Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set

  A knock at the door interrupted his futile contemplations and he stood to answer it, his mind still lost with impressing Chloe. In a trance-like state, he opened the door and finally came out of his stupor when he laid eyes on Richard.

  “Hey,” Grayson said, shaking the clouded thoughts from his head. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hello? It’s Friday night. We’re always here on Friday.”

  Grayson stepped back from the door and shook his head, feeling like an idiot. “Right.”

  “You all right, Gray?” Richard asked, closing the door behind him. “You don’t look yourself.”

  “Nah, I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

  Richard cocked his head to the side. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain…artist, would it?”

  Grayson froze. He knew his friend well enough to recognize that peculiar tone. “It might.”

  “Either it does, or it doesn’t,” Richard asserted. “But either way, I’d rather you stop lying about it. We’ve been friends for too long to start hiding things from each other. So what if you slept with Chloe LaRoche? It’s not like—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Grayson interrupted, holding his hands up. “Who said I slept with her?”

  Richard hung his head. “All right, if that’s the side you’re taking then explain to me how a woman can climb the front of your building, three floors up, where there’s no fire escape, and get a good look at you sleeping in your bed?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was inventorying Chloe’s paintings this week and I came across one in particular. I’m not sure if you’ve seen it or not, but it’s an identical match to your face. Granted, the painting shows a half-naked man, lying prone on his bed, but it was strikingly detailed. Now, either she’s a regular Peeping Tom, or, she knows the ins and outs of you and your bedroom enough to paint you to a ‘T.’ And considering how preposterous the first one sounds, I’m going with the latter. Here,” Richard said, pulling out his phone from his suit coat and hitting a few buttons. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”

  Grayson took the cell from his friend’s hand and could only stare at the picture on the screen. It appeared she had painted him sleeping and did so, so remarkably well, that he noticed she left in the childhood scar on his forearm. When he looked closer, he was able to read the tag beneath it: ‘Adonis At Rest.’

  Grayson’s eyes widened even more at the title she had given, and he blew out his bewilderment in one long breath.

  “Yeah,” Richard agreed. “That’s what I did too.”

  Speechless, Grayson handed the phone back, the image of that painting burned in his brain.

  “So, you’re still going to stand there and deny sleeping with her?”

  Grayson cleared his throat. “No…however…in my defense, you never came out and asked if I slept with her.”

  “Yes I did,” Richard argued. “If you’ll recall our conversation the other day, when you mentioned me stopping to take a look at Chloe’s work, I asked you if you offered my services to a woman you just banged.”

  Grayson nodded his head. “Exactly. And I told you I didn’t. I didn’t offer your services to her. That was your question. Not whether or not I banged her.”

  “You’re splitting hairs here, Gray.”

  “Call it whatever you want, but I didn’t lie to you.”

  Richard’s lips straightened. “Fine. We misunderstood each other. But let’s get to the real problem.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “When did you sleep with her,” Richard demanded, his arms crossed in front of him.

  Grayson drew backward. “Why does that matter?”

  “Because if you say it was this past weekend, then that would mean Chloe is the mysterious woman who won you over and somehow rose to the status of your perfect dance partner despite the fact that she is fucking deaf! Which, bluntly speaking, seems outright impossible.”

  Grayson looked away for a moment, a sense of sadness overtaking him. “It’s possible because Chloe used to be a dancer before she lost her hearing to a nonmalignant cancer; Bilateral Acoustic Neuroma. Yeah, I Googled it. So, as long as the music is loud enough that she can feel it, she can keep the rhythm…and dance.”

  Richard followed him into the living room and plopped on the couch next to him. “And since you met her at Gyrations, you didn’t know the difference before you took her to your bed.”

  “Basically.”

  “And you still want Chloe to be your dance partner?”

  Grayson stared at his coffee table but didn’t really see it. “Yeah.”

  “Let me guess,” Richard added. “She doesn’t know how you feel.”

  “The way I really feel about her? No. But she does think I’m an asshole.”

  “Why is that?”

  Grayson thought back to the day when he had walked out on her, the tears in her eyes haunting him since the moment he’d stepped out on the street. “She thinks I’m an asshole because I was. I walked out of her shop, with my foot in my mouth, and left her crying. I didn’t go back. I couldn’t face her. I didn’t know how. But I do now, and I want to apologize to her.”

  “So, why don’t you?”

  “I am. I mean, I will. I just have to learn sign language first.”

  Richard laughed, but when he saw the serious look on Grayson’s face, he stopped. “You’re serious.”

  “I am,” Grayson said with a nod. “She’s got a hold on me and I can’t shake it, Richard. I gotta fix this…one way or another. Starting with the painting.”

  “Come again?”

  “The “Adonis At Rest.” I don’t think she meant to sell it. It’s so unlike the other ones and I think she painted it for herself. I’m betting that since I broke her heart, she’s getting rid of it. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Richard leaned back on the couch. “I think I might have to agree with you on this one.”

  Grayson thought for a moment, then looked at his friend. “I want to buy that painting. No matter what it’s going for, I want to buy it. For her. Can you make that happen?”

  Richard’s mouth turned under in thought. “Oh, I can make it happen, but you realize it’s probably going to cost you. I have a feeling that piece is going to attract some pretty high bidders given its uniqueness.”

  “I don’t care. Just make sure my bid is always higher.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “Yeah,” Grayson concurred soundly. “It’s what I want.”

  “All right, I’ve had enough of this,” Richard said, slapping Grayson’s knee. “Let’s go down to the club and have a few. Joyce has a table and she says you owe her a dance.”

  Grayson smiled and looked over the clothes he was wearing. “I’ll have to change first.”

  “Well, hurry it up. Joyce has already warned me that we have some celebrating to do.”

  “Celebrating what?”

  “That Grayson Anders has finally lost his heart to a woman.”

  Chapter Ten

  2 weeks later

  Richard Fitzgerald, the only man who had believed in her work, walked past a crowd of well-dressed art critics and came toward her.

  Chloe felt her heart skip. She had been so nervous in the past weeks, thinking of her work being displayed in his beautiful marble-floored and pillared gallery, unable to fathom such a thing. Now, that the day had finally come, she was even more nervous about what Mr. Fitzgerald would think. Sure, he seemed impressed with her sensual-style paintings when he had first seen them hanging in her tiny studio. But now, when they were exhibited among so many other well-known artists’ pieces, she feared hers would pale in comparison.

  She felt a hand, firm and reassuring, take hold of hers, and glanced at Evelyn, her interpreter and friend. She gave Chloe a warm smile, letting her know that all would be fine. Chloe was grateful to have her there and smiled back, though inside she was falling apart.

  “Ms. LaRoche,
” Richard said, reaching for her hand and giving it a slight squeeze. He looked between her and Evelyn as if he were unsure to whom he should direct his words, but eventually he let his eyes fall in Chloe’s direction so as not to be rude. “I’m so pleased you came. I must admit, I feared you wouldn’t.”

  Chloe looked away. She, too, didn’t think she’d make it. Something inside her had urged her to attend, something more insistent than the unrelenting encouragement of her nagging interpreter.

  She looked at Evelyn and gave her a nod, allowing her to speak for her.

  “Mr. Fitzgerald,” Evelyn began. “Chloe wanted you to know she is very grateful for this opportunity. Not many people in her life have given her the time of day, especially once they’ve found out she is deaf. And when they do present just an inkling of interest in her work, it’s usually out of pity and nothing more.

  Chloe watched Richard process Evelyn’s words—her words. Once he crossed his arms and smiled, she finally felt more relaxed.

  “Ms. LaRoche,” Richard began, “I’ve seen many artists come and go in this town. But, no one has had the innate talent for bringing emotion to their pieces like you have. I look at each one of your canvases, and they scream with passion.” He leaned closer. “You’ve given them a voice, Ms. LaRoche, and I’m honored to have given them a home. Well, a temporary home anyway.”

  Chloe recognized a slight upturn in his grin, as if he knew something she didn’t. She narrowed her eyes.

  “I can see you caught my subtle segue there,” Richard replied with a wink. “It’s the reason I came over to you.” He turned briefly, facing the large wall supporting her numerous paintings, and back to her again. “I am pleased to announce that nine of your paintings have already sold—two of them to that gentleman over there.”

  Richard nodded to her left toward a tuxedo-clad middle-aged man with a shapely, Marilyn Monroe type blonde, in a striking red evening gown, on his arm. As if the man heard his name, he turned and slightly bowed his head.

  “That is Mr. James Hollingsworth, Back Bay’s most influential architect since Arthur Gilman.”

  Chloe couldn’t believe what she was reading from Richard’s lips. To know someone, with as much clout as Mr. Hollingsworth, had found enough appeal in her work to have purchased them within a few short hours, was rather mind-boggling

  “Believe it, Ms. LaRoche,” Richard replied as if he read her mind. “Your work is in high demand now. With it being showcased here, the demand will only grow.” He pointed to one painting in particular. “This one sold for five grand in a matter of minutes.”

  Chloe swallowed hard as she considered the painting. It was her treasured sleeping Adonis and, even though she had made the decision to sell it weeks ago, it was difficult to accept that it actually sold. Her favorite piece had sold to someone who probably wouldn’t cherish it the way she had.

  “Is something wrong?” Richard asked, glancing between her and Evelyn. “Perhaps the price is too small? I could inform the buyer that he was just overbid if you’re not happy with the selling price. I pretty sure he’ll give you whatever you’re looking for.”

  Chloe didn’t know what to say. The last thing she wanted to do was seem ungrateful in front of Mr. Fitzgerald, but it felt as if she were giving up her own child for adoption. Luckily, Evelyn knew enough about how she regarded the unique piece and offered an explanation.

  “The selling price is not the issue, Mr. Fitzgerald. The painting you’re referring to happens to be a very sentimental piece and I believe it’s just harder for Ms. LaRoche to part with it than she expected.”

  Chloe stared at the painting, her heart feeling like a ten-pound weight in her chest. She didn’t know why she felt so strongly about this painting, but she did. For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t like she had a long-term relationship with the man on the canvas or that he had left her after so many years. In truth, he was nothing more than a one-night stand.

  A one-night stand gone terribly wrong.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like that. She wasn’t supposed to fall for him and he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to find her. He was only meant to be a means for relieving stress, to forget her problems and do something crazy and unconventional for one night, and then move on like nothing happened the next morning. But that was near impossible, especially with a man as desirable as her Adonis. She was totally enraptured by him from day-one, and those feelings only escalated as she painted him. How was she supposed to think nothing of him after he showed up at her shop, whisked her into his arms, and had wild, impulsive sex with her on the floor?

  For whatever reason, Mr. Gyration had made a huge impression on her and she couldn’t rid his memory from her mind. Reminiscing on those tender moments caused a strange ache in her heart, the same one she had felt the second he turned his back on her—minutes after lying in her naked embrace—and walked out the door. Even now, after more than two weeks, she still felt the pain of his departure as prevalent as the day it happened. She doubted it would go away anytime soon.

  She felt a hand touch her shoulder, interrupting the self-pitying stupor she was in.

  “Ms. LaRoche, I can’t help but notice that your “Adonis At Rest” is quite different from the others. If you don’t mind me asking, from whom did you get your inspiration?”

  Chloe feigned her best pleasant smile and began signing. Evelyn chimed in with, “He was a man from my recent past, but someone I barely knew. I just woke up one morning and had to paint him. An impulse of mine.”

  As she finished her explanation, she saw a look of compassion in Mr. Fitzgerald’s eyes as if he understood her pain. “You realize all sales are final. But I know the buyer personally…so if you’d rather not sell it…”

  She waved him off, knowing it was better for her heart to let it go. Selling the painting would be the necessary step to moving on.

  “She’ll be fine, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Evelyn said, taking hold of Chloe’s shoulders. “Sometimes it’s just hard to let go. She’ll get used to it.”

  “Of course,” he replied, nodding once. “I’ll give you some time. Again, I am so pleased you came, Ms. LaRoche. Feel free to look around.”

  Chloe watched him leave to join another small group of people admiring a brightly colored abstract painting. But a feeling of loss weighed her down. She should be happy about her successful sales, enjoying the day for what it was. Not many artists get the chance to be represented by R. Fitzgerald Gallery, or to be noticed by such respectable men like Mr. James Hollingsworth.

  All she really wanted was to have Mr. Gyrations’ respect. To go back in time and relish the way he looked at her with longing, to see the high regard in which he once held her, before he found out the truth. She wasn’t ashamed of being deaf, but she certainly wished she could’ve done things differently. Perhaps, if she hadn’t jumped into his bed so quickly, they could’ve at least remained friends.

  Chloe looked at Evelyn, grateful for her presence. She touched her mouth with her fingertips and laid it in her open left hand.

  “You don’t have to thank me, Chloe. I’m honored to be here with you.” Evelyn lifted her sagging chin. “Look at me. Your Adonis, no matter how god-like he is, was still a shallow chicken-shit. But look at it this way. The bastard just handed you a pretty penny. At least he was good for something.”

  Chloe cringed and signed, “And that isn’t shallow?”

  “So, what. You deserve to be a little superficial. Now, let’s forget about him, and meet some people who actually deserve to know you. Like Mr. Hollingsworth over there.”

  Chloe glanced at the sharply dressed, handsome man and rolled her eyes. She knew she wasn’t going to get out of this one with Evelyn in her company and, for no other reason than to show appreciation toward Mr. Fitzgerald for all he’d done for her, she sucked it up and mingled with the public.

  ****

  Grayson practiced his apology to Chloe over and over, as many times as he could. He wanted it near flawless. He had visited Bri
git Sullivan, Gerry’s sister, on several occasions, learning the basics of sign language, and he used his portable translator in between lessons.

  Brigit had taught him how to sign each letter of the alphabet first, and then, once he perfected that, he learned the fundamentals like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, ‘my name is…’, and ‘what time is it?’ But knowing the bare bones was not enough. He wanted to speak to Chloe in her language. He wanted to give her an honest apology in a way she’d appreciate. He wanted to prove, by being as proficient as he could with signing, that he was truly willing to go the distance with her and get to know her on a deeper level than just great sex.

  Grayson felt his body tighten. It was nearly killing him to go this long without sex—without Chloe. She’d been, by far, the best he’d ever had, and just thinking about the possibility of touching her again made him grow hard.

  Focus, Grayson.

  He willed those thoughts away and kept to his lessons. Every day he practiced. From the time he woke, to the moment the sun set again. Tonight was going to be the night he’d put his words into motion—literally.

  As he tried one more time in front of his mirror, he couldn’t help but feel everything was riding on this one apology. He was nervous. And he hated it.

  It wasn’t like him to fret over things. He was a perfectionist, through and through, but when something as important as impressing a special woman was in his plans, he refused to cut corners.

  He had made so many calls in the past week, to caterers, to candle shops, to his own employees. Every thing seemed to be lined up for the grand finale. The only thing he was waiting for was a certain phone call that would tell him whether or not this was all a ‘go.’

  Grayson paced his bedroom floor, stopping a few times to check his tux in the mirror. As he figured, it hadn’t changed any since the last time he inspected it. He glanced at the wall across from the bed, eyeing the canvas that used to hang above Chloe’s register.