a ladder. It’s sexy as hell and would sell a lot of art,” Collins said as he climbed the first two rungs of the stepladder and circled her waist with his arms.
“How is it you seem to appear out of nowhere when I’m on a ladder?”
“You leave the door open for me. Now, let me get you off this. I want to kiss you.” He lifted her from the ladder and stepped to the floor with her. He was in the process of making good on his promise when a discreet cough came from behind them.
“Sorry to interrupt but, Liz, you said you wanted all the rest of the pedestals painted. Even those short ones we weren’t sure you’d need?” Jamie asked.
Liz extricated herself from Collins’s embrace. “No, not those little ones. I think I’m going to get rid of those.” She waved her hand in Jamie’s direction. “Collins, this is Jamie Bruce. He’s the reason I can even hope to be ready for the opening in October. Not only is he willing to do whatever it takes to renovate the place, but he’s a genius with websites and social media. Jamie, this is Collins.”
The younger man held his hand out to the sculptor. “I’m so excited you’re going to exhibit here. I’m a big fan of your work. That piece you have in the bank building downtown, ‘The World on a String.’ It’s fabulous.”
“Thanks. It’s one of my favorites, too. Couldn’t believe a bank would buy it. And you do websites? Really? I want one but I’ve never gotten around to putting it together.”
“I’d love to help you. You can take a look at Liz’s to see my work. Which reminds me, I need images from you so we can get them up on the site.”
“I’ll take care of that when I get back to the cabin. And, Liz, don’t get rid of any small pedestals until you see what I’m bringing for you. Smaller ones might work for a couple pieces I’ve got in mind. They might even look good in one of your windows.”
“Oh my god, that’s excellent,” Jamie said. “I’ve been worried about what we were going to put in the windows. Your work would be perfect to draw people’s attention.” And with that the two men began to plan the window displays, the website for Collins, and the fate of the universe, for all Liz knew.
At the end of the day, the hanging system was reinstalled on all the gallery walls, the pedestals were painted, the small temporary walls were erected, and the card rack and print bins placed. Jamie shook hands with Collins before he left and hugged Liz, telling her to enjoy her days off. She asked him to say hello to Mason when he got home.
The door had barely closed behind the young man when Collins said, “Mason? He knows Mason?”
“He lives with him.”
“That’s who Mason left you for? Sweetheart, you’re a helluva lot more forgiving than I would be.”
“It’s odd, I know. But when Mason suggested it, it was hard to say no. He — Mason — has been so wonderful about giving me advice, free services — he did a whole advertising campaign for me, printed the brochures, paid for the ads.”
“But didn’t it seem awkward?”
“A little, at first. But then I discovered Jamie has great taste, knows a lot more about three-dimensional art than I do, and he’s a genius with computers. That’s what he did for Mason’s company. Besides, I like him. For a while I even thought of him as the son I never had, but then the ick factor kicked in and I went back to thinking of him as the sweet-young-thing who works hard, gets along with me, and lives with my ex-husband.”
“The more I know about you, the more I like you, Liz Fairchild.”
“Which is certainly better than the opposite reaction.”
She tidied up; he got his bag from the car. When she’d finished changing clothes, they went down the street to her favorite café. He’d insisted they go out to eat, saying he knew what was in her refrigerator and it didn’t look promising.
After they’d ordered their meals, she asked, “So, what’s the real reason you wanted to eat out tonight?”
“Why would I have a reason other than your empty refrigerator?”
She
raised an eyebrow and stared at him over her wineglass.
“Okay, you’re right. I want to talk about my to-do list and figured if we stayed in your apartment, we’d get distracted and never get it started.”
“You’re not serious about that, are you?”
“Of course I am. So, first, tell me five places where you’d like to have sex.”
“I can’t do that. It’s too embarrassing.”
“Yes, you can. I’m going to count to ten and then you’ll give them to me.”
“Collins … ”
He held up his fingers, one at a time. “One … two … three … four … ”
“I’m not going to … ”
“Five … six … seven … eight … ”
“This is ridiculous … ”
“Nine … ten … go.” He dropped his hand as if starting a race.
“Umm … the beach … a forest … a hot tub … someplace public.” She felt exhausted by the effort.
“That’s only four.”
“Oh, hell. I don’t know … the back seat of a car, maybe.” Breathing hard, she slumped back into her chair.
“I knew you could do it.” He rubbed the palm of his hand across his cheek. “The only one that might be a challenge is the last one. I’ll have to think about that a bit. I’m six-four and you’re six — ”
“Five-eleven.”
His smile mocked her attempt to correct him. “Like I said, I’m six-four and you’re six feet tall and in most cases the back seat of a car would be, well, uncomfortable, let’s say.” His hand reached across the table for hers. She could feel his foot rubbing up the back of her calf. “We can start on the list tomorrow. Or today. If you’re game we could check off number four right now.”
She snatched her hand back from him. “I didn’t mean this public.”
“Just trying to see where the boundaries are, babe.”
Chapter 7
The following morning, Collins was out of bed before the alarm went off. He dressed, brought Liz coffee, and took off, telling her he had errands to run and some business to take care of before they got on with their plans. When she asked questions he pretended it was all a big secret for their two days together. The truth was, he couldn’t tell her the details of what he was doing.
His guilt about going through her office had begun to eat at him even while he was doing it and it had gotten worse over the past twenty-four hours. Not only did he like her more than he had expected to — maybe like was too weak a word, come to think of it — but the more he learned about her relationship with Mason, the more sure he was that there was nothing she would do to hurt him. Even if she could. Which he doubted.
He was beginning to believe that David’s client was a lying scumbag and Mason Fairchild was the good guy in all of this. But that was David’s problem. His was how to deal with what he’d done. He’d come up with an idea that might get him off the hook, both with Liz and with David.
All he had to do was get it sorted out before she figured it out. And sell it to David.
As soon as he was out of Liz’s apartment, he called L.A.
“So, Michael, how’s it going up in the Rose City? It’s beautiful here.” His former partner was terminally cheerful in the morning. It was one of the only things Collins disliked about him. “You going to cozy up to the old guy today? Find his books for me?”
“I told you, David, I’m through playing spy for you.”
“What, you afraid you’ll fall for him, too?”
“Fuck off. But I do have an idea about how we can get this sorted out.”
“I’m listening.”
Collins told him. After a brief argument, David agreed to let him try. But if it didn’t work, they were headed for court with or without the books. The client was adamant.
• • •
After Collins left, Liz felt nervous and confused. Part of her realized she’d actually be doing something she’d fantasized about, but another part wished she could back out of it. What had she been thinking, giving him that list? She knew he meant it, that he’d find all those places, and then she’d have to live up to what she’d suggested. A beach? Sand in places where sand doesn’t belong. A forest? Twigs, leaves, and bugs in places where they don’t belong. A public place? Dear God.
The back of a Volkswagen was easy and a hot tub tame after the other three.
When Collins returned, she asked him how his errands had gone. He shrugged off her question, not saying much. The man from last night who’d been so eager to fulfill her fantasies seemed to have disappeared. She was confused. Had he gotten a dose of common sense about it? Absorbed her fear? Cooled to the idea?
He went up and down the stairs a couple times, making phone calls in the parking lot out back. She got more curious — and more concerned — as time went on. But just as she was about to ask if he wanted to reconsider the plan for spending two days together, he seemed to shake off his mood. He hugged her, kissed her cheek, suggested she change into jeans and running shoes, and pack for overnight. They’d be leaving in a half-hour, he announced. He disappeared down the steps again with his duffle bag without telling her where they were going.
It became obvious when he headed west on the Sunset Highway that they were going to the coast. The sand option. Great. And, on top of it all, in spite of being the end of summer, it wasn’t warm enough to lie naked on a blanket on the beach. This just got worse the more she thought about it.
At least he’d let her pick out the music. She still loved the songs she’d played as a young teenager. She listened to mix tapes from three decades ago in her house and always kept at least one Eagles and one Chicago CD in her car at all times.
Today, however, Rod Stewart singing “Maggie May” was up now. Next came Creedence Clearwater Revival, who would accompany them to the coast.
And then, the fun would begin. The fun. The embarrassment. The sand. What the hell had she gotten herself into? And why was she continually asking herself that question about this man?
“Okay, it’s obvious where we’re going. Which beach?” she asked about an hour into the trip as she was changing CDs.
“There’s a state park south of Cannon Beach that’s in a beautiful woods. And it has a secluded beach. I have a campsite reserved for us. Because it’s a good fifteen-, twenty-minute walk to the ocean, it’s usually pretty deserted especially — ”
“Oh, no, I’m not rolling around in the sand right near a state park. I was thinking more like an out-of-the-way … ”
“Okay, then the campsite it is.”
“A public campsite? Are you crazy?”
“Relax. I went up to REI this morning and got a tent. We’ll be in the woods, in sort of a public place, in a tent … ” He glanced at her and laughed. “You look absolutely terrified. This is going to be even more fun than I imagined.”
He was right about how beautiful the park was. And, because it was the middle of the week and the middle of the day, the crowd was sparse. That didn’t make Liz any less nervous. She tripped over tree roots as she tried to help put up the tent, finally leaving it to him to complete while she looked around anxiously, trying to see how close anyone else was to their campsite, sure that it wasn’t remote enough.
After the tent was secure, they walked hand in hand to the beach carrying the two blankets Collins insisted they needed and a picnic basket. Near the top of the dune, he stopped so they could look around. He was right again. The beach was even more deserted than the campground had been. Not a soul in sight.
“This looks like a good place,” he said after they crested the dune. He spread out one of the blankets where they’d be hidden among clumps of beach grass, kicked off his shoes, and helped her remove hers.
He’d brought an elegant lunch. Cold game hens, a thermos with basil-infused, roaste
d tomato soup, marinated green beans, grapes. After he’d laid out all the food, he produced two plastic champagne glasses and two bottles of wine to go with them.
“Did you think it would take a couple bottles of champagne to get me to participate in your little plan?”
“It may have occurred to me. But if you don’t want to drink any wine, that’s okay. Your call.”
She held up her glass for him to pour some of the bubbly into it. “Well, maybe just a little. I like champagne too much to turn it down.”
They toasted each other and she grudgingly admitted that he’d found as romantic a spot as she had imagined. At his urging, she lay back propped up on his thigh. He served her lunch, feeding her green beans one by one, popping grapes in her mouth, refilling her glass once, then twice. As they finished their meal, the sun broke from behind a line of clouds and streaks of sunshine began to dance over the ocean waves, looking as lighthearted as Liz felt.
After they finished lunch and Collins tidied up the remains of their meal, he lay down across the blanket from her. He didn’t try to touch her, just continued their conversation about beach trips they’d taken as kids in California. When she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, she said, “Okay, now what? Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, make a move here or something?”
“It’s your fantasy, sweetheart. You’re going to have to decide what’s next.”
“Suppose I decide to take a nap?”
“Then, take a nap. Like I said, your fantasy, your move.”
She reached across the blanket and touched his cheek. “On second thought, maybe I’d rather have you hold me.”
“I can do that.” He moved toward her, snugging her hips against his. “What now?”
“Well, if you won’t kiss me, I guess I’ll kiss you.” She brought her mouth to his. He tasted of wine and salt air, sweet fruit and desire — her tongue sampled all of it. When they came up for air, she touched his mouth. “God, I love kissing you,” she whispered.
“Anything else you love doing with me?” he asked.