“To see if you’re interested in things that interest me.” Most men she met weren’t. They got only one date. Daniel, she was sure, was heading to date number two with no problem.
“Did I pass?”
Was it her or did he look a little worried? Oh, how sweet. She loved that his ego didn’t get in the way. Well, at least not a lot. “Yes. I can see you’re just as excited to be here tonight as I am. So you pass.”
“Do I get an A?”
“Don’t press your luck. This is only the first week of school.”
He grinned at her. He rested his hand on her back as they entered the exhibit hall. His touch felt right. Not too brazen. Respectful yet sexy. The place where his hand touched warmed and prickled. She didn’t even think about moving away from him. In fact, she had to fight the urge to move closer.
People wandered around the room, stopping to study the paintings hanging on the walls.
“Do you have a favorite?” Daniel asked as they strolled.
“View of the Seine, though I don’t think it’s here.” She flipped through the booklet and discovered she was correct. Though the museum had scored The Banjo Lesson, Tanner’s most famous. Greer’s parents had taught her to be proud of her heritage. She liked the idea that she was creating her own legacy. She often marveled that her parents had lived through some turbulent times when African American culture was treated with disdain, yet they’d kept their pride intact. “Do you have a favorite?”
“I have to admit, I don’t know very much about him personally, but I do like his work.” Daniel paused to study a Biblical painting.
“Then let me share the knowledge I picked up as a junior docent here.”
“Rose Queen and a docent at a prestigious art museum. I’m impressed.”
She chuckled. “Tanner was influential and is considered the best African American painter. He even got his own postage stamp.” She flipped through the booklet to show Daniel the stamp.
“Only the best of the best get a stamp.” He stepped back as though studying her. “I’m having a hard time picturing you as a docent.”
“Working as a docent was an incredible life lesson. I learned everything I could about art and how to deal with strangers and talk to anybody. Pasadena is a very close-knit community. Everybody knows everybody.”
“I noticed,” he said. “Seven people have nodded to you already.”
“Are you sure they’re not looking at you?”
“No. You’re the beauty here. And I’m enjoying being ignored.”
“I always thought people in your business liked being noticed.”
“I like being noticed when I want to be noticed.”
“So it’s all about what you want.”
“You were in any doubt?”
She tucked her hand through his arm and leaned into him. “God forbid I should have a moment of doubt.”
She led him to the next painting, Sodom and Gomorrah. This was another favorite of hers. She loved the rich colors of the billowing smoke as Lot and his family fled the doomed cities. The pillar of salt that had been Lot’s wife looked sad and lonely.
Eventually they made their way to the sculpture garden, her favorite place in the whole museum. They found a small secluded area and sat on a bench.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Daniel said.
She liked the sincerity in his voice. She had thought he would be a bit blasé about coming. Art exhibits were pretty tame events compared to what he was probably used to. The fact that he was obviously enjoying himself made her like him more. “I thought you might like it. Though I did wonder. The focus of your morning show is the current movie, or the trending starlet, so I wasn’t certain culture was high on your list.”
“You have a very sad impression of me,” Daniel said. “You know, people thought Henry Ossawa Tanner wasn’t an artist because of who he was and where he came from. Aren’t you glad they were wrong?”
Good for him that he had no problem challenging her. “Touché,” she replied. “I deserved that. I usually judge people by their actions, but you’re in the tabloids so often, I have a hard time thinking you are different.”
“Ninety-five percent of what I do is staged. That’s part of the business I’m in. And I really do make an effort not to do something stupid that will put me in the other five percent. My parents are still breathing, and I don’t want to embarrass them or have to explain myself.”
She hugged her shawl close to ward off the chill. He slid an arm around her and pulled her to his warmth. “I should have remembered what it was like,” she said. “My year as Rose Queen was pretty intrusive. I should think for you it would be much, much worse. I thought the year would be fun with gowns, riding on a float and wearing a tiara.”
“What turned you off?”
She wasn’t really turned off as much as she was disappointed with people. “People asked me the strangest questions, like, ‘What are you going to do if you have to go to the bathroom and you’re on the float?’ I’m thinking, ‘I don’t want to think about that, and it isn’t any of your business.’” She remembered she’d always been polite, but vague. “And another one was, ‘How does it feel to represent your people?’”
He nodded and looked understanding. “I get that one, too.”
“I wasn’t the first African American Rose Queen.”
“And I wasn’t the first black talk show host,” he commiserated. “But still, someone will start asking around, looking for dirt on you.”
“Fortunately I didn’t have that problem.” What dirt would the media have been able to find on her? She’d led a sheltered life. As Rose Queen, her schedule had included over a hundred public appearances and events; she’d had no time to get into trouble.
“I don’t recall any scandals associated with Rose Queens.”
“I don’t know of any, either. Pasadena is many things, but the areas they are most proud of are the parade, the queen and her court, and this museum. I think if a person were to besmirch any one of those things, there would be pain.”
He laughed. She liked the rich, deep sound of his real laugh.
The air was sweetly scented with flowers. Greer took a deep breath, feeling peace descend on her. Whenever she needed to be grounded, this was where she came. Often she brought her notebooks and sketched different flowers as she wandered through the garden. Just being here restored her. Sometimes she would visit the most famous resident sculpture, Rodin’s The Thinker.
As they sat there on the bench, other walkers wandered through the garden. The sound of music drifted out from the museum behind them.
“Did you know that flowers speak their own language?” When he gave her a look, she explained. “For instance, the red rose means beauty and love.” Which was probably why she loved red roses the best.
“What about yellow?” Daniel asked.
“Jealousy and envy. And daisies stand for innocence,” she added.
“How do you know this?”
“A book called The Language of Flowers. It was published in the 1800s. My mother has a copy.” Greer adored the book. She’d spent many a drama-filled teenage evenings reading the poetry and studying the meanings.
“Remind me to check with you before I send you flowers.”
“Are you planning on sending me flowers?”
He grinned at her. “Maybe.”
She smiled happily. Despite her years designing and decorating floats, she’d never gotten over her love of flowers. She inhaled their scent and turned to him. He surprised her by sliding his arms around her and pulling her close for a kiss.
His lips were warm and seductive against hers. For a second she was too surprised to respond. Quickly, though, hunger for this man filled her, and she pressed herself into the kiss, responding eagerly.
But as she opened
her mouth to his, he pulled away. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Why not?” She certainly did not have a problem with it, and wondered why he did.
He shook his head. “I don’t know...but I liked it.”
“Me, too.” She sat back with a slight frown. “So, how did I measure up?”
“To what?”
She traced his lips with her finger. “Your lips have kissed some of the most beautiful women in the world. How do I measure up to them?”
“I’m not sure how to answer your question.” He tilted his head to look at her intently.
“You have this reputation to maintain. I don’t fall into the category of your usual playmates.”
“The only reason you asked me out was to compare yourself to the other women I’ve dated?”
How was she going to get herself out of this? The kiss was so unexpected and her response had been so intense, she felt the need to put up a barrier between herself and Daniel. “I was a little curious. You’re a nice guy, so please don’t be offended.”
“I’m not offended. But I’m curious, too. Why do you feel I would compare you to all these other women?”
She didn’t know how to answer him, so she avoided the question. She glanced at her watch. “Look at the time. I think I’d better get home.” She started to stand, but he caught her arm, pulled her back and kissed her again.
She felt as though her insides were melting. Heat flared through her, and she wound her arms around his neck. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. The kiss deepened. She groaned low in her throat.
When he pulled away, his eyes had darkened, and he wore a glimmer of a smile.
“Just so you know,” he said, “there is no comparison. And you take that however you need to.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Now let’s get you home.”
He pulled out his phone and called the limo driver. “We’re ready to leave.”
A minute later, Daniel handed her into the limo and started to close the door.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
He shook his head. “See her safely to her door,” he told the driver before he turned back to her. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get home on my own.”
He walked away while Greer stared after him open-mouthed. This was not how she wanted the evening to end.
* * *
Daniel fumed while he waited for Nick to pick him up. He paced back and forth, occasionally sitting on a bench and watching the other people leave as the exhibition wound down. Twenty minutes later, his brother turned into the parking lot and stopped at the curb.
“What happened?” Nick asked after Daniel buckled his seat belt and glared at him. “That is not your happy face.”
“I think I was just insulted.”
“Did you run into Logan at the affair? The two of you trade insults all the time.”
“I kissed Greer,” Daniel said, “and she wanted to know how she compared to all the other women I’ve kissed.”
“Ouch. What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t say anything. I just kissed her again, put her in the limo and sent her home.” He’d never had a woman question his ego before. Kissing Greer had rocked his world, and he thought it had rocked hers, as well. He’d enjoyed every moment of the kiss and the feel of her in his arms. He’d loved the faint fragrance of her perfume and the softness of her hair. “In fact, I want to kiss her again.”
“You sound like you’re falling in love.”
“Not at all,” he said emphatically. “I just like her, that’s all. She’s different.” Maybe too different, he realized. What would he have in common with her?
“Different in what way?” Nick had braked for a light. Now the light changed, and he zoomed through the intersection.
“She’s intelligent.”
“You’ve dated a lot of smart women.”
“She’s talented.”
“You’ve been there and done that, too.”
Daniel glared at his brother. “You are not helping.”
Nick burst out laughing. “Maybe she was just curious. I think you’re overreacting.”
“I’m not used to having my actions questioned in such a way.”
“What you’re used to are women who are grateful for your attention. Welcome to the real world, bro.”
Daniel slumped back in the seat. “As if you’ve been swimming in the reality pool lately. Broadway star. TV star. Tennis star.”
“I have a reputation to maintain.” He turned onto the entrance to the 210 freeway, merged into traffic. Even at night, the freeways in Los Angeles were crowded.
“And I don’t?”
“Reality in Hollywood is at a premium. Everything is already an illusion. Half the dates I have are for show. Greer might just have been questioning the illusion. She may feel uncomfortable in your world. How many times do we get asked to do things for business that make us uncomfortable, and we do them anyway? And why? ’Cause we like a big, comfortable house and our big, cushy cars. We like swiping our credit cards and knowing there’s money in our accounts. We listened to Mom and Dad talk about how poor they were when they first started out, and we work damn hard not to be that poor.”
“Fair enough. I feel like I’ve just been lectured.” He’d missed his brother while Nick had been in New York. And now that he was home for good, he had someone to talk to. Like many twins, they were closer than most siblings.
“I’m channeling Mom. She and I had this conversation a couple of months ago.” Nick exited the freeway. His career had been pretty much in New York, where Broadway actors didn’t seem to spend their lives in the same fishbowl that Hollywood actors did. Broadway was considered more sophisticated, more of an art form.
“You’re the one who wanted to come home.”
“I wanted to be closer to family,” Nick said. “And let’s face it. I’m making three times the money and doing way less work. But people are now up in my business every time I step out of the house.”
“Don’t I know that. Is it worth it?”
Nick thought for a few moments. “Yeah. I think so. I enjoy what I do, and the challenge of choreographing new stuff weekly keeps me on my toes. So, what are you going to do about Greer?”
“I don’t know. She confuses me. And I don’t like to be confused.” Daniel looked out the window at the night streets. Even at midnight, Los Angeles was restless and awake.
“Nobody does. You’re never sure in our business if someone has an agenda.”
“Are you saying celebrities can’t fall in love?” Daniel studied his brother.
“We fall in and out of love all the time. But Greer is different, unique. Even though I haven’t met her, I sense she’s got dedication.”
“A part of her isn’t impressed with who I am.” That was hard to admit for Daniel; he enjoyed the perks of being who he was.
“Does she impress you?”
Daniel thought about that for a few seconds. “A lot.”
“It’s time for you to grow up, bro. You’ve been living every man’s fantasy—beautiful women, cool friends, hot cars. What do you really want?”
Daniel wasn’t certain he liked this grilling, and he probably wouldn’t have been taking it from anybody but his twin. “I originally wanted to be in broadcast journalism, but I ended up more a talk show host. And I love it.” His voice trailed away. He hadn’t answered his brother’s question. “I have the respect of my peers, and I get paid.” But he had to admit, something was missing. He tried to pin down what, but his mind kept splintering away.
“But something’s missing,” Nick said for him.
“Are you crazy?”
Nick laughed as he turned into the driveway of Daniel’s modest Glendale home and put his car in Park. “Success i
s fun only when you have someone to share and enjoy it with—or lord it over. You can’t lord it over our sisters and brothers because we’re all successful, too. So I think you’re looking for someone to share it with.”
“I don’t think so,” Daniel said, denial heavy in his voice. He stared at the front door of his home, wondering if Greer would like it. Her own home had been such a surprise with its colorful paint and traditional furniture.
“Look at Nina. Secretly we all knew Carl was her starter husband, but we didn’t tell her, and look what happened.”
“She’s our sister. Why didn’t we say something?”
“Because there would have been pain,” Nick said with a chuckle. “But look at her now. She’s as happy as our parents, and would any of us have picked a man like Scott for her? She found him on her own, and we all know he’s the right choice. And now that one of us is really settled, we’re starting to think.”
“Are you thinking about a forever woman?”
“No, but maybe you are. With Greer.”
Daniel had no answer for that. “I have to go.” He scrambled out of the car, determined to get as far away from his twin as possible.
* * *
“I can’t go on the show tomorrow.”
Greer sat at her drafting table, a tray of watercolor paints to one side and a half-done float design on the heavy paper taped to the tilted top. She’d been thinking about next year even though the theme for the next year’s parade wouldn’t be announced until January. Anything to take her mind off Daniel Torres. Her plan wasn’t working.
“You should go on the show,” she told Chelsea. “It’s time for you to talk about the flowers anyway.”
Chelsea grinned at her sister, eyes slightly narrowed. “What’s going on, Greer?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Of course you can. I’m your sister.”
“Don’t play the sister card on me unless you’re willing to help me and go on the show tomorrow.”
“Tell me,” Chelsea ordered. She looked composed and professional in her beige pantsuit that complimented her light cinnamon-colored skin. She’d wound a red-and-blue scarf about her neck and complimented it with red earrings and bracelets. As always, Chelsea was a knockout.
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