‘Thanks,’ Doug interjected dryly.
Though she’d taken an instant dislike to Luke when she’d seem him lip locked with Geraldine, it was hard to maintain it now he was smiling directly at her. He looked friendly and easygoing; a direct contrast to Doug’s quiet formality.
‘I think I have the measure of Doug,’ she replied, giving her boss a sly look. ‘Furnish him with lots of coffee in the morning, don’t get upset when he doesn’t talk to you because that’s his usual m.o. and don’t expect a smile more than once a week.’
Luke burst out laughing. ‘Oh boy, I think you’ve finally met your match, my friend.’ After giving Doug a hearty thump between the shoulder blades, he turned his attention back to Abby. ‘I look forward to seeing a lot more of you, Abby Spencer, but right now I’d better go and drum up a few more sales.’ He bent to whisper in her ear. ‘We have to keep his Aston Martin on the road somehow.’
Thea excused herself to tag along with Luke, leaving Abby finally alone with Doug. ‘Well.’
‘Well,’ he repeated.
‘Are you really okay with Geraldine and Luke?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that all you’re going to say?’
‘On that subject, yes.’
‘Okay then, let’s change it.’ She cast her eyes around the room. ‘I can’t believe you painted all of these. When do you get the time?’
‘Evenings. Weekends. As has already been pointed out, I’m an unsociable bugger.’
Unthinking she put her arm through his. ‘Then treat this as the first stage in your social reintegration training. You can take me round each painting and tell me what you think the artist was trying to achieve.’
‘I can tell you that now. He was trying to paint.’
‘Ah, but why?’
‘Because it’s an escape.’ When she looked at him questioningly he added quickly, ‘And because he enjoys it. Still, if you want, I can give you some claptrap and you can nod knowledgably.’
‘Excellent. I’d love a chance to look intelligent. Take me to the first painting, maestro.’
Chapter Thirteen
Abby’s arm was warm and comforting nestled through his as they took a tour round the gallery. He felt so at ease with her, he’d even tripped up and admitted he used painting as an escape. No wonder she’d looked so confused. The heir to the Faulkner estate hardly needed a blasted escape. He had everything he needed in life.
‘When did you know you wanted to paint?’ Abby asked, peering up at him.
‘I’ve always known. As a child it was all I wanted to do.’
She laughed softly. ‘I bet your parents have a huge collection of your early works they can’t bear to throw out. Mum kept all mine and Mandy’s stuff from school and I kept up the tradition for the others. All of which were seriously rubbish, I might add. Yours must have been awesome.’
Unconsciously he stiffened, squeezing Abby’s arm harder than he’d intended. ‘Sorry.’ He forced his muscles to slowly relax again.
‘It’s okay.’ She moved away a little so she could watch his face. ‘It seems I hit a nerve though.’
‘Yes.’ He stared over at the sea of people, here to look at his art, and wondered what his parents would think if they knew. ‘Suffice to say there is no collection of early works.’
‘But why? Didn’t you show any to your mum and dad?’
She had no clue, he thought, then wondered why he was so surprised. She came from a loving family. A normal family. They might have lost their mother but that bond, that sense of togetherness was still so strong even he’d felt it. ‘My parents weren’t interested, Abby.’
‘I don’t understand. How could they not be?’
‘My father didn’t like me painting.’ He left it there, not wanting to discuss old wounds; how his father had banned him from the art, forcing him into painting under the damn bed during the school holidays.
‘How ridiculous.’ Abby snorted. ‘I know he’s your father but seriously, he’s like one of those dinosaurs we spoke about.’
The vision of Charles Faulkner’s face on the body of a T-rex almost made him smile. Almost.
They stopped in front of another canvas. His personal favourite, it was a stormy scene of waves crashing against rocks. In the background, barely visible, were a series of cartoon-like figures in a cave, huddled round a roaring fire.
‘This one reminds me of you,’ she told him, staring at the painting. ‘At first glance it’s dark and severe but actually, if you look closely, it’s quite sweet. Cosy.’
He blinked. ‘Sorry?’ He had no problem seeing the dark part, it was who he was so it was no wonder that’s what he painted, but sweet?
‘You heard me. You’re not nearly as grumpy as you think, you know.’ While he reeled from her statement her eyes followed a waiter holding a tray of canapés. ‘I’m going to snag myself a few of those,’ Abby said, pointing in the direction of the salmon blinis and other assorted, ridiculously small, fancy delicacies. ‘Do you want any? Or were you stuffing your face with them before I arrived?’
‘I might have carefully, and politely, nibbled a few.’
‘In which case you’ll probably still be hungry so I’ll grab some for you, too. It’ll look better if I spread it across two plates rather than load up one.’
As she headed for the tray with the focus of an Exocet missile, Luke appeared by his side. ‘If you let that woman go, you don’t deserve to be happy.’
‘Let her go? I haven’t even got her.’
‘Oh, you have. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, all starry eyed. Like a kid eyeing up a present under the Christmas tree and daring to hope it might be meant for her.’
‘I’m a thundering long way from being any girl’s dream gift.’
‘Hey, you don’t need to convince me of that, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or some crap like that. I’m telling you, she more than likes you, mate.’
‘And I’m telling you, concentrate on your own sex life and keep out of mine.’
‘Happy to. Speaking of which, I’m catching up with Geraldine after I close up here. Any tips you’d like to give me?’
‘What?’ Doug spluttered.
Laughing loudly, Luke patted him on the back. ‘Only kidding. I’m not going to think about you and her together. Time we both looked forward, not back.’
‘She’ll eat you alive,’ Doug muttered, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the entire conversation. Him and Abby. Luke and Geraldine. Hell’s teeth.
‘I’m up for anything,’ Luke replied cheerfully. ‘And I see your Shetland pony – who, by the way is one heck of a lot sexier than I imagined – is heading this way so I’ll make myself scarce. Don’t balls this one up.’
Luke darted off, giving Abby a mock salute as he passed her, and Doug tried to unscramble his brain.
‘He’s funny, your friend,’ she remarked as she handed him a plate overflowing with daft food items. ‘And I mean funny ha ha.’
‘Oh, he’s a riot all right,’ he replied, sticking a mini hamburger into his mouth. What was the point of these things? If you wanted a burger, you wanted a proper burger. Not one designed for Action Man.
‘Umm, these are brilliant. I love all this finger food. You can experience lots of different flavours and tastes without piling in loads of calories.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
She levelled him a look, then burst into giggles. ‘You hate them, don’t you? Typical male. Not happy unless you’ve got a real mouthful.’
He nearly choked on his filo prawn. It wasn’t hard to imagine the mouthful he really wanted, not when he gazed at Abby. Her eyes shone, her mouth laughed and her curves screamed at him from beneath her neatly-tailored suit.
By the time Abby had dragged him round all the canvases, the room was thinning. No doubt helped by the fact that Luke was almost shepherding people out. Doug didn’t need to think too hard to work out why. His bet was on a dark-haired femme fatale with a penchant for wea
ring red.
Finally there was only him, Abby and Luke.
‘Not a bad night’s work,’ Luke remarked as he set about his closing shop ritual. ‘Only two unsold, and they’ve got people interested. Did you enjoy it, Abby?’
‘Surprisingly, yes.’
‘You weren’t looking forward to it?’
‘Oops.’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound so negative. I was just a bit nervous, that’s all. It’s my first gallery showing.’ She pointed at her suit. ‘Hence my inappropriate clothing.’
‘Not inappropriate at all. I think you look a knock out.’
‘It’s time we were going,’ Doug cut in sharply. Too sharply, he realised as Abby flashed him a startled look.
‘Oh, right, I’ll just fetch my jacket.’
When she was out of earshot he hissed at Luke. ‘Geraldine you’re welcome to. Abby isn’t up for grabs.’
Luke, the bastard, simply smirked. Then went on to make a great show of helping Abby into her jacket. Thanking her for coming. And kissing her goodbye.
Doug almost marched her out of the gallery.
‘Phew,’ she exclaimed when they hit the cool evening air. ‘That’s better. It was getting pretty hot in there.’
He didn’t think she was referring to Luke’s overdone charm, but he couldn’t be sure so he stuck with a noncommittal grunt.
‘I guess this is where I say goodnight. Thanks for inviting me and, well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.’
She took a step away before he managed to tug her back. ‘Not so fast. I’ll walk you to your car.’
‘That’ll be hard, because I came by bus. I didn’t know how easy it would be to park, what with all these people flocking to see your art.’
‘Then I’ll take you home.’
‘No, don’t be silly. I’m fine with the bus. It’s not far.’
Putting his arm around her waist he propelled her towards his car. ‘I’m not fine with you catching the bus.’ He flashed his remote and the Aston winked at them. ‘My car’s a lot more comfortable.’
Doug held the door open for Abby and she slid in as gracefully as she could. For the first time that evening she was grateful for her trousers. A dress would have ended up round her ears by the time she’d wriggled into the luxurious but very low seat.
She watched the handsome man walking round the bonnet to the driver’s side. Her boss, but was there more between them than that? The way he’d greeted her tonight, as if he’d been waiting for her to arrive, gave her hope there could be, but the man who climbed into the driver’s seat was too hard to read. She’d only just met Luke and yet she felt she already knew him. She’d worked for Doug for nearly three months and still didn’t know him at all.
‘It’s safer, too,’ he remarked as he eased into the road.
‘What’s safer?’
He glanced sideways at her. ‘My car is safer than taking the bus.’
‘The bus is less likely to be car jacked by gun-toting thieves or be involved in a high speed collision.’
‘I don’t speed.’
‘Good, you’ve halved my chance of getting hurt.’
‘Abby.’ Frustration throbbed in his voice.
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t like to think of you catching a bus late at night.’
He came to a stop at the traffic lights and she snuck a glance at him. He looked more unapproachable than ever, cool eyes and a face made sterner by the effect of the shadows hollowing out his cheeks.
‘I’m used to taking care of myself, Doug. You don’t have to worry about me.’
For the rest of the journey he remained quiet and Abby stared out of the window, acutely aware of him. At times strong and silent, others more dark and brooding. Always impossibly attractive.
When he pulled into her drive and turned off the engine, the car descended into a still silence. Now she could hear herself breathe. Feel the warmth from his body as he sat, motionless, next to her. ‘Right then, thanks for the lift.’ Reaching down, she clasped her handbag. ‘You really didn’t need to bring me home but you were right, this was a lot more comfortable than the bus. Plus I’m back earlier, so I might even get into work on time tomorrow.’ She was jabbering. ‘Anyway, thanks again.’
‘Abby,’ he said heavily.
‘Sorry, I’m talking too much. I can’t seem to help myself. I talk a lot anyway, which I’m sure you’ve noticed already, but it gets worse when I’m nervous.’
He shifted in his seat so he was facing her. ‘Do I make you nervous?’
She opened her mouth, closed it, then took in a deep breath. ‘When we’re in the office no, but right now, yes.’
‘Because you’re afraid I might kiss you again,’ he stated softly.
‘Yes. But I’m more afraid you might not.’
He let out a low groan and placed a hand on either side of her head before drawing her towards him and planting a tender kiss on her forehead.
‘You can kiss me on the lips, if you want to.’ She felt the heat of his breath on her face as he exhaled deeply. ‘Of course if you don’t want to, that’s fine, too.’
‘I do want.’ But he dropped his hands and leant back in his seat.
‘Just to be clear, because I know I’m incredibly subtle, that was an invitation.’
His lips curved but his expression remained guarded and his eyes … oh wow, his eyes looked so sad. ‘I appreciate the invitation, you’ve no idea how much, but I can’t accept. I’m sorry.’
‘Okay then.’ And though as rejections went, it was a kind one, it still stung. ‘Well, thank you again for inviting me.’
‘That’s the third time you’ve thanked me this evening.’
‘Third, huh? I must have had a good time.’ Because she couldn’t help herself, she reached out and trailed a finger down his cheek, slightly rough with stubble, and then over his lips, achingly soft. His eyes fluttered closed before he halted her progress with his hand. ‘You’re a hard man to understand, Doug Faulkner.’
‘I know.’ His eyes opened again, the blue of his gaze making her breath catch. ‘I’m sorry.’
Unable to hold his look she glanced down at their entwined hands. Long and slender, the fingers wrapped around hers held both strength and artistry. ‘At least now I can see why you don’t enjoy being the man in the suit in the office. Not when your heart and soul are tied up with your paintings.’
He gave her a tired looking smile. ‘I get far more pleasure out of painting, yes.’ Drawing her hand towards his lips, he kissed it. ‘Though recently I’ve begun to enjoy going into the office, too.’
Her heart jumped against her ribs. ‘Recently?’
‘The last few months.’ After giving her hand a final kiss, he let it go. ‘Goodnight, Abby.’
She didn’t want to leave. Talking to him, cocooned in the intimacy of his car, was far more appealing than going back to her empty bed. But the finality of his tone told her the evening was over. Reluctantly she opened the door. ‘Goodnight, Doug. And—’
‘Thank you?’ He shook his head, a glimmer of a smile playing around his lips. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She walked to the front door and undid the lock but didn’t go in. Instead she stood on the doorstep and watched as his tail lights disappeared down the lane. For a man who kept telling her he wasn’t going to kiss her again, he sure sent out mixed signals.
Chapter Fourteen
Doug knew he was holding himself too tensely so he took in a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders. It was only a board meeting. His father would be there as chair, plus the cronies he’d made directors, but there would be some friendly faces: the head of finance; his mother; Abby, who’d be taking minutes when in reality the packaging idea he was about to propose was all hers.
Abby. She’d unknowingly caused him no end of sleepless nights since the evening of his show a few weeks ago. Nights spent tossing and turning and dreaming of scorching hot sex … with his personal assistant. How
many times had he woken up sweating, hugely aroused and utterly disgusted with himself?
‘Are you ready?’
Abby appeared from her alcove and God help him, it wasn’t just his groin that stirred when he stared into her big brown eyes. It was his heart. She wasn’t another tough-as-nails Geraldine, though. Abby was a woman who looked for love, not sex. A woman easily capable of being hurt.
He pushed back his shoulders and rose to his feet. ‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.’ After shrugging on his jacket, he slipped his pen into his pocket and followed Abby out to the boardroom, trying not to imagine he was walking to the gallows. Still, if he was, there was no finer last sight in this world than Abby’s cute backside.
‘I sent the proposal to them all last week so there shouldn’t be any grumbles about not having had enough time to read it,’ she told him, all efficiency as they entered the room and she opened up her laptop. ‘I’ll set the presentation up on the computer. When you’re ready I’ll go and collect our visitors from the coffee area. Oh, bugger.’
Her exclamation was a reassuring blast of normality. ‘Anything I should worry about?’
She gave him a sheepish smile. ‘I may just have left the stick containing your presentation on my desk.’
‘Nothing serious then.’
‘Good job I’m so efficient there’s time for me to dash back and get it, load it up and still collect our visitors on time.’
‘It’s why I employed you.’ She was about to dart off when he called her back. ‘Abby, I’m sorry it’s me presenting your work today.’
She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Blimey, I’m not. It was bad enough talking your team through it. Presenting to your father? Oh no, you’re very welcome.’
‘Still, it’s your work and I’m not giving you credit for it. It rankles.’
Oh Crumbs Page 13