by Annie Seaton
“I could see the sparks snapping between you and Jack. I told the soup story to kill the sexual tension that was hanging over the table. Now you have to work for him.”
“If he won’t sell, I’ll find something else.” Sienna sighed. “I don’t want to have to ask approval for everything I do. I just hope I can still have my exhibition at the end of the month. Maybe I can find a vacant shop in Nebbiton.”
Georgie stared at her. “Carmel-by-the-Sea is the artsy capital of the northern California coast. Don’t give up so easily. Maybe he won’t come in and change plans you’ve made.”
“I’ll think about it.” Sienna leaned over and hugged Georgie. “Between sleazy Cole and sexy Jack, we certainly had an eventful birthday.”
“Just don’t make any hasty decisions. I know how much time you’ve invested in this exhibition.” A phone beeped loudly. Georgie unzipped her bag and scrabbled around in it. “Blasted phone. It always gets lost in this bag. Got you, you little sucker.” She blew Sienna a kiss before she hitched her bag back onto her shoulder and glanced down at the screen.
“A text from Cole.” She shoved the phone back in her bag and turned toward Ana’s car.
“Georgie?” Sienna put her hand on her sister’s arm as she moved away.
“Uh-oh.” Georgie rolled her eyes. “You’ve got the big-sister lecture face on.”
“I know we joke about it, but promise me you’ll be a little bit more…er…careful when you accept a date next time?”
“I know, he was a sleaze but—”
“Stop trying so hard. There’s no such thing as happy ever after.” Sienna crossed her arms, waiting for Georgie’s reaction.
“You are so cynical. I worry about you.” Georgie frowned and rubbed her forehead with her hand. “Romance is alive and well. Look at Ana and Blake. Look at all the lovely old couples in Nebbiton who’ve been married for a hundred years.”
“A hundred?” Sienna looked away at the fog rolling in from the sea. “Ana and Blake, well, they’re one in a million. You’ve got to stop going out with losers just to try to find something that doesn’t exist.”
“Just because our mother made bad choices doesn’t mean we can’t find love. You have to learn to trust.”
Sienna pushed away the sympathy that rose in her chest when she saw tears well up in Georgie’s eyes. Her twin was going to end up hurt…again.
“I don’t need to be loved by a man. It’s not what I want. I love what I do and I’m really happy with my life the way it is.” She shook her head as the disappointment of the night’s events resurfaced. “If it hadn’t been for Jack changing his mind about selling the gallery, I would have been well on my way to being settled. But I’ll find something else.”
“Well, we’re going to have to agree to disagree again.” Georgie’s face was closed and she turned away. “I’d better hurry, Ana’s waiting. So no hasty decisions about the gallery, especially if Jack lets you keep the date for the show. Okay?”
Sienna waved as she walked over to her car parked two rows away.
“I promise,” she said.
She would have to catch up with Jack first thing on Monday and find out what was happening. It was strange that no one from the company had even contacted her to say he was coming.
…
Jack rolled the Ducati up to the curb a couple of doors up the street from the gallery. He knew there was a garage behind the building, but he only had a key to the front door. The rest of the keys had always been with the manager.
He let himself in and felt around for a light switch. There was a full moon to help light his way; there were few streetlights in town. He flicked the switch and shelves were bathed in a soft light; a brighter spotlight highlighted a colorful display in the window. The space was well laid out, and looked different from when he first bought the place. He’d run the numbers, ducked into the gallery for a quick look, and realized the property would appreciate in value. Its location was one of the best in the small artsy town. So he’d bought it and left it in the hands of Dad’s company, which looked after a few of his interests.
Whoever was managing it now was doing it well. He hoped the current manager would stay on. He didn’t want a full-time role running the place. His deadline was coming up fast, and he was itching to get back to his sculpting when his stuff arrived next week.
A stack of work to do before I can get those pieces finished.
Jack grabbed the bag he’d thrown in the door earlier and wandered around, picking up the occasional piece on display. Vases, bowls, all with a motif of small animals and insects, as well as an eclectic array of pieces, filled the shelves. And the color followed a pattern that appealed to his sense of order. Everything in the window facing the street was in bright primary colors and bathed in the strongest light. As he let his gaze wander down along the shelves to the back of the gallery, he appreciated the skill that had gone into the placement of the pieces by color. Midrange yellows and greens filled the middle shelves, and were lit with a fading light. At the back of the gallery, set in an alcove, white bowls were set off by a soft light shining down from beneath the low ceiling. Candles and bowls of flower petals placed discreetly between the artwork gave off a soft floral fragrance.
Very nicely done. It was well balanced.
Jack yawned and a muscle tightened between his shoulders. He tipped his head to the side to stretch his neck. If he didn’t grab some sleep he’d be useless tomorrow. At least it was Sunday and the gallery would be closed, according to the discreet sign on the glass counter near the door. He switched off the lights and pushed open the door at the back, which opened into a small kitchen. Two more doors were at the back of the kitchen. Jack pushed open the first, nodding with satisfaction as he took in a small bathroom.
Putting his bag on the floor, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and ran water over his face in the small sink. He wiped his face and hands on his T-shirt before he pushed open the last door. It opened into a studio filled with shadows, but the moonlight streaming in through the large bay window facing north hinted at the light that would fill the room in the daytime.
Too tired to turn on the light and lift all the drop sheets covering the shelves to see what was beneath them, Jack headed over to the sofa tucked into the back corner of the room. Thank goodness he didn’t have to crash on the floor, although he was so tired he could have slept anywhere. He threw his T-shirt onto the floor before he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them aside.
A blanket was draped over the back of the sofa, and he sank gratefully into the soft cushions and closed his eyes. As sleep overtook him, he forgot about the gallery and all his plans; his artist’s eye took him back to Sienna, with her large dark eyes made bigger by black kohl, accentuated by the short feathery hair just touching the fair skin on her forehead. Her high cheekbones had worn a soft flush throughout dinner, and a sexy smile had tilted her rosebud lips before her mood had changed. Jack drifted off and sleep overtook him with Sienna’s face planted firmly in his thoughts. He could even smell her perfume.
Jack couldn’t be sure if it was the light streaming through the bay window or the need for coffee that roused him from a deep sleep hours later. He swung his legs over the sofa and leaned forward, rubbing his hands over his stubbled chin. He’d go in search of that much-needed coffee as soon as he shaved and showered. He looked down at his watch. It was only seven o’clock; he was sure he’d find an open restaurant close by in a tourist town like Carmel.
Coffee…and eggs. Or pancakes. Or both. With bacon.
Jack lifted his head at the sound of dishes, and he realized he really could smell coffee.
It’s not just wishful thinking.
He quickly retrieved his jeans from the floor and stepped into them before he walked across to the door. He lifted his hand to turn the knob, but the door opened in front of him before he reached it.
“Holy moly.”
A hot cup of coffee hit his bare chest at the same time Sienna’s exc
lamation reached his ears. He jumped back when the mug tipped over and hot coffee spilled all over the wooden floor. The cup bounced without breaking.
“What on earth are you doing here? And bringing me coffee? Are you a mind reader?” He rubbed his eyes and looked at Sienna, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing here. “Or am I still dreaming?”
“What?” Sienna gawked back at him.
“How did you know I was here?” Jack racked his brain trying to remember the conversation last night. “And how did you get in? Did I forget to lock the door?” He rubbed his hands over his eyes again trying to wake up. He stepped across the room and picked up his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Sienna just stood there looking at him, not saying a word.
He walked back over and took her arm. “Sorry. You woke me up. I didn’t even check to see if you were okay. The coffee didn’t burn you, did it?”
“No, I’m fine.” She pulled back from him and folded her arms. Jack looked down, following the direction of her gaze. He grinned and zipped up his jeans over his black boxers before he reached out and gently held her shoulders.
“It was very sweet of you to bring me coffee. Did Georgie tell you I was here?”
Beneath his hands, Sienna put her shoulders back. Her muscles tensed when she took a deep breath. “Let’s just get one thing clear, mister. One thing I am not…is sweet.”
“But you brought me coffee?” He grinned at her.
“In your dreams.” A smile edged the corner of her mouth.
Jack dropped his hands and shook his head in confusion. “So what are you doing here?”
He stepped back to give her some space, taking care to avoid the puddle of coffee on the floor around them.
Sienna looked him up and down, her expression serious. “I manage the gallery. Or at least I did. It depends on what the owner”—emphasis on the word, and she lifted her chin—“wants to do now that he has a sudden interest in the place.”
“You’re my manager? You’re going to be working for me? Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me that last night?” Jack narrowed his eyes and grabbed her hand. “So what are you doing here on a Sunday? The gallery is closed.”
“So which of your twenty questions will I answer first?” Sienna tipped her head to the side and she regarded him steadily. “Don’t make assumptions about me. I’m more than a shop assistant. I manage everything about the gallery, and I work here in the studio. And I was in the middle of purchasing the place.” Sienna pulled her hand away and flicked a graceful hand around the studio. “This is—or was—my studio. I’ve always been an artist even when I worked for the hardware store. Oh, and yes…we are closed Sundays.”
He stared back; she really was in a snit this morning. “I’m sorry. I seem to have made more than one wrong assumption.” Jack ran his hand through his hair ”Didn’t you know I own the place? Ah”—realization dawned—“that’s what was wrong with you at dinner last night.”
“I only found out last night. I’d emailed my lawyer to take up the option to buy and I was waiting to hear back. No one told me you owned it and were coming back. Ana told me when you arrived.”
“That explains why you were so cold to me last night.” Jack pulled out his best killer smile, but it didn’t seem to work. Sienna stood next to the door, her arms folded and her beautiful face darkened by the same scowl she’d worn last night.
“There’s obviously been a mix-up. I’m sorry.” Jack shrugged. There wasn’t a lot more he could do.
“Obviously,” she said.
“Look, can we start again?” Jack held out his hand, but Sienna ignored it. He had no idea what she was thinking. The serious face in front of him was nothing like the sweet one that had filled his mind as he’d gone to sleep last night. Then her words filtered through to his sluggish brain. “What sort of artist?”
“Later.” Sienna turned on her heel and waved her hand as she headed to the door. “Have a shower or whatever. I’ll clean up that coffee, and then you can tell me your plans for the place.”
The door closed behind her with a loud click and Jack shook his head, totally bemused.
An artist? And she said she’d been going to buy the gallery. Something was amiss. He walked back to the sofa and sat down. He ran a hand across his eyes, trying to dispel the feeling that things had gone awry, before he grabbed a towel from his bag and headed for a shower. Maybe it’d clear his head a bit. When it was a more reasonable hour on the East Coast, he’d make some calls and find out where the screw-up had happened.
There was no sign of Sienna when he went through the kitchen on the way to the small bathroom. Jack stood beneath the water, turning the temperature to cool, trying to wake up. If she was using the studio here, there were going to have to be changes. He needed this studio for his work, and his deadline meant he needed it as soon as his pieces and tools arrived.
They did have some talking and sorting out to do.
…
As soon as she heard the shower running, Sienna grabbed an old rag from the storeroom and hurried back into the studio to wipe up the coffee on the floor before going back out to the gallery.
She groaned. She’d seen the big road bike parked beneath the tree up the street before she drove her car around the corner to the small parking lot at the back of the gallery, but hadn’t given a thought to it being Jack’s. She’d planned to work on the next batch of frogs for her show all day, and now her plans had been thrown into disarray with his arrival. Her show was only three weekends away, and managing the gallery took up most of her time. Now Jack would slow her down even more. Meeting with him, showing him around and seeing exactly what he wanted her role to be—if indeed she still had a job, let alone an exhibition—was going to take up time. Assuming he would come by when the shop was open had been stupid. He was the gallery owner. He could come in any time he liked. And it looked like he was planning on staying here, too.
Of course he’d come in on the weekend.
She just hadn’t expected him to be here this morning. All she could hope was that bunking here was a temporary arrangement, because it would interfere with her preparation for her exhibition until she could find another studio to work in. She looked around with a sigh. It had taken her an entire week to move her equipment and pieces from Mountain View, and she wasn’t looking forward to moving it all again. And the kilns downstairs were perfect for her work.
Why would a businessman from New York even want to own an art gallery in northern California? Products, he’d said!
She tried to remember what Ana had told her about Jack when he’d come down for Faith’s christening last year. All she could remember was that he didn’t work in the same company Blake had, and that he had a reputation for liking a good time.
Because his family was loaded.
Last year at the christening, they’d indulged in a bit of flirting at Ana’s cottage, but he’d left before dinner. And she hadn’t seen him again until he’d walked into Crab Louie’s last night.
He’d looked good then, and he looked even better this morning. His hair was rumpled, and the dark stubble on his jaw tempted her fingers. She’d dropped her gaze to a muscled bare chest and refused to acknowledge the little flip low in her belly. Closing her eyes, Sienna recalled the cheeky grin on his face as he’d zipped his jeans over the black boxers she saw before looking away. She remembered the first time she’d seen him up in Nebbiton a couple of years back. She’d told Ana two guys who looked like Navy SEALS were in the store, and sent Georgie a text message about sex on legs or something.
Well, he certainly was that, and she was going to have to forget it until she found out what his intentions were for the gallery. Her exhibition was booked and all the flyers were about to go up all over town. Carmel-by-the-Sea was ready for her show.
I have to be ready, too.
Chapter Three
Giovanni’s Café was the best eatery in the area; Sienna was a regular customer. She had an appointment with them t
omorrow to go over catering for her launch.
“Just a black coffee, thanks, Sophie.”
Sienna glanced up at the waitress who stood between them, waiting for Jack to finish looking at the menu. Once he’d come out of the bathroom, showered, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she led him down Ocean Avenue to the Court of the Fountains on Mission Street. Now Sophie was ogling Jack and the broad shoulders beneath his T-shirt. Sienna tried to ignore the tight shirt molded to his shoulders and chest, and the way his hair flopped onto his forehead when he’d wandered out to the gallery after his shower. The smell of the citrus aftershave that wafted over her when he stood beside her when she’d locked the front door of the gallery hadn’t helped, either.
Ignore it. Jack is my boss. This is a professional relationship.
“Pancakes, bacon, and fried eggs.” He grinned up at Sophie, and Sienna could swear the girl was turning to jelly as she took the order. He was so happy and carefree, as though he didn’t have a worry in the world.
Okay, so he’s easy on the eye. I’ll admit that. And he’s got a sexy voice.
“Coffee?” Sophie held his gaze and he nodded before he glanced at Sienna.
“You’re not eating?” he asked.
“No, just coffee for me.” She glanced down at her watch and frowned. Her stomach was in knots—there was no way she could eat until she knew what was going to happen. “As soon as our meeting is done, I need to get back to the studio. I have a lot of work planned for today.”
Jack nodded, and the waitress headed to the kitchen. Sienna followed his gaze as he looked around the small courtyard. There were only two other customers there so early in the day. Old wooden wine casks from Napa Valley were scattered among the tables and on either side of the doors, filled with the last of the summer flowers. Asters, zinnias, and dahlias spilled over the edges of the wooden tubs in a profusion of colors. The paving was weathered and covered with moss in the shaded corners.
The low rumble of Jack’s sexy voice drew her attention back from the flowers and to her current problem. “This is a pretty town. I like the village atmosphere,” he said. “And there are a lot of galleries in the shopping area. I didn’t know there were so many down here.”