She only had to consider his question for a second before she knew the answer, but it took longer to work up the courage to tell him that answer. “There’s a loneliness to his work that resonates with me, but also reflects the staid emotions found in so much medieval art. It evokes this idea of striving for perfection but always falling short and needing a higher power to bridge that gap. I haven’t seen anything like that from another contemporary artist.”
Geoffrey’s face softened as she spoke, and his Adam’s apple moved up and down. Maybe that’s why she felt like she could tell him everything she’d ever thought about G’s work, no matter how vulnerable it left her.
“You find redemption in the history of the Thames. I see it in Re-Collecting,” she said softly.
Geoffrey closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “That’s beautiful.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before going on. “I bet G would really like to hear those words in person.”
He was in too vulnerable a place for her to admit she knew he was G, so she pretended she had no idea. “Well, if I ever meet her, I’ll tell her.” She smiled, hoping to bring back Geoffrey’s smile.
His smile didn’t return, but he turned to her with a face twisted into a question. “Alice?”
“Yes?” She stared, waiting for him to finish.
“I’d like you to forget for a minute that I’m your almost employer.” He stepped closer to her, his eyes full of emotion. “Because I’d really like to kiss you.” He stood inches from her and bit the inside of his lip. “Obviously, you can tell me no, and there will be no repercussions, but I find myself very much attracted—”
There were a million reasons she should shut this down right now, but she didn’t care. Alice closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Shut up and kiss me already.”
Chapter Thirteen
Geoffrey wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling the muscles tighten as she rose on tiptoe to meet his lips. Her mouth was warm and soft, and every worry he had about his future, his art, his family, his fame, all disappeared in their kiss. Had they not been in the middle of a busy art museum, Geoffrey would have been in danger of really exploring where that kiss could take them, but at the sound of a security guard clearing his throat, they broke apart.
Seconds passed as they looked at each other, both grinning.
“That was nice,” Geoffrey said softly, and Alice took the hand he held out to her. They walked to the next exhibit room, and a few people glanced at the two of them, but Geoffrey didn’t care about people recognizing him. With Alice’s hand in his, he felt he could face anything.
Except maybe Clarissa. His conscience pricked with guilt as he thought of her, and he put a few inches of space between him and Alice. But he didn’t let go of her hand. He wasn’t about to do that.
He would talk to Clarissa that night. He’d been avoiding really breaking up with her long enough. Kissing Alice had given him a much-needed push. How could he stay with someone like Clarissa when he had a chance to be with someone like Alice Donnelly?
“Can you imagine having your art shown here?”
Alice’s question startled him back into the present. Did she know he was G? Had she made the connection between the unicorn painting in his room and his Re-Collecting piece?
“How—what do you mean?”
She waved her hand back and forth as though she were erasing the question from a blackboard. “You told me you dabbled in art. What if you did more than dabble and got famous enough to be shown here?”
“That would be amazing,” he answered slowly, examining her expression for another clue that she knew his secret. Or was she just nervous? Could that be the reason for her sudden jumpiness? After all, he was about to be her boss, and he’d kissed her in public. That thought made him nervous, so why wouldn’t it make her nervous too? That kiss definitely put her in a more awkward position than it did him. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel like he was using his position to take advantage of her in any way.
Which is exactly how it would look if she found out about Clarissa. He opened his mouth to tell her, but she spoke first.
“I’d love to see some of what you’ve done some time,” she said, and his confession about Clarissa vanished.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said instead, without thinking about the words until Alice’s mouth dropped open.
“You are full of inappropriate one-liners, aren’t you?”
“I swear I did not mean it like that!” He let go of her hand and did the same waving motion she’d done a few seconds before. “I meant you show me your art, and I’ll show you mine!”
“Uh huh,” she said over her shoulder. The words were supposed to register her disbelief, but her eyes invited him to follow her. An invitation he was powerless to turn down.
Alice stopped in front of a panel of photographs and studied them closely, adjusting her glasses and tilting her head in the way that he already recognized meant she was thinking. He wanted to commit that pose to memory so he could paint or sculpt it. Anything that would recall what he felt every time Alice tilted her head and narrowed her eyes like that. But how could he sculpt something as abstract as joy, wonder, and admiration? Loneliness was the only emotion he’d ever been able to put into his art.
And Alice had seen that.
Felt it.
Recognized his loneliness.
Without thinking of the consequences, Geoffrey moved behind Alice and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stiffened under his embrace, and for a second, he wondered if he’d done the wrong thing. But then she put her arms over his and melted into him, resting the back of her head against his chest.
Whatever he created to capture his emotions in that moment, it would have intertwining lines, four circles representing eyes, two spots in the center with layers that made them look they were moving. Beating together.
“If I didn’t hate these pictures so much, I could stay here forever,” Alice murmured.
Geoffrey dropped his head on top of hers and laughed. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Good idea.” Alice stepped out of his arms but kept hold of his hand. “This feels too much like work, and I don’t want to think about how things will have to change once I start working for you.”
“Neither do I.” Geoffrey glanced at her but couldn’t get a read on her face. “Let’s grab some dinner before we head to the play.” Did she feel the same connection he did? Or was this a fling for her? A foray into the English aristocracy she could tell her American friends about? He didn’t think she’d take that kind of risk when her future with the Grey collection depended upon him. But did she think he was just having fun?
They walked toward the exit, still holding hands, but the doubt that had entered Geoffrey’s brain was doing some serious damage. He couldn’t risk falling for Alice when he really believed she was the person he and his mother needed to make their museum a financial and critical success.
Before they reached the doors, Geoffrey heard his name. “Geoffrey?” He turned to his left to see the curator of the museum, David Smith, walking toward them, and he dropped Alice’s hand.
“I thought that was you.” David’s eyes immediately went from Geoffrey to Alice.
“Alice, this is David Smith, one of the curators for the collections here.” David knew Geoffrey and Clarissa were still a couple. At least in the media. “David, Alice Donnelly. She’ll be curating the Grey collection.”
David’s eyebrows went up. He’d hinted to Geoffrey that he’d like a crack at putting the collection together, but he hadn’t submitted a resume. Geoffrey suspected he’d assumed an invitation would be extended. Whatever David’s feelings about not being given a chance with the Grey collection, he graciously extended his hand to Alice, who shook it.
“I’m familiar with your work. I’ve studied the exhibits you’ve put together.” Alice was very polite, but Geoffrey could tell she wa
sn’t impressed with David.
“Really? I’m flattered. I wish I could return the compliment.” David dipped his head, meaning to be polite, but in a horse, the gesture would have been seen as an act of aggression. “I wish I would have known you were coming. I would have set up a private tour. I still can if you have time.”
“Thank you, but we’re just on our way out.” Even though his original intention in bringing Alice to the Tate had been to introduce her to some of the curators, this one had seen them holding hands. That made it too awkward for them to stay. Geoffrey put his hand on Alice’s back to lead her out, but she didn’t move.
“I’m actually glad we ran into you,” Alice said to David. “I know you’re no longer curating at the Tate Britain, but you’re very familiar with Monet’s work. Lord Chatsworth bought a piece… how long ago, Geoffrey?”
Geoffrey jerked his head toward her before understanding that Alice was at work. He’d forgotten David had acquired a Monet or two for Tate Britain which focused on less contemporary work than the Tate Modern. “Ten years. Possibly longer. I haven’t had much opportunity to talk to my father about it.”
“It’s a Monet?” David asked. “Do you know from whom Lord Chatsworth purchased it?”
“I don’t.”
“There have been forgeries floating around. I hope he has provenance documentation.”
Geoffrey dipped his head to his shoulder. “I’m not sure if he has or not. I’m not even sure how he acquired it.” Anything was possible with his father. “I’m working on finding the records.”
“Are you interested in loaning it if it can be authenticated?” David leaned close to Geoffrey.
“We may be interested in a trade for a more contemporary piece to juxtapose with the Grey’s medieval pieces.” Alice inserted herself back into the conversation, impressing Geoffrey once again with her assertiveness. He could search for a thousand years, and he’d never find a better fit than Alice.
And maybe not just for the museum.
David turned to Alice. “If it’s real, we can work something out. Get the needed paperwork, and let’s talk again.” He pulled a billfold from his back pocket and took a business card out of it. “Here’s my contact information.”
Alice took it from him, then shook his hand. “Thank you. I don’t have a current business card to give you, but I’ll contact you when I return from the States.”
The three said their nice-to-meet-yous and goodbyes, then Geoffrey and Alice left. Neither of them said anything as Geoffrey led her toward his car. Geoffrey couldn’t stop worrying whether or not David had seen him and Alice holding hands. Or worse, kissing. It not only looked bad because David knew about Geoffrey’s relationship with Clarissa, but also because David now knew Alice wasn’t just some girl. She was his curator. It wouldn’t take long for rumors to start that Geoffrey and Alice had been involved before he hired her and that’s why she’d been hired. That would be bad for both of them, but especially for Alice. She deserved to be recognized on her own merit, without any hint of sleeping her way into the job.
He didn’t take her hand again as they crossed the parking lot, and he kept enough space between them that he wouldn’t be tempted to take it if their hands happened to touch. He hadn’t had to exercise that kind of self-control since the last time Clarissa had asked him what the piece he was working on was supposed to be and he’d stopped himself from saying, “Our relationship.” The piece had included old vacuum parts, and he’d intended it to be a commentary on the emptiness of life. The title he’d given it was Life Sucks.
Reflecting on that day, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t already ended things between them. Looking at Alice, he wished he had.
“What David said worries me,” she said, taking him by surprise as his thoughts hadn’t been on anything David said, but rather what David might think about them. And he couldn’t remember David saying anything about Geoffrey and Alice.
“Remind me what he said so I know whether or not I should worry too.”
Alice almost smiled, but even if she had, it wouldn’t have wiped away the troubled look on her face. “That there have been Monet forgeries in the last few decades.”
“Oh, that.” The look in her eyes told him he should have been as troubled by the comment as she obviously was. “Are you concerned ours is a fake?”
Alice shook her head, still hesitant to voice the strength of her suspicions. “I didn’t say that. We just need to get the paperwork together on it. With forgeries floating around, the more we have to prove the painting’s authenticity, the better.”
Geoffrey sucked in his breath and didn’t say anything until they reached his car. He had too many thoughts running through his head to talk. As much as he wanted to take Alice to the Old Globe and spend as much time as possible with her before she left in the morning, he suddenly had a number of fires that needed his attention. And the Clarissa one had the potential to do the most damage if he didn’t give it some attention right away.
He stayed quiet until they were both seated in his car, then he turned toward her without starting the engine. “Would you mind very much if we postponed seeing Taming of the Shrew?”
Alice’s mouth fell slightly open, and she ran her fingers under the collar of her blouse before stuttering, “Of course not. It’s been a long day, and I still have to pack, so that’s probably best for both of us.”
He saw the hurt in her eyes and took her hand in both of his. It looked so tiny cupped in his hands, and he rubbed his thumb over her slender fingers. “I don’t want you to think that kiss meant nothing to me, or that I wouldn’t like to do it again, but—”
“You’re worried about how it looks.”
Geoffrey raised his gaze from her hand to her eyes and was grateful for the understanding he saw there. “I don’t want anyone to think you didn’t earn your job for any other reason than that you are the best candidate for the job.”
“I don’t either.” With her other hand, she smoothed his hair away from his forehead, sending an electric charge that started at his scalp and ended somewhere near his toes.
“You have to know that I’m in real danger of falling for you.” He kissed her hand, because if he didn’t, he would kiss her lips again, and that would make it impossible to say what he had to say. “Which is why we can’t let this go any further. At least not until you’ve established yourself here as the expert that you are. As much as I want to explore where this may lead right now, I don’t want to get in the way of your career.”
Alice moved her hand from his hair to his cheek, leaving it there until his gaze met hers. “You are the real deal, Lord Geoffrey. An authentic masterpiece.”
His heart thumped, both soaring and breaking at the same time.
“Now kiss me one more time, so we have something to remember until the next time. Because there will be a next time.” She took her hand out of his and put it on his other cheek, then leaned toward him until their lips met for the second time that day.
Geoffrey pulled her closer, leaving as little space between them as he possibly could. Within twenty-four hours there would be an ocean between them, and a gulf even wider that would be harder to cross. He made the kiss one she wouldn’t forget, and she did the same for him.
Chapter Fourteen
Geoffrey dropped Alice at her hotel an hour later. What had started as one kiss goodbye had turned into a full-blown make-out session that had Alice doubting everything she’d ever heard about British men being subdued and slightly repressed. Alice hoped Geoffrey had meant what he’d said about “being in danger of falling for her,” because she felt the same. And she didn’t know how long his kisses would tide her over.
Alice stepped into the hotel elevator, still thinking of Geoffrey, and leaned against the wall as soon as the doors closed. If he hadn’t been feeding her another one of his lines—and she didn’t think he was—how long would she have to wait before they could kiss again? Or hold hands? Or even have dinner together, talk
ing nonstop over their food? Would there ever be a point, as long as she was working for him, when they would be able to date?
The elevator dinged at the third floor, but Alice was so busy calculating how long it would take to curate the exhibit that she wouldn’t have gotten off if someone hadn’t stopped the doors from shutting so he could get in. As the man stepped in, she stepped out into the hallway. The carpets and wallpaper with their contrasting patterns of greens and blues made her feel almost as dizzy as Geoffrey’s kisses had.
By the time she got to her room at the end of the hallway, Alice had determined that if she worked her tail off, she could have the museum ready to open in six months. Maybe. If Geoffrey would admit to being G and allow her to use his pieces, especially Re-Collecting, she’d be more likely to meet her self-imposed deadline. She wondered if she were staying a few more days whether he would have fessed up to his secret identity. If they’d had more “kissing” time, maybe she would have been able to convince him to not only come clean but also agree she was right.
And then she got distracted thinking about kissing Geoffrey. And not kissing Geoffrey. Which forced her to order room service, including a hot fudge sundae to cheer her up. But before the food came, she got a text from Geoffrey.
I changed my mind. We should definitely spend tonight together.
Alice stared at the text, without a doubt tempted by his offer, but also disappointed by it. Was that all Geoffrey wanted? There was no way she was opening the can of trouble that would cause. But she felt a little sick at the thought that what they had was only a physical attraction for him. Before she could think of how to respond, another message appeared.
THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!!
Alice let out a relieved laugh as dots appeared on the screen. She stared at her screen and waited for words to appear.
Gambling on a Gentleman: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love) Page 11