Frequently of late her own cheeks were red, but her blush was due to embarrassment. She skirted the truth about so many things with Jeff lately, she had trouble meeting his gaze sometimes. She had finally told him about A to Z Enterprises, but explained her participation was only to help Amanda who was having monetary difficulties. Jeff seemed to take the news in stride. In fact he seemed quite distracted lately. He’d made several trips to Baltimore, supposedly to help his dad, and spent fewer and fewer nights with her in between those absences. The possibility he might have another girlfriend back in the city kept her awake at night.
Perhaps he was looking at other galleries to hang is work. She hadn’t sold another of his paintings and only one small sculpture since Christmas. She couldn’t blame him for wanting more exposure now that she’d convinced him that he was extraordinarily talented. Still, the thought that he would go elsewhere hurt.
They carefully avoided talking about her investor. She knew Fredrick Barker’s personal attentions were offensive in Jeff’s opinion—heck they were offensive to her as well—and Jeff didn’t understand her tolerance of the man’s abhorrent behavior. She hadn’t realized just how devious and slimy Fredrick was until after she had taken his start-up money. Now she dreaded the thought that he could ruin her reputation, even have her sent to prison, if she didn’t toe the line. On several occasions Zoe almost shared her secret with Amanda, but in the end she was afraid of losing her friendship and good opinion.
Zoe was glad of the work involved in the party preparations. During these winter months the gallery was so quiet she needed something to occupy her time while she essentially treaded water until her grand opening on Memorial Day.
Rusty sat across from Jeff in the corner booth at Donatelli’s. After catching the look on his face when Rusty saw his studio, Jeff wasn’t about to suggest they grab some fast food and eat in his room. Housekeeping was not high on his list of priorities, but he knew from past experience it was near the top for Rusty, or Russ as he now preferred to be called.
They were a study in contrasts. Jeff, in need of a haircut as usual, slouched against the side of their booth. His jeans and sweatshirt were clean but by no means would anyone call him fashionable. Russ, on the other hand, wore a black cashmere turtleneck and gray wool slacks, his charcoal overcoat and scarf neatly folded on the seat next to him. His copper-colored hair was trimmed short and his hazel eyes held amusement as he saluted Jeff with his wine glass. “To friends reunited.”
Jeff held up his mug of beer. “Na zdrowie!” The toast to health was the only phrase in Polish he knew, thanks to his dad’s frequent use.
“Wow, that takes me back. How is your dad anyway? And Jen? Is she still hiding from the world?”
“Dad is doing fine. I worried about him living alone when Jen insisted on moving down here, but he works so much he doesn’t have time to be lonely.” Jeff took another swallow of his beer. “Jen had her first operation a few months ago. She came through it like a champ. She stayed up in Baltimore with dad for a couple of weeks so she could get to her doctor’s appointments a bit easier, but you know Bug, she couldn’t handle dad’s coddling for long. She’s back down here again.”
“I’m glad she decided to have the surgery. I hated the way she shut herself off from everyone after the accident.”
“Hell, you know Jen, she’s stubborn as a mule. She wouldn’t go out in public before the operation. I hope after the plastic surgeon works her magic she’ll come out of her self-imposed exile.” Jeff grimaced. “I’ve got to ask you for another big favor, Rusty— Russ.”
“You should know by now, pal, whatever you need, I’m there for you. Does it have something to do with this gallery opening? And when do I get to meet the owner, by the way?” He signaled the waiter for another round for them both.
“I thought I’d bring you over there tomorrow. Zoe’ll flip. She’s really impressed with your work and couldn’t believe I knew someone as famous as you well enough to swing this showing. Before you meet her, there are a couple of things you need to know.”
Jeff blew out a breath that flickered the candle on the table between them. How do you ask a friend to help you with something that’s deceptive, and possibly illegal? “It’s complicated.”
“So I gather.” At Jeff’s continuing hesitation, he threw up both hands. “For Pete’s sake, just spill it, man. I’ve never seen you so tongue-tied.”
“Okay, here’s the deal. Zoe knows nothing about Jen. Doesn’t even know she exists.” He held up a hand at Russ’ look of surprise. “There’s more. I’m passing Jen’s paintings off as mine because she wouldn’t agree to go public. She knew Zoe—and maybe some buyers, too—would want to meet her and she wouldn’t do that. But even though I’ve been saving every cent I can, without selling her paintings it would have taken years to get enough for her surgeries.” He took a long gulp of his second beer. “When I met Zoe and found out she was opening a gallery here, it seemed too good to be true. The building needed a ton of reno work and—” He spread his hands, palms up. “It was fate, working in my favor for a change. So, I kind of strong-armed Jen into agreeing, and after I got to know Zoe well enough, I showed her a few paintings, told her they were mine, and asked if she’d hang ‘em in the gallery.”
“And, naturally, she said ‘of course, you big, handsome man, I’d love to hang your work here’.” Russ raised a brow. “How long did it take for you to charm the pants off her? Oh, don’t give me that look. I can tell by the way you say her name that there’s more than a business relationship between you two.”
Rusty knew him too well. “She’s an amazing woman, Russ. Full of dreams and plans to turn this backwater burg into an artists’ colony. She’s got the drive and determination to make it happen, too. She’s put everything she owns into this gallery, plus some start-up money from her old boss. Besides paying me, Zoe put in a lot of time and muscle working alongside me during the renovation. She’s a feisty bundle of energy, beautiful beyond belief, with a body made for sin.”
“Then I assume you’re going to confession regularly now.” Russ laughed, then sighed. “I knew someday some lucky lady would get you. Looks to me like your time playing the field has come to an end.”
Jeff felt his sheepish grin growing as he nodded. Suddenly serious, his nonchalant slouch gone, he leaned his arms on the table. “I’m not sure she sees me as a permanent part of her life, though. The physical side of our relationship couldn’t get any better. She’s hot and sweet and . . .”
“You don’t have to elaborate, I get the picture.”
“Neither of us has even mentioned long-term possibilities. I’m afraid when Jen’s surgeries are over and we tell Zoe the truth, she’ll kick my ass out the door for lying to her. And she’s afraid of her old boss, I think. He’s a real piece of work—rich, smug, arrogant, and slimy. I don’t know for sure why he loaned Zoe the money, but whatever deal she made with him smells like fish-kill at low tide.”
And now I’m going to put our long-time friendship to the ultimate test, buddy. Much as I hate to put you in this position . . .
He spent a few seconds drawing a pattern on the tabletop in the ring from his mug. “So, until I get this whole mess sorted out, I need you to go along with my story. I’m the artist and Jen doesn’t exist.” Jeff sat back and drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he nervously waited for Russ’ decision.
“You realize you’re committing fraud, right?”
Jeff nodded.
“Did you specifically tell any of the people who bought those paintings that you were the artist?”
“Actually, no. I introduced myself as Jay Petrosky and they automatically assumed I was ‘the’ J. Petrosky. I managed to avoid lying outright to anyone. I played the brooding artist and ducked all questions from the buyers.”
Russ looked at the ceiling and shook his head. “So only
Zoe thinks you’re the real artist. If she tells anyone you painted those canvases, she’ll be liable for fraud.”
“No. No, she’s innocent, I lied to her.”
“Might be tough to prove that considering your, ahem, relationship.”
Jeff winced. He hadn’t thought about that.
“For the time being, I’ll back you up, pal. Just remember, if this whole mess goes south and somebody decides to make a big deal out of it, you could be in serious trouble.”
“Look, Russ—”
Russ raised a hand and waved away Jeff’s attempted interruption. “We’ll worry about that bridge later. First I have to meet this paragon of beauty and industry who holds your heart hostage. Then we’ll need to figure out how to keep you out of jail.” He finished his wine, frowning thoughtfully. “We may have to intimate that you were jealous of your sister’s talent and needed some quick cash . . . That way, Jen, Zoe, and I are off the hook, and if none of us want to press charges, you may get off with a slightly dented reputation due to unsubstantiated rumors about the questionable authenticity of a few paintings.” He brightened. “That should make your sculptures sell like ice cream on the Fourth of July.”
Jeff groaned.
Russ winked. “I doubt it would be any worse than having everyone you know think you’re gay.”
Jeff covered his eyes and groaned again.
Russ grinned. “Now, let’s order dinner. I’m famished.”
Jeff and Russ came through the front door of the gallery followed by a gusty February wind that stirred the leaves on the ficus by the front window.
“Zoe must be upstairs. I’ll go get her,” Jeff said.
“Take your time. I’d like to look around a bit before I meet her, okay?”
“Yeah, no problem.” He headed toward the back and climbed the stairs to the second floor.
“Zoe? You decent?”
“Of course I’m decent,” she snapped as she opened the door to her apartment. “It’s the middle of the day and the gallery’s open for business. Did you think I’d be up here prancing around naked?”
“A man can hope.” He leaned down for a quick kiss.
“Cool it, Studley, somebody may come in downstairs.” She eluded his attempt to put his arms around her.
“Somebody did come in downstairs. That’s why I came up here to get you.”
“Oh. I only came up to grab a few bottles of water.” She picked them up and shooed him out the door. “Hurry up, they may want to buy something.”
“Ah, I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Zoe stopped abruptly. “It’s not Fredrick Barker, is it?”
“No.” He watched the panic fade from her eyes.
I really wish I knew what the hell that man got you to agree to, to loan you that money.
“How come you’re so secretive all of a sudden?”
“I’m not being secretive. I came up here to get you, now let’s go down and you can see for yourself who it is.”
“All right, all right.” She spun and preceded him down the stairs.
They found Russ in the nook dedicated to Zoe’s fantasy art. When he turned to greet them, Zoe stopped dead and her face lit up with pleasure.
“Russell Manheim. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” She shook his hand, then elbowed Jeff in the ribs. “Why didn’t you tell me it was him?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you succeeded. Mr. Manheim, may I show you around the gallery?”
“Thank you, but I’ve already taken a quick look around. And please, call me Russ. No need for formality among friends.”
Zoe smiled and bounced ever so slightly on her toes, as excited to meet him as a teen-ager meeting a rock star. “Well? What do you think of the gallery, Russ?”
“The space is well-lit, well-planned, and delightfully spacious. So many galleries in the cities today are woefully short on space. The collections barely have room to breathe and when there’s a large exhibition the people are so crowded together it’s difficult to get enough distance to appreciate some of the larger works.” He clapped Jeff on the shoulder. “You’ve done a great job here. I knew it would be good if you had your hand in it, but this place exceeds my expectations.” Russ transferred his attention to Zoe. “I’m pleased you asked me to be the highlighted artist at your grand opening.”
“And I am so grateful you agreed to have an exclusive showing here on such a big holiday weekend.” Zoe clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “I hope you won’t be disappointed at the turn-out. We’re new and this is a small town, but I’m going to advertise in all the trade papers and especially in Baltimore and Washington. I’m sure your name will bring in many who might otherwise have skipped our opening.”
“We’ve both been in this business long enough to know it takes time to build up a core clientele for a new gallery. If you’re worried about sales of my works, don’t. I’ll be quite comfortable even if you don’t sell a single work of mine.” He gestured over her shoulder at the paintings hanging behind her. “I’ll guarantee you’ll sell some of these. They’re wonderful. Who’s the artist?”
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you? Did Jeff already tell you they were mine?”
“Actually, no. But fantasy art is one of my guilty pleasures. As a youngster I was completely enthralled by Boris Vallejo’s works. These show an exceptional facility with light and color. I love the way you’ve managed to make mists appear so sheer, and water so reflective.”
Zoe grinned. “Thank you, Russ. That is so sweet of you to say.”
“Not at all. Ask any gallery owner who’s dealt with me. They’ll tell you I am not sweet, nor willing to praise anyone’s work that I don’t think is worthy. I have a certain reputation as a diva, one I try hard to maintain.” He chuckled.
“Since you’re an old friend of Jeff’s, I’m sure you’ve seen his work already, but he’s also one of my bestsellers. Aren’t his paintings awesome?”
“Everything Jeff does is awesome, but I’m impressed with his sculptures. That’s where I think his true talent lies.” Russ grinned at Jeff.
Nice side-step, buddy.
Russ checked his watch. “I hate to cut this short, Zoe, but I have to make a flight out of BWI this evening. Let’s nail down the details for your opening. How many paintings do you want to hang? And when should I get them here? Do you have a contract ready for me to sign?”
“Since I wasn’t expecting you today, I don’t have a contract ready.” Zoe shot Jeff an annoyed glance. “But let’s go back to my office and we can work out the details for the show. I’ll get your address and send a contract to you as soon as I can.”
“I’ll leave you two to it, then, and be back in about an hour. I have to stop at Ed’s Diner about a repair.”
He cut across the town square and noticed the masts on the boats in the marina rocking to and fro on the choppy water. The dull-gray sky matched his mood, after his conversation with Russ last night filled him with misgivings.
He dreaded the upcoming grand opening because he’d have to tap-dance around ownership of Jen’s paintings. At the same time he prayed they would sell enough to fund her next operation. Once she was healed and they could come clean to Zoe, he’d feel a lot better. He didn’t like lying and now that he’d fallen for the feisty brunette, he couldn’t imagine how he’d live without her.
He’d take his chances and tell her the truth right now, but if something did go wrong, he wanted Zoe able to truthfully deny any knowledge of his fraudulent behavior. No matter what it cost him personally, protecting Zoe and his sister were his top priorities.
Chapter 17
Zoe locked the front door and turned off all but the securit
y lights in the gallery. She and Amanda had spent the whole day interviewing and hiring people for the Wyndham’s party. She hadn’t talked that much in weeks.
Dev had picked Amanda up to take her to dinner. Zoe shook her head at Amanda’s refusal to admit what was obvious to anyone with half a brain. She knew it the night Mandy had cooked dinner for them after they’d done their on-site review of the party venue. Those two were in love, and much as Amanda feared loving—and losing—another man she cared for, sooner or later she’d have to see the light. Even if it took Zoe to shine it right in her eyes.
She had hoped the same light would dawn on Jeff, but their relationship seemed stuck in the physical only category. They had worked together, laughed together, and had experienced mind-blowing sexual intimacy. There had been times, plenty of times, when Jeff had the opportunity to move their relationship to a deeper level. To say something—anything—that would indicate he wanted a long-term arrangement. But with every opportunity he let pass, the more convinced she became that she was nothing more than a convenient sexual partner.
He doesn’t have to say he loves me. I know guys are leery about commitment. But at this point I’m not even sure I’m the only woman he’s sleeping with. Maybe I shouldn’t be so . . . so . . . available.
She sighed and started up the stairs to her apartment, only to be stopped by the sound of Jeff’s bike out back. Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She dug it out and read the text. “Hi, sweet cheeks. Want some company?” He had a key to that door but never used it without letting her know it was him. She cursed the flare of longing and desire his message produced, and toyed with the idea of saying no. Then sighed in defeat. Who was she kidding? She had no willpower at all where Jeff Petrosky was concerned. She went to the door and opened it.
His By Design Page 17