The Unveiling (Work of Art #2)

by Ruth Clampett

  He quickly parks and hauls me out of the car. “Don’t combust before I get you upstairs. I have special plans for tonight, and these plans require every lovely inch of you to be intact.”

  He leans into me, and I feel his erection—the unmistakable proof that he’s as turned on as I am. “Special plans?”

  “Just you wait and see. After I undress you and carry you to our bed, you’ll find out just how charming and hot I can be.”

  The following week, Dylan calls with surprising news. Taylor and Tiden and ArtOneWorld are so pleased with the interview footage, they would like to send me to Barcelona for Max’s show. They have several events planned, including a book signing and a large reception for the opening of his exhibition. They’ve already had interest in Unspoken Truths from several of the local TV stations, but now that we’re both coming, they think our playful banter will make for good airtime. It would be a fast trip—only five days, two of which are travel days.

  “But, Dylan, I can’t ask Adam for any more time off. At some point, he’s going to get fed up, and I can’t do that…I owe him everything.”

  “It looks like it’s time to do some soul searching, Ava. Timing is everything, and opportunities like this may only come along once. If this is the direction you want your career to go, frankly, you’d be a fool to pass on it.”

  “I know…What should I do?”

  “Talk to Adam. Explain how you’re feeling. I’m sure he already sees the writing on the wall.”

  The next day, I supervise an installation in Los Feliz, and when I return to the gallery, Brian calls me over. “Hey, Ava, while you were gone, a guy came in looking for you. Here’s his card.” Brian hands me the high-design business card.

  Travis Williamson

  Senior Vice President Development

  ArtOneWorld

  I run my finger over the fancy foil embossed logo. I look back up at Brian. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “He wanted to talk about the interview you did with Max. I didn’t know what he was talking about. What interview?”

  “Oh, last Saturday they shot a thing at Max’s place to promote the book. I can’t imagine what this guy wants to say about it.” I hold up the card. “This looks like he’s a top executive.”

  Brian raises his eyebrows. “He sure had something on his mind. He walked through the gallery and we talked for a while. He knew a lot about art.”

  “Well, I’d hope. Their new network is about art.”

  “Yeah, but that isn’t always the case with the executives. Thomas tells me about stuff like that all the time. But, regardless, he sure asked a lot of questions about you.”

  Butterflies take flight in my stomach. “Me? What kind of questions.”

  “How long you’ve worked here…what type of work you do. A few personal things too. He asked if you were married.” He scrunches up his nose. “That was kind of weird, now that I think of it. I shouldn’t have answered him.”

  “Married? Why would he want to know that?”

  “Hell if I know…but he did say you were very appealing on camera, and he’d like to meet you. He promised me he’d email me the interview after it’s edited.”

  My mind spins, trying to imagine what this Travis wants. I haven’t talked to Adam yet about Barcelona, and I can’t disclose more to Brian until I do. To calm my mind, I grasp onto the most logical explanation I can conjure.

  “Well, Dylan told me the publisher wants me more involved in promoting the book. Maybe he’s just making sure I’m stable.”

  Brian shrugs. “Well, call him, girl, and find out!”

  I take a long look at the card before I tuck it in my pocket. “I will. Thanks.”

  I tap my fingers on the edge of my desk while I wait for my call to go through.

  “Travis here.” He has a rich, smooth voice.

  I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Hi, Mr. Williamson, this is Ava Jacobs. Brian told me you stopped by our gallery to talk.”

  “Yes, Ava. Thanks for calling me back. I came by to invite you to our launch party for ArtOneWorld.”

  My eyes widen and I grip the phone tighter. He came by to invite me to a party? None of this makes sense. What executive does that?

  I hope he isn’t hitting on me. That’s the last thing I need. “I’d be honored to come. When is it?”

  “In a few weeks. I’m going to hand you over to my assistant. She’ll give you the details and get your contact information, so we can send you the formal invitation.”

  “All right. Thank you, Mr. Williamson.”

  “Travis, please. And, Ava, I’m really looking forward to finally meeting you in person.”

  After Travis’s assistant and I share information, I hang up, remembering what Dylan had said about my job at the gallery and my future…the writing is on the wall.

  I’d sure love to see this wall of mine and read exactly what the writing says.

  Chapter Nineteen / Delete Contact?

  Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.

  ~ Joan Crawford

  Being in love both speeds life up and slows it down. It seems like Max and I were just curled up on our bed in Santa Fe, and I blinked my eyes and now we’re nestled together in Malibu.

  I arrived last night after work and a long drive along Pacific Coast Highway. By the time I got here, we were so hungry for each other that we skipped dinner and took our time christening the sheets on his grand four-poster bed. Now it’s Saturday, and after sleeping in, we’re famished. We tumble out of bed and head to the kitchen to make pancakes.

  I have on my rose-colored satin cami and tap pants, because I want to entice him. I use every opportunity—trips to the refrigerator, reaching for a dishcloth, or rinsing off my hands—to brush against him. He arches a brow and gives me a crooked smile, but doesn’t do anything until he finally loses it. Then he takes the skillet off the burner, corners me against the kitchen island and grinds into me.

  Happy Saturday, I think gleefully. This is the best sleepover ever!

  We polish off a big stack of pancakes along with bacon, juice, and big mugs of coffee. When we finish, we sit back with our feet up and our bellies full.

  The sound of the ocean echoes throughout the kitchen, and I’m completely content until his phone rings. The screen flashes—Vanessa. But what’s aggravating is the photo accompanying the name. Vanessa’s low-cut tank top barely covers a hot pink bra overflowing with breasts as she glows on the screen in all her art slut glory.

  “Nice bra. Be my guest.” I push the phone over to Max with a humorless smirk.

  “Ava…” He talks in an irritating paternal voice, which raises my aggravation to an impressive level.

  “What?” I snap.

  “Just because they call, doesn’t mean I answer.”

  I fold my arms over my chest.

  “Who is she?”

  “No one that matters. We hooked up a few times.”

  I feel nauseated. It’s not that I didn’t know there were a lot of women—I just don’t want them in my face. I was enjoying my stay at Camp Caswell until the previous campers popped up.

  “None of those girls ever meant a damn thing to me. You know that.”

  The horrendous ring tone finally shuts off, only to be replaced by a different one.

  I growl. “Great, strike up the band, here comes the parade.”

  He runs his hands through his hair and squints. “No, that’s my voicemail prompt.”

  I turn away and look out the window. This isn’t my favorite sleepover anymore. Is this what it will always be like whenever we’re together? Will I always be wondering if some art slut is going to intrude in our little bubble?

  He suddenly picks up his phone, runs his finger over the screen and sets it back down in front of us. Vanessa’s voicemail plays back on the speaker.

  Hey, Max-o. It’s V. I’m disappointed in you. This is the third time I’ve called, and you hav
en’t called me back. What’s the deal, baby? We have so much fun. Someone told me you have a girlfriend now and are out of the game, but I know better…my Max with a girlfriend? Ha! I don’t believe it!

  His eyes look empty as she talks, but he cringes at the girlfriend comment.

  All right, I’ve gotta go. Call me…last chance, baby.

  He picks up the phone and taps delete on the screen before he lowers it back to the table.

  That was a gutsy move to play that message without screening it first. I want to trust him, even in the face of this morning’s curve ball.

  I feel somber. “So…how many girls are in there? And do you have pictures of all of them?”

  “A lot. I took their pictures when I got their numbers. Otherwise, I’d never remember them. I’ll delete them all right now. It won’t stop them from calling, but at least their picture and name won’t taunt you.”

  I grab the phone. “I want to see the pictures first.”

  “What will that accomplish, other than pissing you off?”

  “I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”

  He takes the phone from me, touches the screen a few more times and hands it back to me. “Here you go, glutton.”

  Asandra is a gorgeous African-American girl with light skin, long curly black hair, and huge brown eyes. Bibi, a brunette, is licking her lips. Carmen, an exotic beauty, looks like she stepped out of the wild. Two blondes, one with blue eyes and one with brown come next. By the eighth girl, I’m extremely weary. I definitely don’t want to make it to S to look at Sheila, the blonde goddess, again. Disgusted, I give up, and hand him the phone.

  “When does my picture come up? Ava should’ve been between Asandra and Bibi.”

  “You aren’t in that folder.” He hands the phone back. It’s the drawing he did of me—the one Jess showed me in his studio right after he disappeared. My name comes up as My Ava. My empty heart fills up a little.

  “You are my girl, Ava. Only you.” He watches me carefully, but I give nothing away. He stands and extends his hand. “Enough of this. Come on, let’s get dressed and take a walk on the beach.”

  I look up with a blank stare that hides the wilting ego of my jealous heart.

  The surf is gentle today, and we let the water wash over our feet as we walk. We’re almost to the end of the beach where the rock formations jut out.

  “Are you okay? Let’s talk about it and get this cleared up.”

  He’s calm and focused. I’m glad he gave me some time to sort through my thoughts. He’s right, we need to have this conversation and be done with it.

  “I think the part that bugs me the most is that haven’t you deleted them already. I knew you must have had their numbers…but why are they still there?”

  “It’s a logical question, and my answer may sound lame, Ava. But honestly, I’ve been so focused on you, and my life now, that I hadn’t even thought about it. The few times one of them called, I just shut the phone off and pushed it out of my mind. I left the phone at the house, but I promise you, deleting them will be the first thing I do when we get back.”

  I turn my face toward the sun, and when I turn back, his expression is sad, yet determined.

  “I wish I could erase my past with them. But even as I delete every last one of those girls, it won’t change the past, and it won’t stop them from resurfacing. We may run into them when we’re out or at an opening. Hell, I’m sure we’ll run into Jonathan too.”

  “Well, your calm logic is lovely, Max, but let me remind you that you’re the most jealous man I know. If our situations were reversed and it was a string of old boyfriends calling, how would you handle it?”

  “Fair enough. I’d probably have gone off the deep end by now—once again proving that you’re superior in every way.” He smiles sweetly. “But, you know I’m working on it, and as long as we stay focused on our present and look toward our future, out past relationships won’t matter.”

  “You’re right.” I step closer and pull him into a hug. I’m so impressed with how he’s stayed calm, acknowledged my anxious feelings, and done everything he could to reassure me. I remember that he took his meds last night.

  “Thanks,” I say softly.

  “Thanks?” He tips his head with a puzzled expression.

  “For staying calm and reassuring me.”

  He holds me tighter. “You’re the only one for me, Ava. I want you to always be sure of that.”

  When we kiss, a large wave rushes forward, the water pushing and rising just below our knees. But despite its pull as it returns to the ocean, we’re steady.

  We’re almost back to the house when Max pulls off his T-shirt. “Let’s take a swim.”

  “But it’s cold!” I’m a wimp when it comes to cold water.

  “Yeah, but you’ll get used to it and it feels great. And I’ve already fired up the hot tub for when we get out.”

  Apprehensively, I take off my clothes. Max drags me into the surf and I howl and fight him the entire way. When the water’s up to our waists, he lets go and dives into the water. As he resurfaces, he laughs and shakes his head, sending water drops flying everywhere.

  “Fantastic! Come on, go under!” He grins from ear to ear.

  I dive toward him and come up right in front of him, shivering. “You’re so mean! Damn, it’s cold!”

  He takes me in his arms and kisses me passionately. Suddenly I’m not so cold anymore. I could get used to this.

  Max spends the afternoon painting in the studio, while I work on my Andrea Altman project in the library. Jess and Laura are coming over for dinner to discuss how it would all work if they did their the wedding at the house, so around five I stretch out on the couch to take a short nap. All this playtime with Max is wearing me out.

  I’m stirred out of dreamland by the sound of voices laughing nearby. I push back the chenille blanket Max must have tucked around me. It sounds like Jess and Laura are already in the kitchen with Max. How long have I been asleep anyway?

  I wander into the kitchen.

  Max kisses the top of my head. “Hey, sleepyhead. Did you have a good rest?”

  I nod, yawning. “How long was I out?”

  “Almost two hours. I tried to wake you, but you were dead to the world, so I just let you sleep. You must’ve really been worn out.”

  Jess gives me a hug. “Hey, baby, how’s my girl?”

  “Still waking up, but I’m good. It’s great to see you guys.”

  Laura grins from the other side of the kitchen island. “Max’s already got the steaks on the barbeque, and we’ve got the salad and corn on the cob going, so why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a glass of wine.”

  I sit on the bar stool at the end of the island as Max ducks outside to check on the grill.

  Jess watches him through the window as he turns the steaks. “Damn, Ava, I’ve never ever seen that man so happy. I can’t tell you how much that warms my heart.”

  Laura nods as she hands me my glass of wine.

  “It’s the same for me. We’re in this magic bubble, far from the troubles of the outside world.” I sigh contentedly. “He makes me so happy.”

  “Have you moved in yet? He says he wants you to.”

  “No, we aren’t ready for that. I’m staying this weekend, but I’m going home tomorrow night.”

  “And no more jealous fits or tantrums?”

  “Actually, I had a bit of a problem with jealously this morning when one of the art groupies called, but we talked and worked it out. I think we’re learning how to be with each other. Falling in love is much easier than staying in love, isn’t it?”

  Jess and Laura both laugh knowingly and smile at each other.

  “But the rewards are worth the growing pains. You guys seem destined to be together, so it’s worth fighting for,” Laura adds.

  “Hell, yeah,” Jess says.

  After dinner, we wander around the yard, while Jess and Max talk about possibilities for the wedding. They debate th
e placement of the tables, the dance floor, and the bar. One of Jess’s top priorities is a great DJ, so the location of the dance floor is critical. They finally agree to set it up in the front yard under the trees.

  Jess’s dad still hasn’t agreed to come to the wedding, let alone walk her down the aisle. He’s not exactly supportive of her lifestyle choice. He doesn’t understand that she came out of the womb gay, just like her eyes came out brown, and her hair the color of melting butter.

  “Max, if Dad doesn’t come, will you walk me down the aisle?”

  “I’d be honored.” When he hugs her, a single tear runs down her cheek.

  It’s one of those vivid moments in life where I’ll remember everything: the smell of the night air edged with ocean brine, how the breeze ruffles your hair across your collar, and the way the moon’s light paints its silver light over two people that mean the world to me.

  But my Hallmark moment shifts when Jess lets out a piercing howl and slaps Max’s ass hard. He chases her through the yard twice, past Laura and I, and into the house.

  Laura rolls her eyes. “Those two are like big kids,” she says, as we join them in the kitchen.

  They’re both laughing as Max yells, “Who wants s’mores?”

  “I do,” the three of us girls chant simultaneously, as we help him gather marshmallows, chocolate bars, graham crackers, and long metal skewers before heading out to the fire pit.

  Judging from the way this weekend’s going, I’ll definitely sign up for Camp Caswell on a regular basis. I have the hots for my counselor, the enrichment activities are top notch, and the food is better than home. Besides, if I don’t like any of the other girls, I’ll just have him delete the bitches…’cause that’s how we roll.

  Chapter Twenty / Grand Master M

  I want you to feel what I’m feelin’, ’cause that’s what it’s all about.

  ~ Ludacris

  I spend the following weekend at Max’s again and it’s relaxing. After lunch Sunday, I refill my coffee mug, return to the library, and gaze at Max’s garden from the French doors. I love the sound the waterfall makes in the koi pond and the lush beauty of the landscaping. Between my man, who has romanced me all weekend, and this glorious house facing the beach, I’m in paradise.