Beginning Again: Book 1 in the Second Chances series (Crimson Romance) (11 page)

By the end of the evening, a case of wine had been drunk, several wheels of cheese had been nibbled down to nothing, a number of boxes of crackers and countless bowls of pretzels and nuts had been consumed. But she’d sold more than $9,000 worth of art, most of that amount from Collins’s work. The Fairchild Gallery was off to a great start.

• • •

After closing at nine, they tidied up and took care of the money. Liz, who’d sworn she was so wired she wouldn’t be able to settle down, was asleep before Collins joined her in bed.

He was the one who lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling. She nestled against him, as she often did in her sleep, her hand on his chest, making him feel protective, making him feel like he just might want to build that damn white picket fence and get that golden retriever after all.

But before he bought dog food or hit the home improvement store, he had to talk to her. Now that the problem was taken care of and the gallery was open, he’d run out of reasons to put it off.

Tomorrow. He’d tell her tomorrow.

She woke with a feeling so warm and wonderful she wanted to bottle it to save for the inevitable rainy day. Curled in a ball with her eyes still shut, she replayed the evening in her mind to make sure she remembered it correctly. When the rewind was complete she knew she was right. It had been a success. If last night was any indication, she had a shot at making it as a gallery owner.

With the opening out of the way, she could face something else. Collins and what she felt for him. It went far beyond gratitude for the major part he’d played in her success last night. No man had ever filled her with such joy, such happiness, such passion. Nor had any infuriated and driven her crazy, too, but that seemed to be the other side of the passion coin, as far as she could tell. He’d told her one time that he loved her, but hadn’t said it since. Maybe he was waiting for her to respond in kind.

She opened her eyes and rolled over to tell him, to hear him say again that he loved her. But he was gone.

The note he’d left in the kitchen said he had business to finish up and would be back by ten. She showered, dressed, and went downstairs to the gallery to finish getting everything ready for Jamie to open at noon. When Collins returned at 9:30, she was back in the apartment, sipping coffee and tabulating sales from the night before.

“Look,” she said, waving credit card receipts. “It’s over $9,000 — mostly from sales of your work. You’ll have a great check from The Fairchild Gallery by the end of the month.” When he didn’t respond and just walked past her to the kitchen, she put the paperwork down and followed. “You left so early this morning,” she said, trying to kiss him.

“Yeah, I had something I had to finish up.” It was happening again. He came back from taking care of his “business” and was distant, distracted. “Is there more coffee?”

“Just made a fresh pot. Let me get you some.” She got a mug from the cabinet.

He took it from her and poured coffee from the pot. “I’ve got it.”

“Did something go wrong?”

Sipping from his coffee cup, he avoided her eyes. “I need to tell you something and I’m not sure how to do it.”

She couldn’t breathe. “Is it as serious as it sounds?”

“I guess that depends on how you react when I tell you.”

“Okay, then let’s get it on the table.”

He walked to the living room and sat down on the couch. Waving her to a place next to him, he said, “Sit, please.” He took her hand and tried to lace his fingers through hers, but fumbled. “This is hard for me to say.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re gay or married.”

“I think either one might be easier than what I have to tell you.”

She withdrew her hand from his and wiped it over her face. “Oh, God. Then just spit it out.”

He pulled himself up straight and looked her in the eye. “You asked me why I picked your gallery and not a more established one. I was looking to strike up an acquaintance with you.”

“You were … what? An acquaintance with me? Weren’t you looking for a gallery for your work?”

“No … well, yes, in a way. But not exactly.” He shook his head in frustration. “How do I explain this without sounding … ?” He stared up at the ceiling for a few moments then returned to looking at her. “When I left L.A. my old law firm was doing okay. But less than a month later, three of the senior partners bailed and then a bunch of the associates left. It seemed like once I’d pulled out everything crumbled. I ended up doing contract work for David, the partner who was left to clean up the mess.”

“Can we cut to the explanation of how this relates to coming into my gallery, please? You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m getting there.” He took another sip of his coffee. “After maybe eight, ten months, David finally stabilized things and I thought that was the end of my helping him. Then about six weeks ago, he called and said he had a new client who wanted to sue a business associate and I was in a unique position to get the information he needed to make the case. He said it would be the last time he’d ask for help. He said I owed him. And I felt I did.”

“I’m still not clear … ”

“The person his client wanted to sue was Mason. David’s client swore that if we asked Mason to show us his books, we wouldn’t get the truth about how he’d cheated his clients. He said there was a second set of books with the real figures. But they weren’t kept in Mason’s office.” He stopped, looked at her, then finished. “They were supposedly in the possession of Mason’s ex-wife who might have been using them for her own purposes.”

She closed her eyes as his words hit her. In agonizing, painfully slow motion, everything in the life she’d recently built began to crack and break into tiny pieces.

“You came into my gallery to seduce me so you could find out where I hid Mason’s imaginary books?” She could barely get the words out in a whisper. “You thought I was a blackmailer?”

“No, Liz, no. Of course not. I came in to get to know you, find out if you could help me, help David’s client. I wasn’t there to seduce you. And I had no idea I’d fall in love. ”

“Stop it, Collins. You came to use me, to discover my vulnerabilities and use me.”

“No, that’s not what I was doing. I was doing a favor for a friend. After I met you, I tried to get out of it, but he played on my guilt about leaving him. He asked me to … so I … ”

“You what? What did you do? Tell me the rest.”

“You weren’t the bitter divorcée I was told I’d find so I didn’t think you’d hand over what you had, if you had anything. So David asked me to look in your office for Mason’s books.”

“My office. Here? In my apartment?”

He nodded, his eyes averted.

“You went through my desk? My files? My computer?”

“Liz, please … ”

“Answer me.”

“Yes, I went through it all.”

“When?”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters to me. When?”

“The first night I … ”

“Jesus. You’re the one who moved everything around, aren’t you? And I blamed Jamie.” She slumped, like a balloon with the air slowly leaking out. “You went through all my things and have been lying to me ever since.”

“I’ve never lied to you. I didn’t tell you what I’d done, but I’ve never lied to you.”

“So a sin of omission is okay, is it? Maybe in your lawyer’s world it is, but it doesn’t work that way in mine.” She straightened up again, her shoulders pulled back and her chin out. “I thought I’d been used by the best, but you beat Roger and Mason hands down. And for what — money?”

“No, that’s not why … I was only … ”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear any more excuses.” She took a deep breath, her hands fisted in her lap. “At least poor Mason was struggling with his own demons when he used me. And Roger thought he was making me a better person and himself a better teacher. Oh, wait, of course. That’s what it was. I was your project. Are you writing a book on how to give sex lessons? Do you want me to write a blurb for the jacket?”

“I deserve every bit of your anger but please, I can make this up to you if you’ll let me. Give me a chance to show you how sorry I am, how much I love you.”

Earlier she would have given anything to hear him say those words. Now the sound of them nauseated her. “Sorry? Sorry couldn’t begin to cover what it would take to make this up to me.” She stood up. “Pack up whatever you have here and leave. Now. I can’t look at you anymore.”

He reached for her hand. She backed away. “Do. Not. Touch. Me.”

“Please, Liz, I’ve tried to make it right. I didn’t mean to — ”

“What can you possibly do to make this right? You bulldozed your way into my life, into my gallery, into my bed, so you could violate my privacy, my trust, and you think this is some sort of … what? … social faux pas you can make right with your charm and a few more lies? Well, you can’t. All you can do is get the hell out of here.”

He stood with his hand out, still trying to reach her, unable to make the connection. Finally, he went into her bedroom and returned a few minutes later with his bag.

She opened the door at the top of the steps. “I’m invoking the termination clause in our contract. As soon as it’s up, I want your work out of my gallery. Sooner, if you want to take it. But deal with Jamie about removing it. I don’t want to have anything to do with you.” She glared at him, feeling the tears backed up in her eyes, determined not to let him see them.

He stood at the open door, his gray eyes suspiciously shiny and certainly sad. “I never meant to hurt you, Liz. I’m more sorry than I can say that I did.” He took a step through the door. “I wish you’d — ”

“Know what I wish? I wish I’d never met you.” She shut and locked the door. When she heard the downstairs door slam, she went to her bedroom and gave into the tears she’d been holding back.

Someone was at the outside door to her apartment leaning on the buzzer and annoying the hell out of her.

“Whoever’s there, stop that. Go away. I’m not seeing anyone right now,” she yelled into the intercom, not caring how rude she was.

“It’s Mason. I want to talk to you. Let me up or I’ll stand here pushing this buzzer ’til it breaks. Then I’ll go back home and get Jamie’s key.”

She hit the release for the door. “What the hell do you want?” she asked as he bounded up the steps.

“Nice to see you, too, Liz.” He pushed past her into the living room. “Jamie’s worried about you. He said he hasn’t seen you in two days, since the reception. I have a feeling I know what’s going on so I came to see if I could … “ He seemed to register her for the first time. “You look awful.”

“Thanks, is that why you’re here? To tell me how bad I look?” She made a pass at pushing her hair back from her face, realized how sticky it felt from leftover product, and gave up. “And what do you mean, you know what’s going on?”

“This is about what Collins told you, isn’t it? It’s my fault you’re upset, or rather, my business’s fault. He’s been working to get it straightened out. What he’s done could probably get him disbarred but he got — ”

“I’m not interested in the business dealings of someone about whom I couldn’t care less, thank you very much.”

He looked like he was suppressing a smile. “ ‘About whom I couldn’t care less’? You’re really pissed, aren’t you? You only talk like that when you’re beyond ticked off. So, I’m right. This is about Collins. But, Liz, I may deserve to have you lie to me, don’t lie to yourself. You care, all right. One hell of a lot.”

“Mason, you don’t know what you’re talking about which, I grant you, is unusual. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“Sit.” He gently pushed her down onto the couch. “Would you like some coffee? A cup of tea? I’d offer to make you something to eat, but Jamie said he didn’t think you’d been out of the apartment since the reception. Knowing you, you’ve been working so hard you haven’t exactly stocked the refrigerator with decent food.”

“I don’t want anything other than to be left alone. Could you manage that, do you suppose?”

“I’m making coffee and then we’re going to talk.” He disappeared and when he returned, she could smell the coffee brewing. “Okay. Now you’re going to listen, my stubborn friend, whether you want to or not.”

“This doesn’t concern you.”

“Of course it does. If that asshole client hadn’t decided I’d padded my billings and sent David Starr off on a hunt for my mythical second set of books, you’d be downstairs working in your new gallery, happy with a modestly successful opening. Of course, you’d have never met the love of your life — ”

“He is not the love of my life. He’s a deceitful, sneaky bastard who used me.”

“Liz, listen to me. You’re feeling sorry for yourself, looking dreadful, and about to make the biggest mistake of your life when you should be — ”

“If this is meant to buck me up, it is not working.”

He had a look on his face she recognized as frustration. “I’ve never been very good at getting through to you when you’re like this, but I am not going to give up like I used to. So, please stop talking for a minute so I can think.”

She laced her fingers together, positioned them on her knees, and perched on the edge of the couch, saying nothing.

“The innocent schoolgirl look doesn’t exactly suit you. But thanks.” He ran his hand over his bald spot. “Let me come at it this way — Collins called me a couple weeks ago and told me about this jerk of an ex-client who decided we charged too much for advice he didn’t like about how he had to change the way he did business. Collins thought he had a way to get it settled out of court. Friday morning, after we finalized the agreement, he asked my advice about how to tell you what he’d done. I said just be honest. You were a forgiving person. Hell, you’d forgiven me. I told him you wouldn’t be happy, but you’d understand.”

“Wrong again. That’s twice in less than ten minutes. Must be a record for you.”

“Apparently I underestimated the unhappy part and was dead wrong about the understanding part. You’re determined to be angry at him, aren’t you?”

“I’m determined to make sure I never get used like that again.” She stood up. “Look, it’s very kind of you to go to bat for Collins. If that was part of the price he exacted for getting the whole thing settled with his client, then you’ve done what you were asked to do. But it’s not going to make any difference. So, you can report back that you tried and failed.” She walked to the door and opened it. “Thanks for coming by. And for making coffee.”