Summer on the Cape (22 page)

It was an innovative notion, still fairly new in the art world. It had been tried successfully by several artists in the last few years, though not by any as young as Allie. But again, Adam had been right; they were in a generous mood, and though there was considerable argument, they finally agreed to let Allie take a percentage share in any profit they might eventually make from a sale of her paintings. Allie, who had sat silently through the discussion, feeling like a prize horse at an auction, was astonished by what Adam had just won for her.

Adam was on cruise control now. He led them through negotiations requiring Matsuhara to publicize Allie’s work and allowing Allie rights to borrow the works for showings and retrospectives and other kinds of displays. They agreed to provide certificates of insurance to guarantee the protection of the paintings while Matsuhara had possession of them, and they agreed to make any resale of her work subject to the major conditions of this current agreement with her. In short, except for the chairman’s refusal to come to Allie’s studio, Adam had his way on just about every point.

And finally, when everyone stood up and shook hands, Adam had made a cool hundred and ninety-eight thousand dollars for her. To say nothing of potential future proceeds. Before his fifteen percent fee plus expenses, of course. Not bad for a couple of hours of his morning.

So everyone was happy as the meeting concluded, and they all left the conference room. Adam and the older man were absorbed in their own discussion as they passed through the anteroom and disappeared through the doors that let out to the reception area and the elevators, leaving Allie alone with the associates. The man with the yellow pad was talking to Allie, holding the door for her as they left the conference room. “We’ll fax the contract to Mr. Talmadge by tomorrow evening,” he was saying. He was screwing up his fountain pen and slipping it back into the breast pocket of his jacket. “If it’s all in order, we can have a final copy in the mail to you by Monday.” The other men clustered around her, making notes about meeting times, checking each other’s schedules.

“Ms. Randall? Will that be all right?”

Allie hadn’t heard him. She was staring at the lightly draped window of the anteroom, where a tall man was silhouetted against the bright light. His back was to the room and he was talking on his phone, his free hand thrust into his pants pocket of his dark gray business suit. Her lips parted slightly in astonishment. Allie would know that back anywhere, even in pinstripes.

My God!
she thought.
It’s Zach! What is he doing here?

“Ms. Randall?” The man with the yellow pad raised his voice slightly, and at that, Zach turned away from the window and saw Allie. One eyebrow lifted slightly, and a trace of a smile appeared on his face as he looked her squarely in the eyes, but he went right on talking into the telephone, and by the barest shake of his head, he signaled her not to acknowledge him. He made no other sign of recognition, and she might have been a stranger for all the attention he paid to her.

She caught his signal and, though she didn’t understand it, she followed his lead. She tried to pay attention to the man next to her and to his questions.

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I’m sure that’ll be just fine.” Allie was too surprised by Zach’s totally unexpected appearance here in these offices, this morning, to be able to focus on what was being said to her. In her confusion, she looked right back into Zach’s eyes, letting nothing more than the quizzical rise of her own eyebrows acknowledge his existence, and she continued walking through the room with the entourage of associates surrounding her, making no sign to them that she knew the tall man at the window.

She kept her eyes away from Zach, but in that fleeting moment she had caught a wealth of details, highlighted against the filmy drapery at the window. A conservative dark tie against the gleaming white shirt, the dark business suit, beautifully tailored, a perfect fit at the shoulders, across the back; the trim pants, just reaching the tops of the expensive black shoes; the black silk socks reaching, she was sure, well up those muscled legs. Oh, she knew those wonderful legs, that marvelous, powerful back, lean and supple, and the compelling, strong arms, all covered now by the anonymous uniform of his business clothes. She couldn’t help smiling to herself. Was it only twelve hours ago, in her bedroom, that same man had been pulling on his jeans over his naked body, racing with her to catch a plane? Now he appeared in full business regalia, which he wore as comfortably as he did his jeans and denim shirt.

He is such a handsome man
, she thought, as easy and graceful here in this cold glass tower, with the bright window behind him, as he is at the helm of
Sea Smoke
, with the wind blowing through his thick black hair. The hot passion of last night stirred through her now as she tried to maintain a cool appearance, wondering why they were pretending not to know each other. With difficulty, she acknowledged the men walking, bowing, at her side. She was barely able to hear their questions.

“Please, just discuss all the details with Mr. Talmadge,” she said. A hundred unasked questions of her own were racing through her mind.
Why is Zach here? Why didn’t he tell me he was coming? Why did he not want to speak to me? What is he hiding from me?

As they held the door for her and she left the room, she heard Zach conclude his call, and Ms. Richman was saying, “If you’re ready, Mr. Eliot, the chairman will see you now.”

* * *

Marcus had the car waiting at the curb, and it wasn’t until they were settled inside that Adam sat back and let a big, happy smile spread over his satisfied face. He lit a cigarette and beamed at Allie.

“Don’t look so distressed, my dear. You were quite a hit.” He looked her over quizzically, but did not comment further on her preoccupied expression. “It was the watercolors that pulled them in. Their selection people saw the show at the Whiscombe. They liked the all-American feel of the seascapes and decided that’s the image they want to project in their corporate offices. When they found out about your portrait work, they were hooked!”

“I’m not distressed, Adam. Not at all. It’s just all very new for me, and kind of scary, and I need a chance to get used to it.” It was awfully hard to keep anything from Adam, who seemed always to see everything—but he hadn’t seen Zach. “I guess it was a good thing that you sent me to Cape Cod.”

A very good thing
.

But the same questions kept nagging at her.

Why was Zach there at the Matsuhara offices? What was he doing there? And why didn’t he tell me? He knew I was meeting there this morning.

The unanswered questions continued to preoccupy her.

What is he hiding from me? And why?

After last night, after such intense intimacy, it was painful to realize how little she knew him.

Do I really know anything about this man?

“You see, Allie,” Adam was saying, “you should always trust me.” He couldn’t resist preening a little bit. Maybe a lot. “I am absolutely the best! Did you see, Allie? They went for just about everything. And that override clause. You’re going to thank me for that one in the years to come!”

“I know, Adam, but there is one thing you could do a little better in the future. You could give me a little more than a minute’s notice when you order me onto a flight. They told me last night at the airport in Provincetown that you called them and convinced them to hold the plane a few minutes for me. If you hadn’t, I’d never have made it.”

“Well, all’s well that ends well,” Adam said. “I’m sure that whatever you were doing when I called, it couldn’t have been as important or as productive as our meeting this morning.”

“Of course not,” Allie said, looking out of her window, keeping her face away from Adam. “So apparently I’m not going to get back to the Cape right away, am I?”

“Not for a week, at least. As soon as the contract details are finalized, you’ll have to begin the preliminary sketches for the chairman’s portrait.”

“I know. I’ll do the three sittings next week. But then I’ll go back to the Cape to start on the watercolors. We promised completion by the end of the summer.” She still didn’t dare to look Adam squarely in the eye. “And I guess I’d like to complete work on some unfinished projects.” Definitely unfinished. She would never forget the expression on Zach’s face when that phone rang last night!

“That’s fine, my dear. Just fine. But be sure to stay in touch with me, so I’ll know if you’re up there or here in town.” Adam looked at his watch. “I have a meeting in my office in ten minutes. Marcus will leave me off. Can he drop you somewhere?”

Allie forced herself to pay attention. She leaned toward the front seat. “Marcus, just take me to the park.” Then she sat back in her seat and said to Adam, “I’m going to buy a pretzel and walk through the zoo. After this fast track morning, I’d like to commune with nature for a little while. Talk with the animals, if you know what I mean.”

“I do indeed, Allie. And you deserve it.” As Marcus pulled up in front of Adam’s office building, Adam put a light kiss on Allie’s cheek and waved cheerfully at her as he got out. “Gotta run, sweetie. Got a meeting.”

“Have fun,” she called after him. “And don’t take any prisoners!” She closed the door, and the car continued on west, crosstown.

Prisoners, indeed
, she thought, as Marcus drove her toward the zoo. She remembered Zach, naked in her bed last night, passionate, yet patient, and totally in control of himself. And totally in control of her as well. Zach had reached inside her, body and soul, and taken command of her, removing her resistance, removing any need for resistance, bringing her such sweet and subtle pleasures, she was happy to be locked in his arms.

Has Zach Eliot put his arms around me and made me his prisoner? And how can I feel so wonderfully free if I’ve been taken prisoner
?

Chapter Fifteen

“C
an I get you a cup of coffee, Ms. Randall?” Ms. Richman stood off to one side, trying to stay out of Allie’s way as the tungsten lights and the stands and the diffusion umbrellas were being rigged. Wires were running in all directions over the rich carpeting of the chairman’s office, and Allie’s assistant, Davey Rubens, hired for the day to lug all the heavy stuff around, was unpacking the camera and affixing a wide-angle lens so that Allie would be sure to get good overall shots of the room.

“No, thanks.” Allie was barely aware of Ms. Richman’s question. She was preoccupied with balancing the natural light filtering through the half-opened Levolor blinds at the huge windows of this massive corner office with the artificial light being added by the lamps. “Maybe Davey would like some coffee. Davey?”

“That would be great. Thanks.” He looked up from the camera case. “We’re all set up over here, Allie.”

Davey’s services weren‘t really needed, of course. Allie could have carried all the gear she needed for these prep shots by herself in a backpack and easel carrier. But corporate big shots didn’t react well to being painted by an artist who carried her own equipment. Didn’t think it looked professional. So Allie dressed the part in easy-to-wash black denim, a snazzy multicolored shirt, and piled her hair on top of her head. She brought along young Davey, who had hauled in all her painting, lighting and camera things, set everything up according to her instructions, and later would get it all out of there quietly and cleanly, so the office would be clear for the chairman’s next conference, scheduled for right after this first sitting.

They’d arrived early, well before her subject was due to get to the office, and Ms. Richman was ready for them as arranged. “I’ll let you into the office,” she said, “so you can get set up. The chairman will be here at eight. His first meeting’s scheduled for nine.” She pressed a button on the control panel, and Allie heard the lock on the door snap open. “You can go in now,” Ms. Richman said.

Allie had instructed Davey to work quickly. The chairman had made it very clear, through the associates, that he would give Allie only three mornings, only one hour each day, and all traces of her presence had to be cleared out of sight at the end of each hour. The actual painting of the portrait would have to be done entirely from her photos and sketches.

It wasn’t Allie’s favorite way to work, but this commission was much too important to jeopardize by putting on a prima donna act. She was determined that the Matsuhara Group was going to get a first-rate portrait of its chairman, and that she was not going to be deflected by these obstacles they were throwing in her way.

While Davey was getting the lights in place, Allie put a disposable dropcloth over the carpet where she planned to work, and set up her traveling easel and paintbox. Now, while Ms. Richman picked her way over the tangled wires, bringing a cup of coffee to Davey, balancing the cup carefully in its saucer, Allie used the Nikon to get several shots of the room from a variety of angles to be used as reference later while she painted in her studio. As she made her photos, she did a running analysis. The understated opulence of the office would have to be incorporated into the painting. It was apparent to her that the occupant of this room wanted the wealth and power of the company and of himself to be expressed clearly, but not flaunted. The crystal vases in this room were Baccarat, and the carpet was hand-loomed, the furniture was custom designed and handmade, and the paintings on the walls were important originals. On the other hand, Allie recognized instantly that everything, from fabrics to floral arrangements, were in quiet, understated good taste, with an exquisite balance of color, light, and pattern. She was proud that her work had been selected to join this elegant display.

She was down on one knee, wedged into the corner of the room farthest from the chairman’s desk, between a long credenza and a wall-to-ceiling cabinet that housed a bank of computer screens on which market activity around the world was being displayed. She was getting a widest-possible shot of the view from that corner. It was eight o’clock on the button when the door opened and Mr. Nakamura entered the room.